It was warm. Rigel felt a cozy, heavy heat pressing against his back, pulling him slowly out of the deep fog of sleep. His eyelids fluttered, reluctant, until the blur faded and he noticed that his four-poster curtains had been pulled wide open. Golden morning sunlight spilled across the velvet duvet.
He yawned and stretched his arms high above his head until his toes curled. Twisting onto his side to burrow back into his pillow, he froze. His heart gave a startled leap.
Sirius was right there, propped up on one elbow, watching him with a soft smile.
"Papa?" Rigel blinked, his voice small and raspy with sleep.
"Good morning, pup," Sirius said softly, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Have a nice dream?"
Rigel frowned and turned to Corvus beside him, who was just stirring, rubbing his eyes with the same puzzled look.
"Papa?" Corvus croaked.
"I see you snuck into your brother's room again," Sirius said, raising an amused eyebrow.
Corvus shrank back into the pillows, a guilty flush creeping up his cheeks. Ever since Yule, their parents had made them sleep in separate rooms, mostly because of Corvus's animals. He was always smuggling strays in from the castle grounds and then came the frightening night they discovered Rigel was allergic to Kneazle dander. He had barely been able to breathe. Esme had firmly put her foot down. She would not have one of Corvus's wild little pets hurting or biting Rigel while he slept, and so the boys had been given rooms of their own.
Corvus had promised to keep Kneazles out of the castle, but that hadn't stopped his endless menagerie. And separate rooms hadn't stopped the brothers from drifting into each other's beds whenever they wanted.
"It wasn't my fault," Corvus mumbled, pulling the blanket up to his chin. "Rigel's room has better pillows."
"I am sure you both have the same pillows." Sirius chuckled and gave Corvus's head a gentle pat. "At least you didn't bring your pets into Rigel's room. What did you hide in yours this time?"
Corvus groaned into the blanket.
"What was that?" Sirius tilted his head.
Corvus lowered the duvet just enough to show his eyes. "Fox kits."
Sirius let out a long sigh. "And where is their mother?"
Corvus stared hard at the ceiling, avoiding his gaze. "Also in my room?"
Sirius closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose in a brief, long-suffering pause.
"You smuggled an entire fox family into the east wing?" His lips twitched, caught between a reprimand and an impressed smirk. He leaned in and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Corvus... if your Maman finds a mother fox nesting in your wardrobe before breakfast, not even I can protect you."
Corvus peeked over the edge of the blanket, eyes wide and pleading. "She was cold, Papa! And she had a thorn in her paw! I healed it with the salve Maman keeps in the parlor!"
Rigel sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked at his twin with quiet fascination. "Is that why your room smelled like wet fur last night?"
"It was not wet fur!" Corvus hissed, though his face turned bright pink. "It was chamomile ointment!"
Sirius let out a soft bark of laughter and reached across the bed to ruffle both their heads until their hair stuck up in every direction.
"Right. Here's the plan," he said, sitting up and clapping his hands together once. "Before your Maman comes to inspect your rooms, we are going to quietly, chivalrously, relocate our bushy-tailed guests to the edge of the forest. Understood?"
Corvus sighed but nodded solemnly. "Understood, Papa."
"Good." Sirius gave them a wide, mischievous grin. "Now, let's hurry, so we can celebrate your birthday."
For a moment, neither boy moved. Then Rigel and Corvus perked up at the same time.
"It's our birthday?!"
"Yup!" Sirius scooped one boy onto each arm and swung them through the air until they shrieked with laughter. "Now come on, let's go find those foxes and have your birthday breakfast."
Corvus cheered, kicking his legs. But as Sirius swung them down onto the soft carpet, Rigel's laughter died in his throat.
His feet hit the floor, and for one terrifying second the warm sunlight vanished, replaced by the suffocating, pitch-black silence of the cupboard under the stairs.
Birthday breakfast?
