Nighttime at St Mungo’s was always much quieter and more peaceful than during the day. Although it disrupted their sleeping patterns for several days afterwards, many healers enjoyed taking the night shift. For one thing it meant better pay for less work, but it also gave them time to catch up with friends; they could talk without the certainty that it would get put on hold to go and check on patients. Lot’s of the difficult tasks were undertaken at night to give them the most time to prepare and perform such tasks.



Two witches in luminous green robes stood in a fourth floor corridor having a conversation of sorts. Their voices were low as if not wanting to be overheard.



‘How long has it been?’ Healer Thorpe asked her colleague.



‘Fifty-four days,’ Healer Morton replied with a sombre face.



The two healers were standing side-by-side in a well-lit hallway, looking through the half closed blinds into a private room.



‘Who’d have thought that this would be the end?’



‘It may not be. If anyone can survive this he can,’ said Healer Thorpe, giving her friends shoulder and encouraging squeeze but all this achieved was to send her into uncontrollable tears of distress.



‘Under normal circumstances a patient would have a maximum of a twenty percent survival rate, and I’ve never seen a worse case,’ Healer Morton spoke through her wails.



‘We can’t give up hope. This is our only choice.’



They stood in silence, only the occasional sob from Healer Morton disturbed the unnerving peace. Again they peered through the gaps in the blinds. The room was dark except for beams of piercingly white light that fell into the room from the corridor. One beam highlighted the ghostly face of a young woman. Her head was hung low, sheets of what was once stunning red hair now draped from her head, lank and dirty. Her skin, which had always been fair, was as white as marble and was loose around her figure, giving the impression that she had lost a significant amount of weight over a very short period of time.



Worst of all were her eyes. The hollow sockets stood out prominently even on her gaunt face. Usually brown and glistening with warmth, they appeared to have glazed over so were now dull and cold. Tiny black pinpricks took the place of her pupils, leading people to believe that she was blissfully unaware of the current situation.



This couldn’t be further from the truth. The read head’s eyes were fixed upon the closed eyelids of the man she loved. The blank exterior was misleading for there was a brutal battle raging inside her mind.



The door slowly opened and Healer Morton stepped into the room. The woman made no sign that she acknowledged the presents of another in the room with her and she continued to stare. The Healer went and stood on the opposite side of her patient’s bed.



‘Ginny?’ she asked politely.



Still, Ginny didn’t turn her gaze.



‘Mrs Potter?’



The formality of the name pulled Ginny from her trance. She liked being Mrs Potter and on the rare occasion that she was addressed by her newly acquired name, she would get a feeling of warmth flowing through her veins. Ginny looked up. The beam of light now fell directly into her eyes. It tormented her like the tiny ray of hope she had been presented with earlier that day.



‘Have you made you’re decision?’ Healer Morton asked, her voice soft and almost patronising. ‘Do you understand the choice’s you have been given?’



Healer Morton had told Ginny that her Husband’s heart was failing and that they had placed a spell upon him that kept it beating.



‘However,’ Healer Morton had gone on to say, ‘It is this charm that is keeping him in a state of unconsciousness. We have two choices. One, we leave him under the spell and hope for a miracle to occur that will cause him to regain consciousness and control over his heart, or two, lift the spell and hope it shocks his heart back into action.



‘Often the patient will wake up but there is the chance that his heart will fail relatively soon after and we cannot replace the spell upon him.’



‘What is the chance that he’ll wake up if you lift the spell?’ Ginny had asked.



‘From my experience I’d say that four out of five wake up,’ Healer Morton told her.



‘And the chance that he’ll stay awake?’



Healer Morton bowed her head.



‘It’s worth a try. The likelihood he will gain control of his heart on his own accord is barely larger than impossible. As his wife, the decision is up to you.’



Ginny had spent the rest of the day weighing up the two choices. Neither seemed all together very appealing. Why wouldn’t he just wake up? Ginny’s eyes surveyed her husband face. Harry didn’t look too worse for wear. If given the choice on who was ill out of the couple, there is no doubt you would say Ginny. His skin was surprisingly sun kissed given to the fact that he had been cooped up in a dingy hospital room for eight weeks. His hair was as raven black and scruffy as it ever had been.



