Hermione was damn near reaching a blind rage; all her hair strewn about her face in a nest of twisted curls that was knotted more than not, her pupils dilated and teeth bared as her wand shone forth with a red light that crackled and popped. The toy laying at her feet was back to writhing and moaning in pain, his lungs too broken to allow anymore proper screams. His face pinched up the longer she held the spell, a caricature of the warrior that he had once professed to be. 