As if the house, the photos and Harry's presence had melted his cold heart, tears well up in his eyes again, as they did back then, when he was at Albus" side, crying all the time. Grief for the years without him, for his teenage self who saw no way out but to push every thought of Albus aside, and for the people who wear themselves out in a perpetual search for him, fill his chest with a rich, cold stream.