His father, as always, seemed so at ease with what was happening around him. Now that he was in the odd position of knowing his own adult children, he realized what he had always wanted to be to his kids -- a constant. That was what his father had been to him. His mother had been protective, always their fierce advocate. But their had always been the calm face of bravery, the answer to anything that was troublesome.
"You did," Bill answered easily and immediately. "Despite the evidence to the contrary," he said teasingly as he flicked the earring that he was wearing in one ear. He wondered which would startle his younger mother more -- the scars, or the fang earring. Although she had said that she remembered some things, so maybe he would get lucky on that front.
"I think I had the best childhood a kid could ask for," Bill answered honestly, with the smallest of shrugs. The first war had just barely touched his early years. He was old enough to remember some of the worry that had permeated their home during that time period. But he didn't think he'd really understood then. In any case, what he remembered more clearly was horsing around with Charlie, and pulling pranks on Percy. Teaching the twins how to pull pranks, and then watching as they steadily became the best. Teaching Ron how to fly on a broom, and being overprotective of Ginny. Trying to avoid getting in trouble with their mother, and being curious about whatever new Muggle trinket their father had brought home. He had far more good memories than bad, even if two wars had touched his life.