Chapter Three: Whose House Is It?

The following morning, Greg was surprised but pleased when his nipotes went back to their rooms after breakfast and reappeared in their Narnian armor. He'd been worried they might not be taking his concerns seriously, but if they were in their armor… Then he remembered his own armor was at work, safe inside his locker. With an inward groan, the lieutenant dug his cell phone out and called the on-duty dispatcher to let him know that he'd be coming into work on the weekend after all.

"Dad, can I come?" Dean asked as soon as he hung up.

"No," Lance replied before his uncle could do more than blink at the request.

Dean's face fell. "But why? You let Dad tell me and Clark all about that lease thing yesterday."

For a moment, the two brunets faced off, then Lance heaved a sigh and ran his hands through his lighter shade of brown. "Because, Dean, if the goblins have turned on our family, then the last thing I want is you in the line of fire." Spreading his hands, he pointed first to his sister. " 'Lanna needs to be there as my Heir." Smirking at Dean's gawk, the young man nodded. "Yeah, my own sister is my Heir. And after that is your Dad and after that is you." One shoulder hiked. "The four of us, we're all that's left, Dean. And I'd have to be a colossal idiot to put our entire family at risk."

The slightly older teenager drew back with a scowl. "Then how come my Dad is going?"

"I know more about the finances," Greg cut in. "Until your cousin took the Headship, I was the Regent." He smiled at Dean's askance look. "Yes, son, the wizarding world is very old-fashioned. And the pureblood families are the most old-fashioned of them all."

Alanna huffed and propped her hands on her hips, but didn't argue the point.

"So you were in charge of their money?" Dean ventured.

Parker nodded once. "Technically, yes, I was, but aside from school tuition and a few other larger expenses, I never touched anything in the account." Flicking a glance at his nephew, he added, "As far as I know, when you took over, nothing had changed since your father's death."

Humor flashed in sapphire eyes. "Well, it kinda did, Uncle Greg. Dad never made any investments in maginology."

"Magi-what?" Dean blurted; in the background, his father blinked, just as confused.

For her part, Alanna eyed her brother quizzically for a few seconds before she caught on and giggled. "Magic mixed with technology, Uncle Greg," she explained between giggles.

"Oh!" Feeling rather foolish, the stocky man rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, kiddo, aside from that." He frowned, thinking hard. "But all of that came out of an investment account, not the main vault."

"It did? Why?" Dean wondered.

For an instant, Greg hesitated. Technically, neither he nor his son had any right to know the Calvin Family financials. He only knew because he'd had that right for several years, but it had expired as soon as his nephew turned seventeen and claimed his House. Yet his nipotes were waiting just as expectantly as Dean was, so the older man debated an instant, then nodded.

"Honestly, I'm not completely sure why Silnok wanted to do it that way," he admitted. "Most days, I hardly know what to do with my 401k, much less how to tackle a financial empire."

"We don't have that much money, do we?" Alanna protested.

"Sweetheart, your family's been making money and passing that wealth down to the next generation for centuries," Parker informed her gently. "Your great-great grandchildren could probably live off that account, even if none of you ever work a day in your life."

Both teenagers squirmed, painfully aware that none of their extended family enjoyed such financial security and even more aware of Dean's slack-jawed gape.

Greg took two steps, standing between his niece and nephew, and his son. "Hey," he coaxed, tilting their chins up. "This is nothing to be ashamed of, understand? Your family worked hard, just like anyone else, and they saved it up for their kids; that's something to be proud of. And all that money? I bet you'd trade it away in an instant if you could have your folks back."

"Only if we could still have you, Uncle Greg," Alanna blurted, flinging her arms around him.

Stunned, he hugged her back. After all the ways he'd failed them, she could still say that? Lance joined his sister, though his face was wet and he didn't speak. Greg wasn't offended; for all his daredevil tendencies, Lance was quite the tactician when he put his mind to it. He'd already figured out that if the elder Calvins hadn't died, he and his sister never would've met their distant cousins at all. There wouldn't have been any reason for them to come to Toronto.

Then Dean tackled him from the side, going low enough that Greg lost his balance and all four of them ended up on the kitchen floor in something that was either a group hug or a pileup. Unable to help himself, Parker laughed. Then Alanna giggled again and the boys snickered.

At the barn, Ben goggled at Lance and Alanna until his lieutenant hit him with a high-caliber glare – then he hid behind his computer until Parker returned from the locker room in armor virtually identical to the kids', save for the colors. Wide-eyed, the dispatcher blurted, "How come they've got SRU armor?"

