She could not control her anger, which kept erupting in strange flashes after her acting teacher encouraged her to express emotions she had previously suppressed.
From Spitzbergen through the Arctic, and across Canada and the Barrens, he had held his own with all manner of dogs and achieved to mastery over them. Bitter rage was his, but never blind rage.
Next we see Credence, full of anger, running through the streets, destroying buildings and causing all sorts of havoc, running directly at Albus Dumbledore.
We are, rather, strong enough to be weak; to let our silliness, our idiocy, our anger and our sadness show, confident that these do not have to be the final verdicts on who we are.
And also, is this little, tiny negotiation that we're in really worth all of this fury and rage and shame that I'm whipping up and sending in his direction?