You think you know someone

 Albus really needed to start thinking things through before speaking. He used to be great at that, but since the whole mess the veil started, he seemed to have lost his touch.

 He and Draco Malfoy had quietly gone to the common room, casting a Muffliato Charm before the interrogation started. The only problem was, Albus had no idea where to begin.

 “Why were you going through my trunk?” Draco demanded.

 Albus started blankly at him.

 “Well? Explain yourself!” He said haughtily as though it was Albus who was the one in the wrong.

 “You don’t get to ask the questions here.” Albus crossed his arms, aggravated. “Not after you tried to kill me and stole an ancient artifact from the castle!”

 Draco looked at him as though Albus had smacked him across the face, but that reaction only lasted for a moment for his face twisted into a cold scowl.

 “I have no idea what you’re—”

 “Katie Bell said that the necklace was meant to be for me.” Albus said and with an air of finality.

 “So?” The blonde folded his arms in front of him and looked down his nose at Albus.

 Was he really going to play it that way? Albus had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the other’s audacity.

 “I know you gave her the damned thing, Draco!” Albus snapped. “Just like I know that Vol—” he bit his tongue before letting the name slip. He knew his brother had probably been pulling his leg when he said the Dark Mark would be triggered if someone said the name near it, but he wasn’t going to risk it in case that superstition bore some truth to it. “—You-Know-Who is threatening to kill you and your family if you were to fail the mission he assigned you with—which he’s counting on, mind you— because he wants to punish your father for failing to get the prophecy! And-and I understand that you’re scared. I mean, who wouldn’t be—”

 It all happened so fast. Draco lunged himself on Albus, pointing the tip of his wand to Albus’ throat in warning.

 “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco spat, pocking the wood deep to his skin. Albus could feel the magic ominously waiting for its owner to unleash it on him. “Don’t speak of what you have no knowledge of! You don’t know what it’s like—You, coming from a world where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named never existed! You have NO IDEA WHAT IT’S LIKE! SO DON’T YOU SPEAK TO ME AS THOUGH YOU DO! YOU KNOW NOTHING!”

 “He existed.” Albus breathed, voice barely a whisper. His heart drumming so forcefully in his chest, threatening to break out of his ribcage any minute. He knew there was no going back from what he was about to reveal, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “The Dark Lord, he. . .” He swallowed. “he existed once in my world. He’s been dead for over twenty years. My dad killed him.”

 Draco’s expression was torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to hex him right this second. Albus couldn’t blame him if he chose the latter. He knew how inane he sounded. Eventually, Darco settled on giving Albus a hard stare. “Liar.”

 “I’m not lying.” Albus sighed from sheer exasperation. “How do you reckon I know these things about you?”

 “You’re skilled in Legilimency. That’s the only way.” Draco said with such conviction that Albus couldn’t help but snort in self-deprecation.

 “I’m flattered that I gave you the impression I was a talented wizard, but I hardly am.” Talent was something someone like his parents and siblings would have, but not Albus. He was and always will be the black sheep of the Potter family. “You idiot, I’m not even a Legilimence!”

 Draco didn’t look convinced, and Albus suddenly felt tired from having a piece of wood pocking at his throat.

 “Move that thing away!”

 Draco didn’t move his wand. Instead, he pressed even harder. “What do you mean your father killed him. If you’re really telling the truth, then tell me how James Potter defeated the Dark Lord?”

 “He didn’t.” He uttered forcefully, green eyes unwaveringly maintaining contact with grey ones. “You-Know-Who killed James Potter way back in 1981, just like the one here did.”

 Draco’s raised his brow, face twisted in an unpleasant glower. “You aren’t making sense at all!”

 “I know, and I’ll explain later, but first we need to destroy the diadem. It’ll be the first step to end the war.”

 Though Draco’s expression became unreadable, his eyes were intense as they scanned Albus’ face fixedly, searching for something before he eased the pressure on Albus’ neck. “How?”

 The shift was barely noticeable but instant relief washed over Albus like a crashing wave. If Draco was willing to listen, then he was willing to keep an open mind, and maybe he’d even help destroy Voldemort.

 “There are three ways that I know of.” He answered. “Though the easiest option we have is also the most dangerous one, so we’ll have to—”

 Draco shook his head. “How would the diadem help bring down the Dark Lord?!”

