Black's Secret by Konflickted

Rating: PG
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/10/2007
Last Updated: 14/10/2007
Status: Paused

Harry had loved Sirius, and though he knew little of the man his parents befriended, he never
thought that Sirius' secrets would come back to haunt Harry all these years after Sirius's
death. Harry finds himself turning to his best friends for support when the secrets become too much
for one young man to handle alone.




1. Prologue
-----------



A/N: I thought this might be an interesting little short story. Something for you all to nibble
on while the next big story is in the works. Let me know what you think.

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Black's Secret

Prologue

Sirius Black looked at himself in the mirror. He was thankful he had shaved before he had left
the house, though he knew he needed to get back soon before his absence was noticed. He looked
behind him in the reflection where she lay so peaceful and serene, he was certain she really was
asleep and not pretending. He studied the curve of her small breasts hidden under the black satin
sheets. Her honey colored hair was a stark contrast to the black satin pillow, her mouth puckered
rather alluringly while the rose colored lips had darkened from his kisses.

*`She really is quite lovely,'* Sirius thought as he watched her rhythmic breathing
rise and drop her breasts from under the sheet. He smiled, despite himself. He was never one who
was able really to care wholly for anyone. Not since James and Lily had Sirius loved anyone. Then
came the young man, Harry, his godson, and Sirius had learned that he could love again.

Not to say that he loved the young woman in the bed, though. She was a delight to be with no
doubt, and some years his junior. Wholly, she had been untouched before Sirius had come across her,
and she was smitten, no doubt. He loved talking with her and he loved making love with her. She was
eager to learn the secrets of the older man. He had been surprised at how smart she really was, and
he loved to make her laugh.

“Going so soon?” She asked sleepily as she propped herself up on her arm. Her wispy hair fell
away from her face, the smooth skin inviting and glowing. Sirius smiled at her as he buttoned his
shirt.

“You know I hate that it has to happen this way, Celeste,” Sirius said as he tucked the tails of
his shirt into his pants. She nodded.

“I know,” Celeste said as she roused herself more from her sleep. She pulled herself into a
sitting position. “I know it isn't a wife you run home to, but still I feel a bit slighted by
your responsibilities.”

“You are a dear, Celeste, and when this is all over, I will bring you to my home and introduce
you to my godson,” Sirius promised as he lowered his mouth to hers. She allowed him to kiss her,
and she warmed to him, her arms circling his neck.

“I know, I know,” Celeste murmured as she released him. “The Order must come first. It is for
the good of all we are.”

“Yes,” Sirius agreed as he slipped his shoes onto his feet. He looked at her and smiled.
“Dumbledore says he doesn't believe it will be too much longer.”

“I know,” Celeste said crossing her arms and pouting slightly.

“You look like a child when you do that,” Sirius reminded her gently as he pulled his coat on
over his shirt.

“You forget, Sirius,” Celeste murmured. “I am not that much older than your godson, Harry.”

“Nothing about you, Celeste, is ever forgotten,” Sirius teased as he lowered himself down for
one last kiss. He stood finally and went to leave. “Take care of yourself and I will be back
soon.”

“I love you,” Celeste murmured. Sirius continued out the door, pretending that he did not hear
her confession. Celeste heard Sirius close the front door to her little one room flat as he left
and she threw herself back against her pillows.

Soon, he would return. Soon, this forsaken war would be over. Soon, Celeste and Sirius could
bring their relationship out into the open. Soon couldn't come fast enough for Celeste though.
Soon would never come, though. A week later, at the ministry and in front of his godson, Sirius was
dead, killed by his own cousin and blood. There was no funeral, as there was no body to be buried.
Celeste would never hold him in her arms again.

*********************************************

A/N: So that is where the prologue leaves us for now.

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2. The Boy
----------



Black's Secret

Chapter One: The Boy

“Come on, Harry, or we are going to be late,” moaned Ron as he stood outside of the bathroom
door. He really needed to use the loo, but Harry had been in there nearly half an hour trying to
tame his wild mane of hair.

