Change of Heart

by Lplus

During the late summer of 1996 and the first term of his sixth year, Harry Potter wrestles with the machinations of his enemies, the growth of his powers and the consequences of a Change of Heart HT then HG also RHr COMPLETE at last.

22. Ministry and Medicine

Ch 22: - Ministry and Medicine

The portkey deposited Harry and Professor Dumbledore in the middle of a marked out patch of floor, in the main entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic. Harry immediately felt the pressure of the events of the summer, as he remembered the last time he had been in this hall.

Sirius, slipping beyond the veil, in the chamber far below;

His first use of the Crucio curse on Bellatrix Lestrange;

The agony of Voldemort possessing him.

Harry had known the memories were just waiting to burst back out, but the power they still held was far greater than he had dreamed. He shuddered as Dumbledore guided him clear of the portkey reception square.

Dumbledore looked at him closely, but seemed to mistake his tremor for worry about the hearing. 'Don't worry, Harry,' he said kindly, 'I'm sure we will have no trouble.' He stopped and turned himself and Harry to look down the length of the silent hall. The sigils inlaid into the peacock blue roof were twisting and changing just the way Harry remembered, but the statues around the fountain, smashed almost beyond recognition by Dumbledore and Voldemort, were fully restored to their banal former glory.

The Professor stood beside Harry, taking in the sight of the saccharine composition that so glorified the human wizard at the expense of the other sentient magical creatures. The witch looked just as subservient as Harry remembered.

He was struck by the thought that Ginny had better never be shown this sight, unless the Ministry wanted to rebuild the whole tableau from scratch once more.

'Remember that sight, Harry,' murmured Dumbledore. 'Burn it into your memory. One day it may serve you as a reference when you need to escape from the furthest depths of evil…. The glory that is the magical world!'

Harry could hear the sarcasm in the Professor's words, but there was something else; at some level or another, Harry realised that Dumbledore really did mean what he was saying.

The Headmaster turned away and led Harry towards the reception desk, where a bored wizard in dark robes and an official looking badge waited to register his wand. By the silence of the building, Harry reckoned that he and Dumbledore were the only visitors that afternoon. Harry registered his wand first, but the Headmaster eased him away before the reception wizard could ask for the Headmaster's wand. Harry assumed that as a member of the Wizengamot, the Professor was exempt.

Instead of going to the lifts, the Headmaster led Harry through the huge dark timbered double doors at the end of the hall. The sigil motif from the ceiling was repeated on the doors, together with strange and distorted carvings of animals that suggested the sculptor had been dabbling in the more questionable substances that Fred and George so often talked of. Harry would have trouble forgetting some of the visages that leered out of the woodwork.

The corridor beyond the door was carpeted in a rich deep blue and the walls were panelled in the same dark wood as the doors. The ceiling was almost midnight blue, with ostentatious chandeliers every few feet that gave off plenty of light. Grand looking portraits on the walls stared at Harry as he walked slowly past, occasionally shaking their heads and looking away.

At the end of the corridor a door opened to each side. To the left, a panelled meeting room could be seen through the half open door, to the right another imposing door was closed. The nameplate was written in a golden script that writhed and swirled from one language to another.

As it passed through the English phase, Harry read:-

CORNELIUS FUDGE – MINISTER OF MAGIC.

'Doesn't want anyone to mistake his office for the toilets, then?' muttered Harry, slightly hysterically.

Dumbledore glanced quickly at Harry, before knocking on the door hard. Almost immediately, the door was opened and Harry saw that the attendant was Percy Weasley. After the initial shock, Harry managed to force a certain amount of disdain onto his face as he and Dumbledore entered the room and looked round.

There was no one else there.

Percy Weasley coughed discretely. Harry and the Professor turned to look at him.

'I'm afraid the Minister has been called into an important meeting, Professor.' he said loftily.

Dumbledore hesitated. 'I see.' he murmured.

'And when may we expect the minister to return - to meet those he specifically requested should be here at this time?'

Harry could almost see the small m on the word minister.

Percy looked slightly less lofty; obviously he hadn't expected such an icy reply.

'I'm –er – sorry, Professor, I wasn't given that information; however I was instructed to show you to a waiting room.'

The gangling ministerial assistant turned to the door and beckoned to Harry and the Professor.

'Please follow me,' he murmured deferentially.

