Yeah, I Get A Death Scene, But

You Think The Dead We Loved Truly Ever Leave Us? You Think That We Don't Recall Them More Clearly In Times Of Great Trouble?

Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

Magic Causes As Much Trouble As It Cures.

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.

The Sky Was A Cold Iron-grey, Like The Underside Of A Shield. A Sharp Breeze Lifted The Hems Of Skirts And Rattled The Leaves On The Immature Trees; A Spiteful, Chill Wind That Sought Out Your Weakest Places, The Nape Of Your Neck And Your Knees, And Which Denied You The Comfort Of Dreaming, Of Retreating A Little From Reality.