Look at you, all sniveling-weak pathetic crawling on your knees to me. What have you given up for the light, crying wretched wasted soul and time for the unappreciative grandmaster of thought? Those that school you have you trained so thoroughly that you have but one thought on your mind, and that is to die with honor, but there is only honor in free will, and you have never had any.
So come to me, child, and embrace your death with a head held high, and give yourself over. I will take your heart and soul and mind as mine, and free you at last from the shackles of manipulation. And do you dissent from me? How could you, when you know what I offer is only the merest truth, the absolute honesty so long denied you. It's tempting, isn't it? I see the way you tremble before me, close to giving out. You're not as brave as you think, and the hat would have done well to place you elsewhere. But no, the light needed their paragons, their holy saints. They needed to look up to you and-
Ah. There is your mother's fire, your father's rage and vengeance. At last, you stand straight, though your death you still await. And it makes me wonder…what has got you so resolute, so firm and willing to die? What made you give up? Tell me, I'm very curious. Nothing? Not a word, and still you are insolent, incorruptible, indomitable. It's impressive.
Tell me one thing, though. Did you ever expect to win? You're leagues away from me, yet here you stand. Did you ever expect to beat the one who killed your parents ruined your family left desolate your life your livelihood your happiness.
There is no situation in which I will not win. I have an army of followers; you, friends lost to you. Alone you stood; so now, alone you shall fall.
Avada Kedavra.
It ends here.