Corvin keeps walking. He walks right past the statue without even acknowledging it. Harry buries his face in the man’s neck so he doesn’t have to look at it. The sentiment is sweet, or kind, or whatever the hell he’s supposed to call it, and he does appreciate that people cared enough to put up memorials. But...it hurts to look at it. It hurt every time he got too close to it whenever he was visiting the village. All Harry can think about when he looks at it is that’s what it should have been like, and the thought cuts him so bloody deep.