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Pray For The Wicked

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Harry Potter. Harry Fucking Potter. A cursed name, a loved name. A teen at the end of a London street thought. A depressed teen it seemed. He kicked off the wall he had been leaning against and walked down Oxford street. His hood up, black leather jacket over a black hoodie and black tight jeans. He looked the part of a depressed teen, he felt like one too. Raven black hair swiftly swinging back and forth as he walked. His head down, following a beat.

He walked through mazes of people towards the underground. Standing still on the escalator as he mentally went through his day. It started as a normal hellish day with the Dursleys. Doing chores, getting insulted and beaten. The same old routine and he was sick of it. What’s the point of supposedly defeating a dark lord when you can’t even defend yourself against a killer whale, a fat seal and ugly giraffe.

Seating himself, a smirk graced his face. He`d snapped and told the animals to piss off and wordlessly summoned all his stuff in a backpack. Of course, shrinking everything. He had discovered earlier that summer that The Ministry can’t register wandless magic, a blessing for him as he was quite good at it.

He also stole all the cash from their wallets. Noting they didn’t deserve.

After awhile he got off the train and walked towards his destination. The Leaky Cauldron.  Just as shitty as the last time he was here. He went through the gate and took a moment to relish the feeling of being surrounded by magic again. The walked the steps up to Gringotts and nodded to the goblins at the entrance. He found the nearest unoccupied teller and headed towards the creature.

The goblin gave him an unimpressed look which quickly turned into shock.

“Greetings, may your gold flow and your enemies cower at your feet” the green-eyed teen said, in Gobbledegook. Harry had found a small box in the Dursleys attic that surprisingly held everything his mother had studied and collected. Books, maps, artifacts from the magical world. And Harry had read it all, like a sponge to water. In one of those very interesting books it stated that he could claim his birthright at the age of 13 and be emancipated if he had no other close living relatives. A fact that made Harry giddy with excitement. He could do everything he wanted and more. Being the heir and now lord of a extremely wealthy family had its perks.

He pushed his hood off and fringe up, so the goblin could see. In return he got a grunt and a follow me motion. After walking down god knows how many corridors, he was finally lead into an office. The goblin took a seat and took out a piece of parchment.

“I assume you are here to claim your titles.” The still nameless goblin inquired.

“Yes, you assume right.”  Oh, how Harry loved goblins and their straightforwardness.

 After being instructed to prick his finger and doing so he was quite fascinated by the results. He noticed that over the summer and the past school year he had matured and physically changed greatly. He kept the changes secret, until he had the answers he would continue to do that. The physical changes he kept secret through glamours and he just pretended that he was the same mentally. The teenager knew about puberty and all that, but he knew it wasn’t puberty. His hair had changed, it was now inky black and wasn’t sticking out in crazy directions. His face looked more chiseled. Basically, he looked like a pureblood.

The words that appeared on the parchment were very satisfactory for Harry and made him grin like the cat that caught the canary.