Harry gets a lot of mail between the Wizengamot session and his birthday. Sirius had shuffled him out of the Wizengamot chamber fairly quickly once the session was over, only pausing briefly to let Harry say goodbye to his friends and to exchange a few words with Lord Ogden, and then they'd dodged the press and returned home. Sirius had owled the statement he'd prepared to the Daily Prophet as soon as they'd gotten back to the flat, and the next morning, the whole magical world had known that Harry Potter was the new Heir Black.
It seems like pretty much everyone has something to say about it. Of course he's gotten letters from his friends, including Hermione who has kept up her Daily Prophet subscription despite being back in the muggle world for the summer, but he's also gotten letters of congratulation from a number of Wizengamot Peers, from Heads and Heirs to Houses, and a number of Heads of Families. One is from a woman named Marigold Dunbar, apparently the head of the Dunbar Family. Her letter was longer than most of the rest he received, and in it she expressed concern for the fate of the House of Potter. She'd signed the letter Marigold Dunbar vPotter, Head of the Dunbar Family.
That one Harry had brought to Sirius, and they'd had a long conversation about the whole thing. The Dunbars are one of the few remaining vassal families to the House of Potter, it turns out. Their daughter is Harry's age; he vaguely remembers her having been sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius doesn't know why they haven't renounced their vassalage already, so he helps Harry to draft a letter back that asks that exact question, but also tells Madame Dunbar that Harry has no intention of dissolving the House of Potter, and that he'll sort out the confusion of Headship when he comes of age, if it doesn't become an issue sooner.
Most people seem pleased with Harry's Heirship, or at least inclined to be polite about it. Sirius says that he's checked the wards and it looks like a few Howlers have been caught, but all of them were addressed to Sirius himself. What Hogwarts is going to be like, neither of them can be sure, but if Blaise and Theo's letters are anything to go by the shape of things in Slytherin is likely to shift.
But that's a problem for September. Still in July, Harry has a birthday to celebrate. He helps Sirius mail party invitations to a few of his friends; they'll be hosting a little gathering at the flat for family and a few Gryffindor friends, and then Harry's invited Blaise and Theo out to dinner in Diagon Alley afterward, because he doesn't really think it's a good idea to trap them in the same room as Sirius, who makes them nervous, and Hermione and Neville and Ron, who make them roll their eyes. He's never really celebrated his birthday before, but he's excited. If Dudley's birthdays are anything to go by, there will be cake and presents, and he'll have a lot of people paying him a lot of attention. The first two things he definitely wants; he just hopes that Sirius won't fawn over him like Aunt Petunia did to Dudley.
Fortunately, that doesn't seem likely to happen. Harry is woken on the morning of his birthday by a ginormous black dog bounding onto his bed and licking a huge wet stripe up his face and refusing to get off until Harry has laughed so much that his ribs are sore and Remus has come into the room to scold Padfoot for being a pest. Remus makes a full English breakfast, with things that Harry has only ever eaten at Hogwarts: bacon and scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, toast and baked beans and black pudding. It's more food than the three of them can get through, even with Remus indulging the depths of his appetite, enhanced as it is by his lycanthropy, and it's all the more delicious for having been made by hand just for Harry.
After breakfast, Harry is shooed out of the kitchen by Sirius to help Remus blow up balloons and hang them around the house. Wizards don't need helium to make them hang in the air or tape to stick them to the walls; Remus patiently teaches Harry the Sticking Charm, which he manages after a few tries; Remus dutifully reminds him that he's not supposed to use magic outside of school, but then with a wink says that since this is a registered magical residence, it's alright if Harry brings out his wand for a bit of practice while he's home.
Home, Harry thinks, beaming, and cheerfully helps with finishing the decorating. The Doghouse is his home now: the place where he has breakfast and celebrates his birthdays, and gets his hair ruffled when he does the Sticking Charm correctly, and can hear Sirius's cursing in the kitchen when his less-than-practiced dishwashing charm splashes him with water. He thinks he could get used to that thought.
Around noon, there's a knock on the door. Harry bounces up from where he'd been playing Exploding Snap with Sirius to pass the time and distract himself from the small pile of gifts that had appeared on the coffee table to go answer it, and finds himself faced not with his friends as he'd hoped, but with a group of three strangers: a man and a woman both a few years older than Sirius, the woman sharing his deep grey eyes, the man with a square jaw and a smile, and a younger woman with short-cropped hair dyed a bright pink.
"Hello," says the older woman. "You must be Harry. I'm your… cousin, I suppose, Andromeda Tonks."
"Oh!" says Harry. "Hullo. Sirius said you'd be coming. Er, come in."
He opens the door wider to allow the three of them in. Each of them kicks off their shoes in the entryway, the youngest Tonks bumping into the shoe-rack as she does so. Then they follow Harry into the den, where Sirius stands up from the couch with a warm smile. He greets his cousin, calling her "Andi," and then her husband Ted, and her daughter Nymphadora.
