He was talking in a very fast, feverish way.
'But what have you got your broom for, you haven't been flying, have you' Harry asked.
'I - well - well, OK, I'll tell you, but don't laugh, all right' Ron said defensively, turning redder with every second. 'I - I thought I'd try out for Gryffindor Keeper now I've got a decent broom. There. Go on. Laugh.'
'I'm not laughing,' said Harry. Ron blinked. 'It's a brilliant idea! It'd be really cool if you got on the team! I've never seen you play Keeper, are you good'
'I'm not bad,' said Ron, who looked immensely relieved at Harry's reaction. 'Charlie, Fred and George always made me keep for them when they were training during the holidays.'
'So you've been practising tonight'
'Every evening since Tuesday . . . just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be.' Ron looked nervous and anxious. 'Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect.'
'I wish I was going to be there,' said Harry bitterly, as they set off together towards the common room.
'Yeah, so do - Harry, what's that on the back of your hand'
