"That one's from me, that one's from me and Moony, and that one doesn't really count because it should've been yours to begin with," Sirius explained, pointing to each in turn. Harry went first for the one from just Sirius, tearing into the paper with some hesitation, just in case it exploded glitter everywhere. He was safe, for now.
Ripping the paper all the way off, his eyes lit up at the sight of the Zonko's box; of course Sirius had got him prank materials. "Figured you could take them to school, keep the old man on his toes," the animagus reasoned, mischief dancing in his eyes. Harry smirked.
The present from both Remus and Sirius combined was large and squishy, and Harry unwrapped it to find a beautifully soft dark grey cloak, with a gold clasp in the shape of a pawprint. "It's got size adjusting charms, for when you grow," Sirius told him as Harry stroked a gentle hand over the wool. "Warming charms and the like. And, well, I thought when the time comes, we could have your family crests embroidered on. Every young wizard needs a good cloak."
Harry swung the cloak over his shoulders, feeling the warmth wrap around him like a hug. He grinned. The only wizarding clothes he had were his school robes. This cloak looked like something Draco might wear. He looked down at himself, imagining how it might look with the Potter and Black crests on the front and Slytherin and Peverell too, he supposed. "It's brilliant," he declared. Sirius beamed.
The final present was a huge, brightly coloured tapestry — it was clearly old, and Indian in origin, depicting some sort of abstract scene of the creation of the world, according to Hindu mythology. Harry had to set it on the floor to unroll it fully, his eyes round as he studied the intricate weaving. "This was brought over with the first ever Potters to emigrate to Britain, made by their ancestors," Sirius explained, his voice thick with emotion. "It's hung in the home of every first-born Potter since. We can hang it up here somewhere; then, when you're old enough to have your own place, you can take it with you. James used to know all about it, and I only remember bits and pieces, but I'm pretty sure there's a book about it in the vault."
Harry was embarrassed to find himself tearing up a little bit — he had never had anything like that. Growing up with the Dursleys, they were determined to act as if Harry's skin was just particularly tan, and once he got to the wizarding world people all just told him about the great magic in his blood. No one ever acknowledged the history of the Potter family, or told him anything about his heritage. "When we can, I'll take you down to the Potter vault, and we can go through everything, teach you about the family. I learnt a fair bit living with James for so long — I don't know everything, but I reckon I know enough to get you started," Sirius said hesitantly. "I'm not James. I'm not trying to replace him. But… he would've wanted you to learn about where you come from. He would've taught you all that, if he could. I figured I can do my best to—"
He was cut off by Harry barrelling into his chest in a rib-crushing hug, and Sirius quickly returned it, kissing Harry's messy hair. "You've been denied so much, pup. You deserve better." Harry kept his face buried in Sirius' chest until he could be sure he was no longer going to cry, and then he pulled away, still with a bit of a lump in his throat. "Right," he murmured. "I'm just gonna… take this all upstairs."
"Don't forget your surprise at ten," Remus reminded. "You'll want to be dressed for that."
Harry had almost forgotten about that. He carefully rolled up the tapestry and gathered his presents, heading to his room and letting out a deep breath, still shaking a little. In that moment he hated Voldemort, and Dumbledore, for tearing him away from everything he should've had growing up. Love. A family. A heritage. Voldemort might have set it in motion by killing his parents, but Dumbledore was the one who kept him isolated from that point onwards. Dumbledore was the one who tried to deny him his family magics.
He turned to his wardrobe, shaking the dark thoughts from his head. It was his birthday, there was no need to get morose.
.-.-.
As ten o'clock drew closer, Sirius turned into Padfoot to stop himself spoiling the surprise, and Harry retaliated by sending various mostly-harmless jinxes at the dog, who jumped all over the entrance hall to avoid them, barking happily. "Just tell me!" the teen pleaded. Padfoot growled playfully, shaking his head. The clock struck ten.
Sirius was back on two feet in an instant, and grabbed Harry around the shoulders. "Come on!" He led him towards the front doors, practically skipping. Was his surprise a place? Were they going somewhere? Stepping out into the driveway, Harry gaped.
Walking towards the house were two figures, one taller than the other, both with the sun shining off their white-blonde hair. "Draco!" Harry's eyes were wide in astonishment, and he whipped around to look at his godfather. "But he's— how did you— I don't understand!" "Remus mentioned the two of you had become close," Sirius said, still grinning smugly. "I thought it'd be nice for you to have company your own age for the day."
Draco and his mother made it up to the house, and Narcissa Malfoy leaned in to press a brief kiss to Sirius' cheek. "You're looking well, cousin," she greeted. "Freedom clearly agrees with you."
"It definitely does. You should try it sometime," Sirius replied wryly.
"Cousin?" Harry echoed. Sirius rested a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Narcissa Black-Malfoy," Sirius introduced. "Daughter of my father's sister. Cissa, dear, I don't believe you've been formally introduced; Harry Potter, my heir."
Narcissa offered a hand, and Harry knew he was supposed to kiss the back of it. "Well met, Heir Black."
"Well met, Lady Malfoy," Harry replied. He glanced between the two adults. "Wait, if you two are cousins, and I'm your heir, does that make Draco my cousin too?" For some reason, that made him feel weird.
Sirius and Narcissa shared an amused glance. "Not to worry, pup," Sirius assured, chuckling. "You're my heir in name, not blood."
"Sirius, allow me to introduce my son, Draco," Narcissa said primly, nudging Draco forward. He bowed.
"Well met, Lord Black."
"Well met, Heir Malfoy," Sirius returned. "Salazar, Cissa, he's certainly got the Black cheekbones. Not much of Lucius in him, is there?"
"Less and less every day, I believe," she said, running an affectionate hand over her son's hair. Draco preened.
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