No, Gryffindor wasn't the source of her bravery. She had learned how to hold it in for Michael and Susan after Edgar and his family had been wiped off the face of the planet. Along with many of her other close friends, of course. In a sick, twisted way she was almost thankful she died during the second war. That way she didn't have to endure watching so many more people she cared about perish. It was a selfish thought in her opinion, but she seemed to be thinking many of those lately. After all, she had left Susan to deal with even more of her family being taken from her. It wasn't fair, but Amelia had learned early on that life didn't tend to be that way. Their current situation could attest to that.
"I know, I know," she sighed, shaking her head a bit and tugging at the end of her hair in annoyance. She knew he was right, but she was also right when she said he needed it too. He cared about her health after all, so why could she care about his? It was only fair.
"I've already been to him," she said with a slight shrug, tugging up on her shirt a bit to show the extensive discoloration there along with a bit of noticeable scarring from her brush with dark magic earlier on in the year. "Broken slightly, but healing. Just not as quickly as I'd like." Pulling her shirt down, she gave him a sideways glace. "Besides, this is nothing. You weren't here when Rabastan and Evan nearly flayed me alive," she stopped for a moment before adding, "It was an accident though, for the most part. And right now I just think the pain potion is wearing off. But I don't mind, really. That stuff just made me feel hazy, I don't like it. Not now."