Harry had used up all six hours from his Time-Turner, and there were still no clues, and he had to go to sleep now if he wanted to be functional at Hermione's trial the next day.
The Boy-Who-Destroyed-A-Dementor was standing in the middle of the Hogwarts trophy room, his wand dropped at his feet.
He was crying.
Sometimes you call your brain and it doesn't answer.
The trial of Hermione Granger started on schedule the next day.
- Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, Chapter 79
My heart went out to him because for goodness sakes, no one should feel like this at eleven.
This drawing is rather rubbish, I think.