"Years?"

Rabastan lifted a thin hand to his forehead, pressing the tips of his fingers against his skin until both whitened. Dropping his hand away, Bast shook his head, ragged white hair flying.

"It wasn't years, Harry Potter. It was days. A week or two, I think. We went to the Ministry..."

Rabastan stopped there, eyes shifting to the side. One could almost see the hamster in its wheel that served as his brain running top speed. Either that or he was having a brief respite from his madness when that dark intelligence came through.

"They said different places and times. You could be from the same world, but another time. Severus... something was off with him too, wasn't there?"

He stepped back from Harry again as if distance would sweep away that wretched clarity that made him understand when he would rather not, raking a hand through his hair. His ragged fingernails scratched his own skin as well as his hair, leaving thin pink lines on the paper-thin flesh.

"Could it be that you're my future. So the Dark Lord didn't win?"