Consequences of Fury

The image of the irreversible, serene evening was almost fairy-tale-like. The sun, which had set beyond the horizon, left behind only vague orange streaks against the backdrop of the night sky. The summer evening was warm and pleasant, and with each step along the familiar path, William and Kitty felt the gentle exhaustion of a joyful day gradually soften their hearts.

"You know, I never thought ping-pong could be so exciting," Kitty said with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. "The guys were really great."

William nodded, looking at his sister with the kind of joy only a younger brother could have in his eyes.

"Yeah, and the food was great. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed spending time with friends like that."

Their conversation was interrupted as they approached the house. At that moment, they noticed a dark shadow looming over the roof, casting its mark on the sky. At first, they thought it was just a play of shadows from the clouds, but then William and Kitty saw the unmistakably ominous mark, burning in the heavens.

"That's... that's the Dark Mark," William whispered, his voice trembling with fear. He grabbed Kitty's hand, her face pale, her eyes filled with horror.

"They've come for us," Kitty whispered, her voice nearly inaudible.

William and Kitty froze, trying to comprehend what they had seen. It was clear that this Mark did not bode well. The realization that their parents could be in danger overwhelmed them, and driven by panic and fear, they rushed toward the house. Each step toward the front door felt like a step into the abyss.

"Please, let everything be okay," Kitty prayed, her voice quivering with anxiety and fear.

Entering the house, they immediately noticed that something was terribly wrong. The thickening silence and eerie atmosphere in the house spoke of something dreadful having happened.

They headed straight for the living room. William saw his father lying motionless by the fireplace. His body was battered, and his face was contorted in horror. Broken by grief, William fell to his knees in front of him, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"No... no, this can't be true," he whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

While William, consumed by grief, tried to process what had happened, Kitty jumped up and ran upstairs in search of her mother. The tense silence in the house was suddenly broken by a piercing scream from Kitty. In the scream, there was wild terror and unbearable pain.

Without a second thought, William sprang to his feet and raced up the stairs. His heart was pounding in his temples, and his thoughts were consumed with what might have happened to Kitty.

When he reached the bedroom, the sight that met him was more horrifying than he could have imagined. His mother's lifeless body lay on the bed. Her clothes were torn, as though they had been ripped off her by force, and her eyes remained open, staring blankly, as though time had stopped in them. The body was still and lifeless. Fear and despair engulfed William.

William stood in the bedroom, his eyes filled with grief and rage. The death of his parents, the cruelty he had just witnessed, stirred a fire of hatred deep within his soul. The flame of fury boiled in his veins, and he knew he had to avenge the death of those he loved. Grabbing his wand, he turned to Kitty, who was standing in the corner, crying.

"Kitty," his voice was firm and resolute. "You have to go back to our friends. Tell them everything that happened, and let them know that our parents are dead. Leave now, and remember: if I'm not back in two hours, go to the Spider's Hollow to Snape. He'll help you."

Kitty sobbed, her face twisted in pain. She wanted to protest, but William was unyielding. He nearly forced her out of the house, into the pouring rain, which seemed to only intensify the atmosphere of horror and despair.

"Brother, don't leave me!" Kitty cried, but William remained firm.

"Go, Kitty, and be careful. I'll find the ones who did this, and I'll make them pay."

Shivering from the piercing cold and rain, Kitty, despite her tears, made her way toward her friends' house, struggling against the trembling in her hands and legs. She understood the importance of fulfilling her brother's instructions, but her love for him made her stop as soon as he disappeared from sight. With astonishment and determination, she turned back, deciding to follow him.

Meanwhile, William, confident that Kitty would do as he said, ran through the dark forest in the rain, his hair and clothes soaked through. He was making his way to the place where Voldemort and his followers could have left their town. Every step was filled with determination and fury.

The forest was gloomy and unwelcoming, but William knew that his goal would not escape him. He was ready to face the darkest side of magic, to avenge his losses and restore justice.

But he didn't know that Kitty, unable to tear herself away from her attachment to her brother, was quietly following him, hiding in the shadow of the trees, her heart beating in sync with his.

The downpour continued, spilling onto the ground with double the intensity. The forest was dark and damp, but William kept running, ignoring the icy streams of rain that pierced him to the bone. His anger and determination were the only sources of warmth in this relentless world.