“Why does she insist that we attend these things?” Harry grumbled as he flung the door open. Ron
rushed in and didn't even bother closing the door before relieving himself.

“Don't rightly know, but it seems like we are attending these parties more often,” Ron
groaned as sweet relief washed over him. He jiggled and zipped his pants.

“You better wash your hands, for Merlin's sake,” Harry groaned as Ron headed towards him.
Ron's cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment, and he stopped at the sink.

“I was, don't worry,” Ron defended. Harry nodded, but neither of them believed it. Ron had
gotten a bit distracted as of lately, and was forgetting things like this. Harry had offered to
take him to St. Mungo's but Ron had refused him. He attested that there was nothing wrong with
his mind.

“Maybe if Hermione wasn't so damn good at what she does, she wouldn't be winning all of
these awards,” Harry said as Ron dried his hands on the good guest towels Kreatcher set out for
such use.

“But she wouldn't be Hermione if she wasn't doing so good,” Ron murmured.

“No, I wouldn't be Hermione if I wasn't doing so well, Ron. Honestly,” Hermione
chastised gently. “I think someone must have addled your brains the way you have been as of lately.
You seem to have such atrocious grammar.”

“I guess I have been spending too much time down in the Regulation of Trolls Department,” Ron
defended.

“Perhaps,” Hermione said suspiciously as she checked her watch. She began to panic. “We need to
leave right this minute or we will be late!”

“Herms, the thingy doesn't even start until seven,” Ron said as he straightened his shirt.
He hoped his own hair looked at least as good as Harry's hair, though Ron was suspicious as to
how much hair elixir Harry had used. His brown locks looked like a solid piece of brown plastic
molded to Harry's head.

“If you forget Ron, Hermione never arrive later than two hours before any sanctioned event,”
Harry teased as his eyes did an involuntary sweep of the satiny chocolate colored dress. She looked
like a delicious walking candy bar, and Harry's stomach growled mercilessly as he laughed.

“As the guest of honor, I have a duty to arrive early to make sure that I know what my prompts
and keys are. You would know that it if either of you had received any awards and recognition for
your work at the ministry,” Hermione said stuffily. Harry grinned and shook his head.

“No, thank you. I have had enough recognition in my life to last me a life time,” Harry said as
he adjusted his glasses a bit.

“And I am just too lazy,” Ron yawned. Hermione and Harry laughed. It was true. Ron had chosen a
position at the ministry that rarely had anything to do. Not many trolls wandered into the ministry
to apply for anything, so Ron spent most of his day playing Solitaire. Ron had to admit that he was
getting rather proficient at the muggle game, and if there was ever an award for it, he was a sure
win.

Harry opened the door of the house, 12 Grimuld Place, laughing at Ron some more and started to
walk out of it only to stop as he spotted a child standing there. Harry stared at the child, and
then glanced back at Hermione and Ron who were still laughing. Hermione, seeing Harry standing
there gaping at the small child, stopped laughing and joined him at the door.

The child had huge blue eyes, these bright and eerily wise looking blue eyes, a small, slender
frame and jet black hair that curled just below the ears. It was wearing jeans and a tee shirt, all
miniature in size. Despite the cool evening, the child did not have a jacket. It carried a small
back pack, but nothing else.

“What is it?” Ron asked as he came up behind Harry and Hermione.

“A child, Ron, a child,” Hermione said. “You have how many nieces and nephews, and you still
don't know what a child is?”

“No, of course I know what a child is,” Ron defended haughtily. “I meant whose kid is it, and
like, what kind is it?”

“I'm a boy,” the child spoke softly.

“Where did you come from?” Hermione asked sweetly as she brought her hands to her knees and
ducked down to the child's level. The child frowned slightly.

“When a Mummy and a Daddy love each other very much…” The boy started. Harry laughed.

