Al had time to kill before meeting Roxy so he decided to get some air to clear his head. Usually he wrote or drew when he needed an escape, but lately his creativity reached an all time low. He knew it had something to do with his general sense of "neutrality" in the last few weeks, but what could he do about it? Maybe he needed the break. Maybe he needed time to just not care.
Well, he still cared. It was like caring through a tunnel, but the feelings were still there, buried below the surface somewhere. However, he still didn't know why he felt so little about the latest village stunt. Every reaction to every new age was mostly "oh, well, not unexpected" even as he reached out to offer his ear to others. He was personally affected, but he couldn't drum up any emotion. Maybe he was scared of getting hurt again. Whatever the reason, he definitely wasn't ready to deal with his eleven-year-old dad tugging on his sleeve.
He hadn't seen him in the Square so he didn't have time to keep the shock from his face. It was no denying who the stammering little boy was. Albus did look a lot like Harry although he had never been quite as thin (like any Weasley was going malnourished). Instinctively, he looked around, wondering if his mum was far behind.
Uh oh. "Hi, D-H- er, hullo, there." He couldn't call him 'dad' obviously, but saying Harry felt wrong too. He smiled and bent a little. "Are you alone out here?"