There's nothing in her memory for that description to connect to, luckily for Harry, but even alone it's enough to raise her hackles slightly. "Of course he would," she says quietly, but she's careful to keep any bitterness out of her voice because she asked to know.

Her husband is dead.

"Your first year." She's leaning to peer directly at him, eyes searching his face for... she's not sure what. "I never wanted that for you." She never wanted any of the war to touch her child, and now he's telling her it took his childhood.