POTTER HEIR DISOWNED!
Rita Skeeter
Lord James Charlus Potter has enclosed to the Daily Prophet the official, and immediate disowning of his eldest so Harrison James Potter, claiming it to be on the evidence 'Threat of Bloodline' and 'Traitorous Acts Against Family Personnel and Values' as well as other reasons he cannot lay claim on.
"My only regret is that I did not do it sooner," admitted Lord Potter at his family manor in Carlisle, "I cannot understand it; perhaps it was the hope that he hadn't done it. That he wasn't what we feared. Apparently I was wrong."
The ex-Potter Heir, recently released for the false accusation and imprisonment for the homicide of seventeen muggles and the incapacitation of three others (see article on Page 3 for more information), was unavailable for comment, however his twin, the wizarding world's hero, Saeviour Sirius Potter, who couldn't be more aptly named, was.
"He was always jealous of my fame," The-Boy-Who-Lived claimed via letter. "Who wouldn't? But when he threatened the life of our father, that was when he destroyed any hope of being brothers."
Once a family of four, is now three. What more can Harrison do to tear this noble family apart? And is he really as innocent as he claims?
The offending newspaper burst into sudden flame as Harry let it float to the table. Across the hall from him, Saeviour was smirking. So that was that. It was finally over. He wasn't a Potter anymore. There was nothing left to tie him to them. Gracefully he rose and rather than leave the Great Hall like everyone believed he would, he turned on his heel and strutted with such a sense of power that it fell off of him in waves as though his mere magic was afraid of him, up to the teachers' table. He came to a halt before Professor Snape, who raised an eyebrow in question.
"Will you do me the favor of escorting me to Gringotts, Professor Snape?" he asked smoothly, his gaze flickering down to the newspaper before his head of house. "In light of…ah, recent affairs, I have some business to take up with the goblins."
Professor Snape studied the numbed eleven-year-old before him. The obsidian eyes flickered towards the Headmaster, who appeared to be trying to express no via his twinkling, traitorous blue orbs. This was answer enough in the dungeon bat's opinion. "I shall be by the common room at eleven o'clock. Do not be late."
"Thank you, sir, the favor shall be returned."
As he turned away from the table, his eyes slid over Professor Quirrel's curious gaze; the corner of his mouth quirked and everything was in slow motion. But then the moment was gone and he was striding out of the Great Hall, hardly noticing the Malfoy Heir rush after him, in a decorum suited to a Malfoy of course. He did notice however, though he took his sweet time in addressing him. Time that led up to the entrance hall before he even let a word pass his lips.
"What do you wish to say Draco?" he asked dryly, "I can hardly take the suspense."
"Why do you need to visit the goblins?" Draco blurted.
Though the blonde could not see, his expression was laughing in amusement. Some days the blonde made it ever so obvious that he was a child, and not the adult he pretended he was. "The Potter Fortune wasn't the only gold I was heir of."
Draco faltered in his step, before smoothly evening his strides back out again so that they matched the raven haired boy's once more. "Which fortunes? There are only so many unclaimed."
He smirked, his gaze sliding over the Malfoy. "Now that would be telling."
Gringotts was exactly as he remembered it to be. Tall white marble pillars; crystal windows framed with goblin gold; dusted diamond chandeliers; the whole building slightly askew as though the crafters and architect had all been drunk when it was built. The goblins were still stiff and sneered cruelly at everything that dared step into their greedy gaze. He had always favoured the goblins over other creatures he had encountered, which were admittedly few, for this. Harry had always been one to appreciate the ability to make one feel small, dirty, insignificant, a tiny speck on a planet full of gods. Goblins were fine examples of this particular look of disdain.
"Ah, Mr Harrison," Griphook said slowly, looking down from his podium at the malnourished child. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to find your way here."
"Apparently not long at all," he said in much the same tone. "I am here to lay claim over the vaults of Slytherin and Peverell as well as document my being a ward of the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Lestrange ad Black."
"The Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Slytherin currently has a living Lord," Griphook said, with a nasty grin.
"Then I shall document being a member of the house and the last remaining heir, by claim of magic," he countered easily.
Griphook scowled, "Ragnok shall take you from here, Mr Harrison. Professor Snape will have to wait here."
He inclined his head, turning to the potions master, "I may be a while, Professor, you can always check on your own vaults or pay a visit to the Apothecary or something similar whilst you wait."
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