Birds of a Feather (Stick Together)

Harry lingered in his room after Tom and Sirius left, the enchanted ceiling casting its shimmering, star-strewn light above him. He lay flat on his back, letting the soft glow of the sky lull his restless mind. It was an escape, if only for a moment.

His thoughts wandered to another Sirius—a man full of life, warmth, and reckless bravery. A man who had been so much more than a godfather, someone who had filled the role of family in ways no one else could.

"I wish you were here," Harry murmured into the quiet, his voice barely above a whisper. "What would you have done, Sirius?"

The stars above seemed to twinkle in response, but no answers came. Only the weight of Harry's memories and the ache of his loss.

With a sigh, he raised his hand, and the enchantment faded. The familiar cracks of the orphanage's ceiling reappeared, stark and unyielding. It was a reminder of where he was, of what he'd chosen to take on. Pushing himself upright, Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face, trying to gather his thoughts. He couldn't stay holed up here all morning.

Descending the creaky staircase, Harry paused when he spotted Mary Anne still sitting in the sitting room. The light from a single lamp cast soft shadows across her face, and her hands rested idly on her lap. She looked deep in thought, her brow furrowed and her shoulders tense.

"Mary Anne?" Harry called softly, stepping into the room.

She startled slightly, blinking as she turned toward him. "Oh, Harry," she said, offering a weary smile. "I didn't hear you come down."

"You're still here," Harry said, moving closer and sitting across from her. "Everything all right?"

Mary Anne hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her apron. "I've been thinking about Mr. Riddle's visit," she admitted after a moment.

Harry's stomach tightened, though he kept his expression calm. "What about it?"

"He mentioned providing funds to several orphanages in the area," she said, her voice carefully measured. "Ours included. And while I know I should be grateful… something about it feels odd."

"Odd how?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly.

Mary Anne sighed, shaking her head. "Politicians make donations all the time to gain favor. That's not new. But visiting in person? Sitting down and talking like that? It's the first time I've ever experienced something like it."

Her gaze sharpened as she looked at Harry. "You seemed to know him. What's your connection to Mr. Riddle?"

Harry hesitated, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. Finally, he sighed. "I saved the life of his son."

Mary Anne's eyebrows shot up. "YSo it wasn't an exageration when they mentioned it?"

Harry nodded, his gaze dropping to his hands. "The day I arrived here. There was an ambush. Sirius was caught in the middle of it. I… stepped in and protected him." He looked up, his expression grim. "Riddle saw me do it. Ever since, he's been… keeping tabs on me."

Mary Anne's lips pressed into a thin line, her expression conflicted. "What does he want from you, Harry?"

"He wants me to work for him," Harry admitted, his voice low. "To keep an eye on Sirius. To protect him, I think."

Mary Anne leaned back in her chair, her hands steepled in thought. "And what do you think about that?"

"I don't trust him," Harry said honestly. "But he's offering something we need. This place…" He gestured vaguely to the room. "The food, the repairs—it's not enough. You've stretched every penny you have, but the kids deserve better."

Mary Anne's expression softened, though her worry remained. "Harry, you've already done more for us than I could've ever asked for. I don't want you to feel trapped because of us. Men like Tom Riddle don't offer help without expecting something in return."

"I know," Harry said, his jaw tightening. "But this isn't just about me. It's about what's best for the kids. For you."

Mary Anne reached out, placing a hand on his. "You have a good heart, Harry. But be careful. I've been running this place a long time, and I've seen men like him before. They smile, they make promises, but they always want something in exchange."

"I'll be careful," Harry promised, though the weight in his chest only grew.

Mary Anne nodded slowly. "Whatever you decide, just remember this: you don't owe anyone anything. Not even us. The kids and I—we'll manage. We always do."

Harry forced a faint smile. "You shouldn't have to just 'manage,' though. You deserve better."

Mary Anne sighed, leaning back in her chair. "We all do, Harry. But just… don't lose yourself in whatever game he's playing. You've already given us so much. Don't let him take advantage of that."

"I won't," Harry said firmly, though doubt lingered in his mind as he stood.

As he climbed the stairs back to his room, Mary Anne's words echoed in his head. He paused by the doorway, glancing back toward the sitting room where the faint light of the lamp still glowed.

This was bigger than him, bigger than his own reservations about Tom Riddle. He had to make a decision—and soon.

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The next morning dawned grey and cold, the weak light filtering through the orphanage windows doing little to dispel the chill. Harry stirred on his thin mattress, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on his chest. He'd barely slept, his mind churning over the possibilities, the risks, and the consequences of accepting Tom Riddle's offer.

When he finally dragged himself downstairs, the familiar clatter of bowls and spoons greeted him. The children were gathered at the table, their chatter filling the room with a warmth that the weather outside couldn't match. Harry paused in the doorway, his gaze drifting over the scene before him—Andre's careful, deliberate movements as he fed himself; Miriam doodling little shapes on the edge of her napkin; Victor playfully nudging Eli with his elbow.

But then there was breakfast itself: porridge. Again.

The thin, watery consistency was barely enough to sustain growing children, and Harry's stomach twisted as he saw the polite smiles they wore, trying to mask their disappointment. They didn't complain—they never did—but Harry could see it in their eyes.

"Morning, Harry!" Andre called, his voice brighter than usual.

Harry forced a smile and walked over to ruffle the boy's hair. "Morning, Andre. How're you feeling today?"

"Good!" Andre said, grinning. "Look! I can finish a whole bowl now!"

"That's great," Harry said warmly, though his chest ached at the boy's pride over something so small.

Mary Anne stood by the stove, ladling out more porridge into bowls. She caught Harry's eye and gave him a tired smile. "Good morning, Harry. There's plenty left if you're hungry."

"Thanks," he said, taking a seat at the table.

As he ate, Harry's thoughts churned. He couldn't stop picturing the children's faces when they saw the same meal day after day, their resilience wearing thinner with every spoonful. He thought of the peeling wallpaper upstairs, the creaking floorboards that threatened to give way, the threadbare blankets that barely kept the cold at bay.

It was going to be winter soon, and they deserved better.

And as much as he hated the idea of tying himself to Tom Riddle, Harry couldn't deny that the man's resources could change everything for the orphanage.

By the time breakfast was over, Harry had made his decision.

After helping clear the dishes, he approached Mary Anne, who was wiping down the table. "Mary Anne," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of his words.

She looked up, her brow furrowing slightly. "Yes, Harry?"

"I've decided," he said, glancing toward the children playing in the next room. "I'm going to accept Riddle's offer."

Mary Anne's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—concern, perhaps, or resignation. "You're sure about this?"

Harry nodded. "I don't like it. But the kids… they need more than what we can give them right now. And if this helps…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "It's worth it."

Mary Anne studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "If this is what you think is best, Harry, then I'll trust your judgment. But remember what I said—don't let him take advantage of you."

"I won't," Harry promised, though the words felt heavy in his mouth.

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