You think you know someone

  This’ll be an interesting visit.

 They were to be led to the Department of Mysteries where the dimension traveler was certainly being kept. But before that could happen, everything should be explained to Ginny now that she had finally arrived. Harry saw the unimpressed look dawning on her face, and he could only wait in anticipation for her to start berating the Unspeakables, hopefully with questions. Which would happen any second now—

 “Alright I have to ask,” Ginny interrupted them mid-sentence. “if we need to know so badly how similar the world Albus is in to ours, why not just use Veritaserum on the so-called-Sirius?” Ginny had asked once she had been all caught up on the news.

 Harry nodded, grateful for his wife’s intervention. But also curious because that was a fair question.

 “Oh, believe me, I suggested we do that days ago when he refused to speak to us, unfortunately, we are only permitted to use such methods as a last resort.” Unspeakable Fawley said.

 “Unless Mr. Black is a main suspect of a crime, we need to use, er, less aggressive options before we even consider using a truth potion, and using this method needs to be approved by a higher authority.” Jones added helpfully. 

 “But in a way, he is a suspect, isn’t he?” Ron chimed in.

 “You know, Mr. Potter,” Fawley ignored Ron, “if you stubbornly do not wish to speak to our little intruder, then Jones and I can officially say we tried every method, which will permit us to use the Veritaserum—”

 “No! no, no, no.” Unspeakable Jones waved her hands frantically to stop her colleague from saying anything further. “That is not how it works, and you know it.”

 “Oh, fine!” The tallest of the Unspeakables grumbled before turning her attention to Hermione, not bothering to address the rest despite having all four of them follow her and Jones, “This way, Minister.”

 The two women lead the way, leaving Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Ron tailing a distance behind them.

 “What is her problem?” Ginny whispered to Harry, who barely shrugged in response.

 “Hmm, Unspeakables being all secretive and wanting to keep things as exclusive as possible? huh, it’s almost like they’ve got something to hide.” Ron quipped, leaning close to Harry to whisper to Ginny, who was striding on Harry’s other side.

 Ginny pushed Ron’s face away in retaliation, scoffing, “Well, I think they’re over doing it.”

 “Oh, I don’t know about that. Unspeakable Jones seems friendly enough, right Harry?” Hermione said. When Harry didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment to them, Ron gave a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

 “Huh?” Harry was too distracted by his own thoughts to pay enough attention.

 Hermione tutted before she and Ron switched places so that she was walking beside Harry. “Fawley has a point. You don’t have to go through this if you think it’s too much—”

 “My son is missing.” He said it as though it was all the explaining that was needed. Ron looked like he wanted to say something but stopped himself. He looked between Ginny and Hermione, asking silently for their help. Harry felt guilty at being the cause for such discomfort to his friends, and he had the ridiculous desire to cheer them up and not have them worry for him. “Besides,” He tried and failed to sound chipper. “This visit will be too interesting to miss out—I mean, we’re meeting someone from out of our world!”

 Even as he said it, he knew he sounded too fake to sell it, he could see it on their faces. It was just too hard to fake such enthusiasm. The others clearly noticed that but chose not to comment. Though Harry did hear Hermione’s familiar but fainter “Oh, Harry” and he felt Ginny’s hand being laced with his own. Ron smiled weakly but said nothing. And so they all remained quiet as they followed the Unspeakables to the place that Harry had nightmares of the most.

 He made sure to keep his head bowed down. Refusing to look at the familiar hallway leading toward the mysterious door that Voldemort had tricked him into having visions about at fifteen. But they haven’t gone through that door, no, they continued to walk past it, and when they did, only then did Harry dare look up. They seemed to be heading toward a large painting at the end of the hallway with a library as a background. It didn’t seem to be someone’s portrait, and if it was, the figure wasn’t currently occupying it. The canvas was nearly as tall as the wall itself. The two Unspeakables stopped in front of it.

 Jones drew out her wand and muttered a quiet enchantment before placing a palm on the painting. She then announced with an air of authority, “Unspeakable Jones and Unspeakable Fawley here, with the company of four.”

 The painting became more animated, and Jones’ hand appeared to sink into the painting as though it was no longer a painting but an opened door. She entered the framed canvas and the rest followed without question. Harry had been the last to enter, and when he did, he could sense the painting sealing itself from behind them. He touched it mildly to see that it was indeed solid, so no one could get in or out without an identification of an Unspeakable. He mentally noted.

