You think you know someone

 Once he saw the visible outline of the Mark, he couldn't bear to look away. He knew he should, before bearer of the mark noticed him staring unashamedly at the exposed ink imprinted on the pale skin. But Albus had a hard time commanding his eyes to look elsewhere.

 Literally anywhere else would do.

 After his early breakfast, Albus spent the remainder of his free time chattering with Luna Lovegood while strolling the castle together as a way to evade his parents. Then the first period started. All sixth years that were taking NEWT level Ancient Runes had to collaborate together this morning, and suffice to say, Albus and a younger Hermione had a class together first thing today. Albus wished to steer clear of his family while he still could, so he moved to sit at the very back of the classroom where he and Hermione wouldn’t have to interact. But that left Albus stuck sitting next to his dormmate, Draco Malfoy.

 It was during that class that he had seen the Dark Mark in the flesh for the very first time. Well, a tiny part of it, but it still counts! As Draco held out the runes translating guide for Albus to aid him, the hem of his sleeve got caught across his left forearm, revealing very little of the Mark.

 Albus didn’t need to see it whole to know what it looked like. People from his timeline would only go so far as to describe it, and Albus had only ever seen pictures of it and heard many stories about it. Too many, in fact, that it was hard to tell which was the truth and which wasn’t. The Mark allegedly gave Death Eaters the ability to summon their leader. Albus grew up thinking that anyone who bore the Mark must never touch it without meaning to, or else the evil Dark Lord will rise from the dead to finish his deed of punishing them severely, and that was why some Death Eaters had gotten rid of it, though that might just be his brother, James exaggerating that bit.

 Scorpius’ dad and grandparents had the Mark removed from their skins before Scorpius and Albus were born, so all that was left of the Mark was the hideous scarring all three of them had on the same forearm. Other than the Malfoys, Albus hadn’t met anyone from his time who had the Dark Mark. Those who bore it had either died long ago or, at the very least, were facing a life sentence in Azkaban.

 Even as Albus took the translating guide from Draco’s extended marked hand, his eyes couldn’t help following the obscured Mark as Draco rested his left hand on the table before them.

 The Mark was now fully hidden. But if Albus were to try peeking from the right angle, he might just spot it. Since the only Death Eaters he knew had gone so far as to burn the Mark off their skins, Albus had quite literally never encountered the Dark Mark in all its glory until now. Could someone really blame him for having difficulty tearing his eyes away from it?

 He probably wasn’t so subtle about it because Draco eventually caught up with what was going on. He jerked his hand away from view.

 “What are you staring at, Potter?” The blonde hissed, voice filled with acid at the utterance of his surname. It momentarily reminded Albus of his first meeting with Severus Snape.

 Albus grimaced at the unexpected hostility Mr. Malfoy—Draco had toward him. It caught him off guard for a moment, but he quickly recovered. Reminding himself that there allegedly used to be a mutual hatred between his dad and Scorpius’ dad when they were younger. Albus honestly hadn’t thought it would be that bad.

 “Er, nothing.”

 Draco didn’t look convinced at all, but his eyes were less accusatory and more frightened. He was probably terrified of being caught on the very first day of the job as a Death Eater. Albus had the impression that he just scared Draco into having a silent mental breakdown. Still, he didn’t want to give Draco any more reasons not to trust him. Who knows? Maybe Albus could use his knowledge of his timeline to help people in this one, no matter what Dumbledore would say about that.

 Albus had to think of something fast. As far as Draco knew, he was a Harry Potter that came from an alternative reality where the Dark Mark didn’t exist. Therefore, seeing it shouldn’t mean anything to him. Whatever excuse he’d come up with had to match that notion.

 He knew what he was about to say might sound too blunt, but it should be enough for Draco not to be suspicious of him any longer. “Just thought it’s cool how you have a tattoo, is all.”

 Really Albus?

  It was too late now, he had to back up that pathetic excuse of a hoax. He added as casually as he could. “Though I haven’t got a proper look at it. Maybe you can show it to me some other time?”