“We know where babies come from,” Harry laughed. The child looked affronted. Harry stopped
laughing at once. “What Hermione means is how did you come to being on my door step?”

“My mother says that this is where I belong,” The child said as he looked longingly toward the
fire.

“Harry, bring him inside,” Hermione said as a cool breeze entered the house. She had shivered,
and she knew the child must be cold without a jacket to keep him warm. Harry ushered the child in
through the door and into the pallor where the large flames of the fireplace licked the stones of
the fireplace.

“Harry, I have to go,” Hermione mentioned. She looked at the boy. “You need to stay here, get
him something warm to eat or drink, and I will pop right back here when I am done.”

“Should I come with you or shall I stay and entertain the child?” Ron asked goofily as he
glanced over at the boy who was sitting very still on the couch closest to the fire.

“Knowing you, you had better come with me,” Hermione said as she exited the room. Ron and Harry
followed her. Hermione lowered her voice. “Find out where the kid's parents are and any other
information about him, will you?”

“Ok,” Harry said nodding. Hermione glanced back into the room.

“He doesn't look old enough to be left alone, so keep an eye on him, ok?” Hermione said
quickly. “Don't let anything happen to him. Got it?”

“Yes, Mum,” Harry teased. “I think I can handle one kid by myself for a bit while you are out,
and who knows, maybe his mum and dad will be back to get him, realizing they have left him on the
wrong door step.”

“Even so,” Hermione murmured. “Just watch him, ok?”

“Yes, yes,” Harry said impatiently. “Now you just get your award and hurry back.”

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3. Celeste's Letter
-------------------



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.

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4. Parlor Talk
--------------



Parlor Talk

“This is not a good sign, Ron,” Hermione whispered as the two of them entered the silent house.
Her heart began strumming in her chest as she clutched Ron's arm in anticipation of something
horrible. The house was too quiet at this hour and she wasn't sure what she was going to find
as she walked into the parlor.

“Maybe they have gone to bed?” Ron offered weakly as he made a face. Hermione's sharp nails
seemed to dig into his freckled flesh.

“At this hour?” Hermione challenged as they glanced around the room. The fire was quite low,
with just a few embers glowing in the grate.

“How'd it go?” Harry asked from the chair closest to the fire. Hermione yelped, startled by
Harry.

“I should ask you the same thing. Where is the boy?” Hermione asked as she glanced around for
him.

“Upstairs, asleep I presume,” Harry said as he crossed his arms against the chill in the room.
Hermione walked over to the fire place and stoked the fire with the poker.

“But its not even ten,” Ron said as he reflected Hermione's earlier argument.

“I guess kids go to bed early,” Harry said shrugging. He was tempted to summon Kreatcher to
bring him a blanket or a sweater, but Harry knew Hermione would take offense to that. She was still
all about equal rights for all things inhuman.

“Harry, I hope you know, you can't keep him,” Hermione said. She was always the voice of
reason. “He is not a puppy that followed you home or wandered into your yard. He is a child.”

“His mother, Colby's mother, Celeste was Sirius' lover,” Harry said as he held the
letter for Hermione to read. Hermione took the letter and read it, moving one of the stupid
decorative pillows out of her way before she sat on the couch.

“Be that as it may, we don't know if Celeste even has rights to the child,” Hermione said
gently. “He should stay here tonight, but tomorrow we need to take him to the ministry and get this
worked out.”

“Herms, the ministry will put him in a home or orphanage,” Harry protested. Hermione placed the
letter on the cocktail table before her.

“It's not your decision, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “I would love nothing more than to
tell you to keep the kid, but that just doesn't make sense.”

“It's Sirius' son, Hermione, not just some kid. It's my fault Sirius died, and if
this is the only thing I can ever do for him again, then so be it,” Harry said defiantly. He
crossed his arms rather childishly and glared at her for a moment.

“Harry, think about it. Do you really want to be saddle with a kid for the next twelve years?”
Hermione said gently. “A child changes lives like no other action.”

