Epilogue to Bringer Of Death

Six Years After The Death Of Voldemort:

yelled a shrill voice in the silence of the early morning. The master of the house woke out of his light slumber on the sofa by the fireplace that the magic of the small manor house's house elves kept burning through the night for him. He strode briskly to his son's room, where the small child was sitting wide eyed looking like a startled rabbit in his immense bed. The house came with his title and so his little Cain was still not used to the large spaces and looming shadows. The small four room flat that they had lived in before the upheaval of the final trials, interrogations, and ceremonies to honor those that worked to end the British wizarding civil war. His formal mastery was still recognized and his income was already steady, especially since his old master and friend went to Hogwarts to teach general potions to the masses there.

He climbed onto the bed with Cain and held the child who was in essence his clone (with more than a few mutations that were inevitable when creating life.) The dark haired four year old let out a great sigh of breath and hugged his father tightly and started to relay the awful bad dream. It was of a big puce and furry beast who was chasing the child. The monster shouted at Cain that the child would make a great dessert because in the dream he knew that the monster had already eaten his beloved father. The two sets of emerald eyes met each other as the child's father very seriously told him that no monster would ever eat him, he was a potions master and a daddy. Besides, he'd give the monster a stomach ache. Cain laughed at his daddy and hugged him using his father's robes to clear the tears away. Cain clung to him until he fell asleep again and his father eased him into the bed and under the covers. He smiled at his son and backed out of the room.

He child had no mother, and to the chagrin of the few jokers he had the displeasure of knowing, the young potions master did in deed brew and create his son with the help of Severus, his fellow master and best friend. The government really didn't know how to classify the baby when the proud father-creater brought him forth. Now they just went with the simplest solution, they gave him the same documentation as a typical pure or half blooded kid. After all, he was credited by many with the final defeat of what they were now calling the Dark Side', no one wanted to anger him for fear of what he might do- lethal or bringing the mass media down on their heads. He had finished creating Cain four years and seventy-three days ago, and he knew he'd never regret it or want things to ever change. Well, other than losing the stupid title and the lands that they saddled him with.

He was now the viscount of the mostly magical village of Godric's Hollow and the area surrounding it. Apparently it was a Potter thing, being the viscount and serving in the Ministry of Magic as part of the House of Sorcerers, another House of Parliament that the normal world had no idea existed and influenced their laws. It also infuriated the potions master to no end, he hated politics and he hated having to take time away from the two passions in his life to see to the needs of his people and Great Britain in general. As he was a Life Peer he was stuck, he couldn't even just send a proxy or something- though the people he asked might have heard doxie' instead of proxy'.

The only house in the kingdom with more worries than the house of Potter was that of the Malfoys. The Marquis Lucius Malfoy, The Marquise Narcissa Malfoy, and the only heir to the title Lord Draco Malfoy were all unable to take the reins of their holdings and take their place in the House of Sorcerers. Each one victims to the death of Voldemort, each one with the skeletal serpent in the crook of their left arms. Lucius and Draco were both in complete control of the faculties of a toddler and the once lovely Narcissa was in a mass grave along with many others who died in utter pain and confusion. No one knew who was going to take the title, tracing the bloodline was growing harder and more disapparating every day, it seemed the Malfoys kept not only the title in the family and now the only possible heirs were squib, in the same position as the two Malfoy males, or dead. Of course, it wasn't the only house suffering from the deaths of the Death Eaters and the end effects of the war, but it was the one making headlines and it was the toughest to find an heir for.

More than once in the mess that was now his life he was deeply jealous of Severus for being the grandchild of a third son, a fourth daughter, a second son, and a eighth daughter. The man was free of all political strings and could do what he wanted for the most part. The new viscount had to worry about media, the people of Godric's Hollow, and weaving his way through the political scenes of magical Great Britain. In the two years that he had been functioning as the viscount he had learned all he could on a number of topics that he never wanted to deal with in the first place. It was the reason why he now had a very select, skilled, and intelligent staff of advisors and diplomats. Each one was worth every galleon he put into their wages and they were all that stood between him and insanity. Not that it wasn't looking like a great option.