 The library they found themselves in was clearly filled with books consisting of Dark Magic. Harry recognized a few books from Grimmauld Place he remembered giving to Hermione to ‘take care’ of. He shot her a look to which she said nonchalantly, “What?”

 “Nothing.”

 After the war, Harry had thought about burning No. 12 to the ground, thinking that could have made Sirius happy. He knew Kreacher would think otherwise, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to keep it. What Harry did end up doing to that place was cleanse it of all the dark aura it held. He allowed the Black’s House lf to keep whatever he desired from there before getting rid of all the furniture and dark objects. There were some cases where he had to take down an entire wall to make the house suitable for potential buyers. Mainly the walls of Sirius’ old bedroom that had posters on them with permanent sticking charms. Harry then used his money to buy from a muggle furniture store and made sure the house looked as non-magical as was possible. Only then did Harry reveal the house for all the muggles’ eyes to see. He would have preferred selling the house for a muggle family—an act he knew would be most demeaning and disrespectful for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, which was what Sirius would have wanted. However, Ginny had talked to Harry into using the building as an opportunity to rent it for muggles instead, and if one of their children ever decided to move out, they could have the remodeled Grimmauld Place to look into staying if they want.

 Harry had burned most of the Dark Artifacts from that place with the exception of the books, of course, for Hermione’s sake. Harry hadn’t a clue what she did with them all those years until now.

 The two Unspeakables paused to speak to a male colleague. He eyed the guests behind Fawley and Jones suspiciously before his eyes landed on Hermione, “Oh, Minister! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit here?” He said excitedly as he briskly made his way toward Hermione (practically pushing Ron out of the way, mind) to shake her hand, “Unspeakable Granger, pleased to meet you.”

 “Oh?” Hermione uttered in surprise as she shook his hand.

 “I know! Probably distantly related.” Harry noticed from the accent that he was not from anywhere near Britian, let alone from England. Unspeakable Granger was still shaking Hermione’s hand as he resumed talking rapidly, “I’m from Canada, but I was stationed here four months ago, and you can imagine my shock when I heard that I shared a name with Britin’s first ever muggle born Minister of Magic! I—”

 “That’s enough Granger.” A firm voice sounded from beside Unspeakable Granger.

 “Yes, ma’am.” Upon hearing Fawley’s order, he seemed to just realize he was still shaking Hermione’s hand. He sheepishly let go and apologized to the minister.

 “It’s alright. I suppose it is an unexpected coincidence” Hermione chuckled.

 Harry gave the man a quick scan, searching for any visible similarities to his friend. Granger was probably in his mid-twenties if not nearing his thirties. He had brown hair that was almost as bushy as Hermione’s, but that’s where the similarities ended. Unspeakable Granger was average sized and had lighter skin than Hermione’s, he looked almost pale in comparison though that was probably due to the nature of his job. Harry always thought the people that worked in the Department of Mysteries looked like they were deprived of proper sunbathing. Something he, Harry, had experienced firsthand in his early childhood. It was one more reason Harry had never desired to become an Unspeakable.

 “Unspeakable Granger is the one keeping Mr. Black company for the meantime.” Jones stated.

 “We found recently that Black is more amicable toward Unspeakable Granger than he is with the rest of us.” Fawley added with a cold note.

 “I wonder why.” Ron whispered low enough for only the four of them to hear, and Harry found himself snickering alongside Ginny despite his gloomy mood.

 Hermione glanced at the three of them with annoyance written all over her face. Though she didn’t let that show when she faced the Unspeakables, “I must say, to have two magical people from the same muggle family probably means the Grangers have plenty of magical blood in them after all.” Hermione had that gleam in her eyes they always had when she was discovering something new. Something that would lead her into doing long research on whatever spiked her interest at the moment. Hermione had once mentioned to Harry and Ron reading about the magical genes that existed in squibs and muggle families.

 “Yeah, maybe.” The Canadian said aloofly. “Though, in my case, it’s probably because my mother was a witch, so. . .”

 “Oh, you’re a half blood then?” If someone here knew Hermione as well as Harry, Ron and Ginny did, they’d instantly notice the disappointment attached to her tone.

 “Alright, enough chit chat,” Fawley turned stiffly to Granger, “we are here to hear Black speak, so do lead our guests to him now.”

 “What’s with the rush, Eve? It’s not like Black is going anywhere.” Granger said. And if looks could kill, Granger would be perished for referring to Fawley by anything other than her surname.

 “Just go.” She gestured exasperatedly for him to take over.

 “Alright.” He gestured for the others. “Follow me, I guess?”

