After the holiday feast, Anna Sullivan was not surprised to find Harry Spellforged in her kitchen, making a start on the dishes. The Sullivans lived in a muggle house, and their dishwasher worked just fine, but today was Christmas Day, and the extended family had nearly used every dish she owned. Harry had offered to help with the cooking, but Anna had politely declined; what little cooking experience the boy had was with Goblin delicacies ill-suited for the holiday.

Dishes, though? He could do dishes. And it would give them a chance to chat.

Anna caught Harry's glance out the back window, and followed his gaze. Her brother Paul and nephew Erik were kicking a football around the backyard, enjoying the day. London, somehow, had escaped the snow that had blanketed the north country, and Erik wanted to break in his new ball. Anna caught Harry's smirk, and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled.

"I was just thinking," he said, handing her a wet plate, "What would father say if I showed up with a crate of footballs for the apprentices? Goblin children playing footy, can you imagine?"

Anna snorted, trying to stifle her laugh. She knew, better than most, exactly how that would go over with the chieftains. But the director, while outwardly acting stern and disapproving toward his son's shenanigans, would secretly find the whole thing hilarious. That dichotomy, as well as Ragnok's willingness to let Harry be Harry, was what made this whole bizarre arrangement work.

If asked, Harry would agree wholeheartedly. In his eyes, Anna Sullivan of the Killarney Sullivans and Ragnok of Clan Ragnok were the best Co-parents ever.

Harry still had a smile on his face as he handed over another plate, which Anna began to dry. "You know, next year, he could probably get enough kids together for a pick-up game. And I can think of at least a few of the purebloods who would take to football pretty quickly."

Ana smiled at the thought of her nephew teaching Hogwarts to play football. "It was all quidditch in my day. Maybe a muggle game will spice things up." It was hard to believe that her nephew would be getting his own Hogwarts letter next year.

"Could be." Harry agreed. They worked quietly for a few minutes, though Anna noticed Harry glancing at the backyard with an odd expression on his face.

"Something on your mind, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow of his own, looking over at his adoptive mother. Then he nodded. He wasn't sure how to bring up the topic that had been on his mind, especially given the fact that he knew Anna could sniff out a lie from miles away.

"There's a gryffindor in my year who was raised by muggles. Susan Bones and I were talking with him one afternoon, and he said something about his home life that made us think he was, well, that he was being abused."

Anna knew exactly why this was such a sensitive topic for Harry. She had seen the healer's report on the boy's condition when he had been rescued, all those years ago. And what's more, she knew that Harry knew - Ragnok would not have kept the information from him. "How bad?" she asked.

Harry paused, looking at her. "Bad enough that Susan almost sent an owl to her aunt, bad."

Anna placed the stack of dry plates into the cabinet, considering that statement. "And you're wondering what you can do about it."

Another nod. "But therein lies the problem. Say I report it to Professor McGonagall, and she actually takes steps to have the muggle relatives investigated. What if they don't find enough to remove him? Then the muggles know that he reported them, and the abuse gets even worse."

"But if you say nothing," Anna took up the thread. "Then there is no chance whatsoever of anything changing."

Harry nodded. He didn't choose to mention the fact that he really couldn't say anything, being in another universe, but his alternates certainly could. The weight of that decision would rest with them, however, which worried him.

Anna leaned against the counter, considering the young ravenclaw. Harry was setting to work on the forks and knives, cleaning them quickly and laying them on a towel. "I didn't know you had many friends in Gryffindor." Anna remarked.

More than you know, thought Harry. "Neville Longbottom and I have spoken a few times. He asked my advice about the other lion, and that's what got Susan and I involved."

"So the… victim, then, is he a friend?"

Harry paused, considering his response. "I think he could be, perhaps." He glanced at his adoptive mother, before returning his attention to the sink. "But his situation isn't sustainable in the long term."

Anna smiled at the phrase, coming as it did from the mouth of an eleven year old. Of course, she mused, his father's influence shines through. "I see," she said, thinking. His father… "Harry, what did your father say about all this?"

Harry placed the last knife on the towel, before drying his hands. "I think, if I asked him to intervene, that he would give me a list of reasons as to why he could not. And you know, as well as I, that he'd probably be right. " Harry sighed. "I can't even do much on my own, unless I do it as Heir Potter, rather than Harry Spellforged. And even then I risk doing too much and dragging the nation into a ministry matter."

Anna sighed. "And your friend, if he does get out of that house, does he have a plan B? Someone to take him in?"

Harry nodded, folding the towel. "We're considering working on the godparents, but there are complications there as well. Nothing permanent, we hope." He looked at her. "And we have until summer."