Severus did help him cope, going from Voldemort's trusted left hand and potion apprentice to Severus Snape was a hard transition. He still found himself doing odd little things that only a Death Eater ever had to do and the mark was still there, mocking him. It symbolized all he had done to fulfill a prophesy that was, in the end, pointless. He hated the fact that the ghosts of his past still haunted him in his dreams, at one point it got so bad he went a week with three hours of sleep. He had found a counselor who's sister was a muggle-born witch to help him work through the problem after that event, and even now he tried to make time to see Dr. Emily Granger. The woman was always insightful and he usually came away with feelings of unease, but he and everyone who he worked with could see the changes for the better. Just a few weeks ago Severus even visited her after a very disturbing month of sleepless nights and jumpy days. He had to admit, he had been worried about the stubborn man and was pleased to see him doing something about the hellish world where they were high ranking demons.

He settled down at his desk, to look at the notes and plans for the coming day. Everything in his life was planned now with the singular exception of his son. It was depressing at times, especially when he opened up the Wizarding Herald, a new newspaper to fill the void left by the forgotten Daily Prophet, and saw a new potion breakthrough or a radical treatment for an age old health issue. He was supposed to be the one behind a cauldron finding the way to a better life, not the no talent idiots who breezed out of the universities and schools like mass produced Pepper-Up. Severus even said he hated seeing the mistakes and assumptions the new breed of potion makers committed. Most looked at the fine and subtle art like muggles did their sciences, they didn't learn about the balancing of magics, interdisplanary bridges in theory, and the interdependence and immense implications of the sacred rule of thirds. He tried to shove the bitter thoughts out of his mind as he picked up the newest letter from Severus.

Harry,
Kill me now. Please. I'm deadly serious, you whelp.
It has been determined that I am the closest relative to the Malfoys who is able to take up the marquiship. By the sun's rise it should be all over the wireless and the papers that I am leaving my post at Hogwarts for White Stone Manor and taking up the roll that has been left' to me.
How in the name of all that is holy did we end up like this?
I'm going to need your help to get settled and help get the area back in shape. The last three generation of Malfoys did not take care of their lands and people in Dover at all. Right now I'm packing my things and helping McGonagall with the turnover of my position to the idiot replacing me. Luckily, we were waiting until next year for me to take up the mantle of Head of Slytherin House, so that's one less charge for me to give the foolish girl. Besides, the brat was a Gryffindor in school and having her as the one on charge of the house that she spent seven years in school hating would be pure insanity. I hope the students make her want to run away crying. She's been nothing but arrogant and utterly sure that she will not only be able to teach my revised curriculum, but will do better than I ever could.
Please tell me why I can't curse the classroom to make her career hellish as a trip to the London branch of the Ministry.
I hope this finds you and Cain in good spirits. Lord knows one of us deserves to be in a good mood today, and since I'm going to be fuming for the next ten years, it falls to you, my dear friend. Tell Cain that I'm going to try to visit as soon as I can and do not read him this letter- even if I know you will anyhow. You are surpassingly infuriating, at times. That last letter had more exslpisitives than I knew existed, your vocabulary certainly has come along way since your youth. Whether or not it's a good thing remains to be seen. But dear Lord, I do hope your darling son doesn't hear you during a tirade anytime soon.
As the new Marquis of Augurey Heights, I'm going to request you attend this stupid gala that apparently is tradition for every new Lord of White Stone Manor. You don't know how lucky you got that the Potter family has never had any real traditions other than breaking traditions. And to make it that much worse, I'm torn between hate and respect for the previous Malfoys for putting up with the fatuous farce among other things. Come, I will need intelligent conversation or I will not be held responsible for my actions. Bring Cain too, the kid will get a kick out of all the pageantry and ritualistic offering of me on the alter of outdated political ideologies.
I'm already wishing that I had vanished an become a highly aggressive hermit.

SS.

He laughed as he read the letter again and knew that fate really did like a good joke as much as the next person.