“'Cept for death, of course,” Ron blurted out. Hermione glared at Ron. He blushed and
shrugged. “Well, it does.”

“What do you know about being a parent, Harry?” Hermione asked him, ignoring Ron.

“What does anyone ever know about being a parent? This is what Celeste wants, and this is what
Sirius would have wanted. If it wasn't for me, he would be the one with a six year old kid
upstairs,” Harry said. Hermione went to open her mouth in protest but she was halted by Harry's
hand. “No, Herms, I have made my choice. This is the only right thing to do.”

“You can't be serious. You can't just agree to raise a kid because you feel guilty,”
Hermione said outraged. Harry frowned at her.

“I don't feel *that* guilty. I am doing out of a sense of responsibility to Sirius,”
Harry said. “I hate to do this, but if you don't like it, Hermione, then you need not stand by
and watch me.”

“Are you kicking me out?” Hermione asked. The color drained from her face.

“No,” Harry said quickly. “I am just saying this is my decision and that is it.”

“Please, Harry. Think about this,” Hermione begged as she reached across and took his hand. “You
will be giving up the remainder of your youth.”

“I never had a youth. I was always destined to be the one who was wise beyond my years. I have
to do this, Hermione. You wouldn't understand. You have always had loving parents. This boy is
all alone, and at least I can try to give him what I never had,” Harry said. Hermione clamped her
mouth shut, knowing all to well that once Harry made up his mind there was not turning back. She
sat back against the sofa.

“Herms look on the bright side,” Ron said as he jabbed a finger at the dead house plant. “At
least when a kid is hungry or thirsty, it lets you know. It just doesn't curl up in a corner
and die.”

“Let's hope not,” Hermione said through pursed lips. She didn't approve but if this is
what Harry wanted, then she had no other chance than to stand by his side and be supportive.
Something told her that Harry was going to need all of the support he could get.

“Well, since I don't know when kids get up or anything, I better head off to bed,” Harry
said brightly as he pulled himself free of the chair. Hermione and Ron both nodded and Harry dipped
down, planting a kiss on Hermione's cheek. “Hermione, really, it is going to be ok.”

“I know,” Hermione said as she pushed him along the way. Ron rolled his eyes and headed to bed,
following Harry. He kept telling himself that it was fine that Hermione liked Harry that way, and
he imagined how Remus and Sirius felt when Lily chose James after all.

Hermione sat alone in the parlor, thinking about what it meant for Harry to have a child now to
care for. She hated to admit it, but she was feeling pushed aside. Harry was fooling himself if he
thought that he would have time for her anymore. Hermione sighed and headed off to bed. She knew
that tomorrow was going to be a long day. She could already feel it in her body. Things like this
made her feel like she was far older than twenty-two and that was disappointing.

A/N: So that is where Chapter Three leaves us. We know a little more of the household dynamics.
Yup. That is pretty much it. Let me know what you think.

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5. Boy's Magic
--------------



Boy's Magic

Already, a month had passed and Harry was still as clueless about the boy as he had been on that
very first night, if not more so. The child was unnaturally quiet. Even Mrs. Weasley had said so.
Harry wondered what his mother had been like, because this quiet temperament was unlike the
temperament that Sirius had displayed. Sirius had been cocky and self assured to a fault. This
child seemed to be in a permanent state of silent shock, polite to a T.

Colby was content to wander around the house alone, played alone with the few small toys he had
brought in his bag: two little die-cast cars and two plastic soldier men. Hermione would often come
across the boy huddled in a corner, back to the room, his toys carefully placed on the floor before
him. He would cringe when Hermione would rest her hand upon his head or back. Hermione wondered if
anyone had ever hugged the child.

“You can not ask him that,” Harry told her one night while they were resting in Harry's bed.
It seemed like it was the only time that either of them had together anymore, Harry taking the
night shift opposite of Hermione some nights so that someone was always at home with Colby.

