This game was disgusting and ridiculous, all at the same time. He had tried this tactic before, so the surprise was lost. Most of the effect was lost, too, by the fact that James knew he was making it up; even if they'd done that to Lily and obliviated her afterward, she would have instinctive reactions left over from it, she would have had far more difficulty allowing James to touch her.
"You know none of the things I know about her," he said. A cold, dangerous calm had settled over him, and he shifted to move forward and face Lestrange head-on at the same time, invading the bastard's personal space. "You know nothing about either of them. You see them the way you want to see them, as your victims, but that's the one thing neither of them will ever be."
He raised one hand, pressing his pointer finger against Lestrange's chest to emphasize his point, and smirked right into the other man's face. "Your luck has run out, Lestrange. Your Dark Lord is dead, and they've beaten you. You've lost, you've failed. You've failed here, and you'll fail back home. You'll always fail, because we will always be stronger than you."