Malevolently
By Leaded Light
The war changed things.
That is such a simple sentence, something put so lightly, thrown out there like a bone, for anyone willing to come by and notice and nod their heads in agreement. It doesn't convey much but at the same time it pretty much conveys everything you need to know—again, not much.
It wasn't the first war and it wasn't the last; it was just a war between wars, an evil between goods, an overpowering thing that is only remembered because of how many that died. There's always a tyrant, there's always some reason to fight—but Voldemort, oh, he was a bit different.
He killed people because he hated them. He purged them, like a Hitler or a Stalin, without remorse. He killed some of the best. Cold-blooded murder—oh, the names you could shout! A generation wasn't quite lost, but it was severely damaged, and that was why he needed to be stopped. He wasn't only a threat to all witches and wizards. He was also a threat to Muggles.
Voldemort was exposing secrets.
The Potters, the Prewitts—it's useless. There are too many names, too many smiling faces, too many photographs that linger on, lonely. You would think that their children would be vengeful. Most are not.
What's the use?
What is the use, indeed.