"Yeah, because you turned out to be worse than Uncle George with explosives and we lit Grandma Molly's sofa and curtains on fire," told Teddy, a tiny smirk at the memory forming, even as he noticed the other man's sudden deflation. Straight brown hair was always a clear indicator, whether Ted...Teddy, was aware of it or not.
But his attention was arrested by the man who was, apparently, his father...from before he was born...and on Al, who seemed to be having the nervous breakdown Jamie kind of wanted to indulge in, but was too well trained to let himself.
"Al..." he said evenly, reaching for his brother after putting his wand away. "Al, I don't think it's a joke." It couldn't be. They might have the same patronus, but Jamie had always been able to feel the difference. He knew the energy of that other stag as well as he knew his own. It sounded impossible. But, somehow, that was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, his father at an age from before he'd had James, let alone Albus and Lily.