"If you were going to be able to translate it, you would have done it already," Harry shot back.
He scowled at her. "It's not as if you've managed to figure out what to do with it!" he answered defensively. She was right though, and he closed his hand around the snitch tightly, and then slammed his hand down into the table hard enough that the thin wood creaked a little and splintered, pricking his hand enough to make him swear, lift it to his mouth to suck at reflexively. It was a stupid thing to do. But he felt slightly better having done it, at least.