After leaving Tom's office, Harry walked briskly down the hallway, his thoughts a jumbled mess. His fingers brushed through his own hair as if to erase the memory of Tom's touch. Had that really happened? He shook his head, trying to focus on the day ahead.
"Get a grip, Harry," he muttered under his breath as he descended the grand staircase. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries wafted through the air, pulling him toward the dining room.
Colin was already there, setting a small tray on the table with his usual efficient demeanor. He looked up and smiled when Harry entered. "Morning, Mr. Potter. I was about to bring you your breakfast."
"Morning, Colin. I don't mind eating here," Harry said, sliding into a chair. The spread was modest compared to what he'd seen at previous meals—toast, eggs, fruit—but still far more luxurious than he was used to. He reached for a cup of coffee first, hoping it would help clear his head.
"You finally slept here," Colin commented as he adjusted a vase of fresh flowers on the table. "And so early."
Harry didn't mention how he didn't sleep in his room yet. He just shrugged, sipping his coffee. "Couldn't sleep much. Lots on my mind."
Colin hesitated, then said, "The master tends to have that effect."
Harry almost choked on his drink, coughing softly before shooting Colin a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Colin smirked faintly, but didn't elaborate. Instead, he handed Harry a small note. "I'm lucky you're here and not in the orphanage, as this arrived earlier. Your schedule for the day."
Harry unfolded the paper, scanning the neat handwriting. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of Sirius's name dominating the afternoon. "So it's a full Sirius day?"
"Correct," Colin said. "Lessons end early today. He's requested your presence in the garden, followed by a trip to the library."
Harry smiled at that. Spending time with Sirius was always the easiest part of the job. "Thanks, Colin."
The manservant inclined his head and left, leaving Harry alone with his breakfast. He ate quickly, already planning his next move.
Harry spent the next hour helping out in the kitchen. He'd fallen into the routine of assisting wherever he could, whether it was preparing Sirius's favorite snacks or organizing small tasks for the staff. It gave him something to focus on and helped ease the nagging feeling of being out of place in such an opulent home.
By mid-morning, he was back in his room, sorting through the clothing the tailor had delivered. He selected a comfortable but smart outfit—dark slacks and a button-down shirt—and changed quickly.
His gaze caught on the mirror as he adjusted his cuffs, and he frowned. You don't belong here, the voice in his head whispered.
But then he thought of Sirius—his wide-eyed enthusiasm, his unfiltered questions—and sighed. Maybe for now, it's enough to just be here for him.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Harry found himself standing outside Sirius's classroom. He could hear the faint hum of voices through the door and waited patiently, leaning against the wall.
When the door opened, Sirius bounded out, his face lighting up at the sight of Harry. "You're here!"
"Always," Harry replied, smiling as Sirius grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the garden. "What's the plan today?"
"Hide and seek first," Sirius declared. "Then you've got to show me more of those magic animals you were talking about!"
Harry laughed. "We'll see."
The garden was lush and expansive, the kind of place Harry could have only dreamed of as a child. Sirius darted off immediately, his laughter echoing through the hedges as Harry counted to ten.
For the next hour, they played, Harry letting Sirius win more often than not. When the boy finally flopped onto the grass, breathless and grinning, Harry sat beside him, brushing dirt off his slacks.
"You're fast," Harry said, nudging Sirius lightly.
Sirius beamed. "And you're good at hiding! I thought you'd gone invisible."
"Just a talent," Harry said, smirking.
They stayed like that for a moment, Sirius lying back to stare at the sky while Harry watched him fondly. This—this quiet, simple joy—was what made everything worth it.
As evening approached, Harry prepared Sirius for bed, reading him a story about a phoenix this time. As always, Tom appeared, settling into the chair by the bed to listen.
Harry caught himself glancing at Tom more than once, trying to decipher the man's thoughts. But as always, Tom's expression was unreadable. By the time Sirius was asleep, Harry felt drained but content.
As they left the room together, Tom turned to him. "A good day?"
Harry nodded. "I'd say so."
"Good," Tom said quietly. He paused for a moment, then added, "You've done well, Harry."
The unexpected praise caught Harry off guard, and he didn't quite know how to respond. By the time he opened his mouth, Tom was already walking away, his footsteps echoing softly down the hall.
As Tom turned to leave, he paused for a brief moment, his back to Harry. "You've done well today, Mr. Potter," he said softly, his voice carrying a rare note of sincerity.
Harry blinked, caught off guard by the sudden praise. It wasn't that Tom had been overly critical of him before, but a compliment from the man felt about as rare as seeing snow in July. He hesitated for a moment, then called out, "You can call me Harry, you know."
Tom turned slightly, his sharp grey eyes narrowing just a fraction as if considering the suggestion. He gave the faintest nod, his lips curving into an inscrutable smile. "Harry, then," he said, before continuing down the hall and disappearing into his office.
Harry shook his head as he stepped out into the cool night air. The garden was quiet now, the stillness broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the faint breeze. The sky above was dark and endless, speckled with stars that glittered like fragments of glass.
As he walked along the stone path, his hands stuffed into his pockets, something caught his eye—a small black raven perched on a low stone wall. Its glossy feathers shimmered faintly under the moonlight, and its beady eyes were fixed squarely on him with an intensity that was almost unnerving.
"Hello there," Harry murmured, stopping a few steps away from the bird. It tilted its head slightly, its gaze unflinching.
Harry chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck. "What are you staring at? You're acting like you know me."
The raven didn't move, its piercing gaze locked onto his as if it were dissecting his very soul. There was something almost unnatural about the way it watched him, an intelligence far beyond what he'd expect from an ordinary bird.
He crouched slightly, leaning forward. "You're not an Animagus, are you? Or something else entirely?"
The bird let out a low caw, the sound sharp and oddly resonant in the stillness. Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Just a bird. Right."
Still, the raven didn't move. It continued to watch him with an intensity that bordered on unsettling. Harry gave it a final glance before straightening up. "Suit yourself," he said, turning away and walking back toward the house.
As he approached the mansion, he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the raven still perched on the wall, its gaze following his every step. Harry frowned but dismissed the thought. It wasn't as if he hadn't encountered stranger things before.
Still, as he stepped back inside and closed the door behind him, a small part of him couldn't help but wonder: What was that all about?
.
The kitchen was alive with the warm, rich smells of vanilla and melted chocolate. Harry stood by the counter, a couple days after the orphanage visit with Sirius, a streak of flour dusting his shirt as he helped Mary Anne roll out dough for cookies. It was silent as there were no children, all gone for their last day of school.
"These should do nicely," Mary Anne said, pressing a cookie cutter into the dough with practiced precision. "The kids deserve a little treat now that the semester's over."
"Agreed," Harry replied, brushing flour off his hands. "It's been a while since they had something special."
Mary Anne smiled fondly, handing him a tray to carry to the oven. But before Harry could take a step, a sharp, inexplicable jolt shot through him. His hand instinctively flew to his chest, where the mirror pendant of the one he had given Sirius lay hidden beneath his shirt. The charm burned faintly, its magic flaring to life—a warning.
The world seemed to slow as realization dawned. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"Harry?" Mary Anne's voice was laced with concern, but Harry didn't answer. He was already moving, his wand slipping into his hand as his instincts took over.
The pendant pulsed again, its magic tugging at him like an invisible tether. Without thinking, Harry focused on its pull and Apparated, the kitchen vanishing in a swirl of air and sound.
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