 Instead of eyeing Albus the way he always did since yesterday, which mostly consisted of appearing as though he was smelling something foul, Draco just looked downright exasperated.

 Albus would have laughed from being at the end of receiving such a look if he hadn’t felt quite so bad. He knew exactly what that ‘tattoo’ meant to everyone, both here and in his own timeline. He could sympathize with Draco not knowing how to respond, so he decided to do it for him.

 “Oh! sorry—I didn’t mean to pry. It’s okay if it’s some sort of a secret tattoo you don’t want people knowing about.” Albus whispered. “I know this kind of gossip can lead to your parents finding out.” He gave Draco a look of understanding, hoping the other Slytherin would find it reassuring.

 He could see the confusion on Draco’s face come and go as he understood what Albus had implied. It was now replaced with an unreadable expression.

 “Well, better keep that information to yourself then.” Draco said curtly, though there was a desperate undertone to it that let Albus know exactly how nervous he was.

 Draco pretty much avoided him the rest of the day.

“Harry!” 

 Albus pretended he couldn’t hear the call from behind him as he exited the classroom.  

 Ancient Runes ended with many assignments for a first lecture that Albus thought he would have to spend most of his free period working on them. He hadn’t planned on starting now, but with Hermione trying to catch up with him after class, he was willing to give it a go. He needed a convenient excuse, so he started toward the library.

 He heard Hermione calling again, so he marched a little faster with the intention of making her lose sight of him. He needed to get to the library—no, Hermione might be heading there, too. Unless she didn’t have a free period after Runes like he did, then surly she wouldn’t risk getting late? If she was anything like his aunt, then she’d care greatly about punctuality.

 “Harry, wait!” She bellowed.

 Albus paused, scrunching his eyes shut while uttering a silent shit. He couldn’t feign not hearing her this time, he had to turn to address her.

 Half the students passing by turned curiously to stare. When they noticed Albus eyeing them, they hobbled hurriedly to their next class.

 “Yes?”

 He saw Hermione squarely facing him and his first thought was that her hair was the bushiest he’d ever seen it. It kind of reminded him more of Rose’s hair than it did his aunt’s. The Hermione of his timeline had her hair less bushy. Still frizzy but more tamed.

 This was the first time he would truly face his family here. Anxiousness did not begin to describe the unsettling sensation inside him. Why was he so nervous for? It wasn’t like Hermione opposed a threat to him or anything.

 “I, um,” She looked as lost as he felt. That realization helped settle his nerves a bit. “I don’t know if you know who I am, but I am a friend of your counterpart, which I know doesn’t necessarily mean you and I are—but—oh, perhaps I should introduce myself first—”

 Albus chose that moment to interrupt her. “I already know who are, Hermione.”

 She appeared startled to hear him speak, though Albus saw plain relief washing over her face before it quickly turned apprehensive. “Right. Of course you do.” She hugged her textbooks a little tighter, her fingers clenching and unclenching the edges repeatedly. A motion Albus had seen Rose do as a tactic to help calm her nerves. He tired recalling if his aunt ever did something similar, but his mind was blank. Perhaps Aunt Hermione grew out of that habit before passing it down to his cousin? “So, you know another version of me?”

 He thought about his aunt and cousin and started wondering who would be a closer twin to the sixteen-year-old Hermione standing in front of him. Rose didn’t look like a carbon copy of her mother like Albus was to his father (damn those Potter genes!) but their behavior was similar from what he could tell.

 “More or less.” He shrugged.

 She nodded as though she was already expecting that answer.

 “Um, and are you friends with your Hermione?” She asked carefully.

 “We used to be very close.” He thought about Rose as he spoke. “We don’t necessarily hate each other—I mean, you can never hate anyone you consider to be your family.”

 It was the truth. He and Rose might not be friends anymore, but they would never stop caring for one another the way family members always do. Albus knew Hermione would interpret his answer differently.

 Something about Hermione’s stance softened. Her hands stopped clinching the edges of her textbooks.

 “Oh.” She whispered wistfully.

 Albus didn’t want to appear nostalgic, but maybe that would be what Hermione would expect of him? After all, it was a known fact that Harry Potter viewed Hermione Granger as a sister. His dad even had to declare that publicly so noisy reporters like Rita Skeeter would stop harassing the two of them as they worked at the ministry.

 “Don’t you have a class to attend to?” He changed the subject after a moment of silence.

 “Don’t you?” She said with an air of authority while adjusting her books so that her prefect badge showed.

 Wow. Okay. That was a very Rose thing to do.

 “I’ve a free period.” Albus replied simply. He cocked his head toward a clock as he said, “The corridors are rather empty now.”

 “Oh, no.” Her wide eyes flew over to the clock. “Defense starts in less than eight minutes!”

 With that, she set off toward the moving stairs with speed one wouldn’t think it possible to possess for someone as short. Albus saw her stop for a moment to call for him. “You are taking NEWT level Potions, aren’t you?”

 “Yes!” He called back.

 She smiled brightly at him. “I’ll see you after break then!”

 She disappeared from view after that, leaving a slightly bewildered Slytherin in an empty hallway.

 That wasn’t so bad. He thought this innocent chitchat could have gone much worse, but he didn’t want to think too much of it. Better not jinx it.

Albus had just finished his required reading for Ancient Runes at the library and hadn’t the time to do much else before his free period was over. Now it had been time for break, which meant the library would start filling up with students, so whatever was left of his Runes homework had to be completed at Slytherin’s common room.

 Since both the common room and the Potions classroom were located in the dungeons, he predictably ran into fifth years that were coming out of their Potions class. And wasn’t it just his luck for it to be Hufflepuff and bleeding Gryffindor fifth years he had to run into? Why Gryffindors?

 He did his best to avoid being seen by the group. He knew he probably looked ridiculous. Why would a sixth year feel the need to hide from a bunch of fifth years?

 For the briefest moment, he thought he glimpsed a headful of red hair in the middle of a group of Gryffindors out of the dungeon. He naively thought he saw Lily walk past him for a dumb moment.

 Albus hadn’t realized until now how weird it was to see not only a younger version of his mum, but one that was a year below him.

 He shrugged that thought away. Having his mother being a year younger than him was hardly that different from having his father be the same age as he was. Actually, no. This was weirder. From the corner of his eye, he kept thinking he was seeing his sister. This Ginny sort of reminded him of Lily in an uncanny way. The way she talked and the way she held herself like a proud lioness. That was his bloody kid sister alright.

 Not for the first time, he had been hit by a wave of homesickness that even his pessimistic conscious couldn’t handle. How was it possible to miss people so badly? Or rather, why did seeing Hermione and Ginny make him think of his aunt, cousin, mother, and sister all at once?

 But Hermione was neither Aunt Hermione nor was she Rose. Just like the Ginny here had no relation to him whatsoever. This isn’t the past. He had to chide his silly, yearnful heart. And to keep reminding himself incessantly that he was stuck in a different timeline. A timeline where Ginny and Harry weren’t his parents. Where he didn’t and couldn’t have existed (yet?). And most importantly, they weren’t even his real family, he needed to focus on getting home. No matter how unlikely it seemed. He needed to adapt during his time here and do his best not to form any connections with his ‘family’.

 He spent the break writing his Runes essay, and by the time the bell rang, he had completed all of Runes' ridiculous amount of homework.

 He sulked through the dungeon to get to Potions early. He already knew what to expect once he got there. He should be anticipating being taught by Voldemort’s old professor, who also happened to have taught Albus’ grandparents and his dad for one year. Professor Horace Slughorn. The old wizard had already retired by the time Albus started going to Hogwarts and not much had been heard of him since. His parents used to joke that James and Fred were what drove him away, despite knowing his retirement had been irrelevant to the two’s weekly mischiefs.

 But Slughorn was not why Albus dreaded going to Potions, it was the Golden Trio. All three of them would be there.

