Harry saw red. There had been plenty of lockeroom counseling sessions where Harry railed against the publicity and adoration aimed at him while Oliver made sympathetic noises. The great prat must have been hiding his own need for glory, a need that consumed him at the cost of his family.
Stepping forward, just short of searing Oliver with his eyes, Harry hissed, "Jealous, Wood? I'd trade every moment of attention I've had for one moment more with the people I loved. You can't say the same, can you?" It was a judgment, not a question.