Potter calling him a joke was the last straw. All the waiting and watching and hoping for some miracle while he was stuck here in this place away from Hogwarts, away from Dumbledore, and Lily's child, and the war; all this time unable to help, and this Potter look-alike with Lily's beautiful eyes had just called him a joke.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, his Slytherin side that had kept him alive for so long was screaming at him to back down and think rationally. But this time, it wasn't doing any good.

"You think I'm a joke? A JOKE!? One minute I am trying to keep Bellatrix Lestrange from turning me in as a traitor to the dark lord, sealing my own doom in the process and the next moment I wake up here. And for Merlin knows how long I have been trying to figure out how to warn Dumbledore of what I have done, hoping that he has the right potions for his hand, and for some unknown reason hoping your - excuse me - Harry Potter's sorry Gryffindor self is still alive, and you dare to come in here and call me a joke?"

His fists clenched, and swirls of red lights spotted his vision. This was not going well. If he did not get out of here soon he was going to lose control.