[ WP ] After the Dark Lord conquered the realm everything turns out really damn good .

One little mistake and a lifetime's worth of planning goes under. I had lost almost ten years as a floating wraith, gathering enough magic to become corporeal again. It was n't very intelligent of me to attack the Potters' house without sufficient planning, but it was expected. Still, every time I learn a lesson in this wizarding world, it comes with a price. 
 
 
 My first true lesson was after I graduated from Hogwarts. All my skills at magic, manipulating people, and magically manipulating people amounted to less than nothing when I tried to find a job. 
 
 
'A halfblood, eh? Here's a broom - no it does n't fly. Stop gawking at it and start sweeping,' that was my first attempt to get a job with the ministry. Every other job I wanted had a similar interview. I was so upset that I could n't even get to be a lowly Defense against the Dark Arts professor ( I had the highest marks in that class since Dumbledore, himself ) that I must have cursed the position through sheer frustration and accidental magic. 
 
 
 All the maneuvering and braying for position and helping other Slytherins that I did during school amounted to nothing once I was out of Hogwarts' gates. That was when I saw the two paths I could follow to change this crumbling corrupt society. I could either become a champion of the muggleborn - fighting against generations of inbred thinking and scraping by on funds. Or, I could try to help the new-blood - the arrogant bastards who thought they should rule rather than the old, entrenched families. 
 
 
 The choice was easy. The new-blood families were rich and had more influence. As a bonus, each one of them that died made for one less mewling self-entitled magic user. AS an inside joke, I chose a pseudonym that was an acronym - one which any half-clever muggleborn would be able to work out with a pen and some parchment. Then I launched my'campaign' to get the new money purebloods into power. If I had my way, the old families would have been whittled down into a few sparse individuals and the muggleborn would have taken over by sheer weight of numbers - ready for one Thomas Riddle the Second, champion of their cause, to spearhead a new, fair magical England as their minister. 
 
 
 If it had n't been for the Potter house. Charlus Potter was one of the old blood, firmly entrenched in tradition. Despite all his talk and bluster, he would sooner kiss a house elf than help a muggle, himself personally. The only thing families like the Potters and the Prewetts did with muggleborn was find the best and brightest muggle born witches and slowly dose them with love potions until their ambitions and drive were almost all gone and they were only good for breeding stock. Then, they would pat themselves on the back expounding their enlightened nature towards the witches with the less fortunate bloodlines. 
 
 
 They had to go. Honestly, I was doing Lily a favor by offering a quick and painless death as opposed to a lifetime of suffering - of trying to remember that she once had plans and goals and ambition; only for the thoughts to constantly escape her grasping fingers - like magic. 
 
 
 I bore little Harry no ill will. He was n't old enough to understand the horrible world he was born to. A world that hid it's ugliness under a cloak of wonder and enchantment - like an old cruel whore wearing a new sparkling dress. I did n't even hold much stock in that prophesy piece that Snape brought me. I was never much for divination. I just chose the Potters because they all had to go - and their fortune all would go to their next closest relative - the Malfoys, and through them - to me. 
 
 
 I did, however, promise Lily to Snape, hoping he would be able to detect and reverse the years-long potion exposure she had been under - something no previous potion master was able to do. But she shouted out, `` Kill me, but spare Harry,'' - or something like that - and leaped in front of my killing curse. Little did I know that I had entered a magical contract bound to her life and blood. I quickly learned the price of breaking said contract when I tried to finish off the young boy. 
 
 
 Ten years as a wraith, floating over ley lines and gathering enough magic to return. Hearing about how England's magical world degenerated further and further in my absence. 
 
 
 When I returned, it was with a new plan and a new spell. I took apart the *imperio* and used Eastern magic to remake it into something new. It's a charm, not a hex. It has no color and ca n't be blocked - and it ca n't ever miss. 
 
 
 Harry Potter was my first target. I found him after a fat boy, his cousin probably, had beaten him into the ground. I decided to give him a better life. My spell worked perfectly. Even now, he lays there in his hospital bed, dreaming of his perfect world. Perhaps he learns about his heritage, finds out that he has money which the goblins had n't stolen yet through outrageous fees, goes to Hogwarts, meets actual friends, has adventures and lives happily ever after. 
 
 
 Meanwhile, his body stays in a happy coma. Just like Dumbledore and the Malfoys and most everyone that had betrayed me. They're all living out their perfect lives. 
 
 
 Perhaps when I'm tired of living in general, I'll wake Harry up and see if that prophesy comes true. 
 
 
 But right now, I have to finish the final touches on my magical retro virus. Let's see what the full-bloods think, how sacrosanct they feel their secret power is, when there's suddenly six and a half billion new magic users. 
 
 
 I can almost hardly wait until my defense classes are over.
