You think you know someone

 Albus wanted nothing more than to be left alone. Why can’t his family take the hint?

 It was no secret that Albus was a bit of a black sheep in the perfect Potter family. His siblings and parents (though however unintentionally) did not miss an opportunity to remind him of that.

 Before the first semester started, his brother was declared the official Captain of Gryffindor’s quidditch team since the old Captain graduated. And while it was impossible to gain more popularity than being the golden child of a world savior and a famous league player could get you, James’ new position as Captain only made him more loved by the student body. It wasn’t only because of James’ decent Beater abilities that made him earn the position, but rather he was an impeccably good sportsmanship and was easily likable.

 Albus thought it made sense. After all, James Sirius Potter was the most extroverted character he knew, and though that trait could make James a bit obnoxious, there was no denying that he seemed the most approachable of all the Potters, including their father. So, it would make sense for James to attract people for who he was rather than only whose son he was. And that was something Albus could never relate to.

 James turned out not to be the only Potter like that. Their sister was in her third year now, and since the Gryffindor team was missing some of its Chasers, she was able to tryout and make the team. And that made her well-liked as well.

—If it hadn’t been clear already, Albus was never good enough of a player to make it to the team. In fact, he sucked at flying in general. When his cousins invited him to play near the Burrow, he’d tell them he found the sport to be tedious instead of admitting that he was shitty at it. But they already knew, that didn’t they? Why else was he always the last one chosen to be in each team. They only ever invite him to join because their parents probably forced them to. Kind of like how his aunt and uncle made Rose spend time with him on the train last year.

 If they only wanted his company to keep their parents off their backs, then Albus didn’t want their company at all.

 After the disaster that was his fourth year that led him and Scorpius nearly destroying the entire school, his father somehow used that as an excuse to ban him from ever seeing Scorpius—which was utterly ridiculous! Scorpius was his only friend, and his dad was being clearly unfair! If it were his brother getting in trouble with any of his friends (which they do), his dad wouldn’t think of separating James from them.

 That punishment didn’t last two weeks because soon both his mother and Scorpius’ father stepped in and gave his dad peace of their minds. Ever since then, Albus’ relationship with his dad had been awkward.

 Harry Potter would always try to talk to him alone, to try and ‘connect’ with him and whatever, and Albus would try his best not to be left alone with the man. It was for the best, really; their conversations usually ended with them being more upset at one another than before, so Albus thought he was doing them both a favor by staying away.

 “. . . Hogwarts desperately needs a new History of Magic Professor. . . D’you reckon Professor Binns will ever retire? Or at least, you know, teach something other than the goblin wars. . .” Scorpius’ voice echoed near Albus.

 The finals were exactly a week from today, which meant that the Great Hall had become quieter than it had been for months since everyone had exams to study for. This year was an OWLs year for Albus, which meant it was a NEWTs year for James, so the elder brother could be found busy having his nose buried in his textbook.

 No wonder it’s been quiet.

 Albus was sitting next to Scorpius as usual but wasn’t really paying attention to what Scorpius was saying. He was too busy looking over at the Gryffindor table across the large room. He didn’t notice until now how his cousins had practically dominated half that house, except for the few who were in Ravenclaw. . . (At least some ancestors from his mother’s side were Hufflepuffs, Albus was the only one of his entire family to ever be in Slytherin. Which was one more thing that associated him as the black sheep of the family.)

 “. . . Albus? Hello?”

 A pale hand was being waved inches away from his face. Albus blinked once, twice, before turning to his mate.

 “Err. . . sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” He mumbled lamely.

 He felt a tad guilty for not paying Scorpius enough attention as he ought to. The Malfoy heir was the only company Albus couldn’t bring himself to hate.

 Scorpius looked over to where Albus was staring a moment ago before facing him again, looking a bit annoyed. But Scorpius wasn’t Scorpius if he couldn’t keep a negative demeanor on his face for more than a second before switching to his cheerful self. Honestly, Albus thought, how could his dad think Scorpius of all people could have any bad influence on him?

