As Sirius stared into Dumbledore's eyes, the fury he felt suddenly disappeared, and a rush of sadness took its place. It was true; Dumbledore meant no disrespect towards Harry, and a profound realization seized Sirius in that moment. The man sitting across from him, looking old and weary, had been involved in so many battles, so many wars, and had seen an infinite amount of casualties. He had defeated Grindelwald and had led the fight against Voldemort during the First War, and was gearing up for a second one.
And it was because of all of this, Sirius realized, it was because of all the bloodshed, carnage, and violence he'd witnessed, that he was now numb to it. He could deliver platitudes, speak words of supposed wisdom to those who were grieving, but could not truly feel the losses anymore. His thoughts were always about the bigger picture, about who could be sacrificed to achieve the goal of defeating Voldemort. At that instant Sirius knew Albus still had a heart, still had a conscience, but it had been ravaged and spoiled by all it had seen.
A sigh of pure grief left Sirius's lips as he whispered, "I know." His voice was still hoarse, but it no longer had the venomous quality to it that it had before. "Albus, you need to understand, Harry's not doing well. He is emotionally taxed from his meeting with the Diggorys."
"I am sorry, Sirius," Dumbledore said, and Sirius knew the man meant it. "You know I never wanted things to happen this way."
"Neither did I," Sirius said quietly, holding the Headmaster's eyes. "But Albus, how could you not have known?" he asked, almost pleading with the other man for understanding. "Alastor Moody ... you two have been friends and comrades for so many years. How could Barty Crouch Junior have fooled you the entire year? An entire year, Albus, of staff meetings, meals in the Great Hall, conversations in the corridors ... how could you not have suspected?"
To this, Dumbledore simply had no response. He looked away from Sirius, almost like a child looking away from a parent when they were being scolded and didn't want to admit they deserved the disappointment. "There is nothing I can say that can truly make up for that error in judgment," he finally said, his eyes eventually raising and locking with Sirius's again.
Sirius sighed as the two held the stare for an indeterminable amount of time. After what seemed like an eternity, Sirius said, "I know you mean well, Albus, but there's something I don't think anyone has truly told you, and as someone who has failed Harry so completely for so long, I now need to be the one to put things right by telling you. Albus, when it comes to Harry ... you. Don't. Know. What. You're. Doing."
Dumbledore stared at him, and for a split second he looked shocked that someone would have the audacity to deliver such a statement. But the moment was so fleeting that anyone else could have blinked and missed it. Despite his now calm expression, however, not a word escaped Dumbledore's lips.
"I don't know what your plans are for Harry," Sirius said, and his resolve hardened again as he stared the other man down. Despite the fact that he now realized that Albus's psyche had been damaged by seeing so much war, and despite the pity and sympathy he felt towards this man he had once idolized, it only made his desire to fight for Harry a million times stronger.
"But rest assured," he said, his voice now not angry, but filled with a sturdy resolve that it would be impossible to break, "I will not allow Harry to partake in any of them which do not have his best interests at heart. You and I both know what the prophecy says. We both know that one day, Harry will go up against that despicable monster for the final time, and one of them will be destroyed. I will make sure Harry is the one left standing when the dust settles, Albus, but your machinations will not play a role in that. You think it is your duty to protect the wizarding world, no matter the cost. Well, let me make one thing clear, Dumbledore. My godson will not be included in any sacrifices."
And with that, Sirius got up from his seat and left Headmaster and war leader Albus Dumbledore behind for the second time in two days. He had told the old man, in no uncertain terms, that Harry would not be included on his chessboard.
The horrible, inescapable truth of the prophecy had bludgeoned Sirius again as he had sat brooding by Harry's bedside. It made him sick to his core when he thought about the fact that the entire survival of the world was due to whether his godson succeeded in defeating the abomination known as Lord Voldemort. He wanted to pretend it didn't exist, wanted to wrap Harry up in a cocoon of love and protect him from harm, wanted to shelter him from all the pain and trauma he'd suffered. Helplessness strangled him, and his stomach churned with nausea at the realization that there would be many, many more battles in his godson's future.
But he vowed, as he once again took his place by Harry's bedside, that he would make sure that Harry survived to see the end of it all, and not just physically either. He would work, with every bone in his body, to make sure that Harry wouldn't break emotionally. Sadness swallowed him up again as he thought of Albus, already broken by a life full of bloodshed. As he took Harry's hand and squeezed it in his own, he said softly, "I promise, Harry, you will always have me. Always."
And as minutes lengthened into hours, Harry gently slept on.