Don't Call Me Nymphadora, Remus.

He Tried To Give His Wife Pleasure In Little Ways, Because He Had Come To Realize, After Nearly Two Decades Together, How Often He Disappointed Her In The Big Things. It Was Never Intentional. They Simply Had Very Different Notions Of What Ought To Take Up Most Space In Life.

He Had No Memory Of Ever Being Hugged Like This, As Though By A Mother. The Full Weight Of Everything He Had Seen That Night Seemed To Fall In Upon Him As Mrs. Weasley Held Him To Her. His Mother's Face, His Father's Voice, The Sight Of Cedric, Dead On The Ground All Started Spinning In His Head Until He Could Hardly Bear It, Until He Was Screwing Up His Face Against The Howl Of Misery Fighting To Get Out Of Him.

I Feel I Owe You Another Explanation Harry," Said Dumbledore Hesitantly. "you May, Perhaps, Wondered Why I Never Chose You As A Prefect? I Must Confess...that I Rather Thought...you Had Enough Responsibility To Be Going On With." Harry Looked Up At Him And Saw A Tear Trickling Down Dumbledore's Face Into His Long Silver Beard.

The World Had Ended, So Why Had The Battle Not Ceased, The Castle Fallen Silent In Horror, And Every Combatant Laid Down Their Arms?

Our Headmaster Is Taking A Short Break," Said Professor Mcgonagall, Pointing At The Snape-shaped Hole In The Window.