The flames that had swallowed Fred and George seemed as though they would never burn out, continuing to blaze fiercely in midair.
Harry stared fixedly at the fire, as if the flames were burning his eyes and throat as well, scorching his eye sockets until they stung and making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Fred and George's laughing voices seemed to linger in his ears, as though they wanted to tell him that the fire burning in midair was merely another one of their pranks.
Yet it only seemed that way. He could no longer hear Fred and George's voices.
It was because of me...
Harry could not help thinking.
Vizet's unknown fate, Fred and George's sacrifice, the devastation strewn across Hogwarts...
As the person mentioned in the prophecy, if he could have done more when facing Voldemort, perhaps none of this would have happened.
It was as though the thought had set his soul alight, and a blaze of anger rose within him.
It was an anger that he could not extinguish in the slightest, no matter how desperately he suppressed his emotions.
He knew very well that there was only one way to put out that anger: defeat the culprit behind all of this!
Harry swiftly turned his head and found Voldemort, who was weaving through the ferocious attacks of Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald.
He gripped his Wand tightly and took a deep breath.
At that moment, he clearly realized that his Wand was already in his hand, that the ground beneath his feet was a dueling ground, and that what he had to do now was engage in a final duel with the other person mentioned in the prophecy!
He wanted to defeat Voldemort more than he ever had before!
To achieve that, he was