Butters vs rage

“You have lost it, man,” Butters said. His voice was pleading. “Harry, I can’t let you.”
“You’d protect that thing?” I snarled.
“He’s not the one I’m trying to protect,” he snapped back. Something hard came into his eyes, and the trembling vanished. He rose, the broken hilt of Fidelacchius, the Sword of Faith, in his hands. “I’m trying to protect my friend.”
Again, my clarity was broken. Again, I felt the rage surge through me. I didn’t even bother with the words to a spell. Let it burn. I lifted my hand, and with it my rage, drew upon the wild power in the air, and ripped lightning from nowhere and nothing, sending a thunderbolt at Rudolph with an incoherent scream of rage.

Battle Ground Chapter 23, Page 211