"He was eleven and the same kid the day after he was sorted as he was the day before," Jamie retorted, remembering his brother's face at breakfast that morning after the sorting. "Outside expectations for our sortings were bad enough. He didn't need his own grandmother passing judgement over something that wasn't his to control. And she's been cooler toward Al than any of the rest of us ever since, which is why it's easy for the rest of us, most of the cousins, to ignore her opinions." He still didn't understand how Sirius and Regulus could hate each other over what house they were sorted into. Brothers should always, always come ahead of houses.
"To paraphrase the old saying, just because they're out to get you, doesn't mean you're not paranoid," he teased with a snort, making sure there wasn't going to be any further magic coming from the chessboard before he moved closer to look at the tablet his dad had pulled from it's hiding spot. "Such as Death Eaters. Remember when I said your older self's drinking made him more and more unreasonably paranoid? Seeing dark wizards where there were none? I was serious. You were very thorough in rounding up all the death eaters after the war. Since I've been out of school, there have been maybe a handful of active dark magic cases, all involving foreign wizards or witches. Mostly it's objects inherited by family members who don't know what they have or recreational potions with unintended side-effects. I've seen more action the last two years as a cursebreaker than the aurors have. There have been threats ever since I was little and you always took them seriously. But, most were anonymous. Those that weren't turned out to be the usual nutters who feel threatened by anyone more successful or popular than they are, usually people too cowardly to actually act on their threats. They just like to talk big."
A bit more cautious than his father in handling it, Jamie ran a few diagnostic spells, analysing the magic of the tablet, any residual used on it, much as he had done with the letter his father had left for anyone coming after. Ascertaining it was safe, he ran his fingers over the engraved surface, tracing the letters and feeling for any sort of anomaly that could indicate something else hidden within the tablet. "I have a lot of baggage I'm trying to work through," he said quietly, picking up the threads of their conversation while focused on the work. "I meant it before when I said I'm trying to keep you as you are now separate from the man I knew as my father. It's not as clean as I thought it would be. You are what he used to be, the man who took me flying when I was little, the man from my happier memories of us. But, at the same time, I see glimpses of him in you, like with the obliviation after the memory swap. It hurt to think your secrets were more important to you, to realize that I learned more about my father in a week of having Uncle Ron's memories than I ever learned in the whole of my lifetime before this."
Pausing, he looked up. "What I'm trying to say is that I don't know if it's possible for us to get to know each other and skip that discussion. My relationship with your future self, or lack thereof, is a big part of who I am. Who he was, the things he did, and the way I responded...it's all tied together. But, I want the chance to finally get to know you, even if you're never the man I left behind in 2038. I know it won't be the sort of father-son relationship I've wanted. But, maybe someday we could learn to trust each other?" Because he knew they didn't. He was still expecting this version of his dad to react like the older version. And, his dad was clearly expecting Jamie to react badly to things, if their mutual explanations were anything to go by...or the fact his dad was hesitating in even offering to spend time together.