"Because you don't dare to kill me, because that would also cause poor Potter to die together—"
Voldemort's voice was sharp, and what he said changed the complexion of everyone there—
James and Lily's faces turned a bit grim. They had already guessed at this possibility when they noticed the shadow of Voldemort faintly appearing on Harry's face. But a guess is just a guess, and when it was confirmed, they still felt sad.
Dumbledore merely sighed and continued to drink from a self-refilling cup of iced cola—being able to drink cola without any concerns wasn't common for him, as McGonagall had struck many sweets from his diet due to health reasons.
William remained expressionless, but after a brief silence, Harry, forced to meet his gaze, suddenly spoke, "Wil... Mr. Richard, sir."
"...What's wrong?"
William raised an eyebrow, pausing in his rebuttal of Voldemort, waiting for Harry to continue.
"Am I dreaming?"
Harry instinctively turned to look at the Potters, gazing at his mother,
"...Pretty much, it's like a lucid dream."
William glanced back at Dumbledore, then lowered his eyes, "However, our current state is quite odd. This world is constructed by magic, and death in the dream can be real death... Remember that diary you received?"
"…I remember."
Harry swallowed, then nodded.
"Wait, my diary—are you the bastard who was scribbling in my diary?"
The right side of Voldemort's face frowned. He stared for a long time, seeming to confirm something, his voice hoarse—as Harry was desperately trying to keep his mouth shut, but apart from making Voldemort's pronunciation a bit strange, it had no effect.
"Yes, because of that diary, the soul Voldemort hid in it during his school days—that's this guy on the right."
Neither William nor Harry paid attention to the noisy voice, "He's attached himself to you now, and he's very interested in you, the 'Savior' who defeated old Voldemort."
"Hey, old man, this Mudblood told me you were bitten to death by Slytherin's basilisk—how are you still alive?"
Voldemort leaned forward, staring at Dumbledore seated nearby. The old man had just conjured two chairs for the Potters to sit in. Hearing Voldemort's taunt, he merely shook his head calmly—
"I thought only fools would believe that... How about you, Tom?"
The old man didn't finish, but his meaning was clear.
"Of course, I didn't..."
...
"...Do you mean that Voldemort is inside me right now?"
On the other hand, after listening to William's explanation, Harry's expression turned as if he'd just eaten a custard pie made with rotten eggs. Upon receiving confirmation, he almost couldn't suppress the urge to vomit—so in the next moment, he straightforwardly did just that.
William instinctively took a step back, then snapped his fingers, and a dark hole opened in the floor beneath Harry.
"Ugh..."
After several bouts of stomach cramps and vomiting, Harry finally fell weakly to the ground.
"Harry..."
Lily stood up, looking heartbroken, but was pushed back into her seat by James beside her.
"Ugh, try not to use my mouth to vomit, kid, we've got a long life ahead of us, haven't we?"
Voldemort's tone was unusually arrogant. Clearly, his gentlemanly, kind demeanor from his school days was all an act, and this younger version of Voldemort naturally lacked the cunning of his older self. Amplifying his emotions using Emotion Magic was simpler than teasing the neighbor's big yellow dog from a previous life.
"Shut up, you filthy parasite—"
Harry couldn't hold back and shouted, then, under William's slightly shocked gaze, he raised his left hand and slapped himself hard.
Nice, but didn't you hit the wrong one?
"Ha ha, is that so?"
Voldemort grinned ferociously, making Harry's expression extremely sinister, "But as long as you're alive, you can't get rid of me, Savior? What a joke—how did 'I' end up being defeated by you?"
"What if I die?"
Harry's voice was light as he looked over at his parents in the distance, even though he knew they were just "projections."
"Ha ha... cough, cough, what did you just say?"
Voldemort seemed a bit surprised.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry almost without hesitation raised his left hand, and in the next moment, a green light shot straight at his own face.
"Damn?"
Without hesitation, William snapped his fingers, causing Harry's hand to flip ninety degrees and then flip back. The deep green light exploded on the ceiling, leaving a large scorched mark, and an iron chair for restraining mental patients rose from the floor, securing the boy from head to toe.
Still not assured, William deprived the boy of his ability to use magic, and after completing all this, he finally sat back in his seat.
"...Awesome."
William took a sip of tea and turned to Dumbledore, "Is this your soldier?"
"...I hadn't anticipated he would do that."
Dumbledore's hand, holding the cola, paused in mid-air, and after a moment it finally resumed its movement.
"Alright, I admit your plan might just have some potential."
William was silent for a moment, then nodded. Naturally, he was referring to Dumbledore's so-called Savior development plan, "Perhaps there's a reason for the Prophecy, but... alright, I can help you."
"But he's just a second-year child..." Dumbledore frowned, filled with concern.
This plan was clearly yours... William didn't speak, he just glanced into Dumbledore's eyes and understood what he meant. He wasn't saying Harry's age should spare him from responsibility, but that... simply being a second-year, he dared to cast the Killing Curse on his forehead? There was no precedent for such courage...
Oh, wait, there wasn't any precedent at all.
"Don't use Legilimency on me, senior—"
Dumbledore sighed.
"Oh, sorry."
Since he had GM privileges in the dream, when William subconsciously used this move, Dumbledore's mental defenses were almost completely ineffective.
...
Meanwhile, on the other side, Harry found himself unable to break free from the chair. He watched his parents approach, tears streamed down from the corners of his eyes, "I don't want to live alongside this parasite... kill me, and I'll come find you—"
"Don't even think about it, poor Potter, I admit you might have a bit of courage—"
Voldemort's voice weakened a fraction but soon regained its arrogance, "But they don't want you to die, so, we've got a long time ahead of us. With our current connection, even if they destroy that diary, I can't die. You're now my new soul..."
The last part was directed at William, but just as it left Voldemort's mouth, he instinctively frowned, "...Wait, why am I telling you this?"
"So that's how it is?"
William nodded, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment, "I thought you might have a novel trick, but it turns out you're still using the same old routine... That's pretty dull, Tom."