"Thought I've told you to call me Tonks," says Nymphadora, when Sirius gets to her.
"But wouldn't that just be confusing in this company?" Sirius says, and laughs when she scowls at him. "Come in, sit down."
They all arrange themselves on the couch; Harry and Nymphadora—call me Tonks, she insists—end up sitting on the floor. The Tonkses all wish Harry a very happy birthday and produce a present, and then Tonks starts telling Harry an outlandish story about Auror training. Apparently her mentor, who she calls "Mad-Eye" in a very affectionate tone, is completely paranoid, and makes a habit of hiding in some truly absurd places to try to catch her off guard—usually with great success.
Her story is interrupted a few minutes in, however, by another knock on the door, and Harry springs up even more eagerly to answer it. This time, he opens the door to find Hermione there, with a woman who shares her features. She gives him a massive hug and immediately starts talking.
"Oh, Harry," she says. "Happy birthday! I've been reading about you in the papers! Are you really some sort of peer now? I hadn't even realized that the magical world had an aristocracy!"
"I didn't know either," Harry admits. "But Sirius has been teaching me a lot, and we decided together that this would be a good idea. Plus, now he gets to adopt me, or at least I can live with him and no one can give him trouble."
"That's wonderful," Hermione says. She'd clearly gotten some idea last year that Harry's home life wasn't happy, though she'd never pried for details. "This flat is very nice!"
"It's very nice to be introduced to your friend," the woman at Hermione's shoulder says drily, and Hermione flushes a little.
"I'm sorry, mum," she says. "Mum, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my mum, Helena Granger."
Mrs. Granger smiles warmly. "A pleasure to meet you, Harry. Hermione's talked about you a lot."
"Oh," says Harry.
"He talks about Hermione often, too," says Sirius from behind Harry. "I'm Harry's guardian, Sirius Black; nice to meet you, Mrs. and Miss Granger."
"And you," Mrs. Granger replies, and holds her hand out to him to shake. Instead of shaking, Sirius takes her hand and bends to kiss it, then winks at Harry when Mrs. Granger says "Oh!" in a tone quite surprised and delighted.
"No flirting!" shouts Remus from the den, and there's a burst of laughter, including from Sirius.
"Excuse my partner," he says to Mrs. Granger, amused. "He's not as jealous as he pretends."
"Your… partner?" Mrs. Granger says, looking surprised.
Sirius's expression cools, and Harry feels a faint stirring of dread. He knows exactly what sort of thing Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia might have said about two men living together, and especially their taking in a young boy, and really hopes that Hermione's mum isn't about to say anything like it, or take Hermione away and not let them be friends any more.
"Yes," Sirius says, "my partner. I hope that—"
"Oh, it's no problem!" Mrs. Granger says hurriedly. "I'm so sorry. I was only surprised—from the things Hermione has told us, it's always seemed that the magical world was in some ways a bit… ah, out of date. I was only surprised that you could be so open about it; things have really only gone that way in the muggle world in the past decade or so."
Sirius nods, relaxing again. "I see. Yes, magic does change things quite a bit."
"I can imagine!" Mrs. Granger says. "My apologies again." Then she looks down at Hermione and she says, "Have a good time, dear. I'll be back at four to pick you up."
Hermione makes an affirmative noise and kisses her mum's cheek when she leans down, and then Mrs. Granger is headed back down the hall, and Hermione turns to Harry and says, "Sorry about her. She means well."
"It's alright," Harry says. "Your mum seems nice."
Hermione smiles. "I'm glad you think so. Hello, Mr—er, Lord Black," she says, turning to him and offering her hand to shake. "Very nice to meet you."
Sirius takes her hand and bends to kiss it just like he had with her mum, and Harry sees Hermione blush a bit. "A pleasure to meet you too, Miss Granger. Sirius is fine, if you prefer."
"Then you must call me Hermione," she insists.
"Come in, come in," Sirius says, waving both Harry and Hermione back toward the den. "Come sit down. Would you like anything to drink, Hermione?"
She agrees, and soon enough Harry and Hermione are settled on the den floor, both of them with a glass of lemonade and listening to the continuation of Tonks's story, once everyone's been introduced. A short while later, Ron and Neville arrive one right after the other. Ron is escorted by one of his older brothers, a stocky young man with shaggy hair the same shade as Ron's, apparently named Charlie; he chats amiably with Remus for a few minutes before taking his leave. Neville comes with his grandmother, who insists on drawing Sirius aside for a longer conversation, probably about politics if Harry is reading the shift in Sirius's bearing correctly.
Harry and his three friends, Remus, and Tonks all settle down to play a magical board game that Remus pulls out from the cupboard—with six of them, they're able to make three teams of two. The game's rules seem like a mystifying mix of Cluedo and Monopoly, as far as Harry can tell, though he admits to Hermione who he picks as his partner that he's never actually played either of those, either, only watched. Still, she picks the game up quite quickly and he's not far behind, and in no time they're doing quite well.
