"The Wronski Feint," Harry heard Charlie mutter in an impressed tone, as Harry curved and soared over his head ... the last words of his life as a gout of Welsh Dragon fire ripped through wizard and broom and burned all the flesh from his bones in one blast. Harry was reticent a moment, as he realised that he wouldn’t be able to send Tom Riddle that message after all. Then he remember he could still use Dolohov for it instead. That would do quite nicely, he comforted himself.