Anger – Inordinate and uncontrolled feelings of hatred and anger.
Harry scowled, staring at the snakelike face in front of him. Never before had he felt such utter repulsion or such a desire to kill than as he looked at his parent's killer. This time it couldn't go wrong. This time he would end it. No matter what happened, Voldemort would die. Harry would make sure it happened. Too many people had sacrificed their innocent lives for this moment. The downfall of Voldemort. The spell was cast. Harry held his breath and concentrated. It was over. Voldemort lay dead. Harry blinked. He was definitely still alive amongst the wreckage that had once been a grand castle standing tall. He stepped forward looking at the unmoving face. He wanted to puke at the sight it was so disgusting. A man who had been so completely transformed by the work of evil, that he could no longer be called human. He was a snake, a poisonous, deadly animal. Harry collapsed to his knees, dust pillowing around him as he did so. It was over. He let out a sob. Voldemort may be dead but so were so many other people. Ignoring the tears that were building in his eyes, Harry forced himself to his feet again and turned around. He hoped to never again feel such anger and hatred. It was a sickening feeling.
