"Albus…I-I can't thank you enough" said the poor man.
"Don't trouble yourself Cyrus, its best that you focus on her future. Despite our magical abilities it seems we're not immune to sorrow. Take solace in the fact that she will be safe there" said Dumbledore.
"I can only hope. What if she takes after her mother and-" Cyrus began
"That, I do not know Cyrus. Your blood could very well subdue any…effects. Time will tell" said Dumbledore calmly. He placed a kind wrinkled hand on the young man's shoulder as he rose to leave. He felt a tense hand grab at his cloak. Cyrus's body trembled as he sat hunched over in despair. "What will I do?" he said just above a whisper. Cyrus looked up at him, tears filling his black eyes. "How can I care for her when she is the reason-"
"Don't" said Albus, carefully prying Cyrus's bony fingers from his cloak. "She did not ask to be born under such dire circumstances, and if you have any humanity you will not punish her for it. You are her father, Cyrus. BE her father."
A faint cry came from the corner of the room. Cyrus shuffled mournfully across the room to the cooing bundle of blankets. Delicately, he cradled the newborn in his arms. Though the tears in his eyes held resentment, he couldn't help but smile at the soft little finger clinging to his thumb. Cyrus felt a warm and hand on his shoulder and then a faint pop as the old wizard departed.