"Alright, then." She said. "If you can't act directly, then sometimes the best thing you can do is gather all of the information you can, all the evidence, and let an adult handle it." She raised a hand at the comment she knew was coming. "Yes, I know a goblin would be an adult by now, but you know why that doesn't apply here, Mr. Spellforged." He closed his mouth, and she continued. "You know that there are two types of authority figures, right? Surely your father taught this lesson?"

Harry smiled. "One will tell you why you can't have what you deserve, and the other will look at every rule and every law until he finds one that will let you get what you need."

"Good. Then all you need to do, somehow, is to make sure that your evidence is undeniable. And then find one of your professors who happens to be the second sort." Anna smiled as she untied the apron she still wore. "Let them settle accounts."

Harry looked thoughtful at that comment, before letting his eyes grow wide. "Accounts…" he muttered. Then a broad grin lit up his face, and he gave Anna a tight hug. "Mum, you're a genius!"

Before she could respond, the back door opened. "Harry, can you come play footy with us? We need to even the teams." Her nephew's voice made clear that it wasn't a request. Harry shared a look with her, and she saw that he knew it as well. Very few people could order Harry Spellforged around, but his cousin Erik was one of them. With a grin Harry went to join the family game out back.

Anna looked at the ravenclaw as he went, her son in all but blood. She had given him a home, in those early days, when he cried out in pain as his wounds healed, as the potions repaired the damage from close to three years of neglect. Ragnok had helped her, and was lavish with assistance - healers, initially, followed later by tutors.

As the years passed, Harry spent more and more time in the caverns below Gringott's, learning at his father's side - but never far from Anna, for she had gone back to her work as a consultant, evaluating the wards of long disused properties and preparing them for use or sale. The job fascinated Harry - he'd be a master warder someday - but it did keep her away for weeks at a time.

They had done their best, and largely succeeded, she thought, at giving Harry the best of both worlds. Taking her mug of coffee, Anna walked out of the kitchen, seeing the pictures on the wall in the next room. Her family, back home in Ireland, alongside Paul and his late wife and a younger Erik. Those were joined by magical photos of her friends from Hufflepuff, so long ago, as well as a photo of Harry standing between herself and Ragnok - one of the few pictures of the famed 'Goblin King' thought to have found its way into the wizarding world. Anna could hear Ragnok's snort of amusement in her mind, at the Goblin King title. There was a reason he favored the 'Director' role, except when ceremony demanded otherwise.

In the center of the wall, in a place of pride, was a photo of James and Lily Potter, holding their infant son. Anna had not known the Potters, having graduated from Hogwarts before their first year. If they were half the people that their son was, then the loss was hers. I hope you're proud of your son, James and Lily, she thought. I know I am.

oOoOoOoOo

To the residents of the United Kingdom, magical and mundane alike, Christmas Day was a time for feasts, for celebration, and for family. For the clans of the Goblin Nation, it was Wednesday.

Just makes my job easier, thought Spellforged, as he walked the halls of the senior account managers. On paper, the Goblins cared little for the organization of wizarding society - which houses were ancient, which were noble, which were ancient and most noble, or most ancient and noble, or somewhat ancient and not particularly noble, or what have you. What they did care about, however, was their long-term customers and their financial status.

So it was, then, that the oldest houses in Wizarding Britain were also the customers of Gringott's with the longest-held accounts, the highest balances, and the deepest vaults. And for their account managers, each claimed a goblin of proven integrity and highest seniority.

They were also, frequently, what the muggles would call 'workaholics' - which is part of how they became senior account managers, after all. The light coming from the office in front of Spellforged proved that. Taking a deep breath, Harry looked at the name plate beside the door.

The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black
Steelclaw of Clan Wullfrott
Senior Account Manager

Spellforged paused, his hand raised as if to knock. He had not consulted the link about his plan - and hadn't even found the missing piece of the puzzle until his talk with Anna that afternoon. Nor was this a card that his alternates could play, at least not until summer. Getting to Gringott's was a simpler task for him, after all.

The five were nearly certain that Sirius Black was sworn godfather to each and every one of them. If his situation was the same in four worlds, then hopefully the facts that they would learn here could be applied to the other worlds. With luck, Sirius Black would be free, and - eventually - available to take in his wayward godchild. Their search for the godmothers might end first, but Lord Black would be there as an ally at worst, and a home and guardian at best.

Here, he would be an ally, possibly a link to his birth parents - and little else. But that was secondary to Spellforged - this would help his alternates. And the reality was that he had spent years hating the idea of this man, this betrayer - Spellforged had to know the truth.

Harry knocked on the office door. "Enter!" was the shouted reply, and Harry opened the door.

