Gringotts

July 21

"This way," the goblin, who once upon a time was introduced as Griphook. Currently the woman walking down the halls after him, believed his name to be Riptooth. After all, it wasn't like the wizards could tell the differences between goblins. Then again, goblins were constantly changing their names. This further confused the existing issue of how many goblins actually lived in this part of the world. The pair trudged down several hallways over the next 10 minutes. When dealing with goblins, a few facts were conveniently left out of what wizards were taught. The first being they didn't care for anything above ground. So the massive white marble building they were currently in, while an access point to the vaults below,was mainly for show. In fact it was filled with hallways and doors that led to nowhere for the most part. In general their were two rooms used for meetings for account managers. Both were located within 10 meters of the teller station. However, do to the love goblins felt for wizards, They were generally led in a round about manner through the maze of hallways until the goblins were sure they were disoriented. Then slowly led back to the actual room their meeting was taking place. The woman of course failed to realize it. Riptooth motioned with his hand removing the goblin magic that hid the door before they arrived at it. Solid black Obsidian greeted the woman. It's darkness highlighted by the words Black Vault Manager written in gold.

"Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange, for her appointment," Riptooth stated pushing the door open. Bellatrix as she was now know entered the room, the door closing behind her. There wasn't much to look at in the room. A few goblin sculptures in various poses, the faces nearly identical, were lined up against the side walls. In the center of the room stood a black desk. Sitting at it currently an old gnarled up goblin by the name of … picking up the nameplate on the front of his desk he polished it while studying the name. "Ah yes," he muttered...Sharptooth is the name for this meeting.

"Mrs. Lestrange, I'm Sharptooth the Black Vault manager," the goblin grinned showing his pointed teeth. "You've been called here today in accordance with the new Lord Black's wishes."

"Yes, yes, so the Owl I received already stated," fumed Bellatrix. "Now where is he? I thought I was supposed to meet him here."

"Then you were mistaken. You were not called here to meet with him. You were called here to receive this letter he left for you in our care." Sharptooth replied. Reaching into his desk he removed an envelope. Staring at it briefly he wondered what the affect of its contents would have on the woman in front of him.

Mrs. Lestrange accepted the envelope from the goblin. The imprint of the Black signet ring on the wax that sealed it ensured her the Black family once again had a new head. After staring at it in contemplation for a moment Bellatrix broke the seal to open the letter. Immediately she found herself being ported to a new location. At the bank the goblin who handed her the letter broke down laughing.

It was disappointing he wouldn't be able to see her face when she finished reading what it said, but he did value his life. Seeing it was time for his forty minute first break, he dispelled the magic around him. No reason to let that pail imitation of a house-elf disguise stay on while the true house-elves set up the room for the Nott family visit. Real goblins were green after all. Why wizards fell for the dumb disguises they used no one new.

"That lousy goblin, I'll crucio him next time I see him for this!" yelled Bellatrix as she glared at her surroundings. Trees surrounded the small clearing she was in. Nothing gave away any information on her current location. Well, other then it was a forest of some type. The letter inside the envelope on the other hand...

Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange,

Do to your direct involvement in the death of the previous head of the Black family.

In accordance with the family by-laws. The name Bellatrix Black has been stricken from

the Black family tree. Access to all Black family vaults and residences have been removed.

The name Bellatrix shall be removed from the list of choices for future daughters

of the Black family for the next two hundred years do to the disgrace the previous holder has

brought upon this noble family. From this day forth, if you refer to yourself as a Black,

monetary penalties will be invoked and payment taken from your personal vault(s). Leniency

is granted to you, in that your marriage to the Lestrange family will not be annulled, nor any

demand given for return of your dowry.

Lord Harry James Potter-Black

"That Half-blood kicks me from the family? Me!?" screamed the former daughter of the Blacks.

Blasting curses tore into the trees around her. For five minutes she cursed everything around her. Trees crashed to the ground in every direction. If one didn't know any better you would think a bomb had went off when Bellatrix finished. Nothing was left standing in a 300 meter radius. A slight pop from air displacement she vanished from the forest.

In the small town of Framlingham, a young blonde haired woman stopped at the sudden appearance of a woman in front of her.

"Crucio," yelled the now former Black family member. Her wand held the spell unwavering as the woman screamed and curled into a twitching ball on the ground in front of her.

"Oh does the wittle girlie hurt?" taunted Bellatrix. "Mommy'll make it all better for you."

"Avada Kedavra." The green light of the killing curse flashed briefly ending the woman's torment and life. Bellatrix's fury remained unquenched.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," a soft chant started. "Bella wants to play. You filthy muggles are gonna pay."

"Come out, come out wherever you are."

"Avada Kedavra," the curse rang out once more. A man dropped to the ground dead.

"Malum ignus!" she yelled. Her wand pointed at a quaint one story grey house. A fiery serpent appeared slithering toward the building. As the spell impacted the front of the house flames burst forth consuming the whole building instantly.

"Bombarda. Reducto. Bombarda," she chanted her wand in constant movement. Vehicles overturned and exploded. Houses had their sides caved in. In Bellatrix's mind the best part came out of the muggle's curiousity or stupidity. It just depended on the point of view it was looked at with.

"Avada Kedavra," she cackled once more. The bodies of the filthy muggles just kept piling up as they came to see what was going on. Who knew fire and explosions would draw such a crowd of people seeking to die. Her duty to help them find death slowly calmed the rage in her heart.