‘I’ve made my decision,’ Ginny said gravely, ‘I can’t spend my life waiting. I’ve already wasted so much of my life waiting for him to choose me. I suppose now it’s my turn to choose.’ She took a deep breath, ‘I want you to lift the spell.’



Healer Morton nodded.



‘When will it be done?’ Ginny asked.



‘Whenever you are ready. Would you like me to contact any family members? You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.’



Ginny thought about it for a moment and then shook her head. If Harry was to die, she would need to be alone or she would never be able to let go.

‘I’m ready now,’ Ginny said.



‘You don’t want to be hasty. Wouldn’t you like some time to say goodbye?’ Healer Morton asked.



‘I don’t need to say goodbye,’ Ginny said defiantly, ‘He’s coming back to me. I know he is. I want it done as soon as possible.’



‘I’ll be back in half an hour.’



Healer Morton left the room quietly.



Ginny stood up, a difficult act as her legs ached from sitting down for so long. She started to pace the room. Each step taking a lifetime to perform.



After what seemed like hours, Healer Morton returned with Healer Thorpe. Ginny didn’t like her, she always seemed too positive, even when undertaking the grimmest of tasks.



‘How are you feeling today Miss Weasley?’ Healer Thorpe asked, smiling.



Ginny scowled.



‘It’s Mrs Potter, and considering the circumstances, I’m just peachy,’ Ginny replied through gritted teeth.



‘Excellent.’



‘Now, Mrs Potter, the operation is a fairy simple one so you many remain with your Husband if you wish?’ Healer Morton said.



‘I would like that,’ Ginny said as she went to sit back in the chair next to Harry.



Healer Thorpe removed her wand from the pocket on her lime green robes. Ginny closed her eyes and bit hard down on her lip. Her hands together and held under her chin, as if praying. She wanted more than anything for this to work, she would happily give her life just to have Harry back with her for just a few short moments.



‘Viscustemp,’ Ginny heard Healer Thorpe say.



Blinding blue light flashed through the closed lids of her eyes and she opened them, knowing the spell had been cast.



Healer Morton was crouched by Harry’s bedside, two fingers placed on Harry’s wrist, clearing checking for a pulse. For a moment she kept her gaze on his wrist until she lifted her head and smiled at Ginny and her colleague.



‘He should wake momentarily. Are you ready to greet your husband Mrs Potter?’



Ginny nodded, tears of joy filling her eyes and sure enough, Harry’s eyelids began to flicker and seconds later Ginny was staring down into the vivid green eyes, and they stared right back.



‘Ginny?’



Ginny wailed and threw her arms around him, kissing his face all over in between sobs.



‘I thought you were going to die on me,’ Ginny whispered into his ear.



‘You can’t get rid of me that easily,’ Harry joked. ‘How long have I been asleep?’



‘Too long,’ Ginny told him.



They continued their reacquainting for almost an hour; laughing and joking just like old times. Ginny was taking a break from their conversation and looked intently at Harry. His face looked pale. Paler than it had been for the time during his coma. Harry looked at Ginny.



‘What it is?’ he asked, though Ginny could tell he already knew. The look in his eyes showed it all.



As Ginny watched she could see more colour draining from his cheeks. Her bottom lip quivered a bit. Ginny reached out and grabbed Harry’s ring bearing hand and placed it onto her heart.



‘My heart beats for you, Harry.’ She placed her own hand onto Harry’s heart. Each beat was far apart and pumped tears down Ginny’s hollow cheeks. ‘Let your heart beat for me. It’s my fault I know.’



Harry’s head twitched slightly from side to side, a feeble attempt at a shake and a clear indication of his decreasing health.



‘You had no other option,’ He said, his face contorting with pain at every word.



‘I left you broken hearted. I should have been there for you,’ Ginny told him.



‘You are here with me now, and that’s all that matters.’



Harry fiddled with the ring on Ginny’s finger. White gold with a single round cut diamond, encircled with rubies. I really was a spectacular ring.



‘I meant what I said when I gave you that ring. I will never let go of you and of what we have. I love you, Ginny.’