“I know, but it seems odd that he is not welcome to touch,” Hermione said as she tucked her arm
behind her head. She knew she would have to leave the bed soon and head back to her own bedroom
soon.

“No one ever hugged me until I was ten or eleven, and I turned out alright,” Harry defended.
Hermione touched his check thoughtfully.

“Yes, you are alright, Harry,” Hermione said. She kissed him on his mouth, a smile battling at
the corners of her mouth. He murmured something and pulled her closer for deeper kisses.

“You are so lovely,” Harry smiled as his mouth nipped at her ear.

“You know, I have to go soon,” Hermione breathed excitedly. “We have to get up early to enroll
him at the public school.”

“Just a little while longer,” Harry teased as his hand went to the buttons of her shirt,
exposing a wider collar. His mouth kissed her neck.

“Maybe just a few more minutes, then,” Hermione murmured as warmth spread through out her
body.

A shatter of glass and a high scream devastated the otherwise silent house, waking the portrait
of the Matriarch of Black. Harry and Hermione rushed out of Harry's room, wands drawn, meeting
Ron in the hall. Hermione rushed to silence the portrait while Harry rushed into the room he had
given to Colby. The child was screaming hysterically; tear streaming from the blue eyes. The window
had been shattered from the inside.

“Colby! What happened?!” Harry shouted as he ran to the window. The cold air blasted through the
open window, their breath a visible haze despite the darkness of the room.

The child didn't answer. He continued to scream and cry, backing away from the window, his
big blue eyes trained on the destruction. Hermione rushed into the room, unable to silence the
portrait with the child carrying on so loudly. Hermione could see that she was going to have to
take charge of the situations. She snatched the little boy up and hugged him tightly to her.

“Colby, it is going to be alright,” Hermione crooned to the child as she patted his back firmly.
The screaming stopped first, then the crying. The child was limp in her arms, sniffling. Ron ran to
the portrait and silenced the screaming woman in it, pulling the curtains tight against the
portrait.

“I'm sorry,” Colby sniffled; his breathing coming in the short little gasps that usually
followed hard crying in children.

“What happened to the window?” Harry asked as he came to sit next to Hermione on the giant
bed.

“I don't know. I was here,” Colby said as he began to pull free of Hermione. “I was
listening to the wind and watching the scary shadows on the wall and I kept praying that the
curtains would just close. Then the window exploded.”

“Hmm,” Hermione murmured as she glanced from the boy to the window. “Well, we should move him to
another room until we can fix this window.”

“Maybe to the one next to mine?” Harry asked as he gathered the boy's blankets and bag.

“Probably a good idea,” Hermione said quietly as she gathered the little boy up and carried him
into the next room. For six, he was rather small and light.

Once the boy was tucked in, Harry and Hermione left the room and headed back towards Harry's
room. Hermione hesitated at the door. She knew she wanted to continue what they had started
earlier, but it was getting late and Hermione needed to get some sleep.

“What was that all about?” Harry asked. Hermione glanced at the door.

“That would be the boy's first taste of uncontrolled magic, Harry,” Hermione said quietly.
“At least we know that Sirius' offspring isn't a squib.”

“Small consolation, Hermione,” Harry said. “Now I have to get someone in here to fix the window.
Couldn't he have turned his teacher's hair blue or something, like I did?”

“Harry, honestly,” Hermione said. Harry grinned and kissed her.

“It'll be alright, and I guess I will have the `talk' with Colby tomorrow,” Harry said.
“You know the one.”

“Yeah, yeah, except neither of us got the talk until we were older, but still,” Hermione said
quietly. “You do need to address it with him. He can't be blowing up windows every night.”

“I know. I know, Hermione,” Harry said as Hermione kissed his cheek and headed back towards her
room. Harry glanced at the door of the room where Colby was now sleeping. He would have to have a
talk with the kid in the morning before they left for school about how magic was to be kept a
secret.

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