Birds of a Feather (Stick Together)

It was after helping fix some of surface-repairs around the orphanage, that he went down to the kitchen to see if Mary Anne needed help with the lunch preparations. However, while he found her there in the kitchen peeling potatoes, he also found Victor there with his arms crossed, a faint frown tugging at his lips. He was holding a canvas bag slung over one shoulder, a few books peeking out of the top.

Mary Ann continued peeling the vegetables, her expression both stern and concerned. "I said no, Victor. Not after what happened yesterday. I can't risk it."

Victor's frown deepened. "But it's just the library," he protested. "I need to return these books, and they've got some new ones on astronomy that I wanted to check out. I'll be quick, I promise."

Mary Anne sighed, rubbing her temples. "It's not about how quick you'll be. It's about the risk. You know what happened to Eli. This part of town isn't safe for any of you to be wandering around alone, especially…" She hesitated, her eyes softening. "Especially with how people are around here."

Harry's footsteps slowed as he listened, catching the weight behind her words. He glanced at Victor, who was trying to hide his frustration but failing.

"I can't just keep you all locked inside, I know," Mary Anne continued, her voice laced with guilt. "But I can't let you go out there alone, either."

"I could go with him," Harry offered, stepping into the room.

Both Mary Anne and Victor turned to look at him, surprise flashing across their faces.

"You?" Mary Anne asked, arching a skeptical brow.

Harry nodded, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I've been meaning to go to the library myself. Might as well make it a joint trip."

Victor's eyes lit up with a mixture of hope and curiosity. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course," Harry said, giving him a small smile. "It's not a big deal."

Mary Anne studied him for a moment, her arms still crossed. "Are you sure? You've already done so much for us. You don't have to—"

"I don't mind," Harry interrupted gently. "I need to do some research anyway, and I could use the fresh air."

Mary Anne hesitated, her sharp gaze searching his face. Whatever she saw there seemed to reassure her, because she nodded slowly. "All right," she said. "But stay together and come before lunch. And don't take any chances."

"Got it," Harry said, glancing at Victor. "Ready?"

Victor grinned, before going to hug Mary Anne, "I'll also bring those legal books you wanted. Wait, Harry. I'll bring my card and we can go."

As Victor disappeared down the hallway, Mary Anne turned to Harry, her expression softening. "Thank you," she said quietly. "It means a lot to him—and to me."

Harry nodded, brushing off the thanks with a faint smile. "It's nothing. I'm just glad I can help."

Mary Anne gave him a long, searching look before patting his arm. "Be careful out there," she said, her voice low but firm.

Harry gave her a reassuring nod before stepping outside to wait for Victor, though not even five minutes later he ran out, his canvas bag now slung securely over his shoulder. He was grinning, his earlier frustration completely gone.

"Thanks for doing this," Victor said as they started down the street.

"No problem," Harry replied, glancing around as they walked. The streets were busier now, with vendors setting up stalls and children playing on the sidewalks. The hum of the city was alive with energy, but Harry couldn't ignore the undercurrent of tension that lingered just below the surface.

"You're into astronomy?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Victor nodded eagerly. "Yeah. The library has this old telescope they let people borrow sometimes. I've been saving up for the deposit so I can check it out."

Harry smiled faintly. "That's impressive. What got you into it?"

Victor shrugged, his grin turning sheepish. "Dunno. I just like looking at the stars. Makes everything feel… bigger, I guess. Like there's more out there than just this."

Harry's chest tightened at the words, the boy's quiet hope striking a chord in him.

"You're not wrong," Harry said softly.

Victor glanced at him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What about you? What are you researching?"

Harry hesitated, the truth hovering on the tip of his tongue. "Just… history," he said finally. "Trying to get my bearings, figure out where I fit in all this."

Victor nodded, accepting the vague answer without question. "Well, the library's got plenty of that. You'll like it there—it's quiet, and the librarians don't bother you unless you need help."

Harry chuckled, grateful for the boy's easygoing nature. "Sounds perfect."

As they walked, Harry couldn't help but notice the subtle glances they received from passersby—curious, wary, and sometimes outright hostile. He caught the way Victor's posture shifted, his shoulders tensing slightly whenever they passed a group of adults.

Harry's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. He simply stayed close, his presence a quiet reassurance as they made their way toward the library.

