She was more messed up than she had ever been, and this time she had literal blood on her hands. All over her clothing, body, and hair, in fact. A sick feeling crept through her, settling in the pit of her stomach. At the same time however, her magic and the darkness within her was singing its triumph. Her bloodlust and vengeance was satisfied for the time being. She dreaded the thought that it was not totally sated and that she would be driven to seek revenge on others, also. On Lucius Malfoy for his unprecedented, blind prejudice. On Bellatrix Lestrange, for torturing her – on Albus Dumbledore, for turning nearly everyone she had ever cared for against her.