 “Oh, that.” Albus kissed his teeth, knowing for sure that he ought not reveal that information just yet. “If I were to tell you that, then I need to know that I can trust you.”

 Draco scoffed. “You want to know if I can be trusted? What about you? If you aren’t a Legilimence, then how could you have possibly known the things you do about me?”

 “Honestly,” Albus tried to appear as nonthreatening as possible while he lowered the other’s wand with his index finger. “There’re things I know about you from my parents—those aren’t very flattering, by the way—but I also know other things about you that you—other you—told his son about.”

 Draco opened his mouth then closed it, a speculating look forming on his face. “How different is your dimension from this one? If my counterpart is a parent already?”

 “It’s really not that different. I just come from a different timeline.” He said flippantly.

 There. He’d said it. This in itself should insure Draco that Albus knew what he was talking about.

 “Then how are you sixteen?” Draco still wasn’t convinced though.

 “Because I’m not Harry Potter, you dolt!” Hadn’t he made that clear by now?

 “You’re a time-traveler, as in, Potter’s descendant.” Draco drawled after what felt like a long pause. His jaw clenched in distaste as he queried. “Why didn’t you just lead with that?!”

 “Gee, maybe because I’ve a Death Eater for a roommate who tried to kill me. How about you tell me why you stole an artifact that you clearly have no idea what significance it holds?”

 “You lied about being a dimension traveler!”

 Albus knew that Draco was deliberately changing the subject, but he also wouldn’t mind clearing some things up. “I am from a different dimension, but I’m also from a different time period. I only kept that part a secret, so I technically I never lied about anything—except for maybe my name. And a few minor things.”

 Draco seemed to mull this over before he finally pocketed his wand, he eyeing him contemplatively as he did so. “You’ve said that your knowledge of me comes from your parents and my other version’s son. How old is he?”

 “You or your son?” Albus said, knowing that he would answer both anyway. “His name’s Scorpius, and we’re the same age. Other you and my dad are the same age, too.”

 “Not much of a descendant than you are his literal son.” Draco stated with the exasperation of someone who had had enough rubbish to deal with. Albus was rather amused by the other’s tetchy attitude. “Unbelievable.”

 “Yeah,” Albus laughed uncertainly. “You take a minute to process that.”

 “Why would I and Potter allow our future sons near each other in anyway?” Draco censured, his lips pulled into a disgusted frown. “Does that mean we grow to be civil?”

 If by civil you mean my parents throwing a ferret comment whenever you’re around, then sure.

 “For what’s worth, he thought you’d make a cute ferret.” Albus said nonchalantly.

 “What’s cute is you expecting me to believe any of that rubbish.”

 “I’m not lyi—”

 He was cut off by a streak of glow hovering toward them. His hand was about to draw his wand to strike against the silvery blue blaze before realizing what emanated such glow.

 When the glowing figure slowed down upon reaching the two boys, Albus could note the sudden shift in the air as the Patronus filled it with comfortable warmth.

 Albus took a surprised step back just as he was greeted by the sudden appearance of a corporeal Patronus.

 “Woah.” He couldn’t help but utter in awe as he barely fought against the impulse to reach for the dog Patroni beside him.

 “Albus,” A voice Albus didn’t recognize said through the dog. “I understand that you do not know me, but I am currently in your timeline, which I do not belong to. Just as you are currently in mine. My name is Sirius Black, and—if this actually finds you—your parents are with me at the moment. They’re saying that they are desperately missing you, and they will stop at nothing to bring you back.”

 Albus had been too in trance with what was happening that he nearly forgot to pay close attention to the Death Eater in the room.

 Draco looked like he’s seeing a ghost, in the muggle sense.

 “If this message reaches you, you must send a response as soon as you master the Patronus Charm. It is the only way everyone from my end can tell whether this means of communication is effective. Your response may be the only way your parents can have an idea of how safe you are—or to know if you are alive at all—it has to be you who sends the Patronus, it’s the only way.”

 The dog flickered away, and with it the warmth vanished into thin air, though the insides of Albus still felt a little tingly from the Light Magic affect.

 Wow, so that had been Sirius Black’s voice. His father’s godfather. His brother’s namesake. One of the Marauder’s Map’s creators. One of the many, many dead people Albus had yet to meet—but that could wait. He still had a Malfoy to deal with.