Startled, Greg reared back an instant before he understood his subordinate's confusion. "Actually, Ben, it's the other way around," he corrected gently. Indicating his own armor, Parker elaborated, "Technically, the SRU's magic-side armor all came from the Calvin Family."

The younger man gawked. "But why, sir? Didn't we get everything from the, um… Auror Division…?"

"You did," Lance piped up, joining his uncle at the dispatcher desk. "A lot of it, anyway." Beaming at one of the newer inductees to the magic side of life, the teenager added, "Think of the armor as being from the same place as all the electronic gear. The goblins made most of it and my family has a better reputation with them than the Auror Division does." He winked. "So it's kinda like World of Warcraft where you can get stuff cheaper from a vendor if your reputation with their faction is higher."

The dispatcher blinked, then quirked a grin. "So the armor's purple?"

"Mine is," Alanna offered shyly, but her brother laughed at her, shaking his head.

"Not what he was talking about, sis," Lance countered before turning back to Ben. "I've never gone that far, but since we're talking raider gear here…"

Ben nodded. "Epic armor," he concluded. "With a set bonus?"

The brunet considered while his uncle stared at him in confusion. "Hmmmm…prolly, but I don't think we've ever tested that."

"So is our gear for normal or heroic?" Ben asked.

"Most of it's probably for ten-man normal," Lance admitted. "Team One field-tested a lot of the gear and worked out most of the bugs, but even now, there's stuff that doesn't work perfectly magic-side." A thoughtful frown worked across his face. "Armor, though… That's at least ten-man heroic; might not be up to twenty-five man heroic."

"Boys," Alanna interrupted, drawing two chagrinned gazes. Propping her hands on her hips, she glared at both. "That's a video game, not real life."

"The analogy works, though," Greg mused. Casting a meaningful glance at his nephew, he added, "If we've got time, maybe we can discuss some upgrades with the goblins."

"We can ask," Lance agreed. "Not sure they can boost the armor's ilevel, though."

"Item level," Ben offered at his boss's blank expression. "Better armor has a higher ilevel… And, um, shutting up now," he stammered at Alanna's renewed glare.

" 'Lanna, stand down," Greg chided absently. "Don't scare my dispatcher."

"Yes, Uncle Greg," Alanna replied in a mock contrite tone.

"We'll talk more later, Ben," the lieutenant promised, turning back to his subordinate. "Some of this gear is several years old; if we can work out more of the kinks and get it upgraded, that would be a big boost for us."

"Yes, sir," Ben acknowledged. "Um, do we have a list anywhere?"

"Spike or Lou might have one; they worked with the goblins the most on prototype gear." Tapping the desk, Parker added, "Get that to me when you can, but no rush. Hot calls are the priority."

"Understood," the dispatcher said, nodding acceptance of his task. "Good luck, sir."

He'd been about to turn away, but Greg smiled at the remark. "We will take all we can get," he replied, smirking at his nephew. "Regardless of what any sage Jedi Masters might have said."

Lance harrumphed and stuck his nose in the air. "Never tell me the odds," he shot back.

With a chuckle, Parker reached out and ruffled his nipote's brunet locks, ignoring the automatic recoil and wail of protest. "All right, you two, let's go."

"Hey, um…" All three turned back to the dispatcher, who gazed at Lance earnestly. "Are there any black dragons? Or Scourge?"

Brunet locks cocked to the side for a moment before the teenager understood the question. "No, nothing like that," Lance reassured the dispatcher. "Yeah, there's bad guys and some of them get organized, but we're not talking about endless waves of undead or impossible to beat enemies while the good guys are killed off one by one." Humor flashed. "Besides, one of the big reasons Azeroth always has trouble is 'cause of the evil Old Gods. In real life, there's only one God and He's on our side. Plus, He's way more powerful than the bad guys will ever be."

Ben's expression was a bit skeptical, but he nodded at the information. "So no Burning Legion?"

"Nope, definitely not," Lance promised. "Or corrupted Dragon Aspects either."

The skepticism smoothed out into a tiny grin. "Good to know."

Despite his natural instinct to take the lead, Greg stayed behind his nephew as they entered Gringotts. Outside the magical world, he was still his nipotes' legal guardian, but here, Lance was Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin. The goblins wouldn't recognize Greg's authority, only Lance's. It was a bit disconcerting, truth be told.

