Molly Weasley
He was dead.
She hated how that sounded. He wasn't supposed to die! He was supposed to live! He was supposed to live and get married and have children. He was supposed to live and run the shop with George. But he couldn't. He wouldn't do any of those things.
Because Fred was gone.
And he wasn't coming home.
How did this happen? She knew someone would die, after all, the whole family was in the Order! It was inevitable. But she wished and hoped that no one would...
Only hours ago, Fred was alive, laughing. Years ago, she could still remembering yelling at him and George for not getting enough OWL's. Had yelled at them for making products to sell.
How it all seemed so silly now. Such a waste of time.
She looked down at her son, sobs starting to shake her body.
Oh Fred.
Fred.
Fred.
Fred is dead.
Fred is gone.
Fred's not coming home.
Andromeda Tonks
She had lost everything.
Her husband, daughter, and son-in-law were dead and gone. She was alone.
All alone.
She reached down to stroke her daughters bubblegum pink hair. Nymphadora.
How Dora had despised that name. She had chose that name because it was unique. Just like Dora. A nymph was someone who could change and Dora did just that.
Nymphadora wasn't supposed to die. Never. She had just got married! She had a seventeen day old son.
Teddy.
She looked down to see her grandson, her late daughters son.
He looked just like Nymphadora. He inherited Nymphadora's heart shaped face, her metamorphmagus abilities. His eyes belonged to Remus, as did his nose.
She stared down at Teddy.
Because he was the only thing she had left.
Augusta Longbottom
Frank wasn't really dead.
But he was gone.
It was only his body left. No soul nor brain in which belonged to him. He was insane.
No mother was supposed to see her son insane.
It was a curse, provided by Bellatrix Lestrange. A single curse that stole her son and his wife from her. From Neville.
It seemed he keeps getting worse. He never remembers anything. She thinks he has intuition about them; that Neville and her are somehow related to him. He and Alice can't, however, place a name or relation to either of them.
She watched Frank and Alice start to decompose and dissolve into a body with nothing inside. Each visit brought nothing but pain.
Neville still went. It didn't matter to him that his parents couldn't tell who he was. It didn't matter to him that Alice kept giving him Droobles bubblegum wrappers every time they went there. It didn't matter.
She did care, however. She did care that her grandson's parents couldn't raise him. Or realize that he was their son. She did care. But she couldn't do anything. Damn them all, she would think to herself, damn all the Death Eaters who could be content with themselves for causing so much pain.
Because no mother or father should be around to give their child to the earth in a casket lined with satin.
No mother or father should see their child slowly lose their minds.
No mother or father should raise their child's child.
No mother or father should lose their child.
Because no child should beat out their parents in the race to death.