"Letter from the bank, and that's it. That's all. To be honest with you, I'm not exactly trying to draw much attention to myself, I don't--" He shifted in his chair a bit. The was was over, it was long over and from the looks of things, England had really turned about. But, as far as he could tell, that didn't mean that Voldemort didn't still have supporters who might delight in killing the boy they'd missed out on murdering ten years ago when they'd destroyed his parents for abandoning the Dark Lord's services.
"Let's just say, right, that I left in a bit of trouble and I don't know if I want to talk to anyone I used to know. Anyone my parents used to know, and that goes for family. Would have gone for you too if you weren't so fucking persistent. You're like a fungus, or fruit flies, or something."