Although he was tempted to fidget, the line inside the bank moved fairly quickly and soon enough the trio was stepping up to the next available teller. Expression blank, Lance requested a meeting with Silnok rather than his account manager – from what his nephew had told him, any requests for his account manager would bring them to Silvergrip rather than his father. While Greg was disinclined to trust any of the goblins at the moment, it was much better to go straight to the top instead of beating around the 'junior account manager' bush.

As with every other time Parker had been inside Gringotts, the goblin teller nodded at his customer's request, flipped his sign to 'Closed', and departed with a brusque, "Wait here, please." A minute later, the teller returned and came out from behind the counter, gesturing for his customers to follow him towards the bank's maze of stone corridors.

The stocky man hung back, staying behind his two kids as they walked, but it didn't take long for the tension to start vibrating around his nipotes. The idea that Silnok might've betrayed them was alien to the pair; they were used to trusting the old goblin. Though Greg was used to trusting the account manager as well, the kids had grown up hearing stories about Silnok from their parents. He was a friend of the family to them, leaving them doubting themselves and their own value just as much as they had when their uncle had prioritized Marina's wellbeing over theirs. For their sake, Parker hoped he was wrong about Silnok, but there was just too much evidence pointing to the goblins for him to let it go.

When they reached one particular office door, the goblin teller knocked. Inside, another goblin growled, "Enter."

Showtime. The lieutenant lifted his chin, setting his jaw. Lance might be overage and the Head of his House in the magical world, but he was still a teenager and Greg's minor ward. After the attempt to take his children away from him, Parker was feeling less than gracious towards any of the possible offenders.

Inside the office, Silnok glanced up from his work, a flare of genuine pleasure appearing for an instant before it faded into confusion. Examining their armor, the old goblin straightened in his chair, frowning. "Lord Calvin?"

"Hello, Silnok," Lance replied, tone subdued.

Parker waited for the teller to bow and leave, taking the time to study his opponent. Silnok's dark eyes were narrowing, pride and offense pushing through his confusion. As his eyes narrowed into slits, he demanded, "Why have you come in battle armor, Lord Calvin?" Leering, he added, "Has Gringotts done something to displease you?"

"You could say that," Greg interjected, mild, but determined as he stepped between his nipotes and dropped the lease in front of the old goblin. "I'd like to know why anyone at this institution would recommend that my nephew sign this farce."

Sneering, Silnok snatched up the papers, flipping through them at a pace far too swift for reading. Parker stiffened, but then the old goblin froze, the sneer sliding off his face as dark eyes went wide. After a moment, he went back to the beginning, expressionless as he scrutinized every word and every line. Greg's nipotes kept quiet, both of them edging behind their guardian despite Lance's status as Head of the House of Calvin. In his turn, Greg rocked his weight back and rested his hands on their shoulders, acknowledging their presence, but also readying himself to push them away and out of the line of fire if need be. No matter what, he would protect them here and now just as he should have before any of this mess had happened.

Although Silnok was far older than the negotiator, canny, and very experienced, his very lack of an expression told Parker that the goblin was truly distressed by what he was reading. Why that was, Greg wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that they were about to find out. For behind that expressionless distress, rage was growing. A rage that felt far more dangerous than even his gryphon form at its worst. All of a sudden, the officer remembered all the times that Sam had insisted that no one crossed a goblin, how they regarded vengeance as a art form, and had ways to express their displeasure with those who incurred their wrath.

"Lord Calvin, from whom did you receive this…document?" Silnok inquired in a very level voice.

"Silvergrip located the apartment and negotiated the lease on my behalf," Lance said, just as even and level.

"I see." Glancing up at the patient negotiator, Silnok laid the lease down and folded his long, bony fingers together. "Lieutenant Parker, what say you of this arrangement? Were you aware of it?"

"I became aware after the fact," Greg replied. "I wasn't even aware that Lance was going to a different account manager." He nodded to the old goblin. "I do understand that since you're not getting any younger, it makes sense to bring in a new account manager and have them train under you. Of course, once you've got the new manager onboard and up to speed, they've got to get to know their client family. Start building experience and trust."

"Yes," Silnok agreed. "Such has been the custom of my people for centuries and my clan has been honored to be entrusted with the Vaults of a Goblin-Friend." Dark eyes weighed the humans in his office. "I shall be more clear. What say you of the apartment?"

