It had all been a deception! The lack of birthday cards, presents, mere mentions were all a plot against him. The tiny living room was crowded with people: Miranda carried her granddaughter on her hip, Maya stood beside, and Johann and Balfour were joined at the hip, as was customary. Most surprisingly, amongst them all the dark heads was the blonde one of Sasha.

“Take cover, he’s armed!” Johann exclaimed jokingly, as Ignan had his wand in his hand from cleaning his boots.
“Had to stall you, happy birthday.” Camille patted his wand arm as she squeezed past him into the cottage, the action drew him out of his surprised stupor, and he slipped his wand away, looking to Miranda as she handed Katrine back to Maya.

“Happy birthday, old man.” He instinctively received her hands, and leaned down to meet her lips, still surprised. “I couldn’t ignore my husband actually making it to his next birthday.” He returned her squeeze, an unusual look in his cold eyes as he met hers.
“Thank you,” he uttered gently, a genuine smile threatening his features. “I know I never celebrate it - but someone normally remembers.” They were all in on it then, and she’d even invited his son. “This is unexpected, but… lovely.” It was odd to say that word without any sarcasm intended.

He squeezed and released her hands, greeting Katrine and Maya who were closest,
“Look at you, all dressed up,” he greeted the youngest of the family briefly, unable to sustain the unusual persona with Maya right there. From there, he greeted Sasha - “now this is a surprise,” - a clasp of hands not forming a handshake, but half a hug and a firm clap of his palm between his son’s shoulder-blades. Being the centre of attention was hideous, but when it was one’s birthday, inevitable.

Balfour, Johann and Camille were huddled in as if conferring on some detail, but as he released Sasha, Johann seized the opportunity relay enthusiastic congratulations for his prevailing lifespan and snake an arm around Ignan’s neck in embrace, and it looked as if Spectre was following suit - grief.

Despite spending all morning together, Cousin Camille laughed gently, reached a hand to his cheek and exchanged a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, dear cousin.”

“I’m honoured,” he addressed them all, hand to his grey hair, “I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a surprise birthday party.” He’d been subjected to the odd cake since moving to Britain, but nothing quite like this. “Not entirely sure what to say...” he glanced to Mira, “thank you.”

“Well?” His beautiful mother demanded, low enough in volume not to interrupt Ignan’s continuing surprise at being thrown a surprise birthday party. She gestured to her now-empty ring finger at them both. Johann had trouble hiding the smile on his face, despite the way he let his tongue slide over his lips and teeth before he relented and placed his left hand in his mother’s grasp, and nudged Balfour with his shoulder to do the same.

All of a sudden, his mother was grasping each of them by the ears and kissing them on the cheeks and grasping them into a hug together like they were two long lost children. Johann wanted to explode with pride and glee at the previous evening’s events, and it was hard to keep a lid on it. They managed to compose themselves momentarily to pay attention to Ignan giving a spontaneous address and, what, was that thanks. Johann did approve - Mira had judged well. However ridiculously happy they were, they couldn’t really steal Ignan’s ancient thunder.

“That’s a speech good enough for us,” Johann assured his older cousin, “and as my love said, let’s get this party started. To the garden!”

Due to the forces of fate, Sasha had known Ignan Storm as a discipline-oriented Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Deputy Headmaster first and a father second and the former role had been the one Sasha had acknowledged through the end of his education.  He'd been on the receiving end of enough of that wand enough times, both in class and extraneous practices.

As a result, Sasha couldn’t quite immediately discredit the take cover, he’s armed warning with the same alacrity as the other party goers.  He mirrored Johann’s gesture of protection but with, perhaps, just a tad more sincerity in the gesture. 

But, Sasha chased the awkward moment from his mind when he returned Professor Duerr's greeting with a "it's good to see you Professor," and grinned at Balfour's declaration of party shenanigans.  His eyes trailed behind he as she approached Johann and Balfour and, from his perspective, got just a glimpse of the gesturing and excited tittering.  His gaze flickered up to Johann and he quirked a quizzical eyebrow in his direction. 

But, before he could see the end result of the exchange, his attention was diverted back to the man of the hour when he stepped up to greet Sasha.  "Happy Birthday, Professor," he repeated, returning the greeting with a hug of his own.  They seemed to be in no short supply this evening. 

Sasha cast a quick glance around the room as his father addressed them, smiling slightly to himself.  He'd met all of them, save Maya and Katrina, at one point or another along the way but this was his first time being among them, gathered as a family. 