 “As I was saying, I think that it would take Hogwarts being wiped out completely from the face of earth before Binns finally stops teaching about the goblin wars—honestly everything we study in his class is outdated.”

 Right. Today they were supposed to study History of Magic, which explained why they were suddenly discussing the Professor Binns.

 “You’ll never know, he might not notice that anything changed and continue talking about that war.” Albus humored him. “He seems to really enjoy it.”

 Scorpius gaped at him.

 “Are you mad? Everyone said he bored himself to death! I hardly think it’s possible for one to enjoying himself to death.”

 “Actually, my Aunt Hermione said the reason the rumor existed was because he bored one of his students into killing him. They probably thought they were doing the school a favor by murdering Cuthbert Binns in his sleep, so you can imagine their disappointment and shock when he showed up the next day to resume his lesson as if nothing happened.”

 Scorpius looked torn between wanting to laugh and ask more questions. At the end, he narrowed his eyes at Albus.

 “You’re making this up.”

 Albus returned to his dinner to hide his amusement at his friend’s reaction. It used to be easier to mess with Scorpius, but after years of friendship, he was able to read Albus like an opened book.

 “Maybe. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

 “I did ask him,” Scorpius gestured with his hands dramatically, “I always ask at the end of every lesson!”

 “And what did he say?” Albus was truly curious. He usually ends us falling asleep during half the lesson and not wake up until Scorpius slams his heavy textbook on their table. By that time, the ghost would have already left the classroom.

 “He pretends not to hear or see me, and then flouts right through me!”

 “That’s cold.”

 “It is, you have no idea how chilly it is to have a ghost pass through you!”

 Albus laughed. Though his expression quickly turned sour when he noticed Rose walk toward Slytherin’s table.

 “What now?” He asked irritably the same time Scorpius said a little louder than necessary: “Hi Rose!”

 Ross barely spared a place at his friend as she said indifferently, “Yeah, hi.”

 Albus noticed how shiny the prefect badge was on her school attire. It somehow looked shinier than it was at the start of the school year. He absently wondered if she polishes if regularly.

 Rose was the same age as Albus, which also made her a fifth year like him. They used to be relatively close before Hogwarts. Albus wasn’t quite sure why they fell out at first, but it was clear that Uncle Ron and Mr. Malfoy’s never-ending-feud played a role in that.

 “We’re having a study group later after dinner, you should join us,” She said neutrally. Then, reluctantly, she turned to Scorpius, she seemed hesitant as she added the next part “both of you.”

 So, another attempt at having the cousins interact? When would their parents stop trying to meddle with their lives?

 Scorpius looked like he wanted to accept, but Albus quickly answered: “Yeah, no thanks.”

 Rose frowned, but didn’t let go easily, “This is for our OWLs. I know you don’t usually put in a lot of efforts into your finals, it shows in your grades you know, but this year is important to determine what classes you’d take next year—”

 “I know what OWLs are, Rose—here, look—” He picked up what he hoped was Scorpius’ History of Magic textbook to prove a point. “—we’re studying already.”

 Rose rolled her eyes, clearly not buying that, “Your mum’s worried about your grades, Albus. And besides, nearly all fifth years agreed to join the study group.” When Albus started to retort, she said quickly. “We’re starting with History, too. You must come.”

 Albus felt a sort of betrayal toward his mother. She wasn’t usually one to express her disappointment in him. That’s his father’s job.

 “We’ll be there.”

 Albus glared at Scorpius.

 Rose looked surprised to hear Scorpius speak to her before she recomposed her face and nodded civilly at the other Slytherin.

 “Right, some of the other houses’ prefects and I arranged for an unoccupied classroom on the seventh floor for now—we’d usually study near the lake, but that’s for afternoons when it isn’t very dark out. . .” She proceeded to give them directions on how to reach the classroom before walking back to Gryffindor’s table.