Thirty minutes from her first appearance in the village, Bellatrix left. In the short time she spent there, over 200 people died to various curses, explosions, or burning buildings. Many more were injured. Many homes and businesses were destroyed. The ministry of magic's obliviators worked overtime making the many muggles in the area believe it was a gas explosion that caused the incident.

Of course two hours already passed before they showed up to carry out their job.

On the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole, a shabby looking two-story house stood. How someone managed to stack two houses on top of one another without them collapsing was quite the conundrum. A kid would find it fascinating. Most adults in the non magical world would be terrified to step inside. What sane person would voluntarily walk into a house that looked like it would cave in? Assorted conversations were taking place between the members of the family that called the place home.

The way the house was designed, explained more about the two currently talking then anyone probably thought. That is, if the muggle theory that one is a product of one's environment holds true. However the current debate had nothing to do with the house's looks in relation to how these two people exercised their thought processes. At least one could hope it didn't.

The room they occupied held two twin beds. Both were attached high upon the wall almost to the ceiling. Underneath the bed on the left stood a pair of five drawer chests. A potions ingredient cabinet stood next to the door, and ten small stands were set up around the rest of the room. Each stand held a cauldron, a notebook, and pen. While most of the cauldrons were empty, a few held potions in various stages of production. A light blue smoke rose above the cauldron they were presently inspecting.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?", spoke the teenage red-head.

"Of course we should George. Harry needs all the help he can get right now." the second teen replied. He of course enjoyed the benefits of red hair as well. Upon a closer inspection, the two looked completely identical. One may even assume they were twins.

"Blimey George," the first voice responded. "I'm Fred. Can't you even remember the simple coin toss this morning to determine who was who today."

"Er... sorry Fred," the second voice, now known as George, replied. "For some reason I have it in my head I'm Fred and you're George today."

"You don't think we are finally starting to realize which name actually belongs to us do you?", questioned George.

"I think we need to start airing out the room more when brewing", replied Fred. "Those fumes are getting to both of our heads. How you can think we actually know which of us is actually Fred or George is beyond me. Next time pay more attention to what we are brewing."

"I told you that potion needed more work before we started testing it's effectiveness."

"The way the fumes are impacting your memory makes me think the potion will be very potent," responded Fred. "After all, its not everyday that we set out to make a memory loss potion."

"True enough I suppose," said George. "Increasing the Valerian sprigs should reduce the fumes effects on us though."

"But it would make us increase the dosage of potion to get the result we want. Note to self. Bubble-head charm when brewing this from now on," Fred stated, while writing it down on this particular stand's notebook. "Now to make the delivery unit for this, and then dosage testing of our Forget-Me candies on Ron can begin."

"I agree old chap. Shame he won't remember it," laughed George. "Now about this bit for Harry?"

"Yes, about Harry," replied Fred. "Do you think it will really help him if we do this?"

"I think it's exactly what he needs," George responded.

"I'm actually no so sure. It's a great idea of course," Fred stated. "It's just lacking something I think."

"Your the one who came up with this plan in the first place," George accused.

"I know. That's why its a great idea. Doesn't mean it lacks something though."

"A shame we will never see his face when he gets it."

"Still I bet we hear about it."

"Dare we?"

"We dare."

Soft whispers between the two carried the rest of the conversation. The initial idea, with a little extra added, fully met both thier requirements for cheering up Harry. Breaking the huddle they headed in different directions. Proper packaging material must be procured, and the family owl found. How else would it be delivered? Everything else required was already at hand in the room.

Wizengamot Fails to Expel Dumbledore

A push by Minister Fudge to remove the chief warlock from

office failed today do to lack of a quorum. A full two-thirds of the

vote would be needed to remove the current chief warlock.

Dumbledore surprisingly escaped this fate do to simple math.

Almost three quarters of those holding seats were in St. Mungos

do to a violent outbreak of wizarding flu. How that many members

became infected at the same time is currently under investigation.

An elderly grey owl crashed into the table. Setting his copy of the Daily Prophet aside, the man eyed the fallen bird. A purple and lime green wrapped box rapidly expanded from the downed fowl. Addressed originally to Harry Potter, that name was crossed out, and the Dark Lord written to its side.

"How troubling," the man mused. "This should not have reached here." Wards that would destroy portkeys, tracking devices, and hide his magical signature did not interfere with it's delivery. How the owls managed to even find him in this place, he couldn't be sure. Still it was there waiting for him to open. Well it was waiting for one of the resident servants to test anyway.

"You there. Edgars. Open that up," the dark lord Voldemort commanded.

The young man hurried to do his master's bidding. Picking up the box, he ignored the now dead owl it was still bound to. Inside lay a toilet seat with the Hogwarts crest on its lid. Edgars pulled the seat out of the box. Flipping it up showed a message inscribed on the lids bottom.

A Seat for your throne,

A must for all wizards,

Slightly used ,

Does that even matter?

"Avada Kedavra!" spoke Voldemort, a look of fury upon his face. The green light flashed out of his wand and sailed thru the air. The toilet seat with its mockery fell from Edgars' hands as he toppled over dead.

"They mock me with a toilet seat for a throne? How dare they even consider it. They will pay for insulting Lord Voldemort," he exclaimed. "Incendio!" A red spell shot out of his wand. Fire consumed Edgars' dead body and everything around it. The flames continued rising higher and higher as the building itself started to burn.

Voldemort walked outside and apparated away. If an owl could find him, then the building's security was non-existent. A new base needed to be found. One with a better ward scheme at the least.