The Dark Lord was gone, and the war was over, but the battles still tried to flair up. A handful that remained still wanted the pureblood world they had been promised and they seemed unwilling to bow down until they were all dead... and taking as many with them as they could. "I hope you're right. For your sake," he said, making a face. "The remaining death eaters know I'm alive though, so they'll be looking for me," he admitted, shaking his head and sighing softly.

"Potter, don't," he said, fixing him with a hard, wary look. "You're an auror, but you're bound to the Ministry. You can kill but you'll face prison if you fight this battle. They want to deny they're still trying to form. I wish I knew the leader now, though I'd hate to have to name a name." Because they both knew. If someone was trying to rally them, it would be Lucius.

The suggestion though got a considering look out of him, shaking his head. "Actually, no, I hadn't. I tried burning it off and I tried magically scrubbing it. Let me know the name of the place. They could still track it that way but it's better than looking at it ever day."

And he hated staring at it, seeing it, knowing what he had done and nearly done.

"I know I'm a git for coming now, telling you this. Maybe it's my own mortality but I think it's... really? A Weasley?" He shook his head, trying to smile about it as he had once been. "Think of the children, Potter."