So I've decided to post this story on both here and SilverSnitch (which is like AdultFanfiction, but you can be 17 to access the site, instead of 18.).

IF the lovely people controlling this site say that there is something in this story that is too lewd, or explicit, I will cut out any and all scenes that are deemed as such and only post them on SilverSnitch, but for now, you amazing, patient, and observant people are going to be able to read all of the gory details.

As such, I would like to make it known that I'm wholly not comfortable with anyone 15 or under reading at least the explicit parts, no matter if they're semi- or fully explicit.

Also, I was reading over my story and realized that not only are the chapters too short (which I have been trying to work on), but I really didn't like the flow of the chapters very much, so, if I can manage, I will be editing some of the crappy parts of the story, but will also try to keep the story updated thus far, because I know many of you are ready to find and harm me if I don't. –Looks at angry mob nervously-

…

It had been a normal summer day when he had gotten the letter from Gringotts. He had been woken up by the shrill voice of his aunt, made breakfast, done his chores, and then been shoved back into his room for the rest of the day. Ever since word had gotten out that he had a raving lunatic for a godfather, might he add one that had escaped from a wizard's prison that should have been impossible to break out of, his relatives had tried to interact with him as little as possible. This had been a godsend for him, to be honest. The less they tried to be around him, the less he had to deal with his uncle's...

Shaking his head roughly, as if the thought he was trying to dispel was a clump of mud he wish to be away with, Harry threw himself back onto his bed. Staring at the ceiling, he forced himself to think of other things. Harry did much more thinking then he let off, being taught in the beginning that if you didn't play the way people wanted you to, you just got harmed in the long run.

You see, Harry was much wiser to his surroundings then he let on, being raised by the Dursleys had taught him this harsh lesson. Never misjudge a person, as it could cost you more than your free time.

He spent much of his time, when he wasn't being coerced into doing something of his aunt or uncle's bidding, thinking about the wizarding world and Dumbledore. He always thought about the manipulations of that old man, whether it is his Cheshire smile, or that bloody twinkle, he was always manipulating the people around him to bend to his will. On this day, he was thinking about the man's hand in the unjust sentence to Azkaban.

Knowing that Dumbledore had the power to sway the people of the wizarding world, at least at that time (he had seen how many people viewed him as a senile old man now) he knew that he should have been able to sway more than enough people to his case to make sure Sirius would only have had a small sentence, if not, go totally free, instead of having the life sentence he had.

That being said, he also knew that, unless his parents were stupid, as Snape had said, at least about his father, then they wouldn't have had Sirius as a secret keeper that would be too obvious. Furthermore, if what he read about secret keepers were true, you needed an over the average wizard to do the spell, as it exhausted quite a bit of power to do so and the only two wizards that he could think of that had that power at the time were Voldemort and Dumbledore...

Above all else, he knew that, unless Petunia was any different then how she was now, they would have made sure to put in their will to never send him to the Durselys, he was more than slightly sure that they couldn't of gotten this bad overnight.

To further his suspicions of Dumbledore, the Triwizard Tournament raised more than one red flag in Harry's opinion. It shouldn't have been that easy to get a child, who was three years below legal age to enter the contest, especially as he had a child that seemed to always get into scrapes he barely made it out of alive. If anything, being the powerful wizard that he is, Dumbledore could have easily put more protections on the cup, such as not letting someone of a magical signature that didn't match the name that was on the paper put their name in the goblet, it just didn't add up and Harry knew it.

On top of that, seeing as it always as if Dumbledore knew the goings on of everyone in school, he should have had some clue as to that Moody was ambushed, or at least that the person under the disguise of Polyjuice was dangerous, or even that he was under Polyjuice to begin with.

Simply put, none of it added together in a way Harry felt comfortable with.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a tapping on the window. He peered from his spot on his (seen better days) bed to see an official looking owl with a scroll trapped in its beak. He rolled off said bed and walked over to the window to let the owl in. It swooped over his bed, dropped the scroll, gave a hoot to Hedwig, who ruffled her feathers and continued preening as she had before the owl came, and flew out of the window in a flurry of feathers.

Harry went over to the letter and picked it up, inspecting the letter cautiously, he held the scroll with both hands at the end and turned it slowly, looking at every part of it. As it's been said, you couldn't be too entirely safe; he had learned that the hard way from a few of "Vernon's Kindnesses".

The seal itself was plain, a blood red wax seal with a large G impressed into it surrounded by entwining vines. On the opposite side of the scroll, in an elegant script, written with black ink, it read,

Mr. Harry Potter

Number 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

'Well at least the addressing is less creepy then the Hogwarts letters.' He thought amusedly, turning it back to its seal and delicately breaking it, he unrolled the scroll, noticing it to be of slightly heavier then the Hogwarts parchment. He held both curling ends of the scroll and read,

Mr. Harry Potter,

We are truly sorry for the unannounced letter, but we feel this couldn't wait. We, the Goblins at Gringotts, were going over bank statements, when we found something out of the ordinary. It seems that someone has been withdrawing money from your accounts that isn't a person listed to be allowed to do so. We also noticed that you weren't present to listen to your parents wills, as you were to before you started Hogwarts. We would like to go over these issues, plus a few other things and talk them over with you. The missive you are reading acts as a portkey, and will self destruct as soon as you are inside the wards of the bank. Furthermore, if anyone were to intercept and read this, they would find those highly contrite letters you have been receiving from your confidants.

I digress; we await your attendance at our bank, and plan not to leave until this matter is settled. There is much to discuss, so we would like to start immediately. Just touch this portkey and say "agito" and it will immediately transport you into the office of the goblin in charge of your accounts.

Ragnok

Head Goblin

'Odd…' He sat back down on his bed, weary that the letter could be a trap sent by Death Eaters or ravenous fans. He eyed the letter with distaste, setting it down on his night stand. He drew his legs up and bit his thumb nail as he started at the letter before him and mentally went over what could happen if he were to do as the letter said. 'Well, if I do go, and it is a trap, I would face whoever it was and, knowing the government, they would probably just blow it off and send me back with a pat on the head. If it isn't, I could also learn some valuable information and possibly be away from this place for a while as well. On top of that, even if I were ambushed, it'd still be better than being stuck in this house.'

With this thought, he nodded to himself. He knew, somewhere deep down inside of him, that this was something he needed to do. He needed to go to Gringotts tonight. Something was niggling at the back of his mind that this trip would possibly change his life. With one last scan around his room, he lifted his backpack that he kept packed nestled in the corner of his room, in case he had to leave quickly for whatever reason, he lifted the loose floorboard up and took out the only thing he kept in there anymore and tucked it in his pocket.

He then stood up straight and picked up the scroll from the bedside table. He unrolled the self rolled up piece of parchment, whispered the password, felt the familiar tug on his navel and disappeared in a swirl of dust.

…

What are you guys' thoughts on the edit in this chapter? Should I continue like this, or would you rather me just get on with the story?