Sasha followed as the cluster was ushered out to the garden.  He fell in step next to Maya and Katrina and offered a lopsided grin.  "So, is this your first family gathering, too?" he asked.  "Any pointers?"

There was a confusion of greetings and hugs and laughter, though Balfour was happy to have been drawn to Camille in her demand to see their engagement rings. He couldn't stop himself from grinning as the witch showered them with kisses and hugs: it was the best possible reaction one could hope for from a future mother-in-law. Gods. That reality was quickly sinking in, especially now that he was in the company of Johann's beloved family.

He loved them all, without reserve, because he couldn't help loving whomever his fiancé did.

"It's lovely out here!" Balfour called out to Miranda as the group migrated into the garden, where a large table awaited them. Thank Odin for charms, to keep them safe from inclement weather. 

In spite of her reputation and prickly exterior, Mira was clearly the more romantic of the two. She had clearly put together this entire gathering out of great love for the old wizard.

"Were we the first to surprise you, Ignan, or did your students beat us to it?" he glanced at the birthday man and momentarily detached himself from Johann to draw his wand so that the chairs would pull out for the witches of their party.

It was peculiar to experience such a moment with Ignan when in company. The two were stoic individuals, many believing them to lack emotion and heart. This was family. Not her family, but her husbands. Didn’t that make them hers? She certainly preferred them over her own.

Ignan moved to greet her daughter and granddaughter before turning to Sasha. The boy was a distinctly difficult subject between husband and wife, she’d invited him purely through the necessity that she felt. It wasn’t Sasha’s fault that he was socially incompetent. (Did he just address his father as Professor!?) One only had to look at the outwardly unemotional German who’d accidently and unknowingly fathered him. What did the kid really have to go off? Maya had been brought up by an ambitious mother that had never wanted children and now Miranda could see the effect it had had on her only daughter.

All the cute little greetings followed by Ignan’s appreciation left Miranda feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
“I’m your bloody wife, old man, don’t thank me.” She waved it off, “Come, we’re eating Al fresco. The house was never intended for guests.” And the witch led the way through the kitchen and out into the garden.

“Of course, it’s lovely, Balfort.” As if she’d do half measures! “Ignan hasn’t set it up.” She smirked and glanced at her husband.

Maya tried not to stare at Ignan and his secret son as they greeted each other awkwardly. Addressing Ignan as he did, was just plain weird and she couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows in surprise.

Her reaction was saved by Ignan’s oddly human response to the events and her mother sending them all outside. So, Maya lowered Katrine to the ground and the little girl ran off to grab Ignan’s hand. How on earth had her daughter taken to him so well? Had the grouchy old wizard cursed her?!

"So, is this your first family gathering, too?" Sasha asked from beside her and Maya grinned.
“They don’t have family gatherings Sasha Schlangenweit. Mum doesn’t like people and your secret dad just looks like he’d hex anyone that tried to befriend him.” In all honestly, Maya wouldn’t have liked anyone that her mum chose to settle with. But Sasha wanted pointers.
“Just don’t sit by your new step-mother.”

Yes, Sasha had just addressed him as ‘Professor’ but old habits died hard.

“I’m your bloody wife, old man, don’t thank me… Of course it’s lovely Balfort, Ignan hasn’t set it up!”

Normality restored.

Katrine appeared by his knees the moment she was set down, and grasped his last two fingers of his hand as they went outside. The birthday boy was a little taken aback by the young child’s interest, but put it down to the fact Katrine knew it was his birthday and she wanted to just show him what was in the garden. She’d perhaps been given a job. Either way, it was still particularly alien to have a small human grasp at him or show any interest. If she wasn’t Miranda’s granddaughter, he wouldn’t have entertained it for a moment.

There was a table outside, enough to seat them all. His thanks to Miranda was genuine, because a birthday party was neither here nor there (and preferably not to be held at all) but inviting his significant family was a gesture he’d never anticipated from her. The only people who might feel themselves missing were cousin Gabrielle and her husband, but they fell outside of immediate family and Miranda and Gabrielle had never seen eye to eye.

Someone had employed a local weather charm, probably Gerda. The elf was fastidious and now appeared a bit proud of the way everyone received the set up. Her magic was busy bringing things from the kitchen now they were here.