The words echoed strangely in his head, cold and foreign. Back when he was Harry, birthdays had meant standing at the stove frying stacks of bacon until his hands were speckled with grease burns, while Dudley tore through piles of brightly wrapped boxes. They had meant hiding under the covers so Uncle Vernon wouldn't remember he existed. He and Nathan hadn't even known the day they were born. There had never been a cake. There had never been anyone to tell them. And there had certainly never been a father who swung them through the air and looked at them as if they were the center of the universe.
A tight, painful knot formed in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared up at his papa's bright, adoring grey eyes, and a quiet shock washed over him.
I have a birthday?
"Rigel?" Sirius stopped, noticing his younger son's sudden, wide-eyed stillness. He crouched down, one warm hand settling on Rigel's shoulder. "You alright, pup? Did I swing you too fast?"
Rigel swallowed hard and forced the sting behind his eyes to fade. He couldn't tell them. He couldn't explain why he was on the verge of tears over the word breakfast.
He smoothed his face into that of a sleepy child, blinked, and managed a tiny, crooked smile.
"No, Papa," he whispered, his voice trembling just a fraction as he leaned into Sirius's side and clung to his robes. "I'm okay. I'm just... really hungry."
*****
"Bonjour, mes petits princes," Esme greeted them warmly as Sirius carried the twins into the family dining room.
It wasn't the Great Hall, with its long tables and towering ceiling. This was the small, sunlit room where the family ate their everyday meals together, and today it smelled of butter and sugar. Silver platters crowded the table. Stacks of golden French toast dusted with powdered sugar, flaky croissants, bowls of glistening berries, and sizzling strips of sausage and bacon.
Before Sirius could set them down, the door burst open and Lyra and Alphard came dashing in, beaming.
"Happy birthday! Happy birthday!" they cheered together, surrounding the boys and each grabbing one of Sirius's legs.
"Don't grab your papa's legs, or he and your brothers will stumble!" Esme scolded gently.
Lyra and Alphard let go at once, giggling, as Sirius wobbled theatrically and pretended to lose his balance before setting Rigel and Corvus into their chairs.
"Saved by the skin of my teeth," Sirius gasped, clutching his chest, and the younger ones shrieked with delight.
Esme shook her head with a faint, amused sigh and bent to kiss the top of each twin's head. "Happy birthday, my sweet boys," she murmured. Her thumb brushed across Rigel's cheek.
"Thank you, Maman!" they chorused.
As they started eating, Sirius slathered a croissant with berry preserve and turned his grin on the twins.
"Since it's your birthday today, what do you boys want to do before lunch?"
Rigel blinked, a strawberry halfway to his mouth. "Before lunch?"
"Your great-grandparents, great-uncles, great-aunts, cousins and other relatives will all be coming to visit this afternoon to celebrate with you," Sirius explained, gesturing with his butter knife. "But while we wait for the rest of the clan, is there something special you two want to do?"
"The zoo!" Corvus blurted, bouncing in his chair and nearly knocking over his juice. "I want to see the pandas, like the ones in Justin's books!"
Sirius's smile turned a little sympathetic, the kind that came before bad news. "Well... that's going to take a bit of planning, little star. We can't run off to the Muggle zoo today, but I promise we'll go another day very soon."
Corvus's shoulders slumped, though he nodded cheerfully enough. "Aww. Okay."
Sirius smiled and turned his bright grey eyes on Rigel. "What about you, Rigel?"
Rigel put down his strawberry. "Can I ride your broom, Papa?"
"Wh-what?"
The question caught Sirius completely off guard. He knew Rigel had been watching him every time he left the castle to check on the construction of the town below. He could have Apparated down, but he much preferred to fly. It had simply never occurred to him that his son might want to come along.
Sirius blinked at him. Then he turned, very slowly, to Esme, his face all but begging.
Esme's eyebrows were raised. Her silver fork hovered in the air.