Ginny smiled. She hadn’t given a genuine smile for months.



‘What day is it?’



Ginny hesitated before replying.



‘It’s Tuesday,’ she said.



‘No,’ Harry said, ‘What’s that date?’



‘It’s all sorted, Harry. You needn’t worry,’ said Ginny.



‘I just want you to be looked after. You have a long life ahead of you.’ Harry’s voice was barely a whisper.



‘As do you,’ Ginny said, hating the negativity in her husband’s words.



Ginny looked down into Harry’s eyes, except no glistening emerald ones returned her look. Ginny’s heart shook in her chest under Harry’s hand, but no movement occurred under her own.



‘H…Harry?’ she croaked, fighting back tears.



Her lip trembled in imitation of her heart.



‘Harry?’



She turned her head to look at the two Healers who were still present in the room, in hope of some reassurance. None came. Healer Morton had her head on Healer Thorpe’s shoulder. Healer Thorpe bowed her head and glanced at her watch.



‘Time of death: eleven forty-three. I’m so sorry.’



‘No,’ Ginny wailed. Tears streamed from her eyes. ‘No! Harry! wake up! You’re alive. You can’t be dead, you just can’t be.’



‘We’ll give you some time to be alone,’ said Healer Thorpe as she guided the also crying healer out of the door.



Ginny didn’t notice. Her cries and pleas echoed through the room, drowning out all other noise. She cried until there were no tears left to cry, her head rested on her husbands chest.



When Ginny’s tears had subsided she lifted her head and stood up. Her face was blank, expressionless. Slowly she pulled the wedding ring Harry had given her a year ago that day from her finger. She loved it as much now as she did when he had given it to her, but knew there was no way of escaping the spell Harry had sat upon her the first day she set eyes on him, with such a reminder. She placed it lovingly into Harry’s palm and closed his hand around it. Ginny shuddered; the hand was cold and stiff.



‘I love you, Harry, but I have to move on.’



She braced the ice cold and kissed his forehead. Ginny left the room, shutting the blinds on the way out, so by shutting her feelings in the room with him.

---

The Boy Who Lived No More



The whole of the Wizarding world held its breath at the sight of the headline in the Daily Prophet that morning. It was also responsible for many broken coffee mugs, ruined breakfasts, and general low moral. Reporters had swarmed to the scene moments after Ginny’s departure, to get a first hand story of the fatality, which had occurred the previous night.



An official day of mourning has been called as the life of the savoir of the magical world has come to an end. Healers at St Mungo’s have confirmed that Harry Potter died late last night only minutes before his 21st birthday. Harry Potter had been in a critical condition after being ambushed by the few remaining supporters of You Know Who, eight weeks ago. The only person present at his death was, soon to be wife of one year, Ginny Weasley, 19.



Consequently, it was also to be the one-year anniversary of the couple today. Talk of foul play on his wife’s behalf has yet to be dismissed, though many feel this is unlikely. Information regarding the couples’s wedding vows has been attained from a reliable source. The source can exclusively reveal to the Daily Prophet that under the Potter’s prenuptial agreement, with the marriage ending under a year, due to any reason, the wedding will count as illegitimate. This means that Harry Potter’s fortune, consisting of money left from both the Potter and Black families, hereby goes back into the ministry. No doubt, a further investigation is likely to be conducted to ensure no part played by the ministry of magic either. The source assures us that Ginny Weasley enforced this decision, despite Mr Potter’s reluctance.



So far no friends or family have been available for comment, this includes newly reinstated Ginny Weasley who hasn’t been seen since leaving the hospital in the early hours of this morning. We can only imagine the terrible grief they are going through at this loss.



Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, will be giving a public speech this afternoon to tell of his reaction to Harry Potter’s premature death. In a brief conversation this morning her said that, ‘Harry Potter’s death has come as a shock to all that new him by name and in person alike. This is sure to be a distressing time for every member of our magical community but we must remember not to fall to pieces over the incident.’



These words can bring little comfort in place of the gaping hole where Harry Potter once stood. He was a defender, a leader and most importantly always thought himself as an equal. We can only hope that the demise of our hero will be the end to the evil wrath of He Who Must Not Be Named.