Ronald. Fleur and Bill standing at his side, his face no longer young but old and wizened, cut across with scars and bleeding strength through every pore. Behind them were still more fighters, all their faces streaked in sweat and grime, soot and cuts marring their skin atop mottled bruises. Ronald saw her there and tried to catch her later. Tried to come inside the room that she’d been given and was roughly repelled when she warded it from him.