The waiting room that Percy showed them into was little less grand than Fudge's office. Plush chairs lined the walls and small tables were scattered about, bearing neat piles of Ministry publications. A few portraits were arranged round the walls, though the pictures were so dark it was almost impossible to make out anything except the impression of occasional movement.

Harry looked out of the window at what he knew was only a representation of a formal garden, but the image was so good he could almost hear the wind rustling the trees in the distance. Fluffy clouds scudded across a blue sky, giving the whole view a patchwork overlay of sunlight and shade.

For some reason, Harry found the scene thoroughly depressing. Sitting down, he considered the room itself.

The Headmaster had magically modified one of the chairs into something a lot more comfortable looking and had obviously settled down for a long wait; he was asleep.

After ten minutes, Harry was already realising that the chairs were a lot less comfortable than they looked, and tried reading some of the pamphlets on the tables to take his mind off the discomfort.

The Ministry mission statement was the first item Harry investigated. He was pretty much lost after the first sentence and the words Corporate Social Responsibility set his personal Thestral Manure meter buzzing as soon as he got onto the second page. The whole thing sounded like Umbridge's welcome speech at the feast at the beginning of the fifth year. He leafed through several other documents, from the urgent warnings about the return of Lord Voldemort and how to recognise him –

Green lights, lots of dead people, muttered Harry to himself –

to the dangers of scrofula in puffskeins, and how to prevent it -

Shotguns, Harry murmured. Sometimes muggles just got it so right.

After half an hour, however, Harry finally gave up and discretely coughed in an attempt to wake Dumbledore. The Headmaster went from sleep to wakefulness in a very very short time then looked round at Harry in disappointment.

'Yes Harry?' he asked.

'Er – Professor, - could you do the same thing to my chair please?' he pleaded.

Dumbledore waved his wand, making Harry's chair suddenly melt beneath him into the most comfortable chair Harry had ever sat in.

'Thanks, Professor!' enthused Harry. 'Er – Professor?'

Dumbledore sighed, 'Yes? – Harry?'

'Why don't we just go back to Hogwarts to wait?'

The Headmaster regarded Harry for some while; finally he answered.

'Because, Harry, the Ministry would not be able to inform us quickly that the Minister is ready. We were called here by an owl that arrived at the school last night. It had been in the air for over five hours, and even then it had been magically boosted to arrive more quickly.'

Harry's mouth opened slightly as a mental picture of a GTA owl flashed before his eyes.

'There is no instantaneous communication between the Ministry and Hogwarts,' continued Dumbledore, 'unless a person carries the message by portkey or Floo network; and I do not allow any other than staff, students and certain others to enter the school by those means.'

Harry thought about this for a while. 'Couldn't the Ministry send someone up to Hogsmead to tell us, Professor?'

The Headmaster smiled frostily. 'Since I do not make exceptions for the Ministry, they do not make exceptions for me. All official communication between the Ministry and Hogwarts is by Owl Post. I have to say, Harry, that the ability to keep the Ministry at arms length has been useful in the past, and will no doubt be useful in the future. There are certain disbenefits in having to be here at a certain time, such as having to wait for the Minister's pique to abate, but I tend to find such enforced periods of idleness useful for rumination and rest.'

Harry looked round the room again as a sudden thought struck him. 'Professor, do you think the Ministry is listening to us?'

Dumbledore laughed quietly. 'It is a little late to think of that, Harry. Yes, I expect so, although so far they have heard nothing that they do not know, or must have guessed long ago.' He lay back in his chair and closed his eyes. 'And I would prefer that to remain the case.'

Harry also lay back, feeling thoroughly stupid. His mind went back to Hogwarts. He wondered if Ginny was really thinking of him; somehow he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

He could picture the quidditch practice in his mind's eye; the team racing backwards and forwards, practising the moves that should defeat Ravenclaw. He could see Ginny, passing the quaffle back and forth, racing from position to position, scoring even. He could also see Alison Linney, zooming around and through the other players, following the erratic pattern of the little golden snitch. Slowly his thoughts scattered, as play after play unwound itself in his mind, and he fell into a doze.

- o -

Harry awake to the sound of Percy Weasley's pompous voice; although at that moment it included occasional tremor of nerves.

'I'm very sorry, P-Professor, the Minister just c-cannot see you today.'