"Non," she said smoothly, taking a delicate sip of her tea. "If you think for one second, Sirius Black, that you are taking a six-year-old child hundreds of feet into the air on a racing broom, you have lost your mind."
"I'm a brilliant flyer, Esme!" Sirius protested, raising his hands. "I'd hold onto him! I have protective charms in place."
"You are a reckless flyer," she corrected without missing a beat, though the corner of her mouth tugged upward. "And my answer is no. At least... not on your broom."
Rigel's heart dipped. But something flickered in Sirius's face. He had caught what she was really saying, and his grey eyes lit up with a sudden, mischievous glint.
"Right," Sirius grinned, leaning toward Rigel with a conspiratorial wink. "Your Maman is right, pup. My broom is far too boring for you anyway. Why fly with me when you can fly yourself?"
Rigel's head snapped up. "Fly... myself?"
"I was supposed to give you these later, but I suppose right now is perfect," Sirius said, reaching into his robes and pulling out two small, neatly wrapped boxes.
With a flourish of his wand, he enlarged them to their proper size and set one in front of each boy.
Rigel and Corvus looked at their packages, then at each other, then up at their parents.
"Well, go on," Sirius chuckled. "Why don't you open them?"
They tore into the wrapping paper and lifted the lids of the dark wooden boxes.
"Are those—" Corvus gasped, his mouth falling open.
"Broomsticks!" Rigel breathed, his fingers tracing the polished ash handle on its lining.
"Toy flying broomsticks," Sirius corrected, though a proud grin spread across his face. "They're not quite the same as Papa's. You'll have to wait until you're older for a full racing model. But you can fly these all by yourselves!"
"Really?!" Corvus shrieked, practically leaping out of his chair.
"Really," Sirius laughed. "I put safety charms on them myself. They won't go higher than five feet off the ground, and they'll bring you right back down if you try to fly off the estate."
"And," Esme chimed in coolly, dabbing her lips with a linen napkin and shooting Sirius a stern glance, "you will only fly them outside on the soft grass, under direct supervision."
"Hear that, boys?" Sirius winked. "Finishing breakfast just became a high-priority mission. Last one to the courtyard gets to clean the fox den!"
For the rest of the morning, the courtyard became their own private sky.
Rigel gripped the sleek handle, his knuckles going white as he kicked off the cobblestones. The broom rose smoothly and hovered around chest height. It was nowhere near as high as he wanted. It kept him well beneath the lowest branches of the courtyard trees, and Sirius's charms held its speed carefully in check.
Still, as he leaned forward and sped across the lawn, the rush was undeniable.
The cool morning wind swept through his hair and stung his cheeks. Rigel closed his eyes for a second and let out a soft, helpless laugh. It felt so familiar, like something deep inside him remembering another life. But unlike the dark cupboard, the cold nights, or the fear of Dudley's fists, this was freedom, pure and simple.
"Look at me, Rigel! I'm a bird!" Corvus shouted, zooming past at top speed, which was roughly the pace of a trotting pony.
Rigel banked left around a stone archway, and Sirius whistled approvingly from the balustrade steps. Lyra and Alphard watched them soar, though they weren't allowed to fly yet. They were still too young.
"Nice turn, pup!" Sirius called, leaning against the balustrade beside Esme, his proud, booming laugh echoing across the courtyard.
"Whoa! What is that?"
The loud, startled voice cut through their game. Rigel pulled back on his handle to stop and turned. Justin stood at the courtyard entrance, staring with saucer-wide eyes at the flying broomsticks.
"We can fly?!" Justin gasped, completely mesmerized.
"Justin!" Corvus greeted him loudly, zooming over and pulling a wobbly loop right above his head. Justin jumped back, his jaw practically hitting the cobblestones.
"I never knew the stereotype of witches and wizards riding broomsticks was actually true," Douglas remarked dryly as he stepped into the courtyard beside Rosea, a neatly wrapped gift box tucked under one arm.