In the end Remus and Neville emerge victorious, having his a stroke of luck with the dice, but it's a riot to play. Once they're done, Sirius comes out of the kitchen with a platter piled high with sandwiches, and says that after lunch they'll have cake and presents, and then some more time to play games or hang out before Ron, Neville, and Hermione have to go.
The sandwiches (tuna, as per Harry's request) are quickly devoured, and then Sirius brings out a massive treacle tart—not cake after all, but it's Harry's favourite dessert. Everyone sings a slightly discordant "Happy Birthday to You", and then Harry eats two generous slices of the tart before he has to give up, groaning and clutching his stomach. Sirius laughs at him and promises to dig out a stomach soother from the potions cupboard if Harry's still feeling unwell in a while, and then declares, "Now, presents!"
Sirius ushers Harry into the den and insists that he sit in a place of honour on his ugly armchair, then grabs a gift from the table and shoves it into his hands. Sirius looks almost more excited than Harry feels, which everyone else clearly notices; when Remus grabs him and forces him to sit down, there's a laugh.
Each of Harry's friends has brought a present, and Remus and Sirius have each given him something as well, while the Tonks family brought a joint gift. The gift Sirius handed him was the Tonkses' gift, so Harry opens that first and finds a box of sweets and the first three books in a series of novels, written for the magical young adult. They look really interesting, about a young boy who goes on adventures around the world, and he thanks them: he's looking forward to the chance to read some magical fiction.
Ron's gift is a package of home-made fudge, courtesy of his mum, and a little trio of coupons which say "Get Out Of Prank Free" on them.
"'S not really from me, I guess," Ron explains sheepishly. "Though it was my idea, and I had to ask them for it—anyway, that'll buy you either a quick fix for any prank Fred and George play, or a week of immunity if you really need some time to study or something without being bothered."
"Brilliant," Harry says, having witnessed some of the jokes played by the twins last year. Nothing harmful, of course, but the Slytherins are frequent targets and he thinks it'll buy him some reputation if his Housemates think that he has some sort of secret in with them. "Thanks, Ron."
"No problem, mate."
Hermione's gift is a new planner for the next school year and another slim book with plain lined pages, which she says he can use as a journal if he'd like.
"You said you were learning to meditate," she says. "Sometimes writing down your thoughts can help you get them out of your head, so it's easier to clear your mind. I keep a journal—it really helps my focus, I think."
Harry grins and thanks her too. Sirius had mentioned recently that keeping a journal, either just for dreams or in general, could be helpful in learning Occlumency, so he'll be sure to put this to good use.
Neville's gift is less utilitarian, but still very nice. It's a handsome steel bracelet that looks like a snake with tiny emerald eyes. When he puts it on, it warms to his body heat rapidly and then twitches and twines tighter around his wrist, then looks up and flicks its tongue at him before settling back into stillness.
"Whoa," Harry says, shaking back his sleeve to look at it better. "Neat, Neville."
"My grandmother helped me pick it out," Neville says. "It doesn't really do anything other than what it just did, it's a pretty simple enchantment, but I thought you'd like it."
"I do," Harry assures him. "I'll definitely wear it. Thank you!"
Neville just grins back.
Then all that's left are the two gifts from Sirius and Remus. Sirius's is a single envelope, and Remus's a package. Harry reaches for Remus's gift first, but Sirius stops him and says, "Better open mine first, pup. They go together."
Intrigued, Harry reaches instead for the envelope and opens it up. There's a birthday card inside with magically animated drawing on the front of a person on a broom looping across the card trailing clouds to spell "Happy Birthday". When he finishes his run and flies off the bottom corner, the letters fade and he flies on again at the top to restart. Harry flips the card open and a sheet of folded parchment inside nearly falls out, which he almost unfolds and then forces himself to read the card first.
Here's to another high-flying year! It says in printed letters, and below Sirius and Remus have both signed with their love, so Harry sets it aside and opens the sheet of parchment.
On it is a picture of a broom. Specifically, it's a picture of a Nimbus 2001, which Harry had seen in a catalogue that Sirius had been looking at only a week ago. The newest, fastest broom on the market, and Harry had been quietly covetous of it, wanting to know what it would be like to cut through the skies on something like that.
"What…?" Harry says, holding up the drawing.
Sirius is grinning. "Well, wrapping the actual thing would've spoiled the surprise pretty quick, don't you think?"
"The actual—Sirius!" Harry shouts, joyful, and launches himself out of the armchair to give his godfather a massive hug. "I can't believe it!"
"You'd better!" Sirius says, and hugs him back just as hard. "You have to promise you'll try out for Quidditch next year, alright? If you've gotten any of your dad's talent, between you and the broom you'll blow the rest of them out of the water."
"A Nimbus 2001!" Ron cries, having picked up the parchment from where Harry had flung it in his rush to hug Sirius. "Blimey, Harry! And, oy, Sirius, don't you have any House loyalty? No one on the Gryffindor team's got anything on this!"
