Black's Secret
Chapter Two: Celeste's Letter
Harry walked back into the parlor, followed by Kreatcher who was holding a warm cup of tea for the child. The child looked terrified of the house elf and seemed to cringe visibly as it came near him. Harry dismissed Kreatcher at once, who scuttled back to his cupboard in the kitchen. The boy refused the tea and instead glanced nervously at the doorway that Kreatcher had disappeared through, as if in fear of the thing returning.
"I am Harry. Harry Potter," Harry introduced himself as he took a seat directly across from where the boy was sitting. The child looked at him.
"I know," the child said. His voice was even and rather monotonous as he spoke. Harry was surprised that the child knew that, though he expected most everyone in his world knew this information.
"What is your name?" Harry asked the child.
"Colby," the child replied. He sighed softly, his hand still gripped on the small back pack and Harry wondered if the entire child's earthly possessions were in that bag, the way the child clung to it so tightly.
"How old are you, Colby?" Harry asked as the child's eyes darted toward the door as a sound echoed in the kitchen.
"I am six years old," Colby said as he glanced back at Harry. Harry averted his eyes from the child's eyes. They were too familiar, too soul-searching and Harry thought of Dumbledore for a moment.
"Six, really? That is such a fun age," Harry said brightly.
"Not for me," Colby said. "My mother is dying and my grandparents shunned her. Once for being a witch and again for having a bastard of a son who is just like her."
"Really?" Harry said in surprise. "Your mother is a witch?"
"For the time being," Colby said. He didn't sound sad, as Harry had expected the boy should. Harry's mother had died before he could remember her, and yet he was often filled with melancholy when he thought of her. Harry found it odd that the child was so even-toned about such dreadful things.
"Your mother is dying?" Harry asked carefully. "What about your father?"
"You already know my father's fate, Mr. Potter," Colby said calmly.
"Who is your father?" Harry pressed. The child waited until Harry made eye contact with him again.
"I am the son of Sirius Black," Colby said quietly. "He died before my mother even knew she was pregnant with me."
Harry sat there in silence, not certain as to what he should say to the child. As Harry looked at Colby, he could see Sirius in an undeniable fatherhood to the little boy. Harry thought back and knew it must have happened just before Sirius had died. There was no other way. Sirius never left the house back then, but then again, Harry knew his godfather hated being caged in the house. Surely a lifetime living in the house had given Sirius the knowledge of entrance and exit that the Order hadn't known.
Harry knew that Sirius had been a ladies' man since birth, practically, and it didn't surprise Harry that Sirius had a child. He just wasn't sure what he was supposed to do about his godfather's child, especially since Harry was just twenty-two himself. Surely Colby's mother didn't expect an inexperienced twenty-two year old to raise the child.
"What did your mother tell you when she dropped you off here?" Harry asked curiously. Colby fished a key and a note out of his little pocket.
"Mum told me to give you this. I almost put it in my jacket pocket, but Mum told me to put it in my pants pocket. She said that it is harder to loose your pants than it is to loose your jacket. As you can see, she was right," Colby said as he held up his arms to prove he was, indeed, without a jacket. Colby grinned hesitantly as Harry took the key and the letter.
Dearest Harry Potter,
Your Godfather spoke highly of you during our short affair some years ago. He said that it was you that taught him to love again. Though he may have never told you of me, he told me of you. Now I come to the end of my life, and to you I beg for protection and love for my son, Colby Zane-Black, son of Sirius as well. Sirius never knew of his son, and yet I would like to believe I have raised him as Sirius would have raised him. Had things been different, had Sirius been alive, it would be he and not you I would be writing to. As it is, I am not long for this Earth and am too weak to travel to tell you this myself. I leave my son in your young but capable hands, as well as my modest vault in hopes that you will take pity on a woman whose only fault ever was being a witch that had loved Sirius Black.
With Love,
Celeste Zane
Harry reread the letter at least a dozen times and tried to think of how he would feel to be writing a letter in hopes that a stranger, even spoken so highly of, would take pity on my orphaned (or soon to be orphaned) son. Harry glanced up at the small child, who seemed to be focused on the fire, his eye lids drooping as the boy fought sleep.
`What in the world was the woman thinking? I can't even keep my house plants alive, even with Kreatcher's help,' thought Harry as he glanced at the dead sticks poking up out of dry, cracked soil in a clay pot by the fireplace's hearth. `The kid will be luck to survive the night in my care!'
"Ok, so… well, ok," Harry muttered as he paced the floor. What did he know about being a father? Harry nearly laughed at that. He knew nothing. He had no idea what kids ate or what they did. His own childhood had been a sham, and nothing like the ones he had seen on the television.
"My mother says that he was a great man," Colby said suddenly, his eyes bright with wonderment and awe. Harry's eyes fell on the sleepy child.
"What? Who?" Harry asked stupidly.
"My father. My mother says that my father, Sirius Black, was a great man," Colby said softly. Harry looked at him and smiled.
"Your mum was right. Your father was loyal and strong. He was a wonderful person and I wish you had the chance to meet him," Harry said sadly. The child half smiled and nodded. "What we need to do is get you a room to sleep in tonight."
"Ok," Colby said as he slid from the couch. Harry looked down at him.
"Are you supposed to be so…"
"Short?" Colby inquired. "Probably not. But I am, so I have to live with it."
Colby followed Harry up the stairs and towards one of the old bedrooms that was neat and tidy, but was not being used. Harry glanced around thinking it wasn't really very friendly, but in a pinch, it would do fine for a bedroom for the small boy. Harry stood awkwardly as he pointed out the loo across the hall from the bedroom.
"My room is right there, should you need anything, and my friends, Hermione and Ron, and their rooms are on either side of my room. Ok?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Ok," Colby said. His voice remained soft, but it trembled slightly with fear.
"Hey, don't worry, Colby," Harry urged him. "Hermione is the brightest witch of her age. She will help us work this out, ok?"
"Ok," Colby said as he closed the door, his tiny hands together to close it quite properly. Harry headed back to the parlor to wait for Ron and Hermione's return. He needed some advice quickly, and he had a feeling that a visit to the Burroughs was in order. He wished that they would hurry already.
-->