 He shot Draco a look as if saying you believe me now?

 “So that’s what Al is short for?” Draco raised an incredulous eyebrow.

 “Shut up.” Albus could feel Draco judging his parents’ poor naming skills. “You better not tell your mother about her cousin being alive.” For all he knew, the Malfoys were still into Dark Magic in this timeline.

 “I don’t think anyone would believe me. I can hardly believe what I saw myself.”

 Albus agreed. It was bizarre.

 A conversation from a month ago came back to him. Of Harry asking him if he’d seen anyone in the void where he’d been before popping out in a different timeline. Albus had been so convinced that Sirius Black had been dead like the one in his world was, that he hadn’t taken into account that that might be just another way this world could be different than his. A world where Sirius Black survived (well, in some sort anyway). The heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black was currently stuck in a different dimension. Just like Albus was.

 It's like we switched places!

 Albus’ mind involuntarily went toward the topic of collision. He knew his own counterpart didn’t exist yet in this universe and was most likely to never will, but the same couldn’t be said about Sirius Black’s counterpart. Because once upon a time, there had been two of them before the one from Albus’ world died a long time ago.

 Albus considered how that Sirius Black had died. He never became a ghost, or had a sentient portrait painted after him. Not even his corpse was buried because his body fell directly inot the land of the dead, abandoning everything that had been part of their shared world. Uprooting his entire being from there by the Veil of Death.

 What were the odds of an Albus Potter and a Sirius Black not having counterpart in the other’s world? Boy, did they get lucky. If it had been someone else, a collision between their worlds would’ve been inevitable.

 “Your father defeated the Dark Lord.”

 He turned to the blonde, who, like Albus, seemed to be wallowed deep in his own mind.

 “Do you reckon his version here can do the same?” Draco said quietly. For once, there was no snark or a hint of a sneer on his face. Only sincerity that looked too similar to the Mr. Malfoy Albus had always known Draco to be.

 “He’s the Chosen One and the Boy Who Lived Twice.” Albus said with a bit of an eyeroll that was more of a habit developed over the years than him actually being derisive toward his father. At least not at the moment. “If he can’t defeat You-Know-Who, then I don’t know who else can.”

 Draco mouthed twice? But Albus didn’t care to elaborate on that. Now that he had Draco Malfoy willing to actually believe him, he was going to try to get the current Malfoy heir to trust him as he planned on doing since the start of the term.

 “Would you like to know a little about the future?” Albus said. “Well, a future. I can no longer pretend the events are going to turn out the same way as my world did.”

 Draco hesitated but then nodded quietly in anticipation.

 “You will save. . ..” Albus halted before correcting himself. “Your other version saved my dad a little over a year from now. There’ll come a day—maybe, I’m no longer sure things will be the same here as they were in the past—my past that is.” Drats, this is hard. “There will come a day that you will have to identify my dad in your house, so that the Death Eaters would know whether to call the Dark Lord and be rewarded for handing my dad over to him. But you lied. You knew who he was and still chose to lie. To save him. Because deep down, you wanted him to defeat the Dark Lord. You wanted someone to help get rid of You-Know-Who, and my dad was the only hope of that ever happening.

 “Even your mum saved him at the Battle of Hogwarts. She lied directly to You-Know-Who about his death. Told him that he succeeded in killing my dad when she went to check his corps, only he survived the killing curse somehow. He survived it again.”

“He has another scar now?” Draco deadpanned. The snarky attitude returning.

 “No?” Albus’ eyebrows inched closer. “I don’t think—you know what? It doesn’t matter how he survives the second time. All it matters is that he killed Vol—You-Know-Who and that I know how he managed that, which is why the diadem has to be destroyed. . .. Why do you have it anyway?”

 Draco seemed reluctant to tell him. But after a moment of internal rationalizing on his part, he seemed to have changed his mind at the last second. “When the Mark started burning, I thought that it’s because the Dark Lork wanted me to hurry up with my task—it wasn’t like he was expecting me to apparate out of Hogwarts, that’s usually why it burns for most Death Eaters—so I thought I should head back to. . . to where I had work to do.” He looked expectantly at Albus, testing him.

 “The Room of Requirement?”

