You think you know someone

 Albus Severus Potter truly believed his life could not get any worse than what led him to this moment. Little did he know, soon, things would take a drastic turn that would make him mourn for the time when Death Eaters and a Dark lord were his biggest concern.

 Since Voldemort had spoken to him, Albus hadn’t been brought out of the cell again. Not that he missed being in the same room as the Dark lord, mind. Once he’d been brought back here, he was able to breathe. The magical aura which radiated from his captor had felt oppressive if not a little suffocating.

 As relieving as it was to be away from Voldemort, being locked up was no picnic either. And having Bellatrix Lestrange snapping his wand right in front of him just because Death Eaters weren’t allowed to torture him yet was torture enough. He had no wand, and unless Grass Snakes could somehow evolve in minutes and develop poison, he had no means at all to fend for himself.

 He regretted not attempting to alert someone of this world of his state when he had the chance. He had been so consumed with nostalgia at the time that he had only thought to send a message to his mum. He told her everything.

 That had been, of course, before he and Voldemort had a little tea session two days ago (or had it been it three?) the Dark lord confessed to wanting to use Albus as a bargaining chip to lure his real father here.

 Albus had never felt so conflicted in his life.

 On one hand, if his desperate message really did reach his mum, it meant that his real dad knew he was in danger, and the man’s repulsive instincts to save people would kick right in. Who knows, maybe his dad might have even managed to get here somehow. Albus honestly wouldn’t put it past him if he did. If those auror missions were anything to go by, strange things always seemed to happen to Harry Potter at the most convenient of times. So, overall, Albus had no doubt in his father’s capacity to save him.

 If the stag form of Albus’ Patroni indicated anything, it was that despite all their estrangement, he would forever see his father as his sole protecter in the end.

 Unfortunately, Voldemort seemed reliant on the fact that his dad would come to save him, which made Albus wish he hadn’t sent the message to his mum altogether—hell, he could have at least sent a message to Ginny, or anyone from this dimension! They could’ve had the Order of the Phoenix informed of his whereabouts by now if he had!

 He spent two days in this cell cursing his idiocy and processing a few other things: a, Harry Potter was a bleeding horcrux, b, the food here was terrible, c, there were some really unhinged people in the premises, and d, Harry Potter was a horcrux.

 Albus slumped inside the cell idly, his eyes staring far off at the stone walls as he was still processing all that. At some point, Harry’s snake had slithered beneath the cell door with a dead toad, looking very content while feasting.

 None of the Malfoys were in the Manor given that Lucuis Malfoy was still in prison for what happened in the Department of Mysteries, his wife and son were both at St. Mungo’s for reasons unbeknownst to Albus. That left Narcissa Malfoy’s sister in charge, which was why Albus no longer had a wand.

 He wondered if he could somehow communicate to Monty that he needed him to steal someone else’s wand—

 What was that?

 There was a loud gong, and then someone shrieked, causing series of other catastrophes to possibly occur.

 Albus could hear the commotion happening far off as it echoed through the corridor. The sound of screams and loud thuds rang within the walls of the Manor. He got up and stuck an ear against the door cell, trying to listen intently to what was being shouted. They were most likely only spells, but he was trying to distinguish the overlapping voices, and trying to tell which of them sounded familiar.

 There had been a breach to the wards guarding the Manor. When that realization hit him, he heard a pair of heavy footsteps scurrying toward his cell. Albus was naturally suspicious. He pushed himself from the door, heart racing so fast, and scooped Monty into his arms before standing as far from view as he could.

 “STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR, POTTER!” Someone barked from the other side. Albus furrowed his brows but did as he was told, he was already out of the way, but he inched closer to the corner just in case. “BOMBARDA MAXIMA!”

 Albus ducked his head, shielding it with his elbows as the door—and an entire wall—exploded. His breath caught in his throat. If he had been standing any closer, he would have been a goner.

 “You alright there, Potter?” Asked a gruff voice.

 Albus peeked from where a wall used to be a moment ago, and gasped. He didn’t need to know much about that war hero to be able to recognize him. The magical eye spoke the name itself.

 “You’re Mad-Eye!” He blurted.

 “Yeh, let’s skip the pleasantries. Gotta hurry up.” Alastor Moody applied obscuring charms on Albus before he grabbed him by the arm to jostled him swiftly through the corridor. Despite the limping, the man’s movements were surprisingly rapid. Albus had to struggle to keep up. “You stay behind me at all times ’til we’re outta here. Can you do that?”