“Were we the first to surprise you, Ignan, or did your students beat us to it?” Balfour asked, waving his wand to draw out the chairs for the ladies.
“No, you were the first, though, someone has sent me some post. Not sure who yet.” Ignan gestured to a parcel in his hand, the other still grasped tightly by the toddler. “I’ll open it in a minute.”

Gerda was gesturing to a chair at one end of the table, which Ignan understood must be his.
“Well, this is me,” he spoke softly to Katrine as he sat, hoping to be extradited from the grasp, “and where are you?” Hopefully Maya or Miranda might rescue him. Granddaughter duties in private with the elf were bad enough without an audience of close family to goggle at him.

Soon enough, he was able to tear open the brown paper parcel, and his family had something else to gawp at instead[1].

1.	Feel free to snatch up the various bits for examination and ridicule

Maya must have taken pity on Ignan because she swooped in and grabbed the little girl, lifting her high and spinning her around causing the toddler to giggle and squeal loudly. Miranda slipped into the seat beside her husband as others found places around the table. The food would soon be appearing via the beauty of elf magic, but first, Ignan had a parcel to open. His own present from her still lay hidden in the study for later that day.

Several books were in the package that Ignan opened and as he read the message, it became clear that he would rather have opened it in private. With a frown, his wife reached a hand out, grabbing the top book off the pile. Schooling her expression was a veritable challenge as she read ‘How to tell if you’re becoming senile’ as the title.

“Who sent you this?”

A few seats up from her, Maya started howling with laughter.
“They’ve got your scowl down perfectly, Ignan.” She grinned before pointing at the wizard and laughing more. “Look! He’s doing it now!”

---

Assembled at the table, the family initially watched politely as Ignan opened the parcel he’d carried home from Hogwarts. Johann took the seat beside his mother, opposite Balfour, and gave Sasha a friendly wink. He was safely buffered from Miranda by Balfour for his first fuller family gathering. Johann was still a little surprised, given what he knew of Miranda’s dislike of Ignan’s illegitimate son, even though Sasha had been born long before Miranda even met Ignan.

“Who sent you this?” Miranda asked, picking up a book from amongst the brown paper, her expression taut. Johann was bemused at the cover, and was about to make comment when Maya started laughing prolifically. The sudden noise and the freedom at which she referred to her step-father as Ignan caught Johann off-guard as much as Miranda’s invitation to Sasha. What had been happening the past weeks?

“They’ve got your scowl down perfectly, Ignan! Look! He’s doing it now!”

Actually she had a point. Cousin Ignan was scowling.

“How to tell if you’re becoming senile,” Johann read aloud for the benefit of the assembled birthday guests.
“How to wake… oh really,” his mother had picked up the second, and disapproved, handing it over to Johann who smirked.
“How to wake up your students with easy to cast spells.. cruciatus.” He twisted it round in his hands to display it to Balfour, Sasha and Maya. “Sure you don’t want that mother?”
“No!” Camille slapped him gently on the arm for the cheek.
“Teaches Arithmancy,” Johann clarified for Maya, who he figured might not know. “Are these from your students then? Someone who knows you well.”

"Or give Mrs. Storm gifts," Sasha tagged on to Maya's recommendation.  Hopefully, he kept his voice low enough to avoid carrying to Mrs. Storm.  All in all, he'd generally decided to give Ignan Storm's wife wide birth, whenever possible.  An arrangement he was certain he was okay with.  It was much more inline with what he was used to, after all.

Sasha found himself seated between Balfour and Katrine, who was quite cute in her party dress.  He'd been attempting to engage in small talk with the toddler as best as anyone could (mostly revolving around the fact that his grandmother was also named Katrine) when attention was drawn to his father's parcel.

"I don't think you can self-assess senility," Sasha offered brightly, with a broad grin.  "I think the first sign is other people telling you you're senile."

Grinning, Sasha reached for the book Johann was displaying to get a better view of the cover.  "I don't think he needs this one.  Though, I can imagine that would be a rather unpleasant way to wake up," Sasha offered as he handed the book off to the next person. 

He could only imagine it had come from a student; he couldn't think of any professors that would have put those together.  There seemed to be enough camaraderie between staff that it seemed unlikely a professor would have given them for any reason other than a joke.  And, any professor that had done the later would have warned him about opening the package in public. 

Balfour laughed as his fiancé showed them one of the terrible book covers, and he stretched his long legs beneath the table so that they were intermingled with Johann's. One of Ignan's students had a death wish. Odin forbid he ever find out which one of them it was! Bal accepted the copy of How to wake up your students with easy to cast spell from Sasha and curiously flipped through the pages.