"Sorry, Ron," Sirius says, pulling back from the hug. "Much as it pains me to know he'll be using it to kick Gryffindor's arses, Harry comes first for me."
Ron huffs, but it seems good humoured. He hands Harry back the parchment and says, "Well, can we see it? Maybe have a go?"
Sirius laughs and gets up from his seat on the couch. "I'll be right back." He ducks down the hallway into his and Remus's bedroom, and comes back a moment later holding the broom. It's slender and graceful and looks like it'll cut the air like an arrow, and Harry can't wait to get on it and give it a go. He takes it eagerly from Sirius hands when he offers it, and runs his hands down the broomstick. It's smooth and strong, and he has to pass it to Ron so that his friend can examine it and hug Sirius again.
"Thank you so much," Harry says, his voice muffled in Sirius's chest. "I love it."
"Figured you would," Sirius says, and ruffles Harry's hair. "Go on, open Remus's gift too."
Harry nods and does so while Ron admires the broom, and finds that Remus's accompanying gift is a care kit for the broom and a pair of fingerless leather gloves for flying. He hugs Remus too for good measure, and then says, "So, can we go out for a fly?"
"Somehow I knew you'd ask that," Sirius says. "I got us a portkey to a park where you can fly."
From the couch, Andromeda clears her throat. "I think we'll take our leave, if it's all the same to you, Sirius."
"Of course," Sirius says immediately. "Thanks for coming, Andi."
"Wouldn't have missed it," she says kindly in her low, smooth voice, and then she turns to Harry and says, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry. Perhaps next time we'll get to talk a bit more."
Harry nods, a little embarrassed at having basically ignored her and Ted. Fortunately, they don't seem to mind so much, and after all three Tonkses bid Harry, Sirius, and Remus adieu, they leave. Remus goes into the kitchen to fetch the portkey while Harry and his friends put on coats and shoes. Harry races to his room to grab his Snitch, then returns to stick his new gloves in his pocket and grab the broom, too. The portkey is a slightly bent whisk, which everyone puts their hand on at Sirius's order to grab on. Ron and Neville don't seem perturbed by this, but Harry and Hermione have a chance to exchange confused looks before Harry feels like a giant hook has caught behind his bellybutton and they're all being spun up into the air, whirled about violently, and then thumped back to the ground somewhere entirely different. Harry staggers on landing and falls on his bum, the Nimbus landing in the grass beside him, and he shakes his head to fend off the dizziness.
"I hate magical travel," Harry announces, making everyone else laugh, and Remus reaches down to haul him up back onto his feet. Hermione seems to have managed not to fall, but she does look a little green.
"That really is very unpleasant," she says. "Has anyone ever done experiments to try to make it less violent?"
"Mm," Remus says in a considering tone, and then starts talking about some article he'd read about the state of portkey research, which Hermione looks fascinated by and everyone else swiftly tunes out.
"Well," says Ron, "we're here. Gonna try out that broom, Harry?"
Harry nods, bending down to straighten it out on the ground. Then he looks around, trying to get his bearings. They seem to have arrived in a large open field, with a town visible some distance away. "Where exactly are we?" Harry asks, as he pulls on his flying gloves.
"Magical park space," Sirius says. "Basically a bit of land set up with muggle repelling charms and some basic illusion wards, so that magical city folk have a place to go and fly or whatnot if they don't have a warded yard."
Harry nods. Then he puts his hand out over the broom and commands, "Up!"
The broom snaps to his hand so quickly it's almost unbelievable after a year of dealing with Hogwarts' clunky school brooms. Neville and Ron both go wide-eyed, Ron from excitement and Neville from second-hand nerves. Harry doesn't hesitate in mounting the broom and kicking off. He rises swiftly into the air, smooth and even, and once he's got about fifteen feet of lift he leans forward and makes a circuit, then a wider one, testing the broom's responsiveness, and then he leans down and makes the same loop as fast as he can: very fast indeed, in fact. On the ground, Ron cheers, and Harry tilts himself again to race skyward, then does a loop, and then another one because the first was so fun. Then he dives, pulls up less than ten feet off the ground with the sound of the wind rushing in his ears, and buzzes over his friends' heads. Ron is still cheering, as is Sirius.
"You're a natural!" Sirius shouts. "Brilliant, Harry!"
"Woohoo!" Harry shouts back, and does another few loops up high before returning to the ground, his hair tousled and a grin splitting his face. "Sirius, this is amazing!"
"You're amazing!" Sirius says, and hugs Harry.
"Brilliant!" Ron says, running over. "Could I have a go, Harry?"
"Sure," Harry says, and offers the broom to Ron, who grabs it reverently before mounting and rising into the air to try it out. He does a few small tricks himself, mostly just little loops and a corkscrew spin that Harry thinks he'd like to try himself, though nothing as daring as Harry's dive.
