HI, Im alive! Its been years since I written on this account, or written anything that someone has actually read. I've had a kid, got married, lived a whole life, but recently my husband bought me the Hogwarts legacy game. So of course I had to reread the books, and watch the movies and read all the fan-fiction, which has led me here. Back to the account I made when I was 16, (I'm almost 30 now) but it reminded me how much I love to write, how much I enjoyed telling a story, so I'm going to try it again, hopefully my writing has gotten better, hope you enjoy.

(im thinking)

("im talking")

-The Inheritance-

C1

Rip-fang was strange for a goblin, everyone told him so, his friends and family, this very morning in fact his wife had mentioned it. Not strange in his choice of career, he was after all an account master at Gringotts Bank, nor for his appearance, Quite handsome if I do say so myself, nor was he strange in his unending belief that goblins were in-fact much smarter than wizards.

Arrogant bunch, wizards, he thought, so undying in their belief that they were superior to all other magical creature, yet so ready to murder children over something as stupid as blood purity. Even arrogant enough to go after the Heir Potter. Though I suppose Potters do have a tendence to die young. He mused.

He continued to muse over this as he watched the quill write out the 5th letter he had composed to Heir Potter in regards to his account.

Great caves below, how hard is it to contact one child, the war has been over for months, and no reply, is this boy not reading his mail?! He railed, dragging a hand through the few scraggly bits of hair left atop his head, Saving the world from that ridiculous megalomanic is no excuse for not returning an incredibly important missive such as it is!

Having been the account master for the Ancient and Noble House of Potter for over 200 years he understood how hard it could often be to track down an errant Heir, but never in his years had it been this difficult.

He smirked as he signed the letter with a flourish, the plan had been easy enough to make, as he glanced at the Daily Profit, the headline he had read this morning stood stark against the white parchment.

The Boy Who Lived to Testify at Death Eater Trial

The Trials were public affairs and as such anyone no matter their status, or species was able to attend. Perfect.

"Griphook! I'm going out!" he yelled to one of his many assistances and grabbing the letter from his desk, before disappearing in a swirl of color. He had a Trial to get to, an Heir to wrangle, and most importantly, he still hadn't figured out why everyone though he was strange.

TBC