"Hullo." The Harry Albus knows is a bit better at it but it's clear that Albus hasn't quite reached that point of grace: something wars in his expression briefly before he inhales slow and exhales slower, looking a bit as though he's trying to ground himself.

"Harry, right?" It takes a lot of effort not to instinctively say dad but it's easier, looking at him so much younger than he remembers. He scrubs a hand over his face habitually. "Sorry, yeah. You look new. Are you new? I've only been here a few days so I'm not a huge help."

A beat. "Albus."