After a while, he comes back down, and Harry offers to broom to both Neville and Hermione. As he'd expected, both of them say a firm no, and so Harry and Ron take turns for a while on the broom, trading off and daring each other to try out new tricks. Harry pulls out his Snitch, too, so that they can take turns chasing after it. Ron takes a turn or two to warm up, but then he's matching Harry for daring, though he doesn't have half as much luck with the Snitch, and they pass an excellent half-hour before Harry decides he's had enough for the moment. Really he thinks he could stay out there all day, but he doesn't want to neglect Hermione and Neville any more, and Hermione in particular has looked more and more nervous as their tricks got riskier. They portkey back to the Doghouse and Harry stows his broom and Snitch reverently in his room, then comes to sit in the den with his friends.
Without the distraction of the board game from earlier, they take the opportunity to catch up on their respective summers so far. Hermione had gone to Paris for two weeks with her parents. Neville and Ron had both stayed home, Ron playing modified Quidditch with his siblings and honing his chess strategy against his father, Neville stuck in lessons on comportment and history and estate management with his grandmother.
"She's only getting more and more strict," Neville sighs. "I'd always thought it wasn't possible. But I guess now that I'm older, she wants me to start doing more of my duties as Heir."
This seems to remind Hermione of something, and she sits bolt upright. "Harry!" she says. "You're Heir Black now!"
"Yeah," he says cautiously. "Sirius and I decided it would be a good idea."
"I don't understand the magical government at all," Hermione says. "I've been trying to read up since I heard about you, but there's so little information in the books!"
"They don't like muggleborns trying to get involved," Neville says. "The old pureblood families, I mean. Especially the Dark ones, but the Light and the Grey have got conservative factions too."
"That's rubbish!" Hermione declares. "It's my government, isn't it?"
He shrugs uncomfortably and glances at Harry. "Yeah. Well, it governs you. But there's lots of rules about muggleborns getting votes, and they seem to reckon that if you can't get a vote, no reason you should know about any of it."
Harry nods and says to Hermione, "I got lucky with Sirius and Remus. Otherwise I wouldn't know anything about any of this either. The House of Potter isn't very powerful, but I'd have had a vote and never known about it, probably."
"The Slytherins would've told you," Neville says. "You room with Theodore Nott Jr., right?"
Harry nods. "Yeah, he and Blaise have, uh, tried to teach me some stuff. But I don't much like politics, so—"
"So why get involved at all?" Ron says abruptly. He's scowling when Harry looks over at him. "Better not to get wrapped up with all that. That's what my mum says, and I think she's right—it's all just rich people and Slytherins not getting anything done and acting superior about it."
Harry raises an eyebrow. "Can't really avoid it, can I?"
"Sure you could," Ron says.
"No, he can't," Neville cuts in. "C'mon, Ron. Your family might not like pureblood politics much, but you are purebloods. When your brother retires from Gringotts, he'll be eligible to take the Prewett seat. And I'm just as stuck with it all as Harry is, but even if it weren't for my being born Heir Longbottom I think I'd want to be involved, because it's my family, and people like us, good people, being in the Wizengamot is the only way the magical world's ever actually going to get better for people like Hermione and for less powerful Families like the Weasleys."
Ron looks away, but Harry and Hermione both stare at Neville with surprise and, on Harry's part, some pleasure. It's always a bit of a shock when Neville shows his spine like that, because he does it so rarely that Harry keeps forgetting he has one.
"Thanks, Neville," Harry says.
Neville flushes. "You're welcome. Sorry, Ron. Didn't mean to bite your head off, there."
"S'alright," Ron says, but he sounds grumpy, and after that he doesn't take much part in the conversation. Harry and Neville try to answer some of Hermione's questions about the Wizengamot and being Heirs, but eventually Harry has to recruit Remus, who's much better at explaining these things. He ends up grabbing a few books off the shelves to lend to Hermione, at which point she finally lets it go and they're able to play a few games of Exploding Snap and return to lighter topics.
Not long after that, Hermione's mum returns, and then Neville's grandmother, then Ron's brother. Once they're all gone, Harry flops down onto the couch and sighs happily. Sirius comes over and ruffles his hair, making Harry complain and swat at him, and he laughs.
"Good birthday?" he asks.
"The best," Harry says.
"Well," says Sirius. "It's not over yet."
That evening, Sirius, Harry, and Remus get dressed up in nice but not overly fancy robes and go out for dinner in Diagon Alley. They're joined by Blaise and Theo, because Harry hadn't wanted to neglect two of his friends on his birthday, even if they're a different sort of friends than Hermione, Neville, and Ron. It's not quite as much fun as his birthday party, but Theo and Blaise are both smart and interesting to talk to, and it's sort of fascinating to watch them interact with Sirius and Remus, mostly because they treat Sirius like he's royalty and Remus like he's also royalty by virtue of being Sirius's partner, so they have to be extra polite to cover for the fact that he clearly makes them nervous. Probably, Harry reckons, it's about the werewolf thing, and he resolves to set them straight in September.
