Change
'Professor, how would one be able to describe death?'
'Now, I'm afraid that cannot be. For none of us are qualified enough to describe death properly... we only know half of it which is the cessation of physical life... the other half is not known to any of us.
Yet, when in consciousness of the momentary juncture, she could describe death perfectly:
Death is a quickening, and the precursor to birth.
Most would say that she was, decidedly, of no sanity whatsoever. But it was the truth, for death was exhilarating.
No, exhilarating was too much of a distortion of the actual truth; unlawfulness; misinterpretation; lie.
Death was energizing. Electrifying. Adrenalizing. A thought-provoking experience.
Yet it wasn't marvelous. No. Because Humans use such words with such positive connotations.
One may wonder how that could be, how one can expound it as suchwhen Death was said to be the reverse. Notwithstanding, she shan't be incriminated for it was the truth; the precision; the revelation; disclosure; taste. No, (not taste) simply tell of what it is to be dying with battle amidst.
Battle? Yes, battle.
Her rather keen sense of hearing lightened a bit. Before she thudded upon the hard, cold stone of the impending ground, she heard the latter of all she would ever hear.
Turbulent cacophony of raging war overcame her; cries of battle or screams of whether triumph or fury; she couldn't distinguish, and in all truthfulness, didn't care. The rise and fall of the crescendo upon the marbled stone; the clatter of footsteps and, for she was only one of many, falls.
Conceitedly, she thought, seems so cruel that life goes on when here am I falling. Shall anyone regret my absence from this lamentable world?
Then, she thought a little clearly, her presence then would have been significant to her Master, but not prodigious. It was the truest thing that ever should come amongst her. For she was to be used, then simply disposed of.
Nevertheless, it was still ever so invigorating; her mind had refused to conform to the recurrent circumstances; it had just ceased.
And with a bang upon her cranium, Bellatrix Lestrange thudded upon the hard, cold floor remorse filling her stomach and condensing her heart.
[She regretted everything except her fall, yet, that too, was impending.]