From a frame on the desk, Ariana's portrait murmured softly.
Unlike Lily, Victor Wick hadn't placed her into the Soul-Summoning Banner; instead, he had settled her into this small portrait.
This way, she could use the connections between paintings to secretly visit her two brothers.
In Dumbledore's office hung an Ariana portrait gifted by Victor, and Aberforth's pub had one as well.
It allowed Ariana to come and go as she pleased through the network of portraits.
"I'm looking forward to the moment they see you standing before them again," Victor said with a smile, laying down his quill.
He had already finished organizing the potion recipe Lily had sent back. In theory, there were no issues.
Now, he just had to wait for the ingredients to arrive before taking the final step.
"Mm-hm! Then you have to do as I said and resurrect me as a big girl!" Ariana said, her face full of anticipation.
"I promise. I'll model your body well and make sure you have a great figure." Victor smiled, extracting a small orb of soul power and turning it into a piece of candy before passing it into the portrait.
Ariana blushed as she took the candy and ate it, her large eyes squinting happily once more.
Lily needed to stay in the Soul-Summoning Banner to nourish her soul, but Ariana received these candies every day to keep her spirit strong.
"Mrs. Potter, what about you? Do you have any special requirements for your body?" Victor asked, turning toward the banner.
An ethereal figure drifted out of the Soul-Summoning Banner like a wisp of smoke.
"Nothing special..." Lily paused, suddenly looking a bit embarrassed. "If possible, could you make me a bit thinner? I started putting on weight after I had Harry."
Victor didn't agree as readily as he had with Ariana. He fell into a brief silence before speaking. "I think you realize that your situation is different from Ariana's. She passed away many years ago. Aside from her two brothers and one old bastard, no one else in this world would recognize her. But you... many people still know who you are."
Lily froze for a moment, then nodded solemnly. "I understand. If people found out I returned from the dead because of you, it would cause you a great deal of trouble. I was careless. In that case, I'll just have to change my appearance."
"That won't be necessary." Victor waved his hand with a chuckle. "If your face changes, are you even still yourself? I have an idea..."
"What idea?" Lily asked quickly.
"I have a photo of you from when you were young, provided by Severus. Perhaps I can resurrect you as a younger version of yourself..." Victor produced the photograph.
The Lily in the photo looked to be about eleven or twelve years old.
"You... you want to resurrect me as a child?"
"Yes. It's safer that way. After all, a child who looks like you is far less conspicuous than someone identical to you appearing out of nowhere. By the time you grow up again and years have passed, even if people notice the resemblance, they won't suspect you were resurrected. However, I'm only asking for your opinion. If you disagree, I'll find another way," Victor mused.
Lily looked at the photo of her younger self, caught between laughter and tears. As a woman, she did want Victor to make her look younger, but... this was a bit too young.
"I have no objection, Professor Wick. I already owe you far too much; I cannot bring more trouble upon you." Considering all factors, Lily ultimately agreed to Victor's suggestion.
Furthermore, Victor's approach would spare her the awkwardness of meeting Snape again in the future.
He certainly couldn't try anything with a child.
It was just... the thought of suddenly being the same age as her own son felt incredibly bizarre to Lily.
"Good. I'll arrange a new identity for you later. From now on, you are the long-lost daughter of the Potter family..."
"So, I've become my own daughter and my son's sister?" Lily found it increasingly absurd, but she had to admit it was a brilliant plan.
Every family had secrets they didn't want to share, so the sudden appearance of a lost daughter wouldn't be too out of place. At most, people would find it a bit odd.
Besides, she and Harry both had green eyes and shared facial features; they were, in fact, blood relatives.
"From now on, your name will be Hallie Potter," Victor said with a grin.
"Ah... maybe... I should just stick with Lily Potter. Otherwise, it'll get confusing with Harry. Besides, taking my mother's name to honor her memory is a perfectly valid explanation..." Lily finally reached her limit and rejected Victor's naming suggestion.
"Alright then..." Victor nodded slowly.
Lily got the distinct feeling that the Professor was quite disappointed by her refusal.