 Draco nodded curtly. “Only problem is, the door has already been formed and slightly opened, so someone must’ve been using it. When I got in, it was. . . the room was the same as it would’ve been if I had gone to it. I was confused because I couldn’t hear or see anyone inside.” He stated with a look Albus couldn’t identify. “But I did notice the diadem on the floor right at the entrance. The only thing that was out of place. Almost kicked it, too. I thought—I heard once from one of the others that The Dark Lord kept an item hidden in the castle during the same year the teaching position for the Defense Against the Darks became cursed. They said something about an artifact that belongs to one of Hogwarts’ founders. And when I saw the diadem, I reckoned. . . it couldn’t have been a coincidence the Mark burnt when it did. I figured this diadem was the artifact he must’ve wanted to be kept hidden. And someone must’ve tried stealing it.”

 “Draco,” Albus said carefully. “you know that if he wants the diadem to be safe then it must be because of how much he values it. How important it is to him to keep it safely hidden all these years.”

 “But why?” Draco asked keenly. “What’s so important about it that it can bring about his downfall, like you said?”

 “I can’t tell you.” Albus said with a pained expression. “Not because I don’t trust that we want the same thing, but because I’m not sure it’s safe for you to know.” He scratched the back of his neck anxiously. “Er, does he know that you have it, or even know about it?”

 Draco thought about it before shaking his head. “He couldn’t have. Sometimes, the mark only hurts to remind me of what’s at stake.” He bitterly stared at his left arm. “Mother says it’s to motivate us to work harder.”

 Albus’ heart clenched in sympathy. It was such a cruel thing to have control over people like their lives hold little meaning aside from serving their tyrant master. Of course, Albus knew that some people had brought it on to themselves. By wanting to achieve barbarous goals they had in turn allowed themselves to be reduced by an extremist version of themselves. The ones that started this became either too proud or too scared to back down and, in the process, forced their children to follow in their unfortunate footsteps, creating a toxic cycle. But those could be broken if one was brave enough to rebel, like the Black brothers and nameless others had done.

 That was not to say that Draco was a coward for wanting to protect himself and his family. It was only in human nature for one to fight for their survival. And Draco’s position didn’t grant him the luxury of striking against Voldemort without death being imminent. Just look at what happened to Regulus Black for striking against Voldemort too late. Someone like Andromeda and Sirius had escaped such fate for having rebelled earlier in their lives before they allowed themselves to be brainwashed like the rest. If Draco were to start acting on his truest intentions, he would’ve met a similar fate to Regulus Black, who was already in too deep. The current Malfoy heir was stuck on quite a conundrum, and Albus wanted to help him.

 “All the more reason for you to know nothing of the diadem.” He said firmly.

 To that, Draco said nothing. He picked up the diadem that had been placed delicately on the couch throughout the entire conversation. He kept his eyes tranced on Ravenclaw’s artifact even as he handed it over to Albus. “How do we destroy it?”

 “You leave that to me.”

Getting to speak to Harry alone had been no easy feat, but Albus didn’t let that discourage him from trying to get a hold of him.

 Just because Albus knew how to destroy a horcrux didn’t mean he was certain to execute it. Better call the help of a professional after all. Especially since Albus wasn’t interested in performing a good Pestis Incendium to direct at the diadem. The Fiendfyre Curse might be the only accessible method for Albus, but it was also the worst one by his standard.

 The second option was the safest to obtain: Godric Gryffindor’s sword. It could only be wielded by a true Gryffindor, so someone like Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom would do.

 Albus caught Harry one afternoon near the lake. Like nearly always, the Gryffindor Potter was too entranced with whatever he and his two friends were discussing to notice mush else. The behavior was strikingly similar to how Albus was around Scorpius. The two of them were always so rapt with whatever they had going on that it became easier for them to ignore the world around them. A pang of wistfulness tightened his heart from seeing how close the Golden Trio were but he shrugged it off.

 “Hey, Harry!” He called as he was approaching them. Better give them time to shake off whatever had them so engrossed amongst themselves. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

 Ron and Hermione decided to be the ones to leave by making up an excuse, which Albus didn't pay enough mind for to listen.

 “What is it, Al?” Harry said measuredly.

 He could mask it all he wanted but Albus could tell just how nauseated he was to be in his presence. What did I ever do to you?!

 “There’s no easy way to say this, but can you ask Dumbledore to borrow Gryffindor’s sword?”

 “Why?”