For the evening at hand, he instead makes a bit of a game of trying to get his friends to either forget that Sirius is there (and then they remember and get sort of hilariously jumpy when he inevitably interjects with a joke), or that Remus is anything other than just a very interesting person to talk to (and then they remember and pointedly ignore him for a few minutes). Sirius and Remus catch on pretty quickly, and seem amused, which Harry takes as license to keep doing it. All the better to get them used to the sort of company he keeps.
They both give him gifts of jewelry. Blaise's gift is a pair of dark jade cufflinks without a design, but the stones are so beautiful that they don't really need to be carved. They're understated enough to be worn with a Hogwarts uniform, Harry thinks, and the colour will match Harry's House crest. Theo gifts Harry a small filigree silver cuff which he explains is meant to be worn in a person's hair.
Sirius nods at that approvingly, and says, "Up to you, of course, Harry, but it's very traditional for young men—and men who'd like to think they're young—of aristocratic Pureblood families to grow their hair out and wear it long. And it might make yours a bit more manageable."
"Okay," Harry says, and thanks Theo sincerely for the gift, as he had Blaise. Both, he thinks, will go well with the snake bracelet that Neville gave him.
After dinner, Harry, Sirius, and Remus stroll along Diagon Alley to the Apparition Point near the Leaky Cauldron and Apparate out, Sirius with his arm wrapped tight around Harry. They reappear not in the alleyway near the Doghouse as Harry had been expecting, but in a different, cleaner alley surrounded on either side by the high walls of London townhouses in a part of the city Harry had never seen before. They emerge out onto the street and Sirius leads them up the block, then pauses in front of two houses numbered 11 and 13.
Sirius clearly sees Harry's confusion, because he leans down and he whispers into Harry's ear, "The Black townhouse is at Number 12 Grimmauld Place." Harry frowns up at him, but then when he looks again, there it is, as if it had always been there: another townhouse, identical to those beside it if slightly more grungy, with a silver 12 placed on its front door, which otherwise has nothing but an ornate knocker.
"Whoa," says Harry.
"Fidelius Charm," Sirius says as he steps forward to unlatch the gates. "A nifty bit of magic. Complicated, though."
"How does it work?" Harry asks, following Sirius.
From behind Harry, Remus says, "It's used to hide locations. Only a certain person, or persons, are designated Secret-Keepers, who are able to tell the Secret to others. And if you haven't heard the Secret, you can't ever see or know the location of the place hidden by the charm."
"Neat," Harry says. He pauses behind Sirius, who's stopped on the doorstep to press his hand to the door, murmuring something under his breath. After a moment, he finishes and opens the door with a wave of his wand, gesturing Harry and Remus through first, then stepping inside himself.
The foyer of 12 Grimmauld place is dark and dreary. It seems clean, dust- and cobweb-free, but the carpet is old and darkened by the tromping of many feet, and the wallpaper has a dark pattern that makes the whole space feel closed-in. Harry immediately shrinks close to Sirius, something tightening in his chest.
"We won't be here long," Sirius murmurs quietly. "Kreacher!"
There's a pop, and then the strangest creature Harry has ever seen is standing in front of their small group. It's small, with an oversized head capped with large, floppy ears, and giant green eyes which reflect the light like a cat's. It's wearing what looks like a pillowcase, tidy but grey with age, and it has spindly hands and feet; its skin is greenish-grey. Harry remembers, looking at it now, that he'd seen a similar creature depicted in gold in the Ministry's terribly fountain, and goggles at it a bit.
"Master has summoned Kreacher?" it says in a croaky voice, tilting its head to peer at Harry and Remus. "Master has brought guests."
"Harry and I will be going up to the ritual room. Presumably it's been kept tidy? And prepare tea for Remus while he waits," Sirius says.
"Yes, Master," the creature says. "The ritual room is ready, Master. I will fetch tea for Master's wolf."
Sirius sighs, but doesn't have the opportunity to say anything before the creature pops away again. "Sorry," he says to Remus, with a tired tone, as if he'd made that same apology many times.
"It's really alright, Sirius," Remus says. "I don't mind. Better than the things that blasted portrait used to call me."
As Sirius leads them into the next room, a sitting room, Harry asks, "What was that thing?"
Sirius blinks at him. "Right," he says. "Suppose you wouldn't know. Kreacher is the Black family's house elf—he's about a million years old, I think… er, not actually. Anyway, house elves are magical creatures which can be magically contracted into service with wix bloodlines, and they do housework, cooking and cleaning and stuff, whatever you need, really. Kreacher and I don't get along all that well, since I hate this house and hated living here and hated my mother, who he worshipped, but we managed to sort things out after I became Lord Black and he looks after Grimmauld Place in exchange for my not bothering him very often, except for annual ward maintenance and special circumstances."
Harry nods. "Okay."
