Harry's breath caught. "This was my mum's?"
Dudley winced. "No, sorry. I don't think my own mum had anything that was, Harry. And even if she had, it would have been destroyed along with the house, you know. But when I had to go through all Mum and Dad's papers, after . . . after everything, there were a few pieces of jewellery in the safety deposit box, along with some old letters and photos and such. As far as I could tell, that belonged to my great-great-grandmother, Rose Anna Evans. Our great-great-grandmother, I mean. It's from the 1890's."
"Oh . . ." Harry felt his own touch on it grow more cautious. "Thank you, Dudley. Thank you very much."
"It's nothing special, that's just glass decorating it, I think--"
"It's very special." Harry brushed his fingers across the brooch, wishing he was one of those wizards who could touch items from the past and glean memories from them. Even though he had no such talent, he still felt some sort of . . . of connection, holding this. Maybe it was a connection to Dudley. "Thanks," Harry said again, his voice catching that time.
Harry didn't think he was about to blubber, or anything like that, but his father must have sensed how very much the gift meant to him, because he chose that moment to step forward, distracting Harry and everyone else.
"My own gifts to my beloved sons," Snape said, his wand flashing as he summoned two boxes from inside the house.
Beloved sons? That didn't sound much like Snape to Harry. Well, that he felt that way, sure, but that he would say it, in front of a crowd of people, a lot of them relative strangers?
Harry saw from the look on Draco's face that the words must be part of a traditional ceremony. A ceremony Draco had thought wouldn't happen, not to him. Whether that was because Lucius was dead or because of the way he'd changed his birth date, Harry wasn't sure.
Snape deftly caught both boxes. They were identical in size and shape, though one was wrapped in silver and one in gold. Instead of passing them out, though, he set both on the table, then picked up the silver one and turned to Draco.
More ceremony, Harry realised, just as soon as their father began speaking, his words formal and loud enough to carry. "Draco Alain Gervais Malfoy Snape, my son in truth, it is my pleasure to present to you a portion of your family history upon this hallowed day, your coming-of-age. Remember your past, honour your present, and recognise that your future will be what you make of it."
Snape bowed, and then Draco did as well, and Snape handed him the box in his hands. Draco didn't open it, though. He stood ramrod straight, patiently holding it as Snape repeated the ritual with Harry.
"Harry James Potter, my son in truth, it is my pleasure to present to you a portion of your family history upon this hallowed day, your coming-of-age. Remember your past, honour your present, and recognise that your future will be what you make of it."
Harry bowed after Snape, trying to make the movement look as much as possible like Draco's had.
"And now . . ." Snape took a step back, and gestured left and right for Harry and Draco to open their boxes at the same time.
Harry was expecting a Snape family heirloom, of course, and at first he thought that was what he'd got. Inside, protected with a cushioning spell that tickled Harry when he reached through it, were three goblets. They didn't match, though. One was made of silver, one of bronze, and one, as far as Harry could tell, of gold.
Pulling them out, he lined them up on the table so he could get a good look at them, and that was when he understood. The three goblets bore different crests, and more than that, different names.
SNAPE.
BLACK.
POTTER.
Harry blinked, his eyes stinging just a bit as he picked up the golden goblet, the one that bore a crest with a lion and three plumed horses. "Potter? Where did you find this?"
Snape smiled at him, the expression reaching his eyes. "Albus has kept it safe for you, all these years." Snape's hand ghosted over the rim of the silver goblet. "This one was in Sirius Black's house, and I suppose isn't properly mine to give, but for a span of time he was the only real family you had, I think?"
Harry nodded, biting his lip a little when he thought of Sirius falling through that horrid Veil.
"And this was my great-great-grandfather's wedding cup," Snape finished, "which I received from my own father when I came of age."
Harry nodded again, carefully not asking anything. He knew that his father didn't like to talk about Hostilian Snape.
"The point is this, Harry," said Snape softly. "You've been deprived of family for much of your life, I know. Despite that, though, you have had people who cared deeply about you, and each of them is a part of you, now. You're their legacy. Carry that proudly. All of it."
That Snape could say all that, and include Sirius in it . . . Harry didn't know what to say in reply.
Well, maybe sometimes, words weren't needed. Harry set down the golden goblet and taking a step forward, gave his father a brief, fierce hug.
He felt Snape's arms come around him and tighten for just one moment.
Then Snape was moving away, turning to his other son.
Harry deliberately focussed his attention on the three goblets he'd received. Whatever Snape had to say to Draco, it was private.
"Not a bad haul," joked Fred as he came over and started sifting through the presents. "Oh, watch out for that box of candy that was from George and me. The red ones in there? They're experimental."
"Only the red ones?" Harry laughed. "And they do what, exactly?"
"Make you speak a foreign language. But only languages you already know, of course. And considering we're talking you, I thought I'd better mention that you might end up speaking nothing but Parseltongue. Only for about ten minutes, though."
That didn't sound so bad to Harry, a thought which made him realise how at-ease he was, these days, with being a Parselmouth. It didn't bother him at all.
As Fred moved off, Draco beckoned Harry to show him what Snape had given him.
Three goblets, two of them just like Harry's, but instead of a golden Potter one, Snape had given Draco a second silver one that bore the name Malfoy. Or maybe it was made of platinum. That seemed likely, considering.
"I'm instructed to take the best part of that and move forward," said Draco, in a tone that said he'd got a bit of a lecture on the point. He leaned a little, peering around Harry. "Oh, I see you got a Black one just like mine. That's odd. You aren't a Black, really."
"Yes, I am," said Harry. "In a way. Sirius loved me. And besides, heritage isn't only about blood. I know you know that."
"Yes, I do know that." Draco smiled. "Let's have a toast to it. No shortage of goblets to use."
Draco reached for one of his, and Harry did the same, and when they were facing each other again, they both laughed. They'd both chosen the simple brass goblet that bore Snape's own name engraved in block letters beneath a crest featuring a coiled snake.
"To family," said Draco, lifting his goblet high and gesturing for Harry to do the same.
Harry did, though he smirked a bit. "Um, aren't you forgetting something? Like punch?"
"Oh, ye of little faith." Draco drew his wand, then incanted something long and French.
A shimmering arc of reddish liquid surged up from the punch bowl a short distance away, flowing gracefully through the air to splash in Draco's goblet. When he moved his wand a little, it moved to aim at Harry's goblet, though Harry had to move quickly to catch some of the stream.
"It's flashy, but it does the trick."
"It's splashy, I think you mean," said Harry, looking down at his sleeve.