He had been wrong. He had forgotten what it really felt like to be tortured by Bellatrix. After that initial scream he stubbornly refused to cry out, even with the pain she so delighted in inflicting.
When she started the Killing Curse it was almost a relief.
Still, she laughed rather than kill him and he forced himself to look at her, eyes filled with hate.
"Stay away from my son," he spoke lowly, glowering at his Aunt. Ultimately he didn't care so much about grand plans or wars, he just wanted for himself and his family to be left alone.
"Then I guess I don't die, dear Aunt, because old Voldemort isn't here, and he isn't coming back," he laughed harshly, even if that still caused him pain.
"And they call you a bitch dear because that's what you are."
He couldn't even stand up, forced to remain on the concrete as he tried to recover from the attack, but still he couldn't resist snarking at her.