 Albus nodded fervently.

 The scene Moody led him to was very similar to the view that greeted Albus once he stepped foot out through the veil. Well, that was mostly due to Bellatrix Lestrange’s cackle in the background, but also because of the colorful spells flying across the room in various directions.

 Moody was overthrowing any spell that aimed toward them, shielding them the best he could.

 Albus stayed behind the former Head Auror as he watched in awe who could only be members of the Order of the Pheonix battling raging Death Eaters in the place that looked so dismal without Scorpius in it. Or maybe the Death Eaters’ presence was what made the inside of the Manor so morbid looking.

 However, what truly captured caught Albus’ rapt attention was the one-on-one duel happening a distance. The two most powerful forces of opposing sides were fighting each other, and neither party was interfering to help their leader gain the upper hand. It was as though they knew better than to stand in the way of the Dark lord as he fought against the allegedly only wizard he feared.

 Voldemort attacked in relentless viciousness and Dumbledore blocked each curse almost smoothly. Blue eyes twinkling when they landed on Moody and Albus for the briefest moment before he, with some difficulty, managed to steer Voldemort’s attention away from them. Albus’ eyes trailed on the corrupted hand of Albus Dumbledore until the Headmaster waved the Elder wand to create a semi-like vortex of energy, obscuring the two most powerful wizards in the room. The display of power was certainly a sight to behold, but Albus found himself too trepid from the sight of the cursed hand to appreciate the magnificent scene of raw magic of which, coincidentally, was destroying the fine furniture.

 He’s found and destroyed the ring already. Albus realized. He’s dying.

 But why? If Dumbledore had known that to be the fate of his counterpart, then why hadn’t he taken off the ring before destroying it? Albus had a feeling he knew the answer to that but had no time to overthink it as Moody instructed him to duck. Albus did as he was told absentmindedly, a curse flying over his head.

 If Albus still had suspicion regarding the wards’ solidity, then it was completely crushed when several loud cracks occurred. Some were of hooded Death Eaters, some belonged to uniformed Aurors, and some were trivially dressed people who were most likely Order members.

 “The wards are broken, anyone can get in and out easy. . .” Alastor Moody made the revelation, but Albus was only half-listening.

 War heroes Albus only knew by old stories or through their portraits were here. His breath caught when green eyes landed on three particular figures.

 First, there was the shock of pink hair peaking from the head of the Auror aiming her wand at the ceiling, a bright streak shot from the wand and struck the single wire hanging the peacock decorated chandelier on the ceiling.

 A loud crash occurred when the extravagant chandelier landed on top of three hooded Death Eaters, delicate pieces splattering across the floor, creating quite the image. Nymphadora Tonks used that opportunity to knock out the confounded three to eliminate their threat before proceeding to fight others.

 She soared straight to block the curse aimed toward the back of a salt and pepper haired man. A man whose face Albus thought looked very familiar. He’d only ever known him from stories and pictures. If Albus were to put aside the harsh scars, he would definitely be able to see Teddy’s face.

 Albus ignored the wistful pang in his chest as he estimably watched the form of Remus Lupin slaughtering who could only be Nagini with the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

 Teddy’s dad nodded toward Teddy’s mum in appreciation as she fought off his offender. The dead horcrux lay forgotten by all but its owner.

 The vortex broke with a powerful force by the Dark lord that managed to send a couple of people flying across the room, except for Dumbledore who, despite the visible signs of struggling, remained standing, his stance only wavering for a bit as he digested what had caused Voldemort’s emphatic outbreak.

 The blood-colored eyes shone in immense fury as they narrowed dangerously at the occupied werewolf, unaware to have provoked the full wrath of the Darkest wizard in the room. The air shifted into that suppressing quality that was so thick Albus could feel it weigh down on his very core, making it almost difficult to breathe.

 “I’m getting you out, Dumbledore’s orders.” He heard Moody’s grunt. “Have you ever done side-along apparation before, Potter? Hey—what’re you doing?!”

 Albus could not bear to watch Teddy’s dad fall victim to what Voldemort had in store for him so he, unthinkingly, snuck past Mad-Eye quickly to help with no wand on him.

 He barely made it seven feet away when he felt an instant tug stopping him. He thought Moody might have caught up, so he shrugged off the grip almost aggressively.

 “Albus, don’t!”

