Watching the pathos-filled moment, Harry felt redness gathering back behind his irises. It was all he could do to keep from quaking with rage. Or stomping upstairs to ask Mrs. Weasley where she had tossed the corpse of that Bellatrix, bested by her in battle, so he could dig it up, bring her back to life and slay her all over again. He had to be grateful to Molly for taking out the sadistic harpy, even though it irked him that he hadn't gotten to Lestrange first.