For a moment Albus just stands there. He knows who Sirius would be looking for and he swallows, considering his options. "No, it's," his brow furrows like he's not sure what to say.

Finally he takes a step forward, gaze almost hungry. "He's my grandfather." A beat. "James, I mean."

When there's a silence it's to just look at him. "Sorry that I'm not him," he says, and it sounds almost mournful. It's not clear if he means literally or being inherently different.