Ron trails him excitedly. Muttering about everything that has happened since he stopped talking to Harry. There’s a gnawing, clawing urge to snap. To yell and scream and hurt. Had Harry not been aware of Barty’s plans, he would have needed his best friend. Needed reassurance and comfort. Ron had taken this as a slight. As if Harry had not complained about all his near-death experiences and his want, his hope for a normal school year.