By the time they arrived, Victor's earlier excitement had returned, and Harry couldn't help but feel a flicker of relief. At least here, in the quiet sanctuary of books and learning, the weight of the outside world seemed to fade.

The library was vast and smelled of aged paper and polished wood. Harry paused in the entryway, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Rows of bookshelves stretched endlessly in either direction, and a faint murmur of activity came from deeper within. Victor strode confidently ahead, his satchel bouncing lightly against his hip.

"This place is massive," Harry said, his voice low as he followed.

Victor shrugged. "It's not bad. Quiet enough for work, and they've got pretty much everything." He gestured toward a section marked Reference in bold gold lettering. "Newspapers are over there, but if you're looking for something specific, start with the history section. It's that way." 

Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued. He had every intention of checking out the newspapers, but the idea of seeing how history in this world aligned—or didn't—with his own was too tempting to pass up.

Victor led him to the history section, his steps quick and eager, before he headed for the astronomy section.

The shelves were filled with heavy tomes, their spines labeled in neat lettering. Harry scanned the titles until one caught his attention: A Modern History of Britain: 1800-1975. He pulled the almost new book free and carried it to a nearby table, flipping it open to the first page.

The timeline began with familiar events—the Industrial Revolution, the First World War—but as he skimmed further, subtle differences began to emerge.

The Second World War had still occurred, but the details were off. Grindelwald's name appeared repeatedly, not as the Dark wizard Harry knew, but as a political figure who had risen to power in Germany and influenced global policy before being defeated in a major conflict.

The war had ended in 1945, just as in his own world, but post-war recovery seemed slower here, with Britain struggling economically through the 1950s and 1960s. Harry noted references to a powerful movement advocating for modern aristocracy—a push to reinstate old privileges for noble families.

By the time the book reached the 1970s, the narrative shifted toward rising crime rates, political unrest, and a growing divide between the working class and the elite. 

Victor reappeared as Harry was flipping through the last chapter, a stack of books balanced in his arms. He set them down with a thud, glancing at Harry's open book. "You're really into history, huh?"

"Something like that," Harry replied, closing the book but keeping a finger on the page about nobility; there was only a brief mention of Tom Riddle. "I read about this Riddle guy in the papers recently, and the history book I read also mention him. Isn't he young, though? What's his story?"

Victor rolled his eyes, pulling out a chair and sitting across from Harry. "You mean the viscount?"

Harry nodded.

Victor leaned back, his expression skeptical. "Riddle's one of those people who's either a genius or a complete fraud, depending on who you ask. The media can't get enough of him, though."

"What do you think?" Harry asked, keeping his tone casual.

Victor shrugged. "I think he's smart. Too smart. That guy's always three steps ahead of everyone else. Did you hear about the scandal?"

Harry frowned. "No. What scandal?"

Victor leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Turns out he wasn't always a viscount. Someone leaked that he grew up on the streets—a total orphan, just like the kids back at St. Ignatius."

Harry's stomach tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. "And that's a problem?"

Victor smirked. "Not for him. He spun it into this whole 'rags to riches' narrative. Said it proves he knows what it's like to struggle, and that's why he's so determined to fix the city. It worked, too—people ate it up. But you can bet the aristocracy wasn't happy about it."

Harry tilted his head. "So, he's popular?"

"With some people," Victor said. "Others think he's too shady—too many ties to the underworld. They say his whole reform thing is just a front."

Harry's mind raced as he processed the information. Tom's story in this world was not so different from the beginnings of the Voldemort he knew, but certain patterns were undeniable. The ambition, the charm, the ability to manipulate perception—it was all there.

Victor snapped his fingers, pulling Harry from his thoughts. "Hey, you good? You've got that faraway look."

"Yeah," Harry said quickly. "Just thinking."

Victor raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Well, don't think too hard. We've got a lot to carry back." He gestured to his stack of books. "This is for the orphanage—legal stuff for Mrs. Turner."

Harry nodded, standing and returning the history book to its place on the shelf. "Let's grab what we need and head back. I think I've got enough to work with for now."

Victor grinned. "Good. I'm starving."

As they made their way to the front desk to check out their books, Harry couldn't shake the sense of unease curling in his chest. The more he learned about this world's Tom Riddle, the more questions he had—and the more determined he became to find answers.