At the edge of the forest, by a small lake, William spotted three figures in black cloaks. His heart raced faster with excitement and fury. Before him stood Voldemort and his followers, Antonin Dolohov and Evelyn Hart. He couldn't be mistaken—these were the very villains who had taken everything he loved.

Without thinking, William shouted everything that was on his mind, drawing their attention.

"Hey, you bastards!" His voice cut through the sound of the rain. "You won't get forgiveness for what you've done! I'll avenge my parents!"

With these words, he waved his wand, sending a powerful surge of energy toward his enemies. Voldemort, as always, remained unfazed, his eyes flashing with green light. He turned to his followers, and a cold voice echoed in the darkness.

"Evelyn, take care of this boy," he ordered. "Don't let him interfere with our plans."

Evelyn Hart, standing to the left of the Dark Lord, took a few steps toward William. His gaze was full of resolve and disdain. He pointed his wand at William, and their duel began.

William wasted no time, and his spells, sparks, and surges of magic collided with Hart's counterattacks. The clash between them was dynamic and chaotic: every movement, every spell was driven by an unrelenting desire to win. William threw everything he had into his strikes, shouting incantations to deflect attacks and launch his own.

But every blow and every dodge was overshadowed by the realization that his opponent was not just a random villain but a representative of the force that had torn apart his life. William knew he was fighting not only for his revenge but for a future that could have been his and his family's.

With each strike, his fury grew, and he could feel his magical energy building up, ready to burst forth. However, Hart was an experienced fighter, and every counterstrike he made showed just how dangerous his presence was.

In the midst of the intense duel, when William felt his strength waning, he suddenly lost control of himself. Rage and grief overwhelmed him, transforming into uncontrollable fury. He knew he had to stop Evelyn Hart at all costs, or else he might kill him—or someone else.

His wand glowed with a dark, ominous light. He focused all of his magical energy into a single spell, and in the next moment, he uttered words he didn't even realize he was saying:

— "Reginus Mortem!"

This spell, unlike any in ordinary magic, was horrific and destructive. In a dark whirlwind of magic, Hart screamed, his insides seemingly turning to dust, and his body became a lifeless pile of skin and bones. He collapsed to the ground, his screams fading as he lost his life.

William stood, trembling from both fear and scorched fury, looking at Hart's devastated body. He understood that he had acted more cruelly than ever before, but right now, his thoughts were consumed by vengeance and protecting those he loved. Every muscle in his body trembled, and adrenaline still surged through his veins.

At that moment, amidst the rain and the darkness of the forest, he felt all his emotions turn into pure hatred, leaving no room for regret.

Voldemort, watching the scene with undisguised interest, was stunned by the dark power William had demonstrated. The Dark Lord had never thought that such a young wizard could display such strength and knowledge of dark magic. His eyes gleamed when he noticed how Will was channeling unimaginable fury and destruction.

— "Dolohov," Voldemort said, his voice cold and calculating, "deal with this boy."

Antonin Dolohov, known for his incredible strength and skill, stepped forward. He looked at William with mockery and disdain. His wand crackled with power, and he began to attack.

Dolohov quickly engaged in battle with William, his spells precise and lethal. He used his strength to direct magic with deadly accuracy. At one point, his spell pierced William, inflicting a deep cutting wound to his left leg. Blood flowed, but Will did not retreat. He kept fighting, his fury and determination unyielding.

Despite the wound, William refused to let the pain defeat him. He steadfastly continued to attack, his wand flashing in the dark forest, releasing lightning-like spells. Every strike was filled with anger and despair; he knew no mercy and left his enemies no chance of victory.

Voldemort watched the unfolding events with a deep look of surprise on his face. His interest only grew with each passing moment as he saw Will continue to fight, despite everything that was happening to him. The Dark Lord was impressed by how strong and untamable this young power was.

"Wonderful," whispered Voldemort, "so much strength and determination. This boy... his passion and hatred are capable of much."

As the battle with Will continued, Dolohov noticed that his opponent was becoming even more ferocious, and this only added weight to his actions. He understood that this fight would be difficult, but at the same time, exciting.

