Albert neither disliked nor liked Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office. To him, the man was simply a stranger—a stranger who might prove useful later. Nothing more.
Because of Albert, a cheat-enabled transmigrator, the original timeline had already been thrown into chaos. Who knew which direction things would take next? Even with his own gift for prophecy, Albert did not dare place too much faith in those predictions. He preferred to prepare for trouble before it arrived, leaving himself more room to maneuver so he would not be caught off guard by sudden circumstances.
If Sirius had not died, if Dumbledore had not died, if Amelia Bones and Scrimgeour had not died, would the entire wizarding world have changed beyond recognition? That was hard to say. Perhaps this world would become different!
Tom opened his mouth in a yawn and sprawled lazily across his cushion. Clutched in his paws was a little ball of yarn Hermione had used for knitting. Staring at the crystal ball on the cushion, he blinked curiously. Just as he was about to extend a paw, he felt a hand gently stroking the back of his head, and Tom comfortably narrowed his eyes.
"I've noticed you've been rather fond of watching the stars lately?"
Isobel entered the room, gently toweling her fiery red hair dry. Magic could have evaporated the moisture from her hair in an instant, but Isobel still preferred using a towel.
Of course, sometimes Isobel also enjoyed being looked after by Albert and letting him dry her hair for her.
"I learned astrology from Firenze." Albert raised a hand as though he intended to grasp the stars in the night sky, then smiled and took the towel from Isobel to dry her hair.
"And what did you see?" Isobel asked with