My mouth hung open in horror. Before me knelt a young boy crying. For that's what he was really – a young boy who had lost everything. He wasn't a well-respected Order member, close friend and ex professor, no – he was a shell of who he once was (or that's what the rest of the Order told me).
In the Death Room, Department of Mysteries, on 18th June 1996, Remus John Lupin knelt facing the eerie, foreboding archway into which his best friend, Sirius Black, had just disappeared. We had all watched in revulsion as Bellatrix Lestrange, mad woman and notorious Death Eater, fired the killing curse at her cousin. We watched as the darkly attractive man fell into the Veil, haunting grey eyes never leaving his godson's face. Remus had held Harry back as he tried to follow his godfather, but then had instead broke free of the professor's grip to chase Lestrange.
That was when Remus had quite literally collapsed. My heart constricted as the strong, level headed man broke down.
I understood though. He suffered as horrendous, incurable affliction, (which I don't think I could imagine the pain it caused) but I understood his loss. He had lost all his friends to the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters, in one way or another. I understood because I realized I would lose many friends and – Gods forbid – my family. I would almost certainly lose Harry.
I wanted to comfort Remus, but found I couldn't move.
Shell shocked.