The office was well appointed, as befits a family of House Black's stature. The crest of the house of Black was displayed prominently on one wall. Steelclaw, a wizened goblin older than Spellforged's father, looked up from his ledgers as his visitor entered.

"Ah, young master Spellforged, greetings. May your studies outpace your contemporaries, young sir."

Harry grinned. "Greetings, Steelclaw. May your profits reach you from new direction."

A white eyebrow raised on the goblin's face. "Indeed? It sounds very much as if you know something that I do not." He gestured to the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. "Please."

Harry sat down, keeping his manner as casual as possible. Bloody hell, he thought, I was less nervous fighting that troll!

Steelclaw sensed Harry's unease, but said nothing. Instead, he paused. "Before we continue, Harry, let me ask - is it Harry Spellforged that visits me this day, or the Heir Black?"

Harry relaxed a little. "Both, it seems, Steelclaw. I find myself in a bit of a dilemma. Perhaps you can clarify some matters for me?"

Steelclaw nodded. I was right. "Of course."

Spellforged launched into his prepared speech, starting the dance. It was as Anna had said - find the one who would work for a way to get what was needed. If he was right, Steelclaw was the one - at least where the Blacks were concerned.

"At Hogwarts, I had occasion to speak with some of the professors and staff who had known my birth parents, either during or after their school days. One of them mentioned that I had been named the Heir to the House of Black by Sirius Black, my godfather and the betrayer of the Potters."

Steelclaw nodded. "And this is true, Spellforged. You were named as Heir shortly after your birth."

"I suppose," continued Spellforged, "that I knew this at some level. I assumed that the designation would lapse, seeing as the Heir to the house was serving a life sentence in Azkaban. But it seems I remain the Heir." Harry looked the goblin in the eye. "So either the Nation has made a grievous error, and holds the wrong wizard as Heir to the House of Black, or…"

"...or Sirius Black remains Lord Apparent." Steelclaw leaned back in his chair. "A conviction should have removed his claim, with magic recognizing the change."

"True. And even though I might have a claim through my grandmother, I wouldn't be the designated heir." Spellforged sighed theatrically. "You see the problem. Magic, for whatever reason, does not consider Sirius Black as a convicted murderer."

Steelclaw considered this, and the reasons why it might be so. None of those reasons were to his liking.

"Add to that this wrinkle, and you find the core of my dilemma. Black's victim in this case, or at least one of the most direct victims, is a son of the Goblin Nation." Spellforged leaned forward. "If he has not yet been convicted, for whatever reason, then he must stand trial - either a new trial to remedy the flaws of the first, or a first trial if they somehow left him to rot without his due process."

"A wizard held without trial? Surely not, there will be records we can look to, to see where the problem lies." Steelclaw said, dismissively. It had been a decade, there would have been a trial. The ministry was incompetent, but even that level of dereliction was unheard of.

"Here's the part that worries me, and where my father will start throwing knives around the room. If we allow a Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House to stand trial for the attempted murder of a citizen of the Goblin Nation, then we must insist on Goblin justice."

The goblin stared at him, the implications working themselves out in his mind. "This, well, you do know that this will be… explosive, yes?"

Spellforged nodded. "I do."

A grin spread across the goblin's face. "Good. It is in our interests to know who has the rights to the Black name and vaults. A demand for records from the ministry would not be out of bounds."

"So I had hoped, Master Steelclaw." Spellforged relaxed, now - Steelclaw would take the knife and run with it, as his position required. With luck, the Steelclaws that served the house of Black in the other worlds would be as accommodating. Those Steelclaws, at least, would not have the complication of dealing with their boss's son, which might help matters along.

Steelclaw placed a glass in front of him, taking one for himself. Spellforged had not seen him pour the drink. "Would you indulge me, Mr. Spellforged?" Another broad grin displayed the amusement that worked its way into the goblin's voice. "What does the rest of your plan look like?"

Spellforged grinned himself, taking the glass. By the end of the evening, he had come to a decision - this had been, after all, his best Christmas ever.


A/N: For those keeping score - we did not see the gift giving at the Sullivan's, but Spellforged did get his own matching winter cloak, with its proud Ravenclaw crest (and not the crest of Clan Ragnok). The letter was the same as well. I mention it here because it will come up later, and we'll be busy once the holidays end.

Any story with a goblin-raised Harry Potter will be compared to the well-loved Harry Crow, by Robst. Just as my goblins are very different, so too is this particular Harry. The Sullivans are a big part of this, and we will be seeing more of them later on. By the time this is over, someone remind me to post the omake of all the drunken conversations between Anna and Ragnok - quite possibly the oddest set of co-parents in history. I'm having fun writing both.

Thank you again for the reviews and support. Feedback, as always, is welcome.