"And this," Sirius says, gesturing to the wall of the room they've just entered, "is the Black family tree." The wall he points to is covered by a massive tapestry in black and silvery, depicting a tree covered in shimmering names. Several have been burned until illegible, and Harry wanders over to look at it while Remus takes a seat on the loveseat. A moment after he sits, a tea tray appears on the coffee table, in much the same way that food appears on the tables Hogwarts, and he begins softly clinking about making himself a cup.
"It's cool," Harry says, tracing his eyes along the tapestry until he can find Sirius's name. It's got a black scorch mark around it, and by all rights shouldn't be legible, but it shines brightly and unnaturally silver, cutting through the gloom. Harry points to it. "What happened there?"
"My mother burned me off after I ran away," Sirius says softly, coming over to trail his fingers down the branch that connects him to Walburga Black and Orion Black. The tapestry shimmers and glows as he touches it, and fades again when he withdraws his hand. "When I became Lord Black, my name reappeared. And after tonight, your name will be on here too — actually, if I wanted to muck about with the spell, you could be on it now, since you're descended from Dorea."
He points up to a spot on the family tree a few branches distant from himself, where Harry can see Dorea Potter and Charlus Potter. His grandparents.
"Oh," Harry says softly, and reaches up to touch their names. They both shimmer weakly when he does, not as much as when Sirius touches the tapestry, but… the magic knows him. "Wow."
"Yeah." Sirius gives him a moment to stare, to look over all the names, and then he says, "We should get going. Come on."
Harry nods and follows Sirius back into the hall, saying a quick see-you-later to Remus as they go. They head upstairs one floor, and Sirius leads them through a neat study with an upholstered chair sitting behind an old-fashioned writing desk and a collection of full-to-bursting bookshelves, and then through another door which appears only when Sirius approaches it. That lets them into a small room, perfectly circular, which Harry thinks really shouldn't make sense.
"It's magical space," Sirius explains quietly. There's a hush in the room which encourages the hush in his voice, a little like being in a library. "Intrinsically tied to the magic of the house, and therefore the bloodline; if the bloodline ever dies out entirely, the house will collapse, and this room and all of the Black family magic performed within it and tied to it will collapse as well."
"Whoa," Harry says. "So… the magic we do today, the ritual, it'll sort of… stay here?"
"That's right," Sirius says. He takes off his cloak and hangs it on a hook on the back of the door, then reaches out to do the same with Harry's. "You'll be becoming a part of the bloodline, the House and the actual physical house, in the way that I am. This is the House of Black's ancestral home—well, sort of, it's complicated—and it's the heart of the family in a lot of ways, even if I don't come here often, and don't live here."
"Why do you hate it so much?" Harry asks as he wanders to the centre of the room. There's a pedestal there with a round black stone bowl placed upon it, which is carved with runes inlaid with silver all around the edge. It's understated but beautiful.
"My mother was a terrible person," Sirius says. "I hated her. She abused me and my brother, though I shielded him from a lot of it… which, maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe he'd never have bought what she was selling, if he'd known better what she really was."
Harry nods. He thinks about the Dursleys, and then stops thinking about them, turning to Sirius. He's got a new family now. "So, what do we do?"
Sirius smiles. "Stand there." He points, and then gives a series of other directions as he readies himself. When they're ready, Harry and Sirius are standing on either side of the ritual bowl, each with their sleeves rolled up to bare their forearms, and Sirius has in one of his hands a small, sharp knife of gleaming metal.
He takes the knife first to the palm of his own hand, and as his blood drips into the bowl, he says solemnly, "Familia magica." Light flares from the bowl, shining silver, and then recedes until the bowl seems to be filled with swirling black and silver light, settled like mist but never still, shifting and occasionally flaring to wrap tendrils of silver around Sirius's hand.
Sirius smiles an exhilarated smile, his eyes seeming luminescent in the ritual room's dim light. "Filium adoptandum conveni," he continues, and Harry reaches out his own hand, hearing his cue. Sirius cuts his palm, and Harry hisses at the pain but doesn't pull away, nor does he flinch at the flare of light when his blood drips into the swirling silver and black.
Then Sirius takes his hand, the wounds pressing together, and their mingled blood trickles down. "Blood to blood," Sirius intones. "Life to life."
"Blood to blood," Harry repeats. They'd gone over this so many times he thinks he could do it in his sleep, but the words don't feel practiced—they feel real. "Life to life."
"Coniungamus. Augeamus. Vigeamus." These words Harry and Sirius speak in unison. As the last syllable leaves their mouths, the light flares a third time, wrapping around both of their hands. Now Harry feels what Sirius must have felt earlier: a blaze of energy within himself, racing through his veins like lightning. Every sense is briefly consumed by the flare, and he gasps, clenching his hand around Sirius's, even though it hurts. It's like nothing he'd ever felt before, not even like holding his wand for the first time, and he feels for a moment as if he's left his body, lost in a shining current of something much bigger and older and more powerful than himself, a thousand woven strands of life and history wrapping around him, tying him tightly to a past and a future shared by others: shared by Sirius, who is a beacon before him, the two of them connected by a blazing strand. Then Harry blinks and is back in the dim ritual room, and Sirius's dark eyes are fixed on his, his expression concerned. Breathless and a little dazed, Harry nods, and Sirius smiles.