Dumbledore was watching Percy through hooded eyes. Eventually he spoke.

'Very well, Mr. Weasley. Has the Minister indicated just when he expects to be in a position to grant us the audience that he himself insisted was necessary? I have a school to run and I cannot run it from the bowels of the Ministry of Magic.'

Percy seemed to be even more nervous. The icy calm of Dumbledore's reply was more frightening than any amount of shouting.

'M-Minister Fudge has asked me to assure you that he will be available at t-ten o'clock tomorrow morning'

'Very well, Weasley. You may tell the Minister that Harry and I will be here, for half an hour, from that time.

The Headmaster stood and started for the door, motioning Harry to follow.

Back in the Ministry entrance hall, The Headmaster stopped once more to consider the statues in the centre of the open space. Harry tried matching his memory up to the reality and was astounded to find that they coincided precisely.

'Professor? Do we go back to Hogwarts now?'

Dumbledore appeared to come out of a trance at Harry's words.

'I think not Harry, it is already after dinner time at the school and you have yet to visit Nymphadora Tonks.'

Harry started as he realised how long he had slept. Granted, he felt well rested, but to sleep for so long during the day made him wonder if he was becoming ill. Dumbledore spoke once more. 'If I might be so bold, I think we should portkey to your house to try some of Dobby's cuisine, then I will accompany you to St Mungo's.

'Of course you're invited Professor,' exclaimed Harry. 'Though we could Floo to my house, if you have some powder.'

'I am not particularly keen on the Floo network, Harry. I am marginally less suspicious of the use of portkeys. Both can be tracked if used often, especially the Floo network as it is in existence at all times. At least a portkey is not traceable unless it is active. Disapparation is almost completely untraceable, unless something goes wrong.'

'Such as a splinching?'

'Exactly , Harry. The spell remains active, fortunately guiding the magic reversal squad to the site of the problem. I do not think it wise for you to try underage disapparation from the centre of the Ministry of Magic, except in dire emergency, so Portkey and Floo are the only alternative at this time of night – and it is known that the Floo network is watched.'

'Marietta Edgecombe's ' mother?' asked Harry, gleefully remembering the curse Hermione had inflicted on the sneak.

'The very same, Harry.' answered Dumbledore drily. 'Although it is quite possible that Lord Voldemort has also organised access to the system.' He stared once more at the tableau round the fountain. 'It is strange, is it not, Harry? That the wizarding world can arrange for instantaneous transport of people, but not of written words, whilst the muggle world is exactly the opposite.'

- o -

Harry and the Professor arrived in the kitchen of No 12 Grimmauld Place, to find the room in almost total darkness. A flickering light from the stove was the only illumination as Harry looked round. The Professor's whispered 'Lumos' dispelled the dark as the tip of his wand glowed brightly. Shielding his eyes from the light, Harry waved his own wand to brighten the kitchen lights, then turned to see a meal for two laid out on the table.

'Where did that come from?' he breathed.

'Your house elves, of course, Harry.' chuckled the Headmaster. 'I took the liberty of informing them that we were on our way, once Percy Weasley appeared. You were still asleep at the time.'

'You can communicate with house elves Professor?' asked Harry in amazement.

I am the secret keeper for this house, Harry. That confers certain abilities on the holder.'

Looking carefully, Harry could see two pairs of luminous eyes peering out of the pantry.

'Good evening, Dobby.' he called.

The house elf approached slowly, his partner Winky hiding behind him.

'Mister Harry Potter has returned,' breathed Dobby. 'Dobby and Winky are looking after Mr. Harry Potter's house as well as they can.' Winky was nodding frantically behind Dobby.

'Have Fred and George Weasley behaved properly, Dobby?' asked Harry.

Dobby nodded as violently as Winky. 'Yes, Harry Potter, they required a little lesson, but they are good boys now.'

'Good.' said Harry, emphatically, smiling to himself at the thought of the twins getting a "little" lesson. 'I'm very pleased with you both. Now, I must eat so I can go to see someone in St Mungo's, I'll talk to you when I get back.'

Dobby and Winky retreated into their quarters, leaving Harry and the Professor to eat.

Harry had only one question for Professor Dumbledore, during the meal.

'Professor, do you think that Cornelius Fudge was even in the Ministry this afternoon?'