"We can perform the resurrection ceremony in a few days. However, I must remind you both that this is the first time. There is a chance of failure. No one knows what the consequences of failure might be. Think it over carefully."
"At this point, how much worse could things get?" Lily gave a carefree smile. "I'll go first."
Ariana looked at Lily, moved. Everyone knew the first subject faced the highest risk of failure.
This required immense courage.
"Good!"
Once the discussion ended, Lily and Ariana returned to their respective soul vessels to rest.
Victor took out his keyboard and moved on to his next task.
He took a sip of tea, silently pondering. What "content" should he add to the Dark Lord's soul power next? If everything went as planned, he should already be dreaming.
A playful smile played on Victor's lips.
Voldemort slowly opened his eyes.
After a moment, he realized something was wrong.
He seemed to... have a body!
It was a body that belonged entirely to him, not a possession!
When he lifted his hand, there was none of the sluggishness he felt when controlling someone else's form.
But...
The Dark Lord looked at his small, thin, weak palms and fell into a deep silence.
'I've become a child?'
The moment the thought crossed the Dark Lord's mind, he felt a wave of aching pain and cold wash over his body!
Only then did he realize he was in a tiny shack.
And he had been lying on a pile of straw!
The Dark Lord raised his hand, intending to cast a Warming Charm to ward off the chill, but he quickly discovered something horrifying.
The magic that used to be at his beck and call... he couldn't feel it at all!
'Am I... a Squib? Or a... Muggle!'
The second that thought surfaced, the Dark Lord panicked.
'What happened? Wasn't I just sleeping, recovering my soul power?'
'Am I dreaming?'
The Dark Lord couldn't help but pinch himself, only to hiss in pain.
Just as Mr. Voldemort was feeling bewildered, a tall figure burst into the shack.
It was a stout man with a fierce look and a face full of thick beard.
"Get up! Time to work!" the man roared menacingly.
"Work? What work?"
"Did I beat you stupid last night, Tom? Or do you want another thrashing?" The man grabbed the Dark Lord by the scruff of the neck and hoisted him up like a scrawny chick!
"Filthy Muggle! You seek death!" the Dark Lord bellowed in rage.
How dare a filthy, useless Muggle offend him like this?
However, the powerful magic he once took pride in had completely vanished.
As a result, his insult earned him a lashing.
As the whip struck his body, the Dark Lord curled up in pain. In this moment, he was no longer the high-and-mighty Dark Lord, but the lonely, helpless orphan he once was—Tom Riddle.
Could it be... that the me who could use magic, the me who was the Dark Lord, was the actual dream? Is this what's real?
'I remember... my name is Tom Riddle. I'm a ten-year-old orphan... there is no magic in this world, and there is no Dark Lord... I'm just...'
The whipping finally stopped, and Tom was dragged out by the man.
When he hit the ground, he felt the freezing earth and the bone-chilling cold and pain. It felt incredibly real.
"No... impossible! How can it be? I am Voldemort! How could that be a dream?" A bewildered Tom murmured softly.
The man hauled Tom up from the ground and shoved a large broom into his arms. "What are you mumbling about? Get moving! If you don't have these chimneys cleaned today, don't even think about eating!"
"Clean... the chimneys..." Tom looked up at the towering chimneys before him, momentarily dazed. "But... I'm only ten."
"Ten?" The man looked Tom up and down. "So you are... then you're retired!"
Before Tom could react, the broom was snatched away and shoved into the arms of a younger child standing nearby.
Then, he was grabbed again and tossed onto the muddy street.
Tossed along with him was a piece of moldy black bread.
"Here's your wages. Now get lost! You're fired!"
Tom stared blankly at the piece of black bread on the ground, his mind still in a whirl.
But the hunger gnawing at his stomach forced him to instinctively reach out for the mud-caked bread.
'Was it really a dream?'
'Do I really have to survive on this moldy bread?'
Soon, Tom didn't have to worry about that anymore, because while he was dazed, the bread was snatched out of his hands by someone else.