Albus knew Sirius was innocent. You were enraged. You - James Potter’s own sibling - were denied custody of your nephew. You were furious.

Albus knew of everything. Everything he acted oblivious to. Every death he simply brushed off. Each and every teenager who gave up their time and even their lives for him.

Harry was one of Voldermort’s horcruxes and Dumbledore knew.

The cauldron that had previously laid home to your fury was now overflowing and crackling at the sizzling acid of your emotions.

You had stormed into Dumbledore’s office with contempt as you spoke of your grievances so loud the Dementors in Azkaban could probably hear you.

All the while? Dumbledore listened. He nodded. He netted his fingers. He shifted in his chair - you hoped from fear.

When finally you came to the grand crescendo of your arguments, Dumbledore lifted a calm hand to silence you and spoke.

“I did what I believed… to be best,” he stated calmly, looking over his half moon glasses at you with a cautious curiosity.

When you opened your mouth for a rebuttal he cut you off. The bastard.

“What’s done is done. I regret a fair few of my actions, particularly the ones that led to your brother’s demise but there is nothing to be done now,” Dumbledore considered you once more, preparing for your angered retorts.