'I think he was Harry. It appears, however, that for some reason, the minister really was unwilling to see us. I expected a certain period of waiting, it is all part of the game played by insecure government officials, but - so long…. it is most peculiar.'

After the meal, the Headmaster stood and beckoned for Harry to stand beside him. He picked up the salt cruet and waved his wand over it.

'We will travel directly to St. Mungo's, Harry, after which I must visit one or two people. You will wait there for me to bring you back here.' Harry nodded. 'Very well then, to St Mungo's we shall - - GO'

- o -

St Mungo's was, as usual, a hive of activity. As Harry and the Professor stepped away from the portkey reception area, the noise and bustle of a true twenty-four hour organisation folded itself around them. The Headmaster waved nonchalantly at the main arrivals desk, receiving a wave in return from the welcomewitch and a couple of the duty Healers. He and Harry swept through the arrivals area and started up the stairs.

'Nymphadora is on the fifth floor, Harry.'

'Spell damage? Professor?'

'Indeed. Although there are several wards, most of them being for the more mundane accidents that can so often befall the careless wizard or witch.'

The portraits of the healers watched as Harry and The Professor climbed steadily towards the fifth floor. Most were silent, maybe fearing to risk annoying a wizard of Dumbledore's power. Only one, a youngish man with extravagant side whiskers dared to hail them.

'I say, young man,' he warbled, 'have you considered a cosmetic charm for that scar on your forehead? I know a number of extremely efficacious incantations that would eradicate that unsightly blemish. I am proud to say that at least two are my own developments.'

He smiled and seemed to preen his whiskers, unaware of the looks of horror directed at him from all sides, and from the stairways above and below. Harry stopped climbing and stared at the portrait. A sudden silence settled on the stairway as the Professor also stopped and looked back down towards Harry. Slowly the portrait started to realise that everything had gone quiet.

'Well – that is – er – I assumed that – '

He began to look from side to side, as the shocked faces of the adjacent portraits began to register.

Harry continued to stare flatly at the portrait until the occupant lapsed into anguished silence.

'Thanks,' he said, 'I've grown quite attached to it, actually.'

The young healer looked own at his feet and Harry could almost feel the heat from his blush.

'Harry, are you going to stand and talk to that portrait all evening?'

The Headmaster was obviously becoming impatient. Harry grinned at the discomfited portrait and continued up the stairs.

The fifth floor was much as he remembered it from the last visit to Mr Weasley, nearly a year before. The Headmaster led him along the long corridor, past various wards dedicated to specific types of spell damage and specific areas of damage. As they passed the closed ward, Harry made sure he was hidden behind the Headmaster, Dumbledore gave him a dubious look but the prospect of meeting Gilderoy Lockhart was a spur to drastic action.

At the very end of the corridor, an unmarked door opened to allow them entry; the insignia of the Auror corps was fixed discretely on the wall inside. Harry decided this had to be a Ministry secure ward.

Each bed seemed to be in a separate room, affording privacy, and perhaps ensuring that the ravings of a delirious auror could be contained. Noticing the magical and mechanical locks on the outsides of the doors, Harry realised that injured prisoners could also be treated here.

The Headmaster stopped in front of the ward reception desk.

'Two visitors for Nymphadora Tonks.' he murmured.

The duty nurse looked up from her paperwork. 'Ah, yes Professor, Room 12, just over there.' she pointed to a door just visible at the end of the ward. 'The duty healer has been round, Professor, there should be no interruptions before the end of visiting hours.'

'And that would be when?'

The nurse looked at the timepiece on the wall. 'Nine o'clock Professor, - another hour and a half, though we don't enforce it too strictly'

Dumbledore nodded and moved towards the door indicated. Harry was suddenly unsure whether he should be there, whether Dora would want to talk to him, whether he should talk to her, now she was attached to Charlie.

The Professor had reached the door and opened it, and was standing looking at him; there was no going back now.

As he followed Dumbledore through the door, Harry caught sight of Dora propped up in bed; she seemed to be asleep. He hesitated again, thinking how much effort had been made to prevent him meeting her in the corridors of Hogwarts, how angry Charlie had been that Dora had got hurt because Harry hadn't got there in time. The Headmaster turned to see him waiting in the doorway – and he suddenly found himself on the other side of Dumbledore, standing beside Dora's bed, wondering how on earth he'd got there.

