She though of Harry and of how cruel his destiny was. His parents died when he was a baby, he was raised in an abusive household, the dark wizard that murdered his parents spent every year trying to kill him, until in the end he still had to die at the awfully young age of twenty-three. When he was born God must’ve thrown a coin that was more than unfortunate to him. Harry’s generation were all children of war turned adults of war, but no one had suffered as much as The Boy Who Lived did, and no one died as tragically.