He couldn’t blame Basil for being angry with him, but he also felt like they should put their anger aside because it was his birthday. (Not that Atticus had when the roles had been reversed, but in all fairness he hadn’t been angry all of Basil’s birthday, just… some of it.) He followed his brother’s glance toward Anthony and frowned. Of course he was close with him. They’d started Hogwarts together, been sorted into Ravenclaw and spent nearly every waking hour for seven years at each other’s side.

He stepped forward as Basil stepped back and reached out to ruffle his hair in a way he might have many moons ago when going to Hogwarts had just been late night talks while huddled under a blanket together. “You’re my only brother, so yes.” Atticus confirmed quietly as he dropped his hand back to his side and continued to frown at him. This wasn’t how he’d pictured this interaction going; he hadn’t expected Basil to welcome him back with open arms but he hadn’t expected him to be so cold. All the words he said had been true and there was no taking them back now.

“I miss you.” Deciding that might be the first piece of wood in rebuilding their burnt bridge, Atticus decided he’d rather admit to missing him than being sorry. He wasn’t. Not really.

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