 “AVADA KEDAVRA!” The sibilant voice—the one that had called Albus to this dimension—bellowed, and the blinding green shot from the bone-white wand almost as pale as the fingers inclosing around it.

 Albus couldn’t have made in in time to help even if he tried—and he did try! However, it was at that very moment when the third figure Albus wasn’t prepared to see emerged from seemingly out of thin air to tackle Remus Lupin to the ground. The sword of Gryffindor clattered on the Manor’s floor a couple of feet away when Remus Lupin lost his grip on it.

 “S-Sirius!?” Teddy’s dad gasped, causing everyone near to pause momentarily to witness the supposed dead sole heir to House of Black bark out an unrestrained laugh as he helped his friend up.

 “You didn’t think a curtain will be the death of me, did you Remus?” The man said, mirth unmistakably tracing the sound of his voice.

 Albus had to double check to make sure his mind wasn’t making any of this up. Lest being held captive messed up his head. But it couldn’t have, it hadn’t even been a week far as he could tell. It was only the beginning of the holidays.

 Seeing Teddy’s parents alive was certainly a surprise, though not an unexpected one. But Sirius’ presence here somehow seemed more out of place than Albus’. He wouldn’t have ruled out the possibility of him hallucinating this if others’ reactions weren’t just as extreme, like gaping at Sirius and whatnot.

 Dumbledore had said something to draw the already incited Dark lord’s attention, and they were back to dealing with their cultivated animosity. More Death Eaters were tiling up on the werewolf, the metamorphmagus and the resuscitated man. Albus doubted they knew what made Voldemort seek Remus Lupin’s demise personally—no matter how brief a moment it had been—before Dumbledore redirected his wrath on to himself. Albus felt a slight wave of respect toward the old man despite himself as he watched his namesake put himself on the line for the sake of saving others. Albus knew the risk was real if the ruined hand indicated anything. He couldn’t afford to pay them any mind. If Sirius Black was here, it could only mean that he had found a way to meticulously travel through dimensions, which meant he could help Albus do the same—

 The hand Albus had thought belonged to Moody gripped him again, only this time it was firmer as it forced Albus to the ground before the curse flying toward him could strike him.

 “Albus, you need to focus.” A male voice hissed urgently next to Albus, making him nearly jump in alarmed turmoil. It was the unmistakably nagging tone preserved specifically for an unruly child by their exasperated parent.

 Dad? Albus did his best to suppress the swarm of contradicting emotions from bubbling at the surface of his mind (the brief yearning that gave way to instant preoccupation and an even briefer alation and then back to trammeling shock) to not distract his thoughts from centering on the single most important fact: You’re not supposed to be here!

 Albus could not see him, but the invisible hand he felt on his shoulder was enough for him to know. The grip felt almost crushing, it was as though he was afraid Albus might disappear at any given moment. And Albus couldn’t blame him.

 He saw the single outline that separated the outer layer of the invisibility cloak from its inner part. It was like discovering a crevasse through the air. The slash was too thin for someone who wasn’t as close as Albus was to notice it. That’s when the hand griping him through the cloak let go of him to emerge through the open crack, concealing Albus’ entire form by draping it with the now shared cloak.

 Albus couldn’t see the man’s face before crashing himself into the warm embrace that was promptly returned, and frankly, he didn’t need to see to know who this man was.

 “Are you hurt? Do you have your wand?” He heard his father’s hushed voice. He could tell that he was slouching uncomfortably to fit them both in the cloak fully as he moved them both away from the center of this chaos. Meanwhile, Moody was having a fit over Albus’ abrupt disappearance but got occupied quickly, though his magical eye didn’t fail to detect them both beneath the cloak.

 Albus shook his head raptly as though shaking off the hopeless feeling of loss, hoping that would be enough to convey the message. No, he was not hurt physically, and no, he had no wand, not anymore.

 “Alright,” If his dad wasn’t as close to his hearing range, he wouldn’t have been able to hear him at all over the gongs and screams. “you keep the cloak on—do not take it off, I mean it.”

  With brief reluctancy, he managed to separate himself from Albus, who was having a hard time letting go himself. With that, the man Albus knew to be his real father went off to join the trio standing over the snake’s decapitated body.

 Remus and Tonks looked askance at the stranger who seemed to be helping them while Sirius grinned in familiarity at the newcomer.

 The disguised dimension traveler was having a one-on-one with one of the most vicious fighters, it was a Death Eater Albus knew to be called Antonin Dolohov.

