And then, through the fog that was drowning him, he thought he saw a silvery light growing brighter and brighter… He felt himself fall forward onto the grass…. Facedown, too weak to move, sick and shaking, Harry opened his eyes. The Dementor must have released him. The blinding light was illuminating the grass around him…The screaming had stopped, the cold was ebbing away…

“Surely you don't need such a very old piece of parchment?” he said. “Why don't I just — throw this away?”

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