They hovered above the island, facing each other for a few moments, focusing. Hatred. He needed hatred for the spell. At least in theory. And he had enough of that to go around, he really did. Hatred for Zabini and Black, though dead. For everyone still left inside, many of them probably the same garbage excuses for witches and wizards who wanted to sentence them to the Dementor’s Kiss. Yes, there was enough hatred boiling in his blood. 