 They got out of the library and went down a hall providing access to the examination rooms. They stopped at No. 17, the foreigner made a gentle rhythm of knocks before using his wand to unlock the door. Swaying the heavy piece of metal wide open, they each got in individually and saw themselves inside a domestically decorated room. It looked like a studio apartment, but really, it was nothing but a fancy cell. A cell used to keep a laboratory dog locked in.

 Harry’s eyes swept the room and stopped dead in its tracks when they landed on a man sitting drearily on a white fitted bed. The stranger wearing Sirius’ face stood abruptly when he noticed all the people cramming in. Harry couldn’t breathe.

 Ginny remained calm by Harry’s side, gently tugging his arm to remind him that he wasn’t alone. His heart was thumping so hard he was almost sure she could hear it. 

 Last time Harry had personally faced his godfather was via resurrection stone. He, Professor Lupin and Harry’s parents had walked him to his inevitable death that didn’t quite last as it was supposed to.

 But this man. . . he looked the way Sirius did the day Harry lost had him. This was the Sirius that was trapped in Grimmauld Place for nearly two years after being trapped in Azkaban for nearly thirteen. . . and now he was trapped here, in the Department of Mysteries, the supposed place of his death. This was the same Sirius that fell into the veil, only he was back!

 Sirius (—NO! Not Sirius) stared at the newcomers. He looked confused, unmistakable grey eyes moving from Ron to Hermione to Ginny until finally freezing on Harry, visibly filled with dozens if not hundreds of unvoiced questions, all swirling with a mixture of heavy emotions.

 No one said a thing. The tension was too much. This man looked so real. He was very much breathing and so alive. Even the Unspeakables seemed to know better than to break the tension. Harry was worried if he dared speak, he would breakdown and never, ever recover, so he stayed silent, which was unhelpful because everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

 Until someone else did.

 “Damn, either what those nutters said was true, or I fell into a coma for years and missed out on you growing up.”

 He even sounded like Sirius. 

 Harry still said nothing. He didn’t trust his tongue to speak because he was sure he’d start blabbing nonsense. He didn’t even know what to think. He felt something tighten its grip on him, or maybe he was the one holding himself? He wasn’t sure anymore, but it made him realize how much he had been shaking since he laid eyes on Siriu—not Sirius!

 Someone cleared their throat.

 Harry startled a bit, forgetting that he and ‘Sirius’ weren’t alone, but were, in fact, in a room with six other people.

 “Mr. Black.” Unspeakable Granger approached them. “I believe this is where you start answering questions as we’ve agreed. If you want, we’ll give the two of you some privacy before we proceed. . . unless Mr. Potter wishes for his family to stay?” The last part was directed at Harry.

 “They can stay.” Harry said after a while. He might actually collapse if he thought no one but he and ‘Sirius’ were there. If it weren’t for Ginny still holding him, he figured he would have done so the minute he saw Sirius—the other Sirius.

 Harry’s head hurt from this confusing reality, he had to contain his raveling threads of raw emotion or else he’d burst from them. He had to remind himself that this was not Sirius, and he, Harry, was not the Harry this Sirius had wanted to see. He no longer was anyway.

 Whatever this man thought of Harry, he didn’t know him over the past twenty years or so. He knew teenager Harry, so he only knew Harry through his worst. And even if it wasn’t the same Harry, he had a feeling from just looking at ‘Sirius’ that the other dimension was a mirror to the one he lived in. And this Sirius, indeed, knew an identical version of Harry’s teenage self.

 Harry hadn’t been his best during those times. And he never wished for any of his children to know of that. Sure, they knew all about his adventures growing up. Just as the entire Wizarding World did, but that was only because Harry and everyone else had sugar coated their stories and hid all the gory details without betraying the basic facts of their past lives. 

 The last thing Harry wanted was for anyone to know about his shame. Shame of the robbed childhood that forever lingered, like the parasite that was inside him for nearly seventeen years. At least Harry became better at hiding it with time and a little distance, but his teenage self wasn’t as discreet as he believed himself to be.

 He had tried to hide it at Hogwarts, but if one was to investigate and look too closely, they would spot the trace of uncertainty and insecurity hitched to his voice, and they would notice the sharp distrust of his eyes. If it wasn’t for Harry’s magic hiding the evidence by healing him as soon as possible, they would have easily seen the bruises of a belt and a frying pan after each and every summer. Harry could never retaliate during the summer in fear of getting expelled. Memories of summers before second and third year when he allegedly performed underaged magic had been all the warning he needed. So, he suppressed his magic the best he could during those days.