In the midst of the raging rain and the ruthless darkness of the forest, the battle raged on, filling the night with the sounds of combat and despair.

In the deep darkness of the forest, amid the roaring rain and the loud sounds of battle, Will gathered all his remaining strength. His eyes burned with determination, and the fear and pain from his wound could not overshadow his desire for vengeance for his parents.

He focused on Dolohov, his breath uneven from pain and exhaustion. Will raised his wand, and focusing all his feelings and hatred, he spoke the spell:

"Sectusempra!"

A blinding red light shot from his wand, and the spell, like a bright flash of lightning, rushed toward Dolohov. Sectusempra tore through the air and hit its target with incredible force. Instantly, Dolohov's left arm was slashed to the bone, his skin and muscles were torn, and blood poured out violently. Dolohov's eyes filled with shock and pain. He staggered back, his face contorting in unbearable agony.

"Ahhh!" Dolohov screamed, leaning on his wounded arm, trying to maintain his balance. His eyes were filled with fury and disgust. He stumbled backward, his movements shaky and uncertain.

Voldemort, watching this confrontation, could not hide his surprise. The boy, who demonstrated such strength and agility despite his physical suffering, was a true test for his subordinates. The Dark Lord felt that the situation required further intervention. Voldemort decided to personally deal with the impudent Lupin boy. He entered into a duel with Will.

The cold rain, like a punishment, continued to pour from the sky, and the night enveloped the forest in darkness, only the flashing lightning cutting through it. Will, exhausted and wounded, stood at the forest's edge, ready for the final trial. Before him loomed the Dark Lord, shrouded in the shadow of ominous grandeur.

Voldemort watched Will with an icy smile, his sinister eyes flashing with menace. In response to the powerful spells Will sent, Voldemort merely raised an eyebrow and deftly deflected them.

"Is this all you can do?" Voldemort asked mockingly, his voice like the hiss of a snake.

That smile, full of disdain, irritated Will to the core. Suddenly, his anger flared, and he, gathering his last strength, let out a scream of fury. He cast a powerful and fierce spell:

"Furioso!"

The spell, a blazing beam of green fire, shot from Will's wand, cutting through the air and heading straight for Voldemort. The Dark Lord was forced to leap back, deflecting the attack, but even he could not fully avoid its powerful blow. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a look of seriousness and anger.

"You're playing with fire, boy," Voldemort said, his voice growing cold and menacing. "But I am going to show you what it really means to burn in hell."

At that moment, Ketty, watching from behind the trees with an indescribable fear, in a desperate attempt to protect her brother, cast a spell:

"Expelliarmus!"

The spell shot from her wand and raced toward Voldemort. Although the Dark Lord easily deflected it, the spell's impact disrupted his concentration and caused him to momentarily lose focus.

Will turned around, seeing that someone else was involved in this terrible fight. His heart clenched with fear as he realized it was his sister. At that moment, Voldemort seized the opportunity created by Will's mistake. A spell pierced Will, and he fell to the ground, losing consciousness.

When Will regained consciousness, he was surrounded by darkness. He felt his body chained to a tree, each chain digging into his skin, causing immense pain. Before him stood Voldemort, ominously tall and threatening. Ketty lay at the Dark Lord's feet, her body trembling from fear and exhaustion.

Voldemort, smiling, aimed his wand at Ketty, her eyes filled with terror. Will, struggling to rise, fully realized the gravity of his situation. His heart broke with fear and pain as he looked at his sister, whom he could not protect.

"No..." he whispered through gritted teeth. "Don't touch her..."

Slowly, as if savoring every moment, the Dark Lord approached Ketty. Will, chained to the tree, felt his rage and despair swirling into a single whirlwind of hatred. He wanted to act, but his body was immobilized.

Voldemort continued to stand like an incarnation of evil, towering over Ketty's trembling body, his wand aimed at her helpless form. His gaze remained piercing and cold, never leaving Will, who was chained to the tree. The Dark Lord reveled in the fear and despair that gripped his enemy.

"Brave, talented, resilient..." Voldemort growled, his voice as ominous as the hiss of a snake. "But is it enough to protect those you love?"