Dora didn't have any obvious tubes stuck in her now, but she looked pale and slightly drawn, and her hospital smock made her look smaller than he knew she was. Her bedside table contained the usual detritus of a long hospital visit, flowers, seemingly from Molly Weasley, hair styling magazines, "Auror Today" magazine, several days worth of Daily Prophets and the latest edition of the Quibbler.

Harry heard Dumbledore say 'Nymphadora, you have a visitor' and saw her eyes open and struggle to focus. The smile that spread across her face as she recognised him made him realise how stupid he'd been. Charlie or not, He and Dora had something between them that even the thought of Ginny couldn't erase.

Dora's voice was stronger than he'd expected. 'Harry! It's so good to see you! I was wondering if you'd ever make it!'

He turned to grin at the Headmaster, but Dumbledore had gone. Turning back to Dora, he found she was struggling to sit upright, the grimace on her face showing that her injuries still hurt badly.

'Whoa! Take it easy, Dora.' he said urgently. 'Lie back, you're hurting yourself.'

Dora hesitated and looked at Harry scornfully. 'Harry Potter, I intend to keep struggling like this right up to the moment you stop acting like my mother, and give me a hug and a kiss!'

Harry leaned over her, and gently enfolded her in his arms. The kiss was as gentle as he could make it but Dora had other ideas, as he found out when her arms went round his neck and she hung on to him, kissing him deeply. At last she let him go, but he stayed, stooped over the bed, staring at her in consternation. She giggled, but winced and stopped immediately.

Harry was instantly concerned. 'Are you alright,' he gasped, but she just smiled.

'I'm fine – well, as fine as I can be under the circumstances. The spell Lestrange used on me is really pernicious; it's taking ages to lose its grip. The healers keep me well dosed up with potions, but they make me sleepy.'

'Have you been sleeping all week then?'

'Not quite, though it sometimes feels like it. The healers are going to let me start walking about next week, so I don't lose too much strength. Now, give me another kiss!'

Harry stood up straight, however. The exhilaration of seeing Dora again was beginning to wane as the memory of Charlie's anger surged back into the forefront of his mind. His smile was replaced by a frown, and he looked at the floor instead of at Dora. She immediately became serious.

'What's wrong, Harry?' she whispered.

Harry found it exceptionally difficult to put into words. 'It's just – well – that is – it's Charlie – ' he blurted out.

Comprehension dawned on Dora's face. 'Harry! Charlie told me about the meeting in Dumbledore's study... I told him to get his backside back to Hogwarts and apologise! – He did apologise? – Didn't he?' She sounded doubtful.

Harry leaped to Charlie's defence, 'Oh yeah, he found me and apologised, - it wasn't that though.'

Dora looked quizzically at him, but remained silent.

Harry forced himself to go on. 'It's just that, well, you're his girlfriend now, and – well – '

Dora smiled gently.

'Harry, There'll always be something special between you and me.' she whispered. 'We both knew it couldn't be more than a brief encounter, but – well – we shone like the sun for that one afternoon…. The light may fade – but it will never die.' She held out her hand and Harry gently gripped her fingers. 'Whatever happens, Harry, don't forget that...and remember too, you saved me twice, once from loneliness and disillusion, and the second time from death - Charlie will just have to accept it.'

Finally Harry managed to smile again. Dora drew him back to her and shuffled very gingerly sideways so he could sit on the side of the bed. 'Now then,' she said, more happily, 'I've heard Ginny's story of how you saved me – I want to hear yours.'

Fifteen minutes later, Harry had managed to give a halfway coherent account of how he had come to see Dora leaving the school, discovered the danger, chased her and saved her. Dora had asked a lot of questions and he'd had to backtrack several times, but at last she had the sequence of events clear in her mind.

'So, you chased after me because you couldn't see me?'

'I couldn't see you on the map,' clarified Harry, 'even though I could see you creeping along outside the window.'

'And you knew how many people I was facing?'

'Yeah. But I didn't know who you really were - it was only when the fight began I could be sure you weren't on their side.'

Dora stared thoughtfully at the far wall. 'We missed a trick, didn't we Harry.' Harry looked puzzled. 'We spent so much time trying to keep you from knowing we were there. If we'd just let you in on the secret, we could have asked to borrow the map!'