 As Moody was busy striking out Death Eaters while barking orders at Aurors (The Aurors in question complied despite Moody not being their boss anymore), the magical eye was keeping an unwavering watch on the place he stood beneath the cloak. 

 Internally, Albus hated the position he was in, hated not being able to help in any way. So, when an opportunity presented itself to him in the form of a petrified Death Eater a couple of feet away, he made himself useful by grabbing the poor bastard’s wand.  

 Like his dad, Dolohov was clearly a strategic duelist. Albus could see him trying to figure out his dad’s weakest point. As much as his father liked to deny it, their entire family knew that dad’s vulnerability lies with the knobby knees that grew rusty over time.

 So, even with dad’s stealthiness and built-up experience over the years only a Head Auror could accumulate, he could not hide the stiffness of his knobby knees. And someone as good of a fighter as Dolohov was would eventually notice that tiny detail. It was only a matter of time before the Death Eater would exploit it. 

 Well, not unless Albus had something to do about it.

 Staying where he was beneath the cloak, he inched the tiniest bit to have a clear shot at the Death Eater hounding on his dad. The wand felt strange but not uncompliant when Albus shot a bat-bogey hex at Dolohov once he found the clearance.

 Antonin Dolohov staggered backward in rageful surprise, clasping his nose with a hand while the other struggled with his wand.

 Dad’s head snapped to the area Albus stood at. He probably tried for a stern look, but a shadow of smile evident on his face betrayed that intent.

 Albus smiled, wishing he could take off the cloak to share this moment with his father properly. He couldn’t remember the last time he and dad had a moment of amicability toward one another like they did now. Pity it had to take being in the middle of a literal battle for that to happen.

 Unbeknownst to his dad, Dolohov had undone the hex’s effect. From the nasty look he gave to his dad’s back; he was clearly thinking that it was him who performed the hex. Not taking a minute to think that the spell couldn’t have come from him, he aimed his wand behind the other man’s back.

 “DAD BEHIND YOU!” Panicked, Albus shouted senselessly.

 Not many seemed interested in what the cry of an unseeable source had to say in a heap of distress, but two influential figures didn’t let the slip slide so easily.

 Dumbledore’s expression was unreadable aside from the calculating eyes he had glued on dad, which made him appear as old as his age dictated. Voldemort’s was just as unreadable, but Albus could have sworn that the monster had passed him, Albus, a triumphant smirk before the flashing reds narrowed into slits at the unsuspecting man who turned around just in time to fight off his attacker.

 Albus felt like pulling his own hair off his scalp. No, no, no, no, no,  nononononononono. . . stupididiotgoodfornothingidiot—stupidstupidSTUPID!

 This time, the hand on his shoulder was Moody’s, helping in shaking off the rueful state Albus was in if only briefly. He had to snap himself back to the present because mentally disparaging himself in a mantra would certainly get him nowhere.

 Things were just happening so very fast for him to catch up.

 First, Dolohov seemed to have caught his dad off guard enough to cause him to drop off a vial of some sort. And dad, despite keeping a painfully neutral expression, Albus was able to tell that the vial meant a great deal to him for whatever reason; the man looked like he was contemplating his life choices as some dark grey liquid smeared across the floor.

 Second, Voldemort had crucioed Dolohov, saying that the other man was his to kill and no one else’s, causing many others to stop what they’re doing to witness the abrupt fixation the Dark lord seemed to have on the unremarkable looking man, who was now on Dumbledore’s side.

 Albus wanted to go to his dad, but Moody had him pinned to the spot. All he could do was watch in horror as Voldemort hissed the wretched syllables.

 “Avada—”

 “NO!” His dad roared and the spurt of bright glow from his wand created a streak that connected with Voldemort’s wand. 

 The shared Phoenix core! Albus’ mind supplied. It almost made him sigh in resounding relief if things hadn’t taken a twisted turn.

 The thing about brother wands was that they wouldn’t allow their masters to harm each other, just like a wizard’s wand could not be used to harm its own master. . . and the killing curse that shot from Voldemort’s wand hadn’t been meant for Harry Potter despite him being there for once.

 It was meant for Dumbledore.

 The connection was instantly broken.

 The flash of green was so blinding it was near impossible to see which of the two men the curse had hit, not that Albus had any chance of seeing for himself. Alastor Moody chose that moment to apparate them out of Malfoy Manor.

 “W-w-wait! NO! Take me back—take-take me back!” He urged, not fully recovering from the after sensation of having his body squeezed and his stomach lurching uncomfortably. The cloak had slipped off him, revealing his head and the left side of his body as the right one was still being draped by the cloak. “My dad! Is he alive?! Is he—I need to go back!”

 Alastor Moody surveyed him coldly. Albus wouldn’t be surprised in the least if the magical eye could see right through him. The man’s disfigured face lost some of its edge (Albus couldn’t fully say it softened) but he remained stern as he addressed Albus. “Stay here.”

 He had disappeared from view, leaving a befuddled and scared teenager in a deserted ally somewhere in London. When the former Auror reappeared, he had someone with him.

 Moody looked a little shaken, but Albus couldn’t afford to fathom why, not when he was standing face-to-face to the hooded-eyed man that had come for him. He was frantically inspecting Albus for any sign of injuries before pulling him to a bone-crushing hug.

 Albus allowed his dad to suffocate him in this desperate hug. He was beyond relieved at the prospect of reuniting with a family member to care about his usual dislike for the overly display of physical affection. After all he’d been through, he felt he rather needed this kind of attention.

 After minutes had passed, his father released him from the embrace but held him at arms-length.

 Having recovered from the initial shock, Albus’ mind started buzzing with questions. “How did you. . .” Get here? Survive the killing curse again?

 “Just held my old mentor in my hands as he died.” His dad mumbled, his eyes closed as he shook his head.

 Albus felt a little guilty for not being as upset as he ought to be. A man had been murdered, there was nothing good about that. Even if the man in question had contributed to ruining the earlier stages of his dad’s life. And dad seemed pretty upset at having to witness someone he admired so get killed for the second time.

 Albus didn’t believe Dumbledore deserved to be mourned by Harry Potter, but he could not bring himself to undermine his dad’s grief, especially considering how much he idolized his old Headmaster.

 Perhaps that was the reason why Moody seemed so shaken up when he returned. He and undoubtedly many others were in for a shock. Albus could see the former Head Auror standing a little far off to guard their vicinity (and probably to give them privacy.)

 “Stupid Antonin made me lose it.” His dad had his head hung down as he continued to talk to himself. He cursed himself nonstop before Albus had an idea of what he was referring to.

 “Dad, relax, it’s just a vial.” He attempted.

 “No, it’s. . . a lot more than just that I’m afraid.” Dad said ruefully, taking one of his hands off Albus to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed deeply.

 He finally looked at Albus when he settled that hand back on him.

 “Alright. Everything’s going to be fine, Albus.” Again, Albus had a feeling his dad was mostly talking to himself. He looked so distraught and Albus didn’t know why other than it had something to do with the now shattered vial. It must have been important, he figured. “You’re going to be fine. Only one of us can go back, and it has to be you—that is non-negotiable. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but if I stay here, this universe will merge with ours, and the process will cause billions to die—I know this might be a lot to take in especially at a time like this—but don’t worry! Nothing like that will ever happen, I promise.” His dad spoke quickly, almost running out of breath. “But I have not come here to only get you home, Albus, there’s something I should do—all you need to do is j-just go to Sirius, yeah? Stay with him and. . . and he’ll help you get home, alright? He has your vial.”

 “What’re you talking about?” He was getting more and more worried the more dad spoke.

 His dad looked at him sorrowfully. “Albus.”

 The way he said his name was laced with so many emotions it was hard to tell, but Albus didn’t need to know how his dad felt in order to understand what was about to happen. He paled significantly. “Dad?” His voice quivered. Whatever it is you’ll do, please don’t do it.

 “You’ve been so very brave, Albus.” He said with a smile that was so achingly familiar that Albus’ eyes prickled at what it could only imply.

 It was the kind of smile that was reserved for when his father was about to embark on an exceptionally long trip. It was a ‘goodbye’ just in case. Not that Albus used to appreciate them for what they were. His dad had always managed to merge victoriously after each dangerous mission. He would catch the bad guys and save perfect strangers’ lives. And sometimes he’d disappear for weeks because his job demanded time from him. But he always came back. And he also somehow always managed to make time for family.

 The smile Albus was receiving now left him feeling immense dread. His dad wasn’t going on some auror mission now. He was going to face off against the Dark lord alone. He knew this was what was about to happen—because that’s his bloody dad!

