Coach, I really want to learn this—
Seeing the red-haired woman emerging from behind William, everyone in the room became less composed.
James looked at his wife, the love and longing in his eyes almost overflowing. He picked up the sleeping boy in his arms and walked towards her. Snape’s eyelids twitched slightly; he subconsciously wanted to hide his body backward but couldn’t stop himself from looking at that smiling figure. Dumbledore’s reaction was even more exaggerated; ever since William knew him, the old man never seemed to have exposed such obvious emotional fluctuations as he did today. He stared intently at William, wanting to speak but hesitating.
"...What’s wrong?"
William took a sip of the drink in his cup. The cola was too sweet, so only Dumbledore’s cup contained it—his own cup was lemon tea. Yes, being the GM of this dreamland, he was that willful.
"...Nothing, it’s just that I never thought I’d see them again in my lifetime."
The old man lowered his head, looking like he was counting his beard. William could tell this wasn’t what Dumbledore originally wanted to say, but he didn’t press the matter, simply shaking his head, "This is just a dream, borrowing Harry’s memory and the automatic completion of ancient magic, it’s merely a projection pulled from the dream, not even a soul..."
As he spoke, William seemed hesitant as he added, "The dead can’t be resurrected, but if there’s someone you’d like to see—"
"No, I don’t need that." The old man was silent for a moment, then shook his head, his tone becoming more firm, "Thank you, but... I don’t need it."
"Alright then."
William nodded; he snapped his fingers again, and Lily Potter’s figure began to come alive.
"...Professor, long time no see."
The woman, regaining consciousness, first saw Dumbledore and greeted him politely. Then she began to scan the room with her eyes—Snape instinctively wanted to hide, but there wasn’t any cover nearby for him to use, so he ended up directly facing those emerald-like eyes.
"Severus... long time no see."
Lily’s tone was very gentle, as if everything was the same as before, as if nothing had ever happened...
"Lily, Harry is here—"
It’s different.
Snape’s expression instantly turned ashen. He almost reflexively struck his own chest with a backhand, and the next moment, his figure turned into bubbles and disappeared from where he stood.
"Harry..."
Taking the boy from her husband’s arms, Lily didn’t notice Snape’s disappearance. All her attention was focused on the small figure in her arms. Her hand gently wiped away some dust from the boy’s face, dust that somehow got there. Her gaze was filled with tenderness, "He looks so much like you—"
"His eyes are like yours." James nodded, responding softly.
"How did you..." Lily instinctively furrowed her brows.
"I flipped his eyelids, green, just like you..." The man seemed a bit smug as he spoke.
"...Did you wash your hands before flipping them?"
"?"
...
"...They are still the same as before."
Dumbledore’s eyes twitched slightly; the "heat" from the icy cola misted over his eyes, hiding a crystalline tear.
Watching the incredibly harmonious family of three before him, William furrowed his brow. He turned and locked eyes with Dumbledore, "On Harry..." He hadn’t finished his sentence when Dumbledore nodded, "It’s already prepared, as long as you can separate his soul—"
"Alright."
William clapped his hands, interrupting the couple before him, "Honestly, I don’t want to interrupt such a warm scene—"
James and Lily looked up at him. Without needing any explanation, they decisively nodded—both fully remembered, easily recognizing the shadow looming over Harry’s face.
It was the shadow they hated down to their bones.
Seeing the two ready, William didn’t hesitate anymore. He waved his magic wand, and the previously unconscious Harry suddenly opened his eyes. He looked at the two faces close to him, "Dad, Mom..."
At first, the boy’s emotions didn’t fluctuate much; he instinctively raised a hand to rub his eyes—"Really, is it really you guys? I’m not dreaming, am I?" The boy started to get excited, struggling to sit up from their embrace, then slapped himself.
"Slap—"
The slap was crisp, the sound bright, but... it didn’t hurt.
"Yes, you’re dreaming."
William nodded, his voice also attracting Harry’s attention.
"Wil—William, and Professor Dumbledore... you’re in my dream too?"
Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. He stared at William and Dumbledore, but his gaze soon turned back to his parents in front of him, "Dad, Mom, even if this is a dream, also... What’s wrong with you?" The boy’s emotions settled, and he looked at the hesitant James and Lily, asking with some bewilderment.
"Hello, Potter."
In the next moment, Harry heard "himself" speaking.
"?"
"And you, Dumbledore, the two losers who died at my hand, and... you, who the hell are you?" Harry found himself turning his head towards William’s direction while speaking; the voice sounded nothing like his own.
"What the—what on earth is going on..."
Harry was somewhat terrified.
"Hey, Little Tom, just a few minutes, and you’ve turned into such a mess?"
William crossed his legs, looking at Harry in front of him. The expression on the boy’s face could now be best described with the word "fantastic."
Truly fantastic. The boy’s left face looked no different from the usual Harry, even carrying a trace of bewilderment; but his right half was completely different, though it was still Harry’s face, the deep red pupils and eerie expression symbolized another person residing within him.
"Harry..."
Lily’s voice was slightly pained, and she gently caressed the boy’s left cheek, "How have you been all these years?"
"Mom, I..." The slightly bewildered Harry had just started to speak when another voice overpowered him, "Who gave you permission to touch me with your hand, Avad—" The boy raised his right hand, and the green light began to brew—
"Tsk, at such a young age and up to no good—"
William slapped the boy’s right face, interrupting the Killing Curse that was about to be cast.
Voldemort Jr. was visibly frustrated, but then, as if remembering something, his anger vanished. He smirked and looked up, staring into William’s eyes.
"You’re anxious."
Voldemort’s tone was mocking.
"What am I anxious about?"
William crossed his arms, his tone calm.