 “She’s not ignoring me anymore. Told you your family will get used to having me around eventually.”

 Albus stabbed at his food with a fork, “It shouldn’t have taken them five years to do that.”  

Just as Albus suspected, they were the only Slytherin fifth years in this study group. Scorpius didn’t seem to mind—then again, unlike Albus, the Malfoy heir had always been an optimist. How did they ever become friends?

 Some of the Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors shot them questioning looks. It wasn’t necessarily an aggressive stare, but it did reek of the statement that they don’t appreciate having two snakes slithering among them.

 “I thought you said you and other prefects arranged for this?” He whispered to Rose once he approached her.

 Rose hadn't been lying when she said almost all of fifth year came to join, because they’re all here. Except for the minority which happened to be the Slytherin fifth years.

 “We did. It just happens that the Slytherin prefects kindly rejected the offer, though. Why else do you think I had to go through all the trouble of inviting you myself?”

 Had to.

 “You know we can just lie and tell our parents that we are studying together, we don’t have to actually do it.”

 Without missing a beat, Rose retorted. “Well, you better start earning good grades to prove that we are then.”

 They silently had a staring contest, and neither of them was close to losing when they suddenly heard the sound of a throat being cleared.

 Polly Chapman stood before them with a textbook in hand, clearly wanting to ask for Rose’ help. Albus took that as a cue to walk away.

 He made his way to where Scorpius was chatting animatedly with a Hufflepuff whose name could either be Brian or Ryan. He should remember which it was, the boy was one of the nicest students here.

 Albus sat in front of Scorpius, next to Albus was a Ravenclaw who was too invested in their book to notice him sitting beside them.

 “Hullo, Albus.” The Hufflepuff greeted.

 “’lo, Ryan.” Albus tried nonchalantly, hoping for the best.

 He shot him a nasty look. “It’s O'Brian. . again.”

 What is wrong with you?

 Well, Abus thought, this was going to be awkward.

An hour had passed before Albus excused himself to use the loo. By the time he was making his way back to the classroom, he heard an unfamiliar voice calling his surname from behind.

 Albus dismissed it, thinking that it was meant to call either James or Lily. He had made the mistake of responding to calls that weren’t meant for him numerous of times before. Eventually, it got to the point that he developed a habit of ignoring his surname, unless the caller made it clear that they were calling Albus.

 The calls grew louder. More urgent.

 Albus turned around but saw no one.

 “Yes?” He called to the empty hall.

 No response came.

 Feeling stupid, he made to turn and waltz away when he then heard the voice whispering menacingly in his ear.

 “Where are you, Potter?”

 He flinched violently, his neck hurting from the abrupt movement for craning it.

 Albus’ brows knitted in confusion and worry before he racked his head to form a plausible explanation. When he found one, gone was the look of worry and instead came an irritated scowl.

 “Jimmy, I know that’s you under the invisibility cloak!”

 He stayed quiet, hoping to hear the muffled laughter that James sucked at concealing.

 He could hear nothing beyond his own heartbeat, that was drumming in his ears for some reason.

 A silencing charm then.

 “For a wizard considered to be of age, you’re acting incredibly immature.” Why did his voice come out sounding so nervous all of a sudden? It was just his brother messing with him.

 Only James would have taken his cloak off so Albus could see him laugh openly at him.

 “Jim?”

 This time, a response. “—potter. . .”

 It sounded nothing like his brother. The Gryffindor wouldn’t be able to make his voice sound this shrill and high. If the urgent undertone of the calling voice was from anger or excitement, Albus wasn’t able to tell.

 Albus noticed a door that wasn’t there a moment ago. He immediately recognized it belonging to the Room of Hidden Things. He used to go there to hide from his bullies, which were mostly other Slytherins.

