"Yes, perhaps," she sounded as if she'd tasted something sour, though, and she turned to look at the portrait again, Albus snuffling quietly to himself in the frame, and sighed, sitting down her quill.
By the time she'd looked back to Remus, she looked aged somehow. Not old, but withered. "How is the Order faring? I spoke with Arthur and Kingsley briefly, but they've been far too worried with the Ministry situation. Death Eaters, roaming the halls there openly! Arthur can't go in any longer, of course...." She trailed off, shaking her head. They were all fragmented, unconnected. Something needed to be done.