The Real Harry

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          Harry let out a shaky breath, he squared his shoulders and let his eyes drift across the name plates on each goblin's desk. He finally found on labeled "Yurgus" at the back of the large hall. As he made his way to "Yurgus" - an elderly goblin with a rather grumpy looking face(though I suppose all goblins come off grumpy.) - he absentmindedly wondered why such small creatures required a hall so big. he directed his focus back to the matter at hand when he reached the end of the hall.

          Suddenly nervous, he cleared his throat, hoping to get the goblin's attention. If the goblin heard him, he didn't let it show as he continued with his - rather boring(at least it looked boring) - paperwork. Harry swung his arms, hoping to cool off the sweat that had gathered on his palms.

          "Mr-uh-Yurgus-sir, um" Harry stuttered out. He wasn't sure why he was nervous, but his insides seemed to twist and dance in a bundle of nerves. Thankfully, the goblin looked up, taking his mind off of his nervousness a bit. He cleared his throat once more. "I hope I'm not disturbing, but, I-er- am wondering why you've sent for me."

          "Ah, Mr. Potter, we've been waiting for you. It seems you've finally decided to comply t our requests." Harry was confused. What did he mean finally?

          "I'm sorry, but, what do you mean, finally?" Harry inquired, feeling like he was missing something.

          Yurgus's brows furrowed. "We have been sending you monthly letters for a year now, Mr.Potter, asking for an audience."

          Baffled by this new discovery, Harry was quick to reply. "Sir, I have never gotten any letters from Gringotts until now."

          The elderly goblin seemed to have drawn a conclusion to the discrepancy as his eyes widened and he muttered under his breath. The goblin had whispered very quietly, but Harry heard him, "They were intercepted..."

          Yurgus sighed heavily, "Come along then Mr. Potter, we have much to discuss and not much time to discuss it." Yurgus twisted in his seat and jumped from his - very tall - chair.

          As Harry was lead to one of the many private discussion chambers, he let his mind wander back to what the goblin had said. Why would someone intercept his letters from Gringotts? Surely it couldn't be something too interesting. What use would one have with such a letter?

          Harry settled himself in the lavishly decorated chair and faced the goblin, "Why have you called me here, sir?"

          The goblin smiled at Harry - something he had seen no goblin ever do before - "We are here to speak of your inheritance! You see, when a wizard or witch reaches 15 years, they receive a form of official claim to the position they hold in their family. They also receive valuable artifacts set aside for them by family members. This is a crucial part of the wixen's life."

          Harry was intrigued, does this mean his parents set something aside for him? "What must I do Mr. Yurgus?"

          "Please, just Yurgus and all I need is a drop of your blood on this parchment." He slid a clean piece of parchment over the polished wood of the table along with a ornate silver dagger with rubies embedded to the hilt.

          Harry took the dagger and pricked his nimble finger on it, wincing only slightly as he let a drop drip out of the puncture and plop onto the parchment. Immediately, the blood sunk into the parchment and a blood-red script started to scrawl it's way elegantly across the once bare platform of the parchment. Harry watched in fascination as the parchment was suddenly full of information, but as he started to read it, he felt his face twist in confusion and horror.

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