That night, Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower with a glowing face.
He told Ron, who had been waiting for him, about Fred and George's plan to film next week's Quidditch match. "They want me to be the lead. Do you know what a lead is, Ron? It's the person who gets the most screen time..."
Ron had been taken to see movies by Vaughn when he was very young—though he had only gotten the chance because of Ginny—so of course he knew what a movie's lead meant.
Looking at Harry's rosy cheeks, Ron felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of lemon juice over him. Sourly and stiffly, he said, "Congratulations, Harry."
Harry said "modestly," "It's nothing special, really. And it's a lot of trouble. Fred and George want to mount a camera on my broom, and I'm still considering it. I'm worried it'll affect my flying."
Pfft!
Ron felt as if he had been stabbed in the chest. Suddenly, Harry's glasses seemed to be reflecting light—so dazzling that he could not look directly at them.
Unable to resist, he asked maliciously, "Then how are you going to explain this to Wood? You promised him you'd persuade Fred and George to put their minds back on Quidditch, but now you've joined them yourself."
Harry was not worried at all.
"Don't worry. We're getting ready to persuade Wood to cooperate. A movie needs supporting characters as well as a lead, right?"
Hearing that, Ron felt his mouth turning sour. He suddenly lost all desire to talk and muttered, "Then I wish you luck, Harry. It's getting late, and I'm tired. I'm going to bed first."
Immersed in his excitement, Harry did not notice anything strange about his friend. There were always a few days every month when Ron acted a