 Albus hadn’t gone there for a long time now. And he knew there was someone already using the room. How else did the door appear?

 But why was it still visible?

 Albus had his question answered once he got closer to the door. It was still slightly ajar, and he felt a chilling breeze that came from within.

 Albus was not sorted to Gryffindor for a reason. He was not stupid enough to get himself in ominous situations, and his guts told him that this was one. But then again, both his parents were Gryffindors through and through, and that was bound to rob off on him in some way. After all, his curiosity canceled the voice of reason in his head.

 He pushed the door further and let the cold air run freely around him. The room no longer looked the way he remembered it. In fact, there was no room at all.

 Albus’ legs moved forward on their own accord, wanting him to descend down the stairs that didn’t seem to have an end. Once he passed through the door, he felt the light from the hallway behind him disappear, and any sort of warmth disappeared with it. And sure enough, when he turned, he discovered that the door had already been closed. But he hadn’t heard it close. . .

 Something wasn’t right.

 The door wasn’t just closed, it didn’t exist anymore. Albus traced his palms over the wall in which a door had stood a second ago.

 It just vanished. . . He was trapped.

 “HELP!”

 He banged his fists at the wall.

 “GET ME OUT OF HERE!”

 No one could hear him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing to cry desperately for help.

 “PLEASE HELP ME!”

 When his shouts were met with no results, he took out his wand from his pocket, acting impulsively.

 “REDUCTO!”

 Not only was the wall not destroyed, but it remained unscratched. Albus knew his magic wasn’t grand compared to others, but he wasn’t that bad. The wall must have protected charms.

 Before Albus could take a moment to process his situation, he felt a shift happening from the ground beneath him. The next thing he knew, he was falling down a slide that emerged from the stairs that were previously there. He was sliding down, down a deep dark tunnel that felt like it would never end.

 When he reached a surface that wasn’t leaned, he almost cried out from relief. He thought the slide down would never end. Now he wished the slide never ended, because now, he was forced to face whatever was down here. . . where is here? He wondered.

 This should still be a part of the Room of Requirement, but Albus doubted that was how the room worked. He must be buried deep down the castle.

 “Lumos.”

 Albus realized that he was in a tiny room. In the middle of it, there was a huge veil that hung before his eyes. Albus noticed with a shiver, that the veil was the source of the coldness he felt.

 “Come here, Potter.”

 The voice felt even more unnerving thanks to his creepy surroundings that made that possible.

 It had been the veil was calling him, Albus realized, He felt a force pulling him toward it. But—wait, he didn’t want to—

 The veil was pulling him in. He tried to resist but it felt like his attempt only made the magnetic pull much stronger.

 Albus Severus Potter didn’t have time to scream before the veil swallowed him whole.

He didn’t know how long he’d been trapped here. The Lumos he casted lit practically nothing. All Albus could see from his lit wand was his own outline, but all around him, he was surrounded by pitch black.

The voice that kept calling ‘Potter’ told him to follow, but Albus decided that the voice brought him into this mess in the first place, therefore, it couldn’t lead to anything good. So, the Slytherin stayed put instead of facing whatever awaited him.

 Like a coward.

 No. He was being smart! There was no way to guarantee that the voice didn’t want to lead him toward danger. And Albus vowed from the moment he went through the veil that he wouldn’t act impulsively.

 A long distance away, Albus saw silver light coming from the same place as the voice was.

 His guts told him he should follow, but would it really be wise?

 Well, since when did it matter what Albus wanted? The blasted void around him was somehow pushing him toward the silver light.

 Albus clutched his wand tightly, summoning whatever shred of bravery he had as he braced himself for the unknown.

It felt like the opposite of passing through the veil. That was probably because he was quite literally exiting one.

 There were screams as spells went flying everywhere. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their own thing to notice him exiting the veil.

 Albus saw accusatory eyes staring at him.

 They were his eyes. And the person lying there looked like a zombie-like version of himself.

