Birds of a Feather (Stick Together)

The dining room was a spectacle of understated elegance. The long mahogany table gleamed under the soft glow of the chandelier, set with fine china and silverware that looked far too expensive to touch. Harry sat beside Sirius, as promised, while Tom took his place at the head of the table, every movement deliberate and controlled.

The first course—a creamy soup garnished with herbs—was served, and Harry found himself acutely aware of every small clink of silverware and the weight of Tom's gaze, which seemed to flit between him and Sirius with a kind of calculating curiosity.

Sirius, oblivious to the tension, slurped his soup loudly before catching Tom's raised eyebrow and hastily straightening his posture. He glanced at Harry with a sheepish grin. "So… about Hermione."

Harry paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "What about her?"

"What's the craziest thing she ever did at her magic school?" Sirius asked, his grey eyes alight with curiosity.

Tom's attention sharpened at the question, though he said nothing, merely sipping his wine as he observed.

Harry set his spoon down, leaning back slightly. "Hermione? Crazy? That's not usually the first word I'd use to describe her. She was more… brilliant, organized, and terrifyingly determined."

"Yeah, but she must've done something wild," Sirius pressed, bouncing slightly in his seat.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Well… there was this one time in our third year." He hesitated for a moment, not realizing he had included himself, then decided it was safe enough to share. "She decided to take every single elective the school offered."

Sirius blinked, his expression skeptical. "Every single one? Were they a lot?"

"They were," Harry said, smirking. "Also, most of them were at the same time."

"Isn't that impossible, then?"

"It could be, but not for Hermione. See, the school gave her a magical device called a time-turner. It let her go back in time so she could attend multiple classes at once."

Sirius's jaw dropped. "She went back in time just to go to more school?"

"Exactly," Harry said, laughing softly. "She'd take Arithmancy at nine, then spin the time-turner and take Ancient Runes at nine. And then she'd do the same thing for Magical Creatures, Divination, and about five other classes. She practically lived in the library and still managed to ace every subject."

Sirius shook his head, his curls bouncing. "That's not crazy—that's just mad."

"Mad, maybe," Harry admitted, his grin softening. "But it worked for her. She loved learning more than anything. Though, by the end of the year, even she admitted it was a bit much."

Sirius stared at him in awe. "So, what happened? Did she give up?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Hermione doesn't 'give up.' She chose her favorite electives for the next year, but only after she'd figured out how to get the best grades in all of them first."

"Wow," Sirius breathed, his grey eyes wide. "She sounds amazing. I wish I could meet her."

Tom's low voice cut through the moment. "A young woman so driven must have been… formidable."

Harry glanced at Tom, whose tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed an intense interest. "She was."

Sirius leaned closer, resting his chin in his hand. "Do you have more stories about her? What's the most dangerous thing she ever did?"

Harry hesitated, his mind flashing to the troll, the Polyjuice Potion, the Department of Mysteries, and so much more. "She's done a lot of brave things," he said carefully. "But I think the most dangerous thing she ever did was trust me."

Sirius frowned, his brow furrowing. "Why would that be dangerous?"

Harry smiled faintly, his gaze distant. "Because I tend to find trouble wherever I go."

Sirius pouted. "I'm still surprised she didn't do other crazy things with that time machine."

Harry smiled faintly, leaning back in his chair. "It's a time-turner. And yes, I guess she did one crazy thing with it."

"Really?!" Sirius asked, his eyes wide.

"That's right," Harry replied. "This wasn't just about taking extra classes. This was different. We had a friend—well, a friend and his pet—that needed help. The only way to do it was to… change things, to make sure we were in the right place at the right time."

"Didn't that, like, mess everything up?" Sirius asked, his brows furrowing.

"It could have," Harry admitted, his smile wry. "Time magic is tricky like that. But Hermione—she was so careful. She thought through every step, every risk. She knew exactly what needed to be done and didn't hesitate to take the lead."

Sirius leaned forward, his elbows on the table, completely absorbed. "So what happened? Did you save them?"

Harry nodded. "We did. But it wasn't just about saving them—it was about doing what was right, even when it was risky. Hermione was always the one who reminded us that bravery isn't just about being fearless. It's about doing the right thing, even when you're scared."

"She sounds amazing." Sirius's expression softened, his eyes bright with admiration. He opened his mouth to press further, but Tom spoke before he could. "I think that's enough stories for now," he said smoothly, his tone brooking no argument. Sirius sighed but nodded, though he shot Harry a hopeful glance that clearly promised he'd ask more later.

"You should talk, too, Father." Sirius pouted. "Is not fair for only us to do all the talking."

"You're right, son. So, Harry," Tom said, his voice smooth as silk. "I've been curious. What do you think makes a city… functional? What's more important—order or freedom?"

Harry blinked, the fork halfway to his mouth. Sirius groaned and Harry could understand the sentiment. He wanted to groan, too. "That's an odd question for dinner."

Sirius turned to his father, his face scrunched in distaste. "Yeah, what's that got to do with anything?"

Tom smiled faintly, his eyes glinting. "It's just a philosophical question, Sirius. I'd like to hear Mr. Potter's thoughts."

Harry set his fork down, his brow furrowing as he considered the question. "Well, I guess… both are important?" he said hesitantly. "But I'd say freedom matters more in the long run. You can't have real order if people feel trapped. People need hope."

Tom leaned back in his chair, studying him intently. "And if hope leads to chaos? If people's choices undermine the very stability they rely on?"

Harry frowned, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "Then you give them the tools to make better choices. You can't control people into being good. You have to trust them."

Sirius grinned. "I like that answer."

Tom's lips twitched, but his gaze on Harry sharpened. "Trust," he repeated, his tone faintly mocking. "A noble sentiment. But do you truly believe people are inherently trustworthy?"

Harry shrugged. "Not everyone, no. But I've seen what people can do when they're given a chance. It's not about trusting everyone—it's about believing in the ones who prove they're worth it."

There was a beat of silence. Tom's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes—surprise, perhaps, or intrigue. He hadn't expected such an earnest, uncomplicated answer.

"That's… an optimistic view," Tom said finally, his tone carefully neutral. "Most would call it naive."

Harry gave a small, rueful smile. "Maybe. But it's what I believe."

Sirius tilted his head, looking between the two men. "Dad, is that a good answer?"

Tom's gaze lingered on Harry for a moment longer before he smiled faintly at his son. "It's an interesting one," he said.