He barely looked up as his brother arrived, not able to pull himself out of the pits of hell where he landed the moment Moody told him the news. But he did see the bundle on the table, and it was like daggers to his heart, to see them, to know.
He closed his eyes, turned it away and just shook his head. He couldn't deal with that now, he couldn't deal with seeing his son's things, with the physical evidence of his death. He knew it was illogical and unreasonable but he couldn't help the irrational feeling that if he didn't see it, it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Not his son, not Louis. But then he knew- his mind wouldn't shut down no matter how much his heart might wish it did. His mind knew.
He wasn't aware of crying, of sobbing like a little child, just of the pain raging inside him, worse than any loss he'd felt before.