Exhausted.
Obsessed.
Hampered.
Heavy. He feels heavy.

Fifteen years spent dragging this weight along, like a ball and chain.
Fifteen years thinking about it. Brooding over it. Regretting. Bitterly. Painfully. Acutely.

A weight on his chest, a weight on his shoulders, a weight on his heart.
A weight on his soul.

Such a thin, skinny, scraggy body, dragging such a heavy, huge, boundless load.
Such a ripped, consumed, eaten up soul, afflicted by such a weighty, enormous, infinite burden.

The weight of guilt.
For having caused the death of his only love.

Remorse…

Or would it be the weight of Albus Dumbledore's trust?