The blast flew across his chest, and Rodolphus felt the skin tear away from him as he shoved himself into the wall; another blasting curse soared past and from his ribs, he could feel rage bursting forth.
He roared, loud and vicious and heartfelt, and he didn't even bother casting a spell. What good were magical shields when he intended to get his hands around this man's throat, around his heart. He wanted to feel blood pulse around him, to taste the screaming fits of death.
Throwing himself forward and down the stairs, Rodolphus lashed out with fist and tooth and nail, seeking any body part within reach. He would have revenge for what these people had done to the most gentle of their kind. He would have BLOOD.