'Yeah,' he murmured. 'You all knew about the map, but wasted the advantage on trying to keep me in the dark – No change there then!'

He looked sourly at Dora, who grimaced in sympathy, but almost immediately started to smile.

Harry wondered at her change in demeanour. 'So what's so funny now?'

Dora looked at him slightly guiltily. 'Not so much funny Harry, more a bit embarrassing.'

'Hmmm?'

Dora hesitated before continuing, 'Ginny told me about your other advantage – how you managed to call for her help.'

Harry sighed. 'I was hoping to keep that secret from as many people as possible. And?'

'She told me about the other times you'd heard each other – especially when she heard you.' Dora was beginning to blush.

Harry sighed again. 'She told you that? She was furious that she heard me, for some reason. I was surprised how angry she was, considering she doesn't normally care what I do. Strange. Did she have a go at you too?' He remembered Ginny's goodbye in the dorm. 'She sent her love this time, by the way'

Dora looked away.

'No, she wasn't angry.' she whispered. 'She just seemed – sort of – sad...Well, perhaps not sad, - resigned, maybe. She seemed quite upset you hadn't come down to London with her, last weekend. She told me why but...'

Harry stayed silent. Dora shook her head gently. 'Well, whatever...'

She looked back at Harry with a smile already forming on her lips.

'So! Tell me how Ron and Hermione are getting on. Are they still the lovebirds they were at the end of the summer?'

Harry had been sitting on Dora's bed for over an hour by the time they ran out of conversation. Dora was beginning to sound sleepy and Harry's eyes were beginning to close. He wondered how much longer Dumbledore was going to be. The silence settled comfortably between them and Dora's breathing became slower as she drifted back to sleep. Harry gazed at her, wondering what would have happened if he'd been Charlie's age, wondering if they'd have had more than just the one afternoon. Eventually he gently got off the edge of the bed and sat in an easy chair near the door. He could still see Dora's face, relaxed in sleep, and he almost felt as if he were her protector, watching over her as she slept.

It was a most peculiar feeling, that of feeling responsible for the safety of another, a feeling he hoped he would experience again in the future. Who that future other would be, he had no idea. Eventually, he too slept.

- o -

'Harry!'

The whisper penetrated Harry's senses slowly.

'Harry!'

This time, he snapped awake and looked at the door. Dumbledore stood there, beckoning him to leave. He eased himself off the chair and turned to look at Dora. Crossing to the bed, he leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

'Harry?' she murmured.

'I've got to go, Dora.' he said quietly.

She opened her eyes, more than half awake now. 'Harry, take care,' she whispered, 'and thank you for my life,' she added then kissed him back.

Harry said nothing, he didn't trust his voice. He just gently squeezed her hand and slipped out of the room past the Headmaster.

Dumbledore entered the room and Harry could hear a short whispered conversation before the Headmaster appeared at the door, turned and waved once, then swept out of the ward with Harry at his heels.

- o -

Back at Grimmauld Place, the Headmaster had joined Harry in a late evening snack then left him to get some sleep. His parting words had been a warning to be ready to leave for the Ministry at a quarter to ten in the morning.

Harry had wondered how he was going to make sure he woke up in time but the Professor had informed Dobby that Harry needed waking in time to have a good breakfast and then waved once before disapparating to Diagon Alley. Dobby had assured Harry that House Elves had an innate sense of time and that he would wake Master Harry at the correct time in the morning. Harry had found himself with little option but to accept Dobby's assurances, so he trudged up to his bedroom to find that Dobby had lit a small fire in the room's fireplace and aired the bed. The room was almost cosy.

As he waited to drift off to sleep, Harry's fevered imaginings about the forthcoming investigation were interspersed with images of Dora, and of Ginny, too. He wondered what Ginny had been doing that evening, then immediately thought of Dean. He was surprised how angry he suddenly felt, at fate, at Voldemort, at life in general. For a second or so Harry had even felt angry at Ginny for changing her mind and giving up on him.

His conscience had promptly kicked him sharply in the ribs, asking whether he could think of anyone else nearby who might just have changed their mind recently - he had suddenly felt deeply ashamed.

As sleep had stolen up on him, Harry's final thought had been of Dora, and the light she'd said would fade, but never die.

Muggle astronomers said that light went on forever, but Harry didn't believe them.

Everything came to the end of its journey some time.

Even the light.