ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: This is death. One more door, baby. One more door.

HARRY: Will I be... a ghost now?

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN: Brother, you already were a ghost. Up there, screaming - along with all of them.

Scaring each other. Haunting each other. It's the living who are ghosts. The dead are silent. They don't rattle windows or write letters in blood. The living do. Leave them behind.

Rest.