A dish best served cold

1

Harry Potter had dealt with hatred many times in his life. He had been the victim of pointless bigotry and abuse at the hands of his guardian, he had faced the school when they believed him responsible for the Chamber of Secrets, and then again when he had been forced to take part in that damnable Tournament. What he had never expected, was to be the one feeling that abhorrence.

He was sitting next to the Sirius, his teeth grinding against each other in barely concealed rage. He was in Gringotts Bank, and was speaking to the goblin that managed his accounts. Sirius had suggested that he come today and claim his place as Lord Potter, because now that Voldemort was back, he would need access to things that most kids couldn't get and he would also need to train. As a Lord, he would be emancipated and, therefore, not fall under the Restriction of Underage Sorcery.

What could possibly make Harry Potter fume like the Hogwarts Express? Betrayal. The two people he had trusted the most in the world, the ones who were supposed to be there for him through thick and thin, had smiled in his face all the while sharpening the dagger they were ready to shove in his back.

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had been stealing from him. Back in second year, when Harry had allowed Mrs. Weasley to use his vault key to buy his supplies, she hadn't given it back. Being the naïve boy he had at the time, he hadn't thought twice about it. Now, he was finding out that he had lost nearly a half a million galleons.

Ron had stolen the key from his mother and hidden the fact that he had it from anyone else. Being an idiot however, he had let it slip to Hermione one day, who had surprised him by promising not to tell Harry, so long as she got a share. She had also promised to be his girlfriend, just so long as they kept it secret. So, the two of them had begun stealing from him a little at a time so that he wouldn't notice large chunks of money missing. When he failed to mention his funds being low, they took that as a good sign and started taking out more. By the beginning of fourth year, they were comfortable enough to take out large amounts of money and putting them in a joint account that they had opened with their own money, and then put all of the galleons they had stolen into that one.

Harry did not know all of these details, but he had figured out how they had done it. When he had asked why the manager had never notified him earlier, he was made aware of a few things. The first was that the money was almost always removed during holidays of some sort or on a weekend, and it was done by Harry himself. The second was that more recently, some withdrawals had been made with a magical key imprint so the key holder didn't need to show up in person. The bank had sent out a notification of transaction and receipt, but the owl tracks the key, not the owner, so because he didn't have the key, he didn't receive the letter.

Harry, having heard the part about him showing up in person, he was a little vexed, since he had no idea how they would do that other than with Polyjuice potion, for which they didn't have access to the ingredients. He endeavored to find out exactly what was happening. He also asked if anyone else had been benefitting from him, and had been told that Ginny Weasley had gotten a few payments from the Weasley/Granger account, so it was safe to say that she was in on whatever was going on.

Harry's blood was boiling, and his magic screamed for release. He wanted to find the fools that dared to cross him and rip them apart. There was something that few people knew about Harry, and those that did thought it a good thing because they viewed it as protectiveness.

Harry Potter was highly possessive. When applied to his friends, it looked like he cared deeply for them. In truth, he would never let them go unless he had no more use for them. His vow to overcome Voldemort had sprung from the fact that the man had taken his parents, almost taken his at-the-time friends, and finally, had stolen Harry's blood. For that, he would never forgive the ugly lizard-lipped son of a bitch.