He doesn't let go just yet, however. First, he says, "By blood and word, from this day forward, you are Harry James Potter, son to myself, Sirius Orion Black, by spirit and by magic."
"By blood and word," Harry says, and has to clear his throat before he goes on. "From this day forward, you are Sirius Orion Black, father to myself, Harry James Potter, by spirit and by magic."
"Initiare familiae," Sirius says, and the light around their hands, clinging tendrils of silver mist and black shadow, flares and then fades, leaving only those occasional brushes as the manifestation of the family magic in the ritual bowl reaches out to them. Sirius takes a deep breath, Harry echoing him, and then he goes on.
"You are of the House of Black," Sirius begins.
"I am of the House of Black."
"I am Lord Black; you are to be Heir Black."
"You are Lord Black; I am to be Heir Black."
Sirius grins wider. "Do you so swear to uphold the honour of the House of Black in your role as Heir, to fight for its future, and to defend its interests?"
"I so swear," Harry says, resolute. A tendril of silver light raises up from the bowl and twines around Harry and Sirius's joined hands.
"Do you so swear to love your family in your role as Heir, to respect your friends, and to treat fairly your allies and those who depend on you?"
"I so swear." A second tendril.
"Do you swear to stay true to those you are sworn to in your role as Heir, never to betray them, and to protect them?"
"I so swear." A third.
Sirius nods. "Then by these three oaths, you are bound as Heir Black. Iurur."
A final flare of light, the tendrils wrapping tightly around their hands and flaring hot for a brief second, and then they fade, leaving only tingling remnants of sensation.
Sirius nods meaningfully at Harry, and he looks down at that swirling silver which now dances up to touch his skin as eagerly as it had first touched Sirius. He's felt it now, in all its depth and power, and he hopes that this has worked, because otherwise he's pretty sure something terrible is going to happen. But nothing else to be done but test it, so he says, "Familia magica," and focuses all his will on releasing the magic.
And, sure enough, it recedes, draining down the sides of the bowl like a sink being drained, until the only light left in the room is from the candles on the walls. Sirius releases Harry's hand and immediately comes around the pedestal to hug him tightly.
"You did a great job," he says into Harry's hair. "You were so strong. It's a lot, I know."
"It was a lot," Harry says, hugging back. He's probably getting blood on Sirius's shirt, and Sirius is getting blood on his, but he doesn't care. "There's so much of it, Sirius."
"It'll always be there for you now, if you need it," Sirius says, taking Harry by the shoulders and pushing him away to look into his eyes. "Don't get me wrong: it's dangerous. One of our lessons this summer—well, over the next year or so, probably—will be teaching you enough control over your own magic that you'll hopefully be able to use the family magic. But I do think you're strong enough to use it eventually, soon if not now, and I don't want you to be afraid of it. Okay?"
"Okay," Harry says, who doesn't think he has enough energy to consider that right now. When he expresses that exact thing to Sirius, Sirius nods and ushers him back out of the ritual room and downstairs, gathering their cloaks on the way, where Remus is finishing a cup of tea and rises to his feet when he sees them coming.
"Everything went well?" he asks.
"It went wonderfully," Sirius says. "We've got a strong kid. But I think we're both pretty drained."
"Bedtime," Remus agrees. "Can we Floo back?"
Sirius sighs. "I don't think I've got enough in me for mucking with the wards. Can you Side-Along Harry?"
"Of course."
With that, they head out of 12 Grimmauld Place, back onto the London street. Harry ends up leaning on Sirius, who looks tired himself. He hadn't even realized how much the ritual had taken out of him until they'd come downstairs, but now he feels a bit like he's about to fall asleep at any moment. His hand is still both sore and tingling, though when he looks down at it, he realizes that the cut has actually sealed up. He still takes care to wash it gently when they finally get back to the Doghouse and he's getting ready for bed, because the skin is still tender.
When he comes out of the bathroom and heads for bed, he finds Sirius sitting on the edge of his mattress.
"You feeling okay?" Sirius asks, when he sees him. "I know the family magic can be intense."
"I'm okay," Harry says. "Just tired."
Sirius rises and comes to give him another one of those big bear hugs, and ruffles his hair. "You're amazing, you know that? I'm proud to have you as my Heir."
"I'm proud to be your Heir," Harry says, as sincerely as he can when he can feel exhaustion dragging on him. "I love you, Sirius."
"Love you too, pup." Sirius bends to kiss his forehead, then says, "Go to sleep. I'm going to do the same. And tomorrow, we're going to get properly started on Occlumency. I think you're ready."
Harry nods, smiling. "Good night."
"Good night."
Sirius slips out of the room, and Harry crawls under the covers. He's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and he dreams in black and silver.