“It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool wind of his face, was so precious. To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second. At the same time he thought that he would not be able to go on, and knew he must. The long game was ended, the Snitch had been caught, it was time to leave the air. . . .”