The boy was dead, or as close to it as possible - well beyond the reach of conventional potion or spell.

His lifeless body was on the floor in front of the Mirror. The still smouldering corpse of his assailant lay as far away as a brief burst of magic could toss it; dead before it had landed.

The stone pulsed in objection as Dumbledore's withered hand squeezed it mercilessly.

A single drop of concentrated Elixir fell to the child's open mouth as the stone faded from existence like smoke from a fire.

And Harry took a long, shuddering, breath.