"It is very much true, Douglas," Sirius chuckled, pushing off the balustrade to greet them. "Though usually reserved for proper Quidditch matches. These are just toy versions, to keep the boys from breaking their necks before their seventh birthday."
"Fascinating..." Douglas murmured, his eyes following Rigel as he took another smooth turn around the central fountain and touched down softly on the grass.
Justin sprinted straight toward Rigel, abandoning his parents completely. "Rigel! How high does it go? Is it hard? Can I try? Please tell me I can try!"
*****
"Grandma! Grandpa!"
Lyra and Alphard squealed, their small feet pattering across the polished floor as they dashed to the door to greet Arcturus and Melania. The two elders were getting thoroughly used to Sirius and Esme's more casual, intimate celebrations.
"Hello, my little darlings," Melania said warmly, bending down to pat Alphard's cheek before looking up at Rigel and Corvus, her face radiant. "Happy birthday, my sweet boys."
Unlike their rambunctious younger siblings, who were practically bouncing on their heels, Rigel and Corvus stepped forward with calm, polite grace.
"Thank you, Grandmother," they said in unison, with matching, handsome smiles.
"Happy birthday, boys," Arcturus said, a rare softness easing the sharp lines of his aged face as he rested a firm, heavy hand on each of their shoulders.
"Thank you, Grandfather!"
Soon, the rest of the family arrived.
Pollux and Irma greeted the boys warmly as they stepped through the grand doors, followed closely by Cygnus and Druella. Narcissa and Lucius came next, carrying Draco, with baby Octavia sleeping soundly in a charmed bassinet, an ingenious piece of magic that let the family see the infant while insulating her completely from noise and drafts.
Draco greeted his cousins with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, practically bouncing forward. Lucius leaned down to remind his son, quietly, to maintain proper, dignified posture, but the boy ignored his father's stern advice in favor of grinning and hugging his cousins. Lucius frowned, but Narcissa was happy. For once, their son was acting like a child, as he had ever since their stay at Blacktide.
Ophelia and Marius arrived next, and the children swarmed them at once with breathless updates about the morning's broomstick flying.
Andromeda and Ted came in with Nymphadora and baby Eddy, who was also snoozing peacefully in a charmed bassinet.
Finally, Xenophilius and Pandora arrived with young Luna in tow, all three dressed in their signature eclectic style. Bizarre charm necklaces, peculiar ward-trinkets, and curiously bright robes. The children were instantly enchanted by the sparkling, rattling trinkets hanging from Xenophilius's cloak, while the elder Blacks, Pollux and Druella in particular, looked on with suppressed horror at such outright defiance of noble dress.
Arcturus merely let out a low, amused huff. Looking at Xenophilius's vibrant mustard-yellow robes, the old Lord could not help feeling a lingering gratitude that Xenophilius had at least toned down the infamous bright-orange ensemble from the Yuletide Ball. The man had managed not to stand out when he hosted it for the public.
As the chatter swelled and the children gathered around the Lovegoods to inspect a buzzing, whirligig charm Pandora had brought, Sirius drifted toward his grandfather, scanning the room and noting one prominent absence.
"Where is Aunt Cassiopeia?" he murmured, leaning down toward him.
Arcturus took a slow sip from his goblet, his sharp gray eyes on the grandchildren laughing across the hall. "She is having another one of her... episodes," he whispered back. "I deemed it best she remain quiet at Blackwood today. No need to raise concern or cast a shadow over the boys' birthday."
Sirius gave a grim, understanding nod. He never liked Cassiopeia. Her views borders to extreme to Sirius' tastes but she was still family and so far had been respectful towards their boundaries.
Then the room was interrupted by a new visitor.
Everyone fell quiet as Abraxas Malfoy, who had been locked away in isolation for months, finally arrived at Blacktide Castle. He entered in a wheelchair, still pale and dull. The hush settled heavily across the hall. Arcturus, Lucius, Sirius, Esme, Narcissa, and Pandora shared a subtle, knowing glance before turning their gaze back to the Malfoy patriarch.