Parker smiled, but it was a feral grin, reminiscent of a gryphon with every bit of a protector's outrage. "I wouldn't live there if you paid me. And on my way out, I'd arrest every single one of the neighbors. Plus the landlord if I could get my hands on him." He nodded to the lease. "For rent like that, mio nipotes should've been living the high life with not a care in the world. Instead their water ran brown, the pipes creaked, and the oven blew up on them. Oh and the next-door neighbor and two of his closest friends assaulted Lance for getting between them and his sister."

Silnok let out a sound that was part snarl, part despairing wail. Betrayal. Treachery. And by his own son against those who should've been guarded and protected like the treasures they were. Greg understood the emotions; he'd felt much the same once he finally understood what Marina had done.

One hand slapped down on the goblin's desk and he snapped something in Gobbledegook, too fast for any of three Parker-Calvins to catch or understand. Then he growled and gestured to the chairs in his office. "Please, be seated. You have my Oath that no harm shall come to you within these walls. You are Goblin-Friends and mine to protect."

Greg studied Silnok for several long, tense moments, then he nodded and ushered his nipotes to the chairs closer to the wall, once again placing himself between them and any possible harm. "We'll see," was all he said.

Rather than taking offense, Silnok cringed and inclined his head in acknowledgement of the lieutenant's silent point that the House of Calvin had already been harmed within the walls of Gringotts Bank.

Aside from a lighter shade of green skin and a full head of hair rather than the comb-over that his father used, Silvergrip looked very much like his father. He even carried the same arrogance and a sneer was firmly planted on his face as he entered the elder goblin's office. But where Silnok's arrogance came from his vast expertise, backed by well over a century of experience, Silvergrip's was the arrogance of youth and a firm belief in goblin superiority – Greg longed to smack that arrogance off his face along with rubbing that long nose in the shredded remains of the lease he'd tricked Lance into signing.

Bowing, Silvergrip said, "You sent for me, Father?"

"You will speak clearly before our clients!" Silnok growled. Bristling, the elder goblin brandished the lease. "Explain yourself!"

Dark eyes regarded the paper and Silvergrip glanced over, taking in the sight of the three Parker-Calvins as if he'd only just realized they were in the office. The arrogance never wavered as he returned his attention to his father. "As my Lord Calvin's proxy has commanded, so I have done. Father."

"I don't have a proxy," Lance burst out, fists clenching. "You're supposed to work for me, not dump me and my sister in a three year lease that costs an arm and a leg for a lousy apartment in the worst part of the city!"

It wasn't quite that bad, but Greg had no intention of correcting that assumption. Aside from a deadly, fulminating glare, he kept quiet. It was absolutely Lance's right to confront the goblin who'd put him in harm's way and Silvergrip was more likely to take the well-deserved berating from 'Lord Calvin' than 'Lieutenant Parker'.

Instead of cowering, apologizing, or backing down, Silvergrip's arrogance bloomed into a wide sneer before he dismissively turned away from the teenagers and their guardian. Gazing up at his father, he announced, "This child is nothing, Father. There is another with a far stronger claim to the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin; it is at his behest that I act."

Lance made to rise, but his uncle tugged him down. Silnok was furious enough to spit nails; he didn't need help. Growling, the old goblin stared down at his son as if he'd never seen him before. "Continue," the elder grated out, long, bony fingers clenching and unclenching.

Silvergrip bowed minutely, as if to assuage the other's wounded pride. "I know you regard these humans highly, Father, but the child is an interloper. He is of the younger sister's line; Lord Calvin is the firstborn Heir to his father, the late Lord Calvin. His proxy bade me protect the First Ruling Line from the upstart who dares lay claim to what was never his."

About to interject, Parker stiffened, hazel widening as the pieces clicked together. By the Lion… Beside him, his nipotes curled into his side, both trembling with fear. He could practically hear the doubts assailing them as their claim to their own family was called into question. A glance towards Silnok revealed that the old goblin was also taken aback, confused by his son's claim that someone else was the 'real' Lord Calvin.

Determination lifted his chin and the officer rose, allowing his predatory aura to flare. A smirk emerged when Silvergrip finally cringed. With slow, casual movements, Greg pulled out his smartphone. "I have an idea. How about I call Lord Calvin and see what he thinks of your stunt."

Silvergrip glared right back, bristling. "I have acted in my Lord Calvin's best interests, human. You and the upstarts are naught but Scions to the Ancient and Noble House. That the upstarts have drained their trust vaults in foolishness is not Lord Calvin's concern."

Unimpressed, Greg flicked through his contacts and pushed the 'Call' button. Lifting the phone to his ear, he allowed one brow to arch. "I guess we'll find out which one of us is right when he gets here, won't we?"