War left casualties even among the living. You learn to live with it, but you never get over it. Or at least he felt that way at this age. "Not just about the war." He gave her a sheepish little smile. He could almost laugh at the bratty, annoying little child he had been; that child had been innocent at least. Once he hit fifth year, he became someone almost unrecognizable even to himself. He could play Lucius, but he couldn't be him. "Of course you lot got in some good ones too." He still remembered a certain slug incident. It was nearly as bad as the ferret one.