Human Design | Sirius Black

viii. A Year Older But None The Wiser

THE WEIGHT THAT appeared at the end of Reece's bed, was enough to make Reece open his eyes to the beaming face of Yrsa who was looking down on him looking equal parts proud and elated as she bounced one more on the bed before coming to sit on the edge of the bed

"Happy birthday!" she said in some oddly paradoxical exclaimed whisper as she sat on top of him and pulled the pillow from under his head so that she could smack him with it. It must have been before six because his alarm hadn't gone off yet so it was quite shocking to see her with so much energy, considering she was far from a morning person. "So how does it feel to be a year older?"

Reece groaned and she hit him with the pillow again to wake him up so he snatched it from her and hugged it to his chest. "It feels no different," he responded. Glancing at his clock in the dark room, he saw it was a quarter till six which meant he'd technically have fifteen minutes to continue sleeping but now he was wide awake (thanks to being hit in the face twice) and there would be no catching sleep again. "How are you up this early?"

"Ah, see, here's the thing," she said, "I haven't gone to sleep yet."

"Wha–? It's six in the morning."

"Yes, I know, I wanted to wake you up on your birthday."

A grin grew onto her lips, clearly excited to have brought her plan to life as if it was some grand scheme complex enough to overthrow the government though then it wavered and he waited for the continuation he knew was coming.

"But also I had to finish reading one of Mum and Dad's stupid books and write summaries on all the chapters and I finished that at five and didn't see the sake of sleeping for an hour." Her smile was trying hard to vanish from her expression but Yrsa fought hard to keep it on so that she could maintain an air of normalcy, but it only really made her look a little eerie. "I'm not really understanding how they want me to study all my subjects and now do all this werewolf stuff on top of it. They know I can't digest information that fast, it's like they're doing it on purpose but it's not my fault that you and Erika used up all the intelligent genetics and I got stuck with all the stupid leftovers." Reece frowned but remained quiet, not having the heart to tell her that it wasn't the way genetics worked. "Well, anyway, that's irrelevant, happy birthday! I bought you a custom-made Quidditch robe for the national team with your name on it so that when you snap out of caring about what Mum and Dad want and decide to actually play Quidditch as a career, you've already got the robes." Reece felt heat creep up his neck but Yrsa didn't remain on the subject long enough to make him feel put on the spot which he was grateful for. "But I forgot it at Hogwarts and since I'm not allowed to send or accept any post, I couldn't ask Ashley to send it here so you'll get it when we get back. I'm sorry, I know I'm terrible, I can't ever remember things –"

"No, don't worry about it," Reece interrupted quickly, then smiled and said, "Thanks."

"Well, I'm gonna head to bed. Dad's on holiday today and he said I have to be up at eight," she said, climbing off his mattress, "so if I go now I'll get an hour and a half of sleep which I suppose is better than nothing." Yrsa paused at the door, looked back and said, "Happy birthday. I love you," and then disappeared.

Reece placed his cushion back below his head and fell back on the bed. He never completely closed his blinds, preferring to leave little gaps between them, but because it was December and the sun wouldn't rise until past eight, it would have made no difference; his room rested in silence and the dark.

Just as his space in Hogwarts, his room was almost impeccably tidy, though not as tidy as Erika's was. There was a poster of the English national Quidditch team on the wall above his bed. It was framed. He had a bookshelf of his own though it only included his old school books and a few others about Quidditch. Aside from the books, it held his most prized possession: the Quaffle used in the World Cup two years ago. There was his desk with a few drawers beneath it: quills and ink in the first, parchment paper and envelopes in the second, and miscellaneous items in the last.