Chapter 28

The sitting room was cloaked in an uneasy silence, the fire crackling softly in the hearth as Tom leaned forward, his sharp grey eyes fixed on Harry with unyielding intensity.

"Then, I'll get straight to the point," Tom began, his voice smooth and deliberate, his fingers steepled under his chin. "You've no doubt guessed why I've asked you here."

Harry's brow furrowed, but he kept his expression guarded. "You mentioned something about being a bodyguard to Sirius?"

Tom's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Indeed. I need someone to look after him—to ensure his safety, yes, but also his happiness. You've made quite the impression on him, Mr. Potter. He trusts you, which, I assure you, is no small feat."

Harry tilted his head, skepticism coloring his tone. "You can't do that yourself?"

For the briefest moment, something flickered across Tom's face—an emotion too fleeting to name. "I could," he said quietly, his voice dropping into a rare contemplative cadence. "But I'm not the kind of man my son needs."

The unexpected vulnerability in Tom's admission caught Harry off guard. He stayed silent, letting the man elaborate.

"Sirius is… different from me," Tom continued, his gaze drifting momentarily to the flames dancing in the fireplace. "Where I am calculated, he is impulsive. Where I am disciplined, he is free-spirited. I've tried to guide him, but I find myself walking a thin line between protecting him and controlling him."

Tom's grey eyes returned to Harry, their sharpness tempered by something almost resigned. "And I won't control him. Not like I was."

The weight of the words hung heavily in the room. Harry felt a pang of something—sympathy, perhaps, though he wasn't entirely sure why. He didn't trust Tom, but there was something raw in his tone that was hard to ignore.

"You think I can do what you can't?" Harry asked cautiously, his green eyes narrowing.

Tom leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass. "You saved him, Mr. Potter. More than that, you understand him. His adventurous nature, his curiosity… those aren't things I'm equipped to nurture. But you? You've lived through chaos. I can see it in the way you carry yourself—it's tempered you, made you wise beyond your years. And yet," he paused, his smile turning faintly sardonic, "you remain... idealistic."

Harry's jaw tightened at the assessment.

"Sirius needs someone like you," Tom said, his tone softening fractionally.

Harry hesitated, his mind churning with possibilities. "This isn't just about Sirius, though, is it?" he said carefully. "You think he's in danger."

Tom's faint smile thinned. "I've told the press that the attack was meant for me. But privately, I suspect otherwise. Sirius is my heir, my only child. That makes him a target—not just because of who I am, but because of who he is."

"Who do you think it was?" Harry asked, leaning forward slightly.

Tom's expression turned sardonic, his grey eyes narrowing with quiet bitterness. "That's the problem, Mr. Potter. I have too many enemies to count. Rivals in politics, old grudges, those who despise what I stand for—or simply want to see me suffer."

Harry didn't miss the frustration in his tone. "And you think they'd go after Sirius instead of you?"

Tom's fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. "Hurting him would hurt me more than any bullet could."

The room fell silent again, the weight of the statement settling heavily between them. Harry didn't trust Tom, but he believed that much. Tom's protectiveness of Sirius wasn't an act.

"And you're not worried about how it'll look, hiring someone like me?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

Tom arched an eyebrow. "On the contrary. That's precisely why I'm hiring you. Your presence will challenge perceptions in certain circles—particularly among the minority communities whose support I'm courting. They need to see themselves reflected in my world, to know I don't just claim to understand their struggles. I demonstrate it."

Harry's stomach churned at the blunt honesty. "So I'm a political tool."

Tom's lips curved into a faint smile. "A convenient alignment of interests, Mr. Potter. You get the resources you need, Sirius gets the protection and guidance he needs, and I gain the public's favor. Everyone benefits."

Harry leaned back in his chair, his green eyes narrowing. "And what happens when you decide the 'alignment' doesn't suit you anymore?"

Tom chuckled softly, the sound low and mirthless. "You're cautious. I respect that. But let me make one thing clear—I may be many things, Mr. Potter, but I am not careless when it comes to my son. You'll find that I keep my promises."

Harry studied him for a long moment, weighing his options. The man sitting across from him was dangerous, manipulative, and calculating. But Sirius was an innocent in all this, a child caught in a web of power and danger he didn't understand.

"I'll do it," Harry said finally, his voice firm. "For Sirius. Not for you."

