Still, Harry looked at his neck. He wasn’t going to do it, of course, he knew he couldn’t, but he just wanted to see a glimmer of surprise in the man’s eyes. He paused for a second, then stood up and lunged forward, resting his knee on the armrest of the man’s chair. His fingers tightened around Voldemort’s throat, soft skin brushing his palm. Harry could feel his pulse beating underneath, his breath.