When next the door opens, a young boy of about sixteen happens to stumble through.
Upon first glance, one might think they recognize him - he's got the Potter signature looks after all (particularly the dark unkempt hair). He even has his grandmother's green eyes.
But on closer inspection, there are differences
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See, Cissa is five. Therefore, she is certain.
"Al!" she squeaks and waves.
Then blinks.
"You got tall!"
Cepheus and Scorpius are gonna be sooooooooooooo jealous!
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The little blonde girl who apparently recognizes him.
He swallows again, an entire speech questioning her identity and how she knows him and how all of this is clearly impossible written in his head. Logically and eloquently, even.
But in the end, all that comes out is: "Um - whot?"
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Holding a peculiar doll. As per the icon.
"Or you know th' other Scorpius. That one don't got me as a little sister."
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Pause.
"You - know me?"
And Scorpius too, apparently. Though Albus doesn't remember Scorpius having a sister.
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Sitting over there, reading a book.
He might be, one hazards to guess, recognizable. Or maybe he simply looks wizardly.
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So the boy - with wide eyes, now - simply blinks at the man. He is far too shy to approach him, though.
After all, he knows the meaning behind his middle name.
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Has to stop for a moment and perhaps stare quizzically back. (Snape does not gawp. Not anymore.)
Those are Lily Evans eyes... but that is not Harry Potter's face.
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Um. Quick. Look away. (Look away!)
Except Albus doesn't.
He does look a little scared though, for having been caught staring.
"I - um." Finally, he glances down at the floor. "Er. Sorry, sir."
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(Cal had been leaning back in his seat while playing games on his datapad. He is not anymore.)
"What am I wearing?"
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Then there is the question to address. (He isn't exactly sure what Cal means by it.)
And finally, there's the fact that this boy looks strangely like him - in some ways.
So, swallowing, Albus opens his mouth to say something, waiting for a sentence of articulate words to simply stream out.
"...?"
Nothing happens.
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He closes his datapad without looking down.
"You're not me," he decides. "--wait, are you my dad? Like, a teenage version? Oh, kriff, you're not my future kid, are you? I don't want a future kid-- no offence if you are, only I haven't even-- but that's not important."
Beat.
"Well, what's your name?"
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Finally, after a moment's pause, he manages to speak his name out. "Albus Potter," he replies, "I'm - Albus Potter."
He pauses, scrutinizing the other boy's features. He's seen pictures of his dad, so clearly this cannot be him.
Nevertheless, similar questions run through his head - only quietly.
"You ... who're you, then?"
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"Oi!" she calls out (and that's a habit she picked up from somewhere rather familiar). "Boy the Littler!"
Okay, so he's not that much littler.
Technically - if one were to get technical about it - he's her age, if anything. But still. That's hardly the point.
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Albus, to his credit, doesn't jump up and simply run back to his world.
No, he stays where he is - that is, firmly glued to the door frame, it seems - and licks his lips anxiously.
He glances around him, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from while people continue to come and go through their entrance doors.
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There is a distinct possibility that she's laughing at him.
Maybe.
Just a little.
(She does, however, applaud his bravery.)
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Albus hasn't left yet.
"I - I know that voice," he mutters to himself, instead. An image of his brother and a girl with very canine-like qualities comes to mind, sneaking down the hall to his room with arms full of snacks and sweets from the kitchen cabinet.
Glancing around again, he spots her by the table.
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