"Let him go! Asshole! Or I'll make you!"
Devereux yanked his Wand from his waist, pointing it straight at Harry, his voice echoing like thunder across the Black Lake.
His fingers gripped the Wand tightly. His heart hammered against his ribs, his chest rising and falling with anger and tension. He knew all too well that Harry was not himself right now—that wild look in his eyes, those out-of-control movements—without a doubt, he had slipped into some kind of mindless, aggressive state once again.
Chapter 229