In friendlier times between them, Harry might have given pause to his anger, heard the note of pain in Oliver's voice and asked him what had happened to him. But Harry's inner eye played a loop of Sirius and Faelan, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck standing on-end with pent-up energy.
"Counting our first meeting, that's the second time you've touched me in anger, Wood. One more time, and we're going to have a problem."