For the rest of the family, it was simply a surprise. Douglas and Rosea had heard of Abraxas Malfoy but had never met him, despite being relatives. They are aware it is mostly due to them being squibs. The elders were more startled than anyone. They had not heard of the elder Malfoy in months. So, he was ill, they all thought, and the fact that he had come at all suggested the man might be recovering.
It was Corvus who broke the silence, skipping toward Abraxas's wheelchair without an ounce of hesitation.
"Grand-père!" Corvus piped up, beaming at the pale wizard. "You're all better now? Are you here to see our new broomsticks?"
Abraxas blinked, caught entirely off guard by the boy's cheerful lack of decorum. A quiet, amused snort escaped Arcturus from across the room, while Lucius cleared his throat, trying to hide his own astonishment.
For a second, Abraxas looked as though he wanted to scold the boy for his forwardness. But as he looked down into Corvus's bright, innocent eyes, the stern edge in his posture softened, just slightly.
"Yes, child," Abraxas said, his voice quiet and somewhat rough, one pale, thin hand resting on the arm of his wheelchair. "I suppose I am."
*****
The dining hall dimmed into a soft, amber haze as the tall windows shaded themselves, leaving only the warm glow of floating sconces against the stone walls.
A moment later, the double doors swished open. Two birthday cakes drifted into the room side by side, hovering just above the floor. They were beautiful. Rigel's was glazed in dark indigo buttercream, with tiny constellations of stars that shimmered and moved. Corvus's was frosted like a lush little forest, with enchanted sugar fox kits gamboling across the marzipan moss.
Corvus gasped and leaned over his chair to watch the foxes.
"Up you get, birthday boys," Sirius whispered with a chuckle, ushering them to the head of the table.
There were no grand thrones. Their high-backed chairs were simply decorated with charms. Corvus's was wrapped in a ribbon of woven golden ivy, and Rigel's was crowned with a wreath of paper lilies that released faint bursts of warm stardust. Corvus adjusted his ivy proudly and puffed out his chest like a little king.
Rigel sat down and rested his hands in his lap. He looked out along the long table. Dozens of eyes were turned toward him. Great-Grandfather Arcturus, Great-Grandmother Melania, Aunt Narcissa with baby Octavia, Draco grinning, Justin waving, and Grand-père Abraxas, pale in his wheelchair at the far end. Sirius and Esme stood right behind the twins' chairs. There was no resentment in those eyes. No disgust. Only warm, steady attention, all of it on him and his brother.
Sirius drew his wand and tapped it once above each cake. A single flame bloomed on every candle, six small lights on Corvus's forest and six on Rigel's stars.
"Candles?" Corvus whispered, wide-eyed. "There are so many!"
"One for every year," Aunt Rosea said from down the table, smiling. "It's a Muggle custom, sweetheart. You make a wish, and then you blow them all out in one breath. They say doing so can make your wish come true."
"What do I wish for?"
"Anything you like," Sirius said. "But you mustn't tell anyone, or it won't come true."
Rigel said nothing. He knew about candles and wishes. He had only ever known them from the other side of a cupboard door.
Uncle Douglas cleared his throat and set down his wine glass. Beside him, Aunt Rosea smiled, and Justin leaned forward and took a deep breath.
"Happy birthday to you..." Uncle Douglas began, his rich baritone leading the way.
"Happy birthday to you!" Aunt Rosea and Justin joined in, their voices swelling together.
The effect on the rest of the room was immediate.
Great-Aunt Druella froze mid-sip, her teacup an inch from her lips, her eyebrows arching nearly to her hairline. Great-Grandfather Pollux frowned and tilted his head, as bewildered as if he were trying to decipher an ancient curse. Even Great-Grandfather Arcturus blinked and cast a dry, amused look at Sirius, who only winked back. This seems to be another Muggle customs the Finch-Fletchley's brought to the family.