 “W-what’re you—”

 “I’m sorry for not saying it often, but I’m proud of you. You are an amazing son, and I’m sure you’ll grow to achieve amazing things as an antiquarian—Scorpius told me about your dream, and I’m so very happy you’ve found something to be passionate about.”

 Albus huffed a watery laugh despite himself. Under other circumstances, he would have been tempted to bring up his OWL scores to boast. Now, he was just regretting not being the one to tell his dad himself about his hopes and dreams for the future. He was grateful his friend did it for him though, otherwise, his dad might’ve never found out.

 “And more importantly, I’m sorry for not being the parent you deserve. I’m sorry for saying the things that no parent ought to say. I know I apologized for that before. And I know I told you I never meant it, but I’ll say it again just for you to believe it, I never meant it. I love you, and there’s nothing you can do that’d make me love you any less. I only need you to know that. I’m fine with it if you choose to never forgive me—”

 “I forgive you. Just don’t go.”

 His dad’s smile turned into a grimace. Albus waited for him to say something like he’d be back in a jiffy. Because of course his dad would go anyway, but Albus needed him to promise that he’d come back, to assure him that they would both return home together. Albus waited for him to say something.

 Instead, he raised his hands to cup Albus’ face, tracing the tears with his thumbs. Not showing any hint of denying what was about to happen.

 Albus was involuntarily recalling Voldemort’s words. “. . . a self-sacrificial fool who thought his life worthed less than that of a house-elf.” He wouldn’t want to take into consideration what Voldemort thought of his dad, but wasn’t that the motive behind every of his father’s actions though? His need to save people regardless of whether he knew them or not, even if it got him killed in the process.

 Albus gulped to prevent the upcoming sob from arising. “You don’t have to do this. No one is forcing you to do this.”

 “I must.” His dad answered thickly.

 “NO!” Albus shook his head stubbornly, prying his father’s hands from his face. Now he was openly crying. His voice cracked as he said: “You’ve a choice! You deserve to live as much as I do!”

 He could see his dad’s jaw clenching for a slight moment before his eyes watered as he smiled fondly. He grabbed Albus’ head again to kiss the crown of his head. He whispered against his skin about how much those words meant to him, and how lucky he was to have him, Albus, as a son. When he let go of him, he disapparated before Albus could stop him.

Albus had been feeling so numb. He was aware of what was happening around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to be really present. He wasn’t ready to face anyone. To face the world(s).

 The One Who Conquered the Dark lord, they called him. All that the Daily Prophet talked about was how some unknown man managed to lure the Dark lord to the Flamel Manor, where a veil had been locked in. It was the kind of veil that Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel walked through to meet their deaths after giving up the Philosopher Stone to Albus Dumbledore. It was said the man either pushed the Dark lord through it and then followed or made the both of them get through at the same moment. Regardless, an unremarkable man brought the death of Voldemort and died too in the process.

 No one knew him or ever would. No one knew that the stranger was Albus’ father.

 But despite being a nobody, he was still a hero. It was as if that was what his dad was ever distained to do. To be the savior. His true identity didn’t matter to them, because they were not interested in knowing the man behind his fame.

 Albus would know, hadn’t he once been the same?

 He was sitting on a couch. It was a very cozy couch that he couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the warmth it radiated in the cold winter outside. There was no warmth that could ever melt the gloomy glacier inside of him.

 The man who introduced himself as Sirius Black had an arm wrapped around him as he they sat side by side. He wouldn’t seem to leave his side even as another man came in to talk to him.

 “He’s gone, Sirius, I’m sorry.” Said the man—Grandpa?

 “What do you mean he’s gone?” Sirius’ grip unconsciously tightened around Albus as though he might disappear at any moment and be gone too.

 “Molly said that he’d left the day You-Know-Who died. But before that, he’d been. . .”

 A long pause.

 “What?” Sirius said.

 Hesitance followed by even more silence.

 Then, someone else walked in.

 “What is it, Remus?” Sirius asked the other man when it became clear the first was not about to give an answer.

 “Sirius. . . you need to understand that Harry wasn’t well.”

 “What do you mean?”

 “He—oh Pads, I saw him and he—there’s something wrong about him. His eyes, they were a flash of red a moment—and I didn’t think much about it. I thought I imagined what I saw. But Dumbledore said he’d seen it too.”

 Silence again. Th man sitting beside him became so still, Albus thought he was petrified until he spoke again. “Where is he?”

 “No one knows.”