Dark Lords

Prologue

The date was 2 May 2001, the same day when three years ago exactly the Battle of Hogwarts occurred. Three years after everything changed.

I wasn't the sentimental type, but I couldn't help but reminisce on the events that happened on that day. It was stuck in my mind on repeat, like a leech that was sucking the life out of me.

I remembered how frightened I was. I remembered seeing the faces of my loved ones, and my not-so-loved ones, looking at me in shock. I remembered what I did. Was it justified? I do not know. All I know is that he, Voldemort, was right,

"You may think you have gotten rid of me for good, but i promise you that this moment will haunt you 'till the end of your days. You will never forget, never forgive, and never move forward"

Those were his last words, his last au revoir before he died by my hands. Although I have forgiven, and forgotten, I have indeed never moved forward.

As I sat in my seat near the ever burning fire, I silenced my inner thoughts of turmoil and brought my attention to the post that I held in my hands. The address read; 'Wiltshire, England, Malfoy Manor.'
I gazed at the seal on the envelope before carefully opening it, taking out the smooth letter and unfolding it.

'To Draco L. Malfoy

It is my pleasure to announce to you that there will be a small gathering at Hogwarts, School of Wizardry and Magic on the 4th of May for former students (of age) and teachers alike.
If you wish to come, please bring formal wear and a whole lotta' fun!

..

Bad joke? Sorry. I've been trying to get more in touch with muggle slang but it just doesn't roll off the tongue as it should.
Anywho, the time of the party will be at 8:00 pm. Also, I am sincerely sorry about your wife, I'm sure you'll find love again.

Please note that violent acts will get you forcefully excluded.

My Condolences,
Headmistress Mcgonagall.

Ps. Please bring Wine."

"A party?" I muttered under my breath.

I gently placed the paper on my lap on top of the envelope, staring off into the fire absentmindedly in deep thought. Ignoring the casual mention of my dead wife and underlying threat, i thought about if I would go to the party.

'A party sounds nice, but it would be awkward and I would have to see... people.'

Ever since the war, I had thrown myself into work. I suppose you could say that I became quite the introvert. I left no time for myself to think, - correction, no time to grieve. I worked until my head spinned, sorting out lawsuits and such. My position as the head of an organisation formerly known as The Deatheaters has been harder than I anticipated. You know, with all the murderers n' stuff.

You see, once I got the position after Voldemorts fateful death I had decided to convert what remained after the war into a humanitarian relief organisation. It sounds odd, I know - but i wanted to give a second chance to those who needed it. I had seen first hand how so many deatheaters were forced into it, by either family, blood, or fear. Even most of the higher-up deatheaters in the inner circle were petrified at Voldemorts mere presence. (Of course, that's excluding my aunt Bellatrix Lestrange.) So that's why after all the murderous deatheaters had been dealt with, I scraped up the pitiful remains of the ones who stayed and from then on, created a change that would be remembered and impact the wizarding world for centuries to come.

Of course this had a big impact on the ones close to me as well, too many people with too many opinions had too much to say. Even so, I had attended the funerals of The Fallen Fifty and mourned for those who died, but that was all I felt could do. I couldn't handle all of those penetrating stares of the widowed and grieved, looking at me as if I killed someone.

Which I did, but I'm pretty sure I had a good reason to kill that old git.