Hey! This is my first fanfiction in years and I'm excited to be back :)

Warnings: Some foul language including f-bombs (not enough for the M rating, though), some character death and/or bashing (I haven't planned ahead, but those two tend to naturally come out eventually), and, probably most importantly: My ALBUS SEVERUS POTTER is not a nice, sensitive boy like Harry. He's a bit of an ass.

I have a theory that Al would grow up to outwardly enjoy his Golden Boy status, but inwardly resent it. He's not a prankster, but more of a "background" type of rebel without a cause. Minus the cliches, hopefully.

Enjoy!

(P.S. This'll be short because I only have 20 minutes before class.)

Chapter One

Hey You

The last thing he remembered was a high-pitched whine and then... nothing. Just darkness and the feel of cold stone beneath him. He considered himself a reasonable sort of guy- one that could puzzle his way out of most fixes or at least acknowledge how he had gotten into one. But it was like his mind was wiped clean and all he could feel was a vague sense of the world around him flipping.

He slowly opened his eyes, though it took enormous effort.

From what he could tell, he was at Hogwarts. But it wasn't really Hogwarts, if that makes any sense. It was like a string, tying him and giving him a place in the world, had been severed and replaced with some weaker, less tangible.

"Harry?" a voice called from above. His vision still hadn't focused and he could only see a vague blur of the girl standing over him. "Oh, God, Harry, are you alright?"

His brow furrowed and he concentrated on locating the distantly familiar voice.

"Who got my stick?" he mumbled in a daze, holding his hands to his head.

"Oh, God! He's gone mental!" Another voice wailed. "Hermione, did you see what happened? And we swore we would look after him after he was so torn up about Sirius! And look! Now he's tried to off himself!"

He saw that the overexcited voice belonged to a young red-headed boy that seemed to be on the verge of a breakdown. The one tossing around familiar names.

Sirius Black, he recalled.

"Harry," the girl said, leaning over him and gently helping him to stand up. Her big fluffs of hair got in his nose and his eyes burned when he realized that every movement resulted in sharp bursts of pain. "Be careful. Oh, Harry. What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened? Can't you see what's right in front of you? Oh, maybe we should get Dumbledore... or Fred and George. They're funny. They could cheer Harry a bit so maybe-"

"Stop calling me Harry," he replied sullenly, cutting off the red-head. "And for Chrissakes, shuddup for a moment, will ya?"

The girl pulled back in surprise. "That's not Harry."

"'S what I said, yeah?" He let out a loud groan and stretched his arms over his head. "Nasty fall." He glanced up and saw some of the familiar stairs slowly shifting above him. "How though, did I even get here?"

"Um... I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said, sticking out her hand. "I don't suppose... Are those Slytherin robes? You're not a student, are you?"

"Can't be," the red-head added in. "We've certainly never seen him and he's about our age."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you guys are really funny. Is that why you're calling me Harry? Role-play or something?" He turned to the other boy. "And I bet you're Ron, yeah?"

"Hermione's" look turned more puzzled than anxious, like the boy in front of her was a game that she had to figure out in order to be satisfied. The look sent a chill down his spine.

"Holy shit," he whispered. He felt a grin spread over his face before he could stop it. "No way."

"Ron, Hermione?" An eerily familiar voice called from above. "What are you guys doing? Are you okay?"

Albus Severus Potter slowly glanced up. And there, standing high with that old look of concern on his face, was sixteen year old Harry Potter.