 Harry remembered how the Weasleys had forged their own conclusions on how he had been treated at his relative’s house, and how nearly accurate they had been. He never meant for them to know, but they found out eventually. Ever since the bars-on-the-window incident, Mrs. Weasley had made sure to pay more attention to him. To ask around and dig deeper into his business until the truth came out, and then all the Weasleys knew. Harry would never forget how they looked at him then. Like he wasn’t friends with the Weasley kids or Harry Potter the savior, but the messed up, broken boy he always felt on the inside. Aside from his in-laws and very few people, no one else knew, and he vowed to keep it that way. He had to. He was a father and a Head Auror and so he had to appear unfazed by anything, for his children’s sake if nothing else.

 Albus might have grown up knowing his father had once been named the Boy Who Lived Not Once but Twice—Dumbledore's favorite, the Chosen One, the savior and many other big names that Harry never asked to be called. But Albus never knew his father as Freak and Boy. Never knew him as the headcase that heard voices no one else did, who saw things no one else did.

 But he most likely does now. Harry realized.

 Of all his children to learn the truth of Harry’s façade, why did it have to be Albus? The one who already disliked Harry and thought lowly of him. Well, Harry thought sourly, whatever inkling of respect Albus might still hold for him was surely gone now. His son would see Harry as the fraud he was. Would he think of him as a freak like his relatives did? Would he be ashamed to have him as a father? Harry felt sick.

 No, he didn’t want to think of whatever Albus might think of him now. He wouldn’t. That wouldn’t help with anything. And anyway, Harry was probably overthinking this. It wasn’t like he was a hundred percent sure that the other Sirius’ timeline was the same as Harry’s past. Maybe the other Harry was more well-rounded and normal than he had been as a teenager.

 “rry. . .

 Harry. . .

 Harry?”

 Harry blinked. Everyone but the three Unspeakables (they most likely had left already) was staring at him expectantly. Like he had been asked a question that they were waiting for him to answer. How long had he been distracted for? He must have zoned out longer than it was considered normal because even Not-Sirius looked concerned.

 Harry felt a stupid need to act all hysterical. The situation was too absurd! He was in the same room as his godfather who was very much alive at the cost of his son being missing. It was such a cruel thing to happen to Harry! He was instantly reminded of his fifteen-year-old self. Swearing he would do whatever it took to bring Sirius back. And now? He did have Sirius back. But at what cost? Did some invisible power think it would be funny to trade Harry’s son for his godfather? Harry wanted to laugh until he cried, and cry until he died. The world was so cruel to him. Harry must be a bad person because why else would the world seem so desperate to punish him?

 “There were times I wished you weren’t my son.”

 He was a bad person, just like Aunt Petunia had told him so occasionally when he lived under her roof. What kind of monster says such a thing to his own child? Harry decided he was indeed being punished, but he would suck it up because he deserved it.

 “Erm, I’m sorry?” He blinked again.

 Right, he had to focus.

 “You alright there, Harry?” Harry felt his heart tugging with every word spoken. He nodded without looking at the other Sirius, whose voice sounded gentle. Harry wondered if his voice would remain in that tone once he realized Harry was the main cause of his death. “Blimy, you look like you’ve seen a ghost for the first time.”

Harry was instantly reminded of a conversation he had once had with a ghost ages ago. He remembered practically begging that ghost to believe that Sirius wouldn’t mind spending an eternity on this life that way. Not living, but always present. How foolishly selfish had fifteen-year-old Harry been. . .

 “Feels like I have.” It took Harry a brief moment to realize that that was his own voice speaking. When did it become so hoarse all of a sudden?

 “Yeah?” The other Sirius had a strained smile plastered on his face. “Same here.”

 That broke Harry off his shaky stance. “Really?”

 The question came out so casually as if Harry was simply catching up with an old friend rather than whatever was happening.

 The shaggy-haired man nodded. “I could’ve sworn that, for a second, I thought I saw dad—er, y-your grandfather.”

 Harry caught the slip. At first, he didn’t understand what it could’ve meant before it hit him like a cold fish slapping him across the face. Sirius had once mentioned to Harry that he had ran away from his toxic household and ended up living with the Potters. He said that they, Harry’s grandparents, had practically adopted him. Harry had thought at the time that it was similar to how the Weasleys had accepted him as their own even before he got together with Ginny, but it was much more than that. “Oh.”