 What the—

 His other self looked like he wanted to tell him something, but no sooner had he opened his mouth than they both flinched at the familiar high voice calling for them.

 Other Albus had a stronger reaction to the voice than he had. His counterpart had his head bowed, looking like he was experiencing a tremendous amount of pain. Albus didn’t know how to feel about the scene. Should he go help himself? He automatically began to approach his other self, a worrying look planted on his face. 

 When other him raised his head and looked at him one more time, Albus saw something glimmer in those green eyes. Something inhuman. It looked like blood spots emerged from the pools of green until there was no green left to marvel at. The eyes glowed a crimson red like they were a shining set of jewels.

 What was this? Albus’ future? No, that couldn’t have been him. Abus didn’t wear glasses, for one. He had twenty-twenty vision no thanks to his dad, whose eyes were the only ones that looked identical to Albus’. . .

 Wait a minute.

 It felt like time had frozen.

 Albus’ brain was having a hard time putting two and two together. Even as he struggled to register what he just saw, there was more and more chaos befalling all around him.

 He saw the old, bearded man that he usually found in Scorpius’ Chocolate Frogs’ cards. It was the same man whose portrait could be found hung on the Headmistress’ office in Hogwarts. Only this man was real. His beard was real; Albus could tell from the way it flew over one of his shoulders as he was battling—

  This was too strange. What was happening around him was too much.

Albus couldn’t recall how he ended up in the office of the Headmistress, and quite frankly, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He figured this mystery should be the least of his worries.

 I don’t belong here.

 The office looked nothing at all as he remembered. Not only because of the slightly different decorations and the obvious lack of the two portraits of his namesakes, but also the broken artifacts and shattered glass surrounding him looked so out of place in the same way he felt at the moment.

 “I apologize for the mess.” The man of the portrait sat behind Professor McGonagall’s desk, fingertips pressed lightly above the table. “I would have preferred to have it cleaned before I removed the stunner I placed on you, but I believe the situation to be too dire to postpone any further.”

 The Professor Dumbledor gazed at Albus with such intense blue eyes that looked like it could see into his soul. Albus felt a shiver run through him. Being subjected to this gaze in person made Albus realize what adult meant when they said that the paintings did Dumbledor no justice.

 All Albus could do was gape at the tired-looking wizard, unable to find his voice.

 “Please,” Professor Dumbledor gestured at a seat at the other side of the table. “Let’s have some tea, shall we?”

 Albus couldn’t feel his legs as they moved on their own accord, they seem to do frequently lately.

 He still wasn’t able to speak. And when a cup of tea was offered to him, he gingerly accepted it. The warmth of the cup felt welcoming in his hands, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink it.

 “I have already confounded the majority of the people that saw you. Including Harry himself. Though, he may get a sense of his memory coming back if the two of you were to have another encounter. I hope we’ll be able to solve your problem before we let that happen.”

 Dumbledore seemed to wait for his input, and Albus chose that moment to finally gulp his tea, he felt how dry his throat had been up until now. The old man sighed.

 “I think we can both agree that you do not belong here, Mr. Potter.”

 A snort escaped from Albus before he could help himself. “Yeah, I gathered that much, thanks.”

 A twinkle flashed in the eyes behind the half-moon shaped glasses. “I believe an introduction is in order.”

 “Er. . . right.” Albus cleared his throat. “I may already have an idea of you are, Professor D-Dumbledore.”

 “Then I believe it is only fair that I know who are. Let’s start with your full name.”

 “It’s Albus,” He didn’t miss the slight quirk of one of Dumbledore’s eyebrows before it settled back in its designated place. “Albus Severus Potter.”

 Dumbledore’s face remained neutral. “Alright. . . do you mind telling me the identity of your parents, Albus.”

 “I don’t mind,” Albus said reluctantly. “you actually know them, sir, they are Harry and Ginevra Potter.”