At the far end of the table, Abraxas watched the singing in silence, his expression unreadable. Halfway through the second line, Draco caught the rhythm and began humming along loudly, and Luna started swaying in her chair, singing wildly out of tune with perfect, unbothered delight.
Rigel sat frozen, his fingers gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.
The song.
In another life, on Privet Drive, that song had only ever reached him through a dusty slit beneath a cupboard door. It belonged to Dudley, along with the tearing of wrapping paper, the loud laughter, and the stacks of presents. Harry had sat alone in the dark, counting the thumps on the floorboards above his head.
Now it was being sung to him. There is laughter. There is cake. And there are stacks of presents behind them for him and his brother.
A tight, aching knot clamped in the back of his throat. His breath caught behind his ribs. He stared into the golden flames on his constellation cake and watched them blur into long, shimmering streaks behind a hot veil of tears he fought to hold back. The mask he had so carefully built hung by a fraying thread.
"Now?" he whispered, his voice raspy, as the song ended in a round of cheerful applause.
Justin leaned over from the next chair. "Now! Before the wax drips on the cake!"
Corvus didn't bother waiting. He closed his eyes, screwed up his nose with theatrical effort, and blew hard across his forest cake. "I wish for a real pet panda!" he shouted the second the flames died into green sparks.
"Corvus! That's not how it works!" Justin squealed, bursting into laughter.
Rigel turned back to his own cake and closed his eyes tightly. He didn't wish for a broom, or toys, or magic. He thought of the steady beat of Papa's heart, the warmth of Maman's hands, and his twin beside him.
Let me keep this, he wished, into the dark of his mind. Please, just let me keep them forever.
He leaned forward and blew gently.
The candles vanished in a warm shower of silver stardust that swooped around his head before melting into the air. The room erupted in cheers and laughter. Corvus snatched a glob of green buttercream and smeared a streak across the tip of his own nose, and Draco cackled.
Rigel blinked, dazed by how loud and bright and impossibly warm the world had become.
As the house-elves stepped forward to cut the cakes, Sirius and Esme slid down onto their knees beside his chair until they were level with his eyes. The noise of the room faded into the background. Sirius reached out and settled a broad, warm hand on Rigel's shoulder.
"Happy sixth birthday, pup," he said softly, his bright grey eyes shining. He pressed his forehead against Rigel's. "Thank you for being born."
"Merci d'être né, mon petit," Esme murmured, one hand resting against the back of his neck, her dark eyes full of warmth. "We are so grateful for you."
Thank you for being born.
The words washed over Rigel and found the deep, silent place he had carried across two lives. He wasn't a burden. He wasn't a mistake taking up space under a staircase.
His breath hitched, then broke, and the tears came all at once, hot and messy, running down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them. He pressed his face into his papa's shoulder, burying himself in the scent of cedar and leather as papa's arms wrapped tightly around him. A small, ragged sob escaped him, then another.
"Oh, pup," Sirius murmured, one hand cradling the back of his head. "It's alright. I've got you."
"Mon petit," Esme whispered, her fingers stroking his hair. "Are they happy tears?"
Rigel nodded against Sirius' robes. He couldn't have said anything else if he tried.
When he finally pulled back a few moments later, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robes, Esme's hand was still resting on his shoulder, steady and grounding.
Corvus was already shoving a massive forkful of forest cake into his mouth, his nose still spotted with green frosting. The room around them stayed loud, full of clinking silver, the chatter of cousins, and the cozy rumble of family laughter.
Rigel lifted his fork and took a small bite of sweet, indigo frosting. The memory of the dark cupboard was still there, tucked far back in the shadows of his mind. But in the sunlit, noisy hall of Blacktide Castle, wrapped in his mother's touch and his father's smile, it couldn't reach him anymore.