Tom's smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and unreadable. "Wise choice."

Harry stood, his jaw tight. "I expect the funding for the orphanage to be sent soon."

"Of course," Tom said smoothly, still sitting. "Consider it done."

As Harry turned to leave, Tom's voice stopped him.

"Sit for a moment longer, Mr. Potter," Tom said, his tone still smooth but now laced with authority. "There are a few matters we need to discuss before you begin."

Harry hesitated but relented, sinking back into the plush leather. His posture remained tense, his green eyes fixed warily on Tom, who simply crossed his legs and leaned back.

"First and foremost," Tom began, "your primary responsibility is Sirius. I expect you to be here after his lessons end, no later than four o'clock. Your time will be dedicated to ensuring his safety and his well-being until he retires for the night. That includes accompanying him during meals, his free time, and overseeing his bedtime routine."

Harry nodded, though the rigid structure of the arrangement already felt stifling. "And when he's not at home?"

Tom turned to face him, his grey eyes gleaming. "If he has a public appearance, you'll accompany him. Your role in those instances is to provide protection without drawing undue attention to yourself. You're to remain close enough to act if necessary, but discreet enough to blend into the background."

"And if something happens?" Harry asked, his tone sharp.

Tom's lips curled into a faint smile. "Then you'll do what you did that night at the ambush. Keep my son alive at all costs."

The weight of the statement settled between them. Harry held Tom's gaze, unwilling to flinch under the intensity of his stare.

"What about when Sirius is with you?" Harry asked.

Tom inclined his head slightly. "I rarely take him with me outside of carefully controlled environments. But when I do, you'll be notified in advance. Should I require your presence during such outings, you'll act in the same capacity—as his protector."

Harry nodded again, though his mind buzzed with questions. "Anything else?"

"Yes," Tom said, his fingers twitching. "Sirius is free-spirited, as I've mentioned. He needs guidance, but not suppression. You're to nurture that side of him—encourage his curiosity, his sense of adventure—while ensuring his safety. It's a balance I find… challenging, and one I hope you're better suited for."

Harry felt a flicker of something—sympathy, perhaps—for the man who so carefully guarded his vulnerabilities, even as he exposed them in veiled words.

"And finally," Tom continued, his voice hardening slightly, "you are not to interfere in matters beyond your purview. My affairs are my own, and you are here for one purpose: my son. Do you understand?"

"Crystal clear," Harry said, his tone clipped.

Tom studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. He moved to the door, opening it to summon a servant waiting just outside. "Colin," he said, his tone brisk but not unkind. "Show Mr. Potter around the house. He'll need to familiarize himself with the layout."

Colin, the manservant Harry had met earlier, stepped inside and inclined his head. "Of course, sir."

Tom turned back to Harry, his expression unreadable. "Welcome to your new role, Mr. Potter. I trust you'll find your way."

Without waiting for a response, Tom left the room, his footsteps fading down the hall.

Colin gestured politely toward the doorway. "If you'll follow me, sir."

Harry stood, adjusting his coat and following Colin out of the sitting room. As they walked, Colin began pointing out various features of the mansion—the grand staircase leading to the upper levels, the dining room where formal meals were held, and the library with its towering shelves and an air of quiet sophistication.

"This is the young master's playroom," Colin said, opening a door to reveal a bright, cheerful space filled with toys, books, and a small art station.

Harry lingered for a moment, taking in the contrast between the room's warmth and the mansion's otherwise austere elegance. It was a room designed for a child, a space that seemed to reflect Sirius's personality.

"And here," Colin continued, leading him down another corridor, "is the staff wing. Should you need anything, you'll find most of us here."

Harry nodded, filing the information away. "Does Sirius have a favorite spot?"

Colin smiled faintly, his formal demeanor softening slightly. "The garden, sir. He enjoys spending time among the flowers and often brings books out there to read. The young master has a fondness for adventure stories."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "That sounds about right."

As the tour continued, Harry's thoughts turned over Tom's words, Sirius's boundless energy, and the weight of the role he'd just accepted. When they finally returned to the main hall, Colin gave a polite bow.

"If there's anything else you need, sir, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, Colin," Harry said, watching as the manservant disappeared down the hall.

He exhaled slowly, the enormity of his decision settling over him like a cloak. This wasn't going to be easy, but then, nothing in Harry's life ever had been.

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