Chapter 10 – War and Intermission

"What was the war like?"

At first William didn't answer.

"Dad?"

"It was... it was horrible. I was surrounded with the most terrible people in the world, the most hideous of fiends. People that could do the most horrendous of acts and somehow get amusement out of them. And… I had to not only pretend to be just like them, but to pretend to be worse than them, and somehow be their leader. The boss of about seven dozen of the blackest souls in the entire country."

William sighed. "It was a struggle. Every person they killed, every person they hurt – they'd come to me and brag about it. The only way I ended up being able to live with myself is that I managed to kill off nearly two-thirds of them before the war was over."

"Wait, you killed your own followers?!"

"Well, not directly," William replied. "But a lot of the successes Dumbledore's team of militia had were really due to me. You have to understand, the Order of the Phoenix was pretty close to useless. They didn't work together, they didn't have any sort of game-plan, half of them were ineffective at fighting, they were outnumbered by at least 5-to-1… and they were trying to fight while obeying the laws passed by Voldemort's stooges. If the Death Eaters really knew how bad the situation was, they wouldn't have shown any hesitation... it would've been a bloodbath."

William sighed. "It took everything I had to make the Order of the Phoenix effective. I'd maneuver Death Eater after Death Eater into seemingly-simple missions, only for it to 'surprisingly' turn out be encounters where they were outclassed. A simple assassination of Terrance Prewett would coincidentally be sent out on the anniversary of his wife's death, when Moody and the Weasleys were at hand to pay condolences. An attack on Hogsmeade would happen to occur when Dumbledore was visiting the Three Broomsticks. And several of the nastier fighters I didn't take a chance with: I 'discovered' them leaking secrets to the Order, and they were killed by my own minions."

"What's funny is… by the end of the war, the Death Eaters probably had more respect for the Order of the Phoenix did than the actual Order members did. The Order at least had a clear picture of how badly they were outclassed and outnumbered – they probably just felt they were getting incredibly lucky at not getting wiped out within the week."

"So how did things end?"

"A stupid prophecy."

"Prophecy? You were in a prophecy?"

"No," William answered. "Prophecies are stupid, idiotic, vague announcements that have no power or predictive value. The only use they have is fooling or leading people that aren't all that bright."

"So how did a prophecy end the war?"

William swallowed. "Some fool made a prophecy – that the conflict and war would come down to two individuals: the 'Dark Lord', and an unspecified child. This child would be born at a specific time, under specific circumstances. It's all incredibly vague – and like I said, it doesn't really mean anything. If you took that same prophecy and gave it to someone 200 years ago, they would be absolutely certain that it applied to some other Dark Lord, and some other child born under those circumstances."

"The problem is," William said, his face darkening, "is that I had some true idiots under my rule. One of the dumbest – a fool that called himself Wormtail – heard the prophecy and decided to try to use it to gain my favor. He was positive it was talking about an infant named Harry Potter, who was the son of James and Lily Potter – two people that he'd known back during his school days."

"This is where it gets truly absurd. Dumbledore believed the prophecy as well, and had taken truly monumental steps to protect James and Lily Potter, even casting the Fidelius Charm to protect their house. But he used Wormtail as the sodding Secret Keeper for the ritual."

"None of this should have mattered," William nearly growled. "I didn't care about the Potters or the Prophecy. Actually, I kind of liked James Potter, simply because he had a nice habit of always coming out on top when facing my Death Eaters – which meant he was a nice way of sending low-level goons to their end."

"But like I said, Wormtail was trying to show some initiative and trying to impress me, so he decided to take advantage of being named Secret Keeper. He showed up at the Potter residence and… and killed James and Lily. Probably poison; the man wasn't very skilled with any sort of wand work. He then summoned me to a house with two dead parents and a young baby."

"Son," William said, his voice growing softer, "you have to understand what that was like. I was brought to a house by a man, showing me the bodies of two good, decent people he killed, and gesturing to an innocent 1-year old kid that he expected me to slaughter. I may not have lived the best life until that point, but I'd never directly killed anyone. But I couldn't take it anymore. I killed him, I killed that hideous evil man."

William had difficulty breathing. A soft half-sob came out like a hiccup before he could continue. "Harry Potter laid in his crib afterwards. There was only way the situation could possibly end, only one thing I could try to do. I raised my wand..."

His son was practically shivering in fear and anticipation.

"... and I sealed a life-debt onto him with a spell."

"What?" William Junior had clearly been expecting something else. "You made him owe you?!"

"No, no, I owe him. That lightning bolt scar? That's the symbol of the debt; it will only go away once the debt's been paid."

The next two years were quite a bit strange. William Jr. decided he wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, becoming a magician during his years at Hogwarts. That was something his father was a bit undecided about… but wisely knew that he didn't really have a whole lot of say in the matter. Apart from the obvious issue that parents really didn't have a whole lot of control on their kids while they were at Hogwarts, he'd feel like a hypocrite for even trying. After all, when William Sr. was there, he pretended he was a Dark Magical Lord in the making – how exactly could he complain about his son trying to be an illusionist as well?

So instead, the father decided to begin teaching his son some of the tricks. Creativity. Thinking outside of the box. Observation. Stretching trust. Misdirection. He was proud that William Jr. was shaping up to be even better at it than him… he wondered whether that made him a bad father or a good one.

As his son was packing to attend Hogwarts, William Jr. looked up at his dad. "I'll try not to get expelled."

"That's probably a good idea," William replied, smiling.

"I'll make you proud, too. And I'm going to see if I can help you pay your debt. You know, with Harry Potter – he's going to be there at school with me my 7th year."

"What?" William was a bit dismayed about that. "It's my debt, not yours."

"I don't see why I can't help out, especially when I begin Act Two."

"Act Two?!" William was starting to panic a bit.

"The Return of Lord Voldemort."

"No! I forbid it."

His son didn't argue. Which, William knew, was his son silently saying 'Yes I am, and there's nothing you can do about it.'

A few minutes went by, each of them staring the other down. William Sr. was angry; William Jr. was defiant.

After several seconds, William Sr. knew that he was fighting a losing battle. Plus, it was pretty difficult to yell at your son for doing the exact same thing you did when you were his age… especially if it was something you didn't regret looking back on it.

Finally, he asked, "How would Voldemort return? I tied up all the loose ends. Even Wormtail is dead."

"Oh? Is he?" his son asked, smirking. "Apart from the two of us, nobody knows what happened to him. Besides, you're forgetting the first rule of Legendary Dark Overlords of Humanity."

"Which is..."

"... Dark Lords are like magicians. They never really die, they're immortal."

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