I lift my eyes to look at Voldemort, his blank expression has changed to anger. As I pant and try to keep my eyesight from blurring, I know he expected me to drop dead in front of him from the pain. Or at least beg for my life. The small victory I feel is short lived, he raises his wand and points it between my eyes.  The Killing Curse. Even though I want to squeeze my eyes shut, I don’t. If I am going to die, he will remember the way I kept looking him in the eyes. 