 Albus was one of the earliest students to get there. He noticed how the air in the classroom had been thick with an interesting scent. It tickled his nose. NEWT level Potions, like Ancient Runes, had sixth year students from all four Houses stuffed in one classroom due to their limited number. It was as though more than half the number of students dropped from each House. And that’s Potions! It was supposed to be one of the most common subjects, like Defense Against the Dark Arts was!

 Professor Slughorn had been busy humming to himself while checking over his lesson plans and writing things on the board behind his desk. Not paying any attention to the newcomers. He wasn't the first teacher to do that. At some point, the beer-bellied man had disappeared into the storage room.

 Albus had already settled near the cauldron at the very end of the Slytherin table. It would be less easy to spot him from there. There were five of them sharing the table, so it was bound to get a little crammed. Albus saw four Ravenclaws gathering at a table, too. That left one Hufflepuff having a table all to himself.

 Just as Albus was about to let out a sigh of relief, he heard the Hufflepuff announce, “Harry!”

 Albus groaned in agitation, but before he could respond, he heard the Golden freaking Trio walk into the classroom.

 Albus held in his breath as he watched his father go to the Hufflepuff's table, who started talking about the Defense class all four of them had been to this morning. He mentioned something about the DA before he finally addressed Ron and Hermione.

 That was when Professor Slughorn decided to strut back into the classroom. He greeted the entire class zealously. The old man had seemed particularly interested in Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini, who was sitting on the other edge of Slytherin’s table, far from where Albus was sitting.

 Albus fleetingly spared a glance at the Gryffindors (and Hufflepuff) table where he noticed one of the students there eying the table that he was at.

 Oh, no. Hermione was looking over the Slytherin’s side of the room. Albus wished he could sink deeper into his chair. Once her eyes landed on their target, her face broke into a grin.

 Albus shook his head aggressively at her while mouthing ‘NO. DON’T’. Eyes looking widely at the back of his father’s head.

 Hermione’s eyebrows knitted in confusion before twisting her face into a disappointed frown. She looked down at her cauldron.

 But it didn’t matter if she did call on Albus or not, because bloody Slughorn did it anyway!

 “Ah! What an unexpected surprise!” He clapped as though he had just won the lottery or something. “We have a dimension traveler in our midst! Wonderful, wonderful.”

 Albus made sure he remained as obscured as possible. However, much like at Runes, all eyes drifted toward him from time to time. Only at this moment, their eyes were bouncing from him to Harry. Back and forth. Repeatedly. They probably thought they were sleek about it!

 Ron and Harry went to the front desk to ask Slughorn for spare books since they hadn’t bought their own. Albus himself had gotten all his books from whatever spare ones each classroom had. Which were a lot. Except for sixth year Potions for some reason, there had only been two copies available in the cupboard. Albus obviously took the less shabby one.

 As Slughorn led the two Gryffindors toward the storage room, Hermione gestured for Albus to come. She was being very persistent about it in a way to make it clear that ignoring her was not an option.

 Albus sighed through his nose and walked over there in defeat.

 The Hufflepuff next to Hermione had his eyes widened as he stared at Albus in awe. Albus felt uncomfortable at the attention.

 “Woah, you look almost just like him.” He said to Albus while continuing to gape at him.

 Albus snorted despite himself. How many times had he heard the exact phrase throughout his time at Hogwarts? Ever since he had been sorted—or maybe even before that. When he first stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express when he was eleven.

 “Ernie, stop it! You’re clearly making him uncomfortable!” Hermione hissed at the Hufflepuff, Earnie. She looked at Albus. “Don’t mind him, er, Harry.”

 “Call me Al—” He had to bite his tongue to prevent saying his full name. It was a habit he developed years before when he decided he did not like to be called anything other than his first name ‘Albus’.

 Hermione gave him a questioning look but shrugged. “Better than having two people go by the same name I suppose.” She clicked her tongue. “Why are you trying to avoid our Harry?”

 “Who said I was avoiding anybody?” Albus retorted without thinking.