"Old Binns could have used this in my time," he murmured, thinking of the dull ghost who could have put him to sleep as easily as any draught. "You should set your aspiring aurors to tracking the culprit, Ignan."

Balfour handed the book back to his left for Miranda to take. Neither she nor her husband seemed especially old to him: Balthair had a good twenty years over the fellow and he was still consulting for Beast Division. Wizards and witches lived well for long time. That, in addition to the third book cover - stairlifts? - made him wonder if Ignan's secret admirer was muggle friendly.

"Never been hexed out of a nap then, Sasha?" Bal turned to the young wizard, grinning slightly at this new well-behaved relation. "It's only a matter of time before it happens, don't think it won't now that you're out of school."

Although it did seem less likely, with Sasha studying at a muggle institute instead of training with wizarding folk.

---

Camille smiled happily at the way Maya and Katrine interacted, and thought of Feliks and the way fate suggested he would not be her only grandchild. It was touching to see young Katrine saw Ignan as a protective force rather than the strict disciplinarian the Hogwarts students knew him as. Camille had come to know that for all of Ignan’s front, he cared about family more than he ever let on. He had done so much for Johann, and been so kind to a bereaved Camille, as had Miranda. Neither gave the outward impression that they might.

But once one put family together, they would either bicker, or for this particular set, poke humour at the birthday boy. The books were so very silly, and must have been from a student. She examined How to wake up your students … cruciatus before handing it over to Johann to share with his cackling counterparts, and batted him on the arm for suggesting she wanted it.

“Teaches Arithmancy,” her son cheekily told Maya, as if that would explain why students might fall asleep in her lessons!

“I don’t think he needs this one,” Sasha suggested with a grin. It was lovely to see him smiling, and to enjoy time with the boys. It was like Johann had acquired brothers and sisters, Feliks’ question[1] about siblings at the front of her mind as she thought on this.

“You should set your aspiring aurors to tracking the culprit, Ignan.” Balfour suggested. Camille reached for the brown paper that surrounded the parcel originally and inspected the handwriting.
“I do not think Ignan will need them. He will compare some homework.” She glanced sideways at Johann, and then to Balfour, “Some students do their own rather than sending it to their relatives,” referring to Isla’s little bit of homework help.[2]

1.	7th September My Beamish Boy!
2.	March, 2011 Acceptable and Sweet Spectre Child

“If you’re suggesting I’m behind this, mother, you are mistaken,” Johann laughed, “and this is too witty to be Isla, no offence darling.”

Johann reached across the table with his left hand to Balfour in a not so subtle gesture. Isla would have needed help, and he doubted she would dare seek it out and risk detention again. Unless she had another accomplice... No… this was a different humour. A family member would have poked fun at something other than his age, and she wouldn’t have known about a stair lift. Johann barely knew what one of those was.

“This does, however, remind me of a certain request to help someone else with a present.[1] Wasn’t it an apron, and someone called ‘Death Vader’, Sasha?” Johann passed the dodgy present buck to his young cousin.

“Does he ever cook you dinner in this apron?” Johann asked Miranda, deciding she should also join in this birthday ribbing, “Adelia Delacroix approved of it most heartily.”

1.	January 2011 Cousin Vegetable

“You well know that it is unwise to let me cook dinner,” Ignan interjected, giving Johann a look. He had tried to cook for Miranda the first time she had come to the old house in Godric’s Hollow, but they had ended up at the fish and chip shop instead. Ignan was at best, a sous-chef or best with one pan on a campfire halfway up a mountain. He did still have the apron, however. It might come in useful at some point, and it was a gift from Sasha which brought back memories of that Christmas in Cambridge with the Trishnas. He must write Tapendra again soon.



For a while, Ignan shouldered the unusual attention and ribbing of his assembled family, as they made their way through the birthday tea prepared by Miranda and Gerda the house elf. A lively debate on birthday presents had broken out for a good fifteen or more minutes, and the books from the anonymous student were dotted about the table between plates and glasses. Content to listen to the others exchange stories, he settled with a drink and observed.

When at last a lull befell the table, Ignan leaned forward a little and looked from Balfour to Johann, gesturing gently to their more conspicuous choices in jewellery for the day.

“Am I to understand we are not just celebrating my increasing age?”