Birds of a Feather (Stick Together)

The morning sunlight filtered through the cracked windowpanes of Andre's room, casting faint golden beams on the worn wooden floor. Harry stepped inside, carrying a small tray with a steaming bowl of soup. The faint aroma of cabbage wafted through the air, mingling with the cleaner smell of the room.

Andre was propped up on a couple of thin pillows, his frail body still swamped in the oversized blanket. He looked better than the night before—his face wasn't so pale, and there was a flicker of light in his wide, dark eyes.

Eli and Victor followed Harry into the room, their expressions curious as they stood by the doorway.

"Morning," Harry said softly, moving to sit on the edge of Andre's bed.

"Morning," Andre whispered back, his voice raspier than usual but stronger than it he would have expected for a sick kid.

"How're you feeling today?" Harry asked, setting the tray down on the small nightstand.

Andre shifted slightly, testing the limits of his body. "Better," he said, his small hands clutching the blanket. "My stomach doesn't hurt as much anymore."

Harry smiled faintly. "Good. That's a start."

He reached into his pocket, withdrawing the Elder Wand. This time, he didn't bother hiding it. The wand's dark, polished surface gleamed faintly in the sunlight as he held it over Andre.

"What's that?" Victor asked, leaning forward, his voice full of skepticism.

"Magic," Harry said simply.

Victor scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "There's no such thing."

Eli smirked, nudging him with an elbow. "You can always go away, you know?"

Victor shot him a glare but said nothing, his eyes narrowing as Harry focused on Andre.

Harry ignored them, murmuring the incantation for a diagnostic charm. The wand tip glowed faintly golden, sending soft pulses of light over Andre's small frame. The boy flinched at first, but quickly relaxed as the light wrapped around him like a warm blanket.

Andre's vitals appeared on Harry's mind like an overlay—still weak, but stronger than the night before. The infection was still at large, but no longer raging unchecked; the fever had dropped, and his body was responding to the magic's support.

"You're doing well," Harry said gently, his tone warm but professional. "The fever's going down, and the infection is under control, but your body's still too weak to handle food the normal way."

"I'm hungry, but… I don't want to throw up again," he admitted softly.

"You won't," Harry said with a reassuring smile. "I'm going to help with that."

He glanced at the bowl of soup, then back at Andre. "Your stomach's still sensitive, so I'll need to get this to you in a way that doesn't upset it. It'll feel a little strange, but it won't hurt. Trust me?"

Andre hesitated, his gaze flicking to Harry's wand. Then, slowly, he nodded.

Harry lifted the wand, murmuring a charm that directed the soup from the bowl into a thin stream of golden light. It shimmered as it hovered in the air, guided by the wand's tip, before gently settling over Andre's chest. There was a dim light, spreading warmth as it infused energy into the boy, delivering the soup's nutrients directly to his system without burdening his stomach.

Andre's eyes widened, his small hands clutching the blanket. "It feels warm," he said softly, his voice tinged with wonder.

"That's a good sign," Harry replied, his tone calm and steady. "Just breathe, and let it work."

Victor leaned against the doorframe, his jaw slightly slack as he watched. "That's… real magic," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Told you," Eli said smugly, crossing his arms.

Harry shot them a brief glance. "This doesn't leave the orphanage," he said firmly. "Understand?"

Victor snapped out of his daze, nodding quickly. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Still… that's incredible."

Eli grinned. "I know, right? It's like having a wizard in the house."

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn't help the faint smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to Andre, whose breathing had evened out, his expression more relaxed than it had been in days.

"Better?" Harry asked.

Andre nodded around a yawn, a faint smile curving his lips. "Yeah. Thank you."

"Rest now," Harry said, adjusting the blanket around him. "Your body needs time to heal."

Andre's eyelids drooped, and within moments, he was asleep, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Harry stood, slipping the wand back into his pocket. He turned to find Eli grinning at him and Victor still staring as though he'd just seen a ghost.

"You really are something else," Victor said finally, shaking his head.

Harry shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "Just someone trying to help."

Eli nudged Victor with a smirk. "Looks like we've got our very own superhero."

Harry chuckled softly, motioning for them to step outside. "Come on. Let's not wake him. I need to find Samantha."

"Call her Sam. She's probably in the sitting room. She likes it there."

Harry nodded as they indeed found Samantha in the sitting room, her arm still in its sling as she sat cross-legged on the worn sofa, watching Miriam sketch on a piece of paper. She glanced up as Harry approached, her expression a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

"Morning, Sam," Harry said gently, kneeling in front of her so they were at eye level. "How's the arm?"

She shrugged with her good shoulder. "It's fine. Doesn't hurt as much."

Harry studied her for a moment, noting the way she avoided moving her injured arm. "Mind if I take a look? I might be able to help."

Samantha hesitated, her eyes darting to Eli and Victor for reassurance.

"It's okay," Eli said, leaning back in his chair. "He helped Andre. He's good at this stuff."

Samantha bit her lip, but nodded slowly. "Okay. But… will it hurt?"

Harry shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile. "Not at all. Just sit still for me, all right?"

She nodded again, her small frame tensing as Harry carefully removed the sling. He took her hand gently, cradling her injured arm as he murmured a diagnostic charm.

The golden light from the Elder Wand traced the length of her arm, illuminating the faint outline of a fracture near her wrist. It wasn't severe, but it hadn't been set properly and was healing unevenly. Harry frowned, his mind racing through the spells he'd learned with Hermione.

"You've got a small fracture here," Harry explained, his tone calm and steady. "It's healing, but it needs a little help. I can fix it, but you'll have to stay very still. Can you do that for me?"

Samantha nodded, her eyes wide but trusting.

Harry adjusted his grip on the wan as he murmured the spell. Next, a soft, golden light enveloped Samantha's arm, the warmth soothing the tension in her muscles. She gasped slightly, her good hand gripping the edge of the sofa, but she didn't pull away. Harry guided the magic carefully, coaxing the fracture into alignment and strengthening the surrounding bone.

"There," he said after a moment, extinguishing the light and sitting back on his heels. "All done."

Samantha flexed her fingers cautiously, her expression shifting from disbelief to awe. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she said, her voice tinged with wonder.

"Good," Harry said, smiling. "But take it easy for a while, all right? No climbing trees or arm-wrestling Eli."

"Hey!" Eli protested from his seat, grinning.

Samantha giggled, her initial wariness melting away. She looked up at Harry, her eyes shining. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Harry replied, standing and ruffling her hair gently.

As he turned to leave, Mary Anne appeared in the doorway, her sharp eyes softening as she took in the scene. She didn't say anything, but the gratitude in her expression was unmistakable.

Harry nodded at her, his resolve deepening. He didn't know how long he'd stay, but for now, this was enough.