 “Well, you’re a Gryffindor, aren’t you? It’d be suspicious if I asked for it.” Albus said in an attempt to dodge the question.

 Harry huffed in irritation, though this, surprisingly, had nothing to do with Albus for once. “I can’t even if I wanted to. He’s bloody left the castle.”

 Of course he bloody did.

 “Again, why do you need the sword for?”

 Like the case with Draco, Albus didn’t know how to start, so he decided to begin with throwing the diadem at Harry.

 He didn’t expect Harry to recognize it, let alone even know of its importance. But the other boy already lurched from the sight of it before badgering him with questions.

 “Where did you get that?” And because he was not done, Albus provided no answer. “Have you and Malfoy been working together?”

 There it was. That scathing tone he and his real dad had whenever they spoke of the Malfoys. Albus took a deep breath to prevent himself from being on the defensive. He was used to always arguing with his dad whenever possible, but this was not his real dad.

 He had nothing to prove to this Harry. He only needed him on his side. And if convincing him to trust Albus involved a little lying and scheming, so be it.

 “I saw him sneak into the dormitory late at night with it, so I nicked it.” He said. “I recognized it to be Ravenclaw’s diadem the second I laid eyes on it, so I knew he must’ve stolen it.”

 Harry eyed him quizzically before nodding. The mistrustfulness faded as he continued to ask Albus. “And you need the sword for. . .”

 That’s the tricky part.

 “Well, I don’t know much about why Draco Malfoy had it, but I can tell that it has Dark Magic tainted on it, don’t you think?”

 It was a bold move. Albus knew that much. But he also knew from stories of his dad and aunt and uncle’s camping days of horcrux hunting that it was possible to sense such things. He hoped Harry’s own experience with the diary would be enough to make him to believe Albus.

 “Y-you can feel it, too?” Harry looked very troubled. Albus assumed that this was working perfectly to his favor, so he didn't question the reason behind it.

 “I do,” He agreed seamlessly. “I read that Godric’s sword has enough repelling magic to cancel out the Dark kind. But it can only be wielded by a true Gryffindor.” He looked expectantly at Harry, willing him to put together the rest.

 “I reckon it’s in Professor Dumbledore’s office.” Harry mused to himself before looking up at Albus. “I know another way to destroy it, though.”

 “Oh?” Albus feigned surprise.

 “Yeah. I’ve encountered something similar in my second year. I destroyed it using er, a Basilisk’s fang. It doesn’t sound as righteous as Gryffindor’s sword, but it’s poisonous enough to, well, cause severe damages.”

 Albus raised his eyebrows.

 “Trust me. It’ll work.” Harry tucked the diadem closely to him. “Thanks for getting it to me—”

 “Are you going to the Chamber of Secrets? If so, can I come with?”

 Harry spluttered, “Y-you know—”

 “Hermione might’ve mentioned it once.” Not exactly, but she did mention being petrified for a slight duration of her second year. “From what I hear, you lot were up to a lot of adventures here.”

 “We try not to.”

Albus didn’t know why he was all that surprised to learn that Harry’s a Parselmouth. Because really, how else could he have gone to the Chamber of Secrets in the first place?

 Growing up, his family never really brought up the fact that his father used to be able to speak to snakes. Even though practically the entire Magical World had known that his dad had gotten some of Voldemort’s powers when he survived the first killing curse. When Teddy once asked if that had been true, his dad just shrugged it off after confirming it. And the topic pretty much was never brought up again because he wasn’t a Parselmouth anymore to prove it, so they’ve lost interest. It had gotten to the point that Albus just simply forgot that was a thing. So he was understandably surprised to hear Harry speak the language of the snakes.

 That explains the Grass Snake.

 He wondered if his real dad used to have interest in keeping snakes as pets back when he was younger.

 After he and Harry had slid down the tunnel, Harry had taken the lead to get them to where the Basilisk’s corpse was rested. Albus was so spellbound by their surroundings that the sound of Harry’s voice speaking inhumanly startled him more that it should. He was able to pronounce sounds that Albus was fairly certain no human vocal chords should be able to produce.

 Albus gasped when he saw the Basilisk. That thing was huge.

 Harry didn’t waste any time, he went straight to the giant snake’s head and used a piece of cloth to rip out a hand-sized tooth before stabbing the diadem with it. And just like that, Voldemort was four horcruxes away from mortality.