Harry felt like he was seeing Sirius with new eyes, and it hurt. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Albus in his shoes, they did look so much alike, but he found it nearly impossible to put himself in Sirius’s. He would have done everything within his power to keep Albus from the Dursley’s - anything and everything, from kidnapping him and stealing him out of the country, to bewitching the Dursley’s and controlling their every move, to murdering in cold blood any witch or wizard who tried to keep him from his son. Rolling over and allowing Dumbledore to put him back with his relatives, and then not seeming to appreciate the significance of that, was something Harry could not identify with. Part of Harry pitied Sirius; he seemed frozen almost, stuck on the day he was first sentenced to Azkaban and never moving forward since. Harry felt as if two Sirius’s were alive simultaneously: the one he idolised as a child, and the reality in front of him. It was with a heavy heart that he accepted he would need to find a way to reconcile the two.