"I am not afraid."
Those simple words stung him like ice. He didn't understand it. His eyes grew wide, and they shined with disbelief. His mouth became a thin line, lest he give away any more emotion.
He stared downwards at the small child as she spoke.
"I am not afraid of death."
She said them with such casualty, such indifference that caused an iron hand to clench around his heart. A cold, iron hand made of fear.
Fear of this tiny, sick, dying, Muggle child.
He gazed down at her dull blue eyes, filled with simple understanding. Her pale chin tilted upwards at him so she could see his face, and her little winter hat covering her bald little head slid slightly backwards.
Her head tilted downwards, staring into his red, merciless eyes. A small smile began to spread on her thin, parched lips.
"But you are."
Anger overrid his dumbstruck sensation, cutting through his belly like a hot knife.
"I fear nothing!".
The insolent little thing actually laughed. At him!
He pointed his wand at her.
She paused and looked at it with curiosity.
She tore her wondering eyes away from it and shrugged.
"I guess you're going to kill me now…?"
With a cry, he screamed: