The Dark Lord stood above the Boy-Who-Lived with contempt.
“Why do you fight?” He asked. “Why is it you struggle to get back up? Why is it I can’t kill you?”
Harry said nothing, simply trying to collect his breath and his wand.
“Is it out of some petty revenge for your parents? Some misplaced since of loyalty to those sheep you call friends, or maybe it’s because of that. . . that creature you are in love with.”
At this point, Harry had crawled to his wand and managed to grab it.
“Tell me Potter!” The nose less monster roared.
Slowly as he attempted to stand, he breathed out “I fight for my parents, not to avenge them but because they would want me to live. I live to protect my friends from the pain I have endured. I get up again and again for her because she makes life worth living.” He finally made it to a fighting position, he looked like he would fall over from a strong breeze, yet his wand was held firmly. “So, Tom, are you ready to go again?”