Kingsley was not fond of killing for the most part. But he had promised Harry that the man, yes Voldemort was only a man, would die as well as Harry if Harry died. When Harry had shown up dead, a limp body on display, Kingsley hadn't given up as the man had wanted. No he fought, he fought him. Someone else had finished the job, had actually killed Voldemort. Kingsley had blood on his hands, metaphorically beyond literally. And he would have taken more if it would have saved any of theirs they had lost. Kingsley didn't even know who all had died. There were so many bodies, all over.
"He was a good lad," Kingsley commented. He didn't...he did not want to consider whether or not he had influenced Kevin in a way that led to this, to his death. Kevin had already been on the run and organized and helping. But Kingsley wasn't going to wipe his conscience of it simply to feel better. If Kevin had tried to be like him, ...
"It is," Kingsley commented. His eyes closed a moment, and Kingsley began to feel the pain. Yes there was some pain, but his tolerance had always been high. More importantly, he had probably lost a lot of blood - was losing. Emmeline had a point. "Are you making sure no one steals his body?" he asked, feeling better just to have her company.