 I look like my grandfather? It was a new comparison. Harry tried to recall who he’d seen in the Mirror of Erised aside from his parents. There had been many people, and one of them was one older man that Harry had thought shared the same knobby knees as his. He regretted not paying much attention to anything else, he was too focused on the fact that that was the first time he had ever seen his mother’s face to really consider anyone else’s. He had been told he looked like his dad by every person who knew James, which was probably why his dad didn’t get as much attention from his eleven-year-old self as his mum did. But what could that say about this Sirius nearly mistaking Harry for someone that wasn’t James? Did he no longer look like—

 His parents never lived past twenty-one. He had outgrown them. He knew that—of course he knew—but he hadn’t truly thought about it enough for it to sting—to cut like it did now. Because now, he didn’t look like James anymore but instead was what James could have grown to be. Other Sirius seemed to have reached the same conclusion because his glinting eyes dimmed remarkably.

 “That’s the Potter genes doing its thing, y’know.” It was Ron who spoke next. “If you saw Albus, you’d think you’re looking right at a younger Harry.”

 Harry, Ginny and Hermione all slowly turned to give the redhead identical, incredulous looks.

 Other Sirius looked suspicious at Ron before his eyes widened. “Ron?” They flew again to register all three figures that were with Harry as if he was seeing them for the first time. Or maybe he just forgot about them once he saw Harry. After all, he did think Harry was a dead person when he first saw him. “You’re all adults now.” Harry heard him mumbling to himself, but then he addressed Ron squarely, “What do you mean Albus looks like a younger Harry? The man’s as old as helicopters—actually no, he’s older even!”

 “He’s not talking about Albus Dumbledore, he meant my son.” Ginny said boldly. Harry noticed the other Sirius mouthing the word ‘son’ with a shake of the head, and there was a hint of a surprised smile on his lips. “He went missing about the same time that you appeared in our world, you see, and we think he’s at wherever you’re from.” Cutting right to the chase. Harry held her hand properly and gave it a soft squeeze, silently thanking her.

 Other Sirius had his head buried in his hand, groaning “You’re telling me the whole thing is not some cruel hoax? That the veil actually brought me to a different dimension?” It didn’t really look like he was expecting an answer, but Hemione gave one anyway, confirming his statement. He groaned again before he finally looked up and licked his lips, “A-and what? Is this the future? I mean—is your. . .” He waved a frantic hand around. “. . . is your timeline like some sort of prophesized future to the dimension I’m from?”

 “There’s only one way to find out.” Harry said, sounding a great deal calmer than he felt. “We need you to answer the questions the Unspeakables have for you. It’s the only way to know for sure how similar our worlds are, and. . .” He swallowed an unexpected lump rising to his throat, forcing his tone to turn steady and emotionless like his job required him to be. “It may be the only way to find my son.”

 The other Sirius looked like he didn’t want to say anything at all in front of the Unspeakables. He was suspicious of them, which was understandable, but one more look at Harry made him sigh in defeat. “Fine.”

 And just like that, the Unspeakables were called back in, and they started questioning him. With each and every answer he gave, Harry saw Ginny get paler and paler. So far, Albus had as good as time traveled over two decades to the past. Forget about Albus possibly encountering an unstable teenage Harry, their son was currently stuck during a period of war. Ginny had been strong enough for Harry since she got into the ministry, now it was Harry’s turn to be strong for both of them. He would compose himself and promise her that everything would turn out alright in the end, because he would make sure of it. But even as they went through that ordeal, Harry still couldn’t take his eyes off the man who was being questioned relentlessly.

 He had to keep reminding himself that there’s a Harry somewhere else who needed his Sirius. And if he could guarantee a version of himself would get to have his godfather, then he would do whatever it took to keep that Harry’s godfather alive for him. And hopefully, wherever Albus was, someone there was taking care of him for his and Ginny’s sakes.

 The Unspeakables had wanted the four of them to make an Unbreakable Vow, to which Hermione had fiercely argued against. Instead, they ended up making another kind of vow that consisted of signing a magical paper form, stating that they would not speak of what they’d learned today to any soul outside of the Department of Mysteries. One of the perks of that kind of vow was that it could be readjusted to suit whatever new turn of event should it needs adjusting.

 Harry hated seeing another version of his godfather being locked up somewhere yet again. Harry also hated the very idea of leaving him there, where he was probably being subjugated as though he was some kind of lab dog while Harry got to go to his comfortable home. It wasn’t fair! This other Sirius deserved that luxury more than Harry did! The last thing Harry wanted was to abandon Sirius’ counterpart in the clutches of the place where the Sirius of this world had died in, but what choice did he have?

 By the time they got home, no one was talking about the other Sirius Black.