 A pained expression flashed over Dumbledore’s, and Albus thought he heard the man murmur quietly under his breath. “I owe Minerva too many galleons.” before his face turned unreadable again. “Your date of birth?”

 Albus felt more confident than before. “It’s the twenty-seventh of August, 2006.”

 Dumbledore nodded his head. “And how did you end up here, in 1996?”

 Albus recounted his recent memories as best he could remember them. Dumbledore listened patiently, and only interrupted to ask the right questions, which encouraged Albus to go on.

 He mentally tried shaking off the image of his younger dad being possessed before his very eyes. But no matter what, he could never unsee what he saw. It’s been quietly nagging to him from the back of his mind, and now that he had finished telling Dumbledore of what he’s been through before he ended up here, he wished to be obliviated from the disturbing image that presented itself fresh in his mind’s eye. The image of how uncharacteristically weak and vulnerable his dad looked. It felt so wrong for Albus to see him in such state. Frankly, the Slytherin had no desire to associate his overbearing father to the broken teenager he saw earlier, thank you very much.

 “. . . D’you reckon a Time Turner can bring me back to my time?” If what he witnessed the moment he exited the veil was anything close to what he’s been told about his parents’ adventures, and if this was truly 1996, then there shouldn’t be any Time Turners left at the moment. He added quickly for a good measure. “If we build one that it?”

 “I’m afraid not, Albus.” Dumbledore answered quietly. “As you probably already know, all Time Turners were destroyed, and any means to make some more will take decades, if not centuries. Alas, even if we did stumble upon an available Time Turner ready for us to use, it won’t help bring you back.”

 “Why not?” Albus demanded urgently more than asked.

 Dumbledore looked at him sadly as he gave him a reply: “I have said it before, and I’ll say it again: you do not belong here. Not in this universe, and definitely not in this timeline.”

 No.

 Albus felt something in the pit of his stomach lurch forcefully. And suddenly, it was as though his heart had stopped beating, his lungs had stopped breathing. He forced himself to take several calm breaths to reconcile his reaction and not appear as drastically affected by the words as he felt, but that didn’t stop his eyes from dwelling with unshed tears.

 “Albus, do not think that this is the end. There are still other options we can look for—”

 A knock could be heard from someplace nearby.

 “Come in, Severus.” Dumbledore said.

 Albus wiped his eyes before craning his neck to look at the other man out of his currently nonexistent portrait.

 “Ah, is it already completed?” Dumbledore spoke to Snape, both of which seemed to be unaware of Albus being here with them.

 If Snape was perplexed from the mess Albus and Dumbledore were in, he didn’t show it. “It is.” His eyes slowly fell on Albus, and his face twisted into a cruel sneer. “So, this must be the other Harry Potter.” He said the name like it was single-handedly the most unpleasant thing to ever exist. “Just what this world needs, isn’t it? Another one of the so-called Chosen One strutting around, thinking he knows better rather than to listen to his superiors.”

 Albus blinked a couple of times, digesting this.

 Wow. He thought in astonishment. This Snape was even meaner than his portrait was. Who would’ve thought?

 Dumbledore must’ve sensed his confusion, though he might have interpreted it differently. “I couldn’t have modified the Death Eaters’ memories on my own now, could I?” He chucked lightly. “As you can see for yourself, Harry, so far only Professor Snape and I are aware of your journey to our universe. Professor McGonagall, along with Madam Pomphrey have also been informed of your situation, of course.”

 Harry.

 So now he’s supposed to pretend to be another version of his dad in front of the others? What kind of fresh nightmare is this?

 “We needed Hogwarts’ Mediwitch and Potion’s Master to collaborate in making several medications to ensure your health and safety during your stay—as for Professor McGonagall, I felt it is rather important for a Deputy Headmistress to be made aware of the situation here. You understand, don’t you?”

 Albus nodded slowly, mentally wondering how long exactly had been stunned for.