 She gave him a scolding look that looked way too much like his aunt. His mind nearly tricked him into thinking that it was actually her. “I wanted to say hi to you, about, two minutes ago, and you just panicked!”

 “Maybe because I wanted to lay low, which Slughorn was too thick headed to put into account.” He folded his arm, feeling affronted.

 “Don’t you badmouth our teacher!” She said automatically. Yep, there was Rose. “Besides, you had been obviously looking at Harry.”

 Before he could try denying her accusation any further, two students came toward them with only one, albeit worn out, Advanced Potion-Making.

 “Harry, look. It’s your doppelganger!” Said Ron.

 “I can see that.” Was the cold response.

 Albus winced slightly at the familiar tone. It was how his father spoke to and about him when he was trying to hide his disappointment. Albus knew that his dad was disappointed in him deep down, no matter how many times he tried to deny it to Albus and everyone else.

 But why would this Harry have a reason to be disappointed in him? He didn’t even know Albus.

 He shook himself off his hunched stance to face Harry with as much confidence as he could muster, scowling defensively in the process.

 Now that they were within arm’s reach from each other, Albus had noticed a few—several—things he couldn’t have noticed before. He was no glasses wearer, but he could easily tell that those were the cheapest, and most outdated spectacles he had ever seen. The frames looked so tacky. Easy to break. Albus could tell just how inadequate the glasses were because his parents would never allow Lily to ware anything remotely like that. If fact, not even his father owned glasses like that. They were round like this one, yes, but they had thinner frames and were actually prescribed by Healers.

 Behind the shabby, old rims, there were glassy green shards cutting at him. Somehow it did not look like either Albus’ eyes or his father’s. Those shards for eyes looked dead. Albus hated how intimidating it was to look at them, so he forced his own eyes to wander some place other than Harry’s hardened ones. What he saw next was quite alarming.

 He saw his father’s infamous scar. But it did not look as faded as he was used to seeing it. No, the lightning shaped scar he was seeing now looked. . . raw. As if it had been bleeding not more than an hour ago and now looked disgustingly red and pronounced against the forehead it rested on.

 Albus wasn’t the only Potter fascinated by someone else’s forehead, it seemed. When Albus risked looking down at the unfamiliar green eyes, he saw that Harry had been studying his forehead.

 Albus stupidly panicked; afraid he had something there that looked just as ruinous as Harry’s scar. Then, Albus stopped worrying himself when logic came knocking into his head. Harry was staring fascinatedly at the absence of a scar. The scar that Albus did not have. What was wrong with him? Why was he becoming stupider by the second?

 While Harry seemed to openly study Albus’ entire form quizzically, Albus decided it was only fair to do the same.

 They had the same hair, no surprise there. Only Harry’s was a little longer while Albus’ looked trimmed in comparison. Overall, pretty similar. The difference Albus did not expect to find was the skin color. From first glance, one could tell that both had tanned skin tones. But if someone were to pay attention, they’d notice how his skin looked golden, rich from all the sunbathing he normally had over the holidays. Harry’s, on the other hand, looked pale. Sicklier, to put it simply.

 Another striking difference was their height. Harry was inches shorter than Albus! How was that even possible? They were supposedly the same age and all. But then again, perhaps Albus inherited his height from his mother’s side rather than his father’s. The Weasleys are generally a tall bunch.

 But that did not explain, in any way, how lanky the Gryffindor’s frame looked in comparison to Albus. And he and his brother were ‘thin’ as his grandmother liked to remind them during family dinner parties. She used to complain how Uncle Ron was the same when he was their age. But his grandmother had never talked about his father when he was younger. Because what was that? Albus was worried if he blew at Harry he might fall and shatter into tiny pieces like a delicate glass sculpture.

 Alright. Maybe that was an exaggeration. But it did not change how demeaning it felt to be intimidated by some pip squeak!

 “Should we do something? Or do we just let them keep staring at each other like that?” Someone whispered from the background.

 It took a second for both Albus and Harry to realize that the entire classroom had been looking expectantly at them.

 Everyone.