Chapter 37

The morning of the visit arrived, and Harry stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for what felt like the hundredth time. The suit fit perfectly, courtesy of the tailor, but the tie refused to cooperate. He sighed and stepped out of his room, his tie better than before, at least.

The sound of voices reached him before he descended the stairs. Sirius's unmistakable chatter mingled with Tom's low, measured responses. When he reached the hall, both turned to look at him. Sirius grinned, his grey eyes lighting up, but then his expression turned appraising.

"Your tie's crooked," Sirius announced, trotting over.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his fingers moving to adjust it. "Is it? Thought I fixed it."

Sirius tilted his head, scrutinizing it like a miniature professor. "Nope. It's all wrong."

Before Harry could respond, Tom's smooth voice cut through the air. "Stay still."

Harry froze as Tom approached, his movements swift and precise. Before Harry could protest, Tom's hands were on his tie, deftly fixing it. His face was calm, focused, and closer than Harry was used to.

"Uh, thanks," Harry murmured, feeling uncharacteristically awkward.

Tom didn't reply, but Sirius's voice filled the silence. "I'm nervous," the boy admitted, his gaze darting between Harry and his father.

Harry's attention shifted immediately. "Nervous? Why?"

"It's my first time meeting so many people like this," Sirius said, his voice quieter now. "What if they don't like me?"

"Hey," Harry said softly, meeting his gaze. "They'll love you. You're smart, kind, and you've got your dad with you. Plus, I'll be there, too. You've got nothing to worry about."

Sirius gave him a tentative smile, but before Harry could ruffle his hair, Tom's fingers tugged the tie tighter. "Hold still," Tom said, his tone firm, though there was no real irritation in his voice.

Harry blinked up at him, startled. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Colin standing by the doorway, gaping at the scene like he'd just seen a unicorn in the living room.

When Harry tilted his head slightly to wave at Colin, Tom's grip on the tie tightened further, holding him in place. "Stop moving," Tom ordered, his tone clipped.

Harry frowned, but Colin's expression of barely-contained shock made him suppress a laugh. "Good morning, Colin," he said, still waving slightly.

Tom's grey eyes flicked toward the manservant, sharp and unyielding. "Is the car prepared?" he asked curtly as he stepped back from Harry, the tie now perfectly aligned.

Colin straightened immediately. "Yes, sir. Mr. Crouch and Mr. Snape are waiting for you."

"Good," Tom said, brushing his hands off as if nothing had happened. His attention turned back to Sirius. "Go grab your coat, Sirius. We're leaving shortly."

Sirius nodded, scampering off. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment before catching Colin's still-stunned expression.

"You alright there?" Harry asked with a faint smile.

Colin blinked rapidly, regaining his composure. "Fine, sir. Just fine."

Tom gave Colin one last pointed glance before turning to lead the way to the car. Harry followed, adjusting his sleeves as they walked. When Sirius rejoined them moments later, Harry noticed the boy was fidgeting with his coat buttons.

"Still nervous?" Harry asked as they reached the car.

Sirius nodded, his eyes wide.

Harry crouched slightly again, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Remember what I said. You've got this, alright? Just be yourself."

Sirius took a deep breath and nodded again, this time with a bit more confidence. Harry gave him a reassuring smile before helping him into the car.

As the door closed behind them, Harry glanced at Tom, who was seated across from him. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Harry thought he caught the faintest hint of approval in Tom's expression. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by his usual mask of calm authority.

The car ride was quiet except for Sirius's occasional chatter, which Harry indulged with a mixture of genuine interest and distraction. He was still adjusting to the idea of attending such a public event, unsure of how he fit into the dynamics of Tom's political maneuvering.

When they arrived, the orphanage was a modest but well-kept building, its worn brick walls and iron gate giving it a quaint charm. A small group of journalists stood near the entrance, their cameras at the ready, though they seemed to have been carefully selected. Harry recognized a few names from prominent newspapers, which didn't surprise him. Tom Riddle wouldn't allow just anyone access to such a carefully orchestrated visit.

Tom stepped out first, his posture perfect, his sharp grey eyes sweeping over the scene like a hawk assessing its territory. Sirius followed, clutching his father's hand but looking more relaxed than before, thanks to Harry's earlier reassurances. Harry exited last, keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings as they approached the orphanage's front doors.

The orphanage director, a kind-looking woman with greying hair and a warm smile, greeted them at the entrance. "Viscount Riddle, welcome," she said, shaking Tom's hand firmly. "It's an honor to have you here."

"The honor is mine," Tom replied smoothly, his voice carrying the perfect balance of humility and authority. "I'm eager to see how we might be able to support your efforts here."

Harry hung back slightly, keeping close to Sirius, who was now looking around with curiosity. The boy's eyes lit up when he spotted a small group of children playing in the courtyard, their laughter echoing in the crisp morning air.

"Can I go play with them, Father?" Sirius asked, tugging on Tom's sleeve.

Tom hesitated, glancing at the journalists before nodding. "You may, but Mr. Potter will accompany you."

Sirius grinned and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him toward the group of children. Harry followed with a small smile, relieved to have an excuse to step away from the political proceedings.

As Sirius joined the other children, Harry kept an eye on him while subtly observing the dynamics of the event. Tom was already deep in conversation with the director, his tone warm but calculated, his every word seemingly designed to inspire confidence and trust. The journalists hovered nearby, their cameras clicking occasionally, though they seemed to know better than to interrupt.

"Mr. Potter!" one of the children called, breaking Harry's train of thought. He turned to see a young boy holding a ball, grinning up at him. "Do you want to play, too?"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'll just watch for now."

"Come on!" Sirius chimed in, running over to grab Harry's hand. "It'll be fun!"

Before he could protest, Harry found himself pulled into their game, which turned out to be an improvised version of tag. Sirius and the other children laughed and shrieked as they darted around the courtyard, their energy infectious. Even Harry couldn't help but smile as he chased after them, his usual worries momentarily forgotten.

Meanwhile, Tom observed from a distance, his expression unreadable. The director leaned in slightly, her voice low. "Your son seems to have taken quite a liking to this Mr. Potter."

"He has," Tom replied, his tone neutral. "And it seems the feeling is mutual."

The director smiled warmly. "It's good for children to have someone they trust. Someone who understands them."

Tom's gaze flicked to Harry, who had just scooped up a giggling Sirius and was spinning him around in the air. "Yes," he said softly, almost to himself. "It is."

As the morning wore on, Tom joined Sirius and the other children for a series of activities planned by the orphanage staff. They painted pictures, planted flowers in the garden, and even played a short game of football—all under the watchful eyes of the journalists, who captured every carefully curated moment.

Harry remained close to Sirius throughout, helping him with the activities and making sure he stayed safe. The boy's nervousness from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by a beaming smile that seemed to brighten the entire event.

When it was time to leave, Sirius ran up to Tom, holding a small potted plant he'd decorated with Harry's help. "Can we keep this, Father?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

Tom glanced at the plant, then at Sirius, his expression softening. "Of course," he said, taking it carefully from his son's hands. "We'll find a special place for it at home."

As they returned to the car, Harry couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Tom's demeanor. For all his calculating precision, there was a genuine warmth in the way he spoke to Sirius—a stark contrast to the man Harry had come to know.

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