Voldemort did not take his eyes off Will, his tone growing more mocking and cold-blooded. Satisfaction from the fear he was sowing echoed in his voice.

"You fight so hard to save your sister, but can you really protect her? Can your strength change anything?"

With these words, Voldemort focused his will on his wand and spoke:

"Crucio!"

The unimaginable pain instantly overwhelmed Ketty, her body jerking with the agony, and the scream that pierced the silence of the forest was like the wail of a lost soul. Will, chained to the tree, felt his soul shatter from the horror and rage. He saw his sister suffering, and every one of her screams was like a knife to his heart.

Voldemort continued to look at Will, as if savoring his torment. His face remained impassive while Ketty struggled to breathe, her screams gradually growing weaker. He reveled in every moment of his power, confident that Will could do nothing to stop this madness.

Voldemort continued staring at Will, unblinking, while his wand remained pointed at Ketty. Will desperately tried to break the chains that bound him to the tree. His hands were covered in deep cuts, and his skin began to crack under the strain.

Every attempt to break free from the iron shackles felt like pain shooting through every cell of his body. The chains were strong, and even his desperate efforts could not affect their strength. The dull sounds of rust and creaking served as a reminder of how hard he was trying to escape.

Ketty's cries, her torment seeping into his consciousness, only amplified his desperation. Will tried again and again to break free, but the chains held firm, not yielding to his powerful efforts. His hands were covered in blood, and he felt his strength fading. But despite this, he kept fighting, his fury and rage being the only things keeping him conscious.

Will, with trembling hands, tore at the chains, watching his sister's suffering. His anger and rage would not let him rest, but he was powerless to break the iron bonds. In a desperate attempt to save Ketty, he screamed:

"Leave her! Take me! Torture me! Torture me or kill me! But let her go!!!"

Voldemort, looking at Will with cold disdain, stopped the torture of Ketty. As if ignoring her tortured screams, he approached Will, his face indifferent and impenetrable.

"Brave, talented, resilient... but weak," he said, his voice cold as ice. "You still have a long way to go to become strong."

Ketty, almost unconscious, lay on the rain-soaked grass, her breath shallow and weak. Not far away, the remains of what was left of Evelin Hart lay scattered, a testament to his torment.

Voldemort and Dolohov stepped back to the edge of the clearing, preparing to Disapparate. But before disappearing into the air, Voldemort turned to Will and said, with a chilling horror:

"I'll help you become strong. And one day, you will be in my power."

With these words, a bright green flash of light from the Avada Kedavra curse lit up the air. And in Ketty's eyes, the pain was forever frozen...

As soon as Voldemort and Dolohov disappeared, the chains that had bound Will broke apart. In disbelief that his sister was dead, he crawled to her body on his knees, shaking her and pleading:

"Ketty! Wake up! Please, wake up!"

But her body remained motionless. When he realized she was gone, his grief burst out in a shrill, wild scream that shattered the silence of the night. His cries, full of unspeakable fear and loss, echoed through the forest, reflecting the depth of his pain.

The rain continued to pour like a cold shower, tainting the air with moisture and fog. The forest, veiled by the rain, seemed dark and lifeless. In this damp and dreary environment, fifteen-year-old William Lupin, with his face contorted by grief and resolve, carried the body of his slain sister in his arms.

Every step was difficult for him, but he could not stop. In his arms was what remained of the woman he loved most, whose life had been ruthlessly cut short. Too much pain and loss. The rain mingled with his tears as he carried her through the cold night, feeling neither exhaustion nor fear.

The darkness and rain seemed to be an inseparable part of his new inner state. William felt something much deeper and more powerful awakening within him. It was a sense of hatred and determination that overwhelmed him, transforming him from a frightened boy into a man ready to do anything for revenge.

Every step became an act of defiance, every breath filled with a vow. He would not know peace until the Dark Lord and all his followers received their just and brutal retribution. William, with every step that filled him with determination and strength, was resolved to seek revenge. His fury and desire for justice merged into one powerful force, turning him into an indomitable warrior.

With each step, his resolve grew stronger. He knew that a long road full of trials and dangers lay ahead. But now, in this forest, beneath the cold rain, he was ready to go to the end, to take back what had been taken from him and to tear justice from the hands of darkness.