Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

standing by the window. She was holding something tight in her hand.
    ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
    ‘Your potion, Harry,’ said Mrs Weasley quickly, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.
    Harry drank it in one. The effect was instantaneous. Heavy, irresistible waves of dreamless sleep broke over him, he fell back onto his pillows, and thought no more.

 
     
— CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN —
     
The Beginning
    When he looked back, even a month later, Harry found he had few memories of the following days. It was as though he had been through too much to take in any more. The recollections he did have were very painful. The worst, perhaps, was the meeting with the Diggorys that took place the following morning.
    They did not blame him for what had happened; on the contrary, both thanked him for returning Cedric’s body to them. Mr Diggory sobbed through most of the interview. Mrs Diggory’s grief seemed to be beyond tears.
    ‘He suffered very little, then,’ she said, when Harry had told her how Cedric had died. ‘And after all, Amos … he died just when he’d won the Tournament. He must have been happy.’
    When they had got to their feet, she looked down at Harry and said, ‘You look after yourself, now.’
    Harry seized the sack of gold on the bedside table.
    ‘You take this,’ he muttered to her. ‘It should’ve been Cedric’s, he got there first, you take it –’
    But she backed away from him. ‘Oh, no, it’s yours, dear, we couldn’t … you keep it.’
    *
    Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told him, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry alone, that nobody ask him questions or badger him to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, he noticed, were skirting him in the corridors, avoiding his eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as he passed. He guessed that many of them had believed Rita Skeeter’s article about how disturbed and possibly dangerous he was. Perhaps they were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. He found he didn’t care very much. He liked it best when he was with Ron and Hermione, and they were talking about other things, or else letting him sit in silence while they played chess. He felt as though all three of them had reached an understanding they didn’t need to put into words; that each was waiting for some sign, some word, of what was going on outside Hogwarts – and that it was useless to speculate about what might be coming until they knew anything for certain. The only time they touched upon the subject was when Ron told Harry about a meeting Mrs Weasley had had with Dumbledore before going home.
    ‘She went to ask him if you could come straight to us this summer,’ he said. ‘But he wants you to go back to the Dursleys, at least at first.’
    ‘Why?’ said Harry.
    ‘She said Dumbledore’s got his reasons,’ said Ron, shaking his head darkly. ‘I suppose we’ve got to trust him, haven’t we?’
    The only person apart from Ron and Hermione that Harry felt able to talk to was Hagrid. As there was no longer a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, they had those lessons free. They used the one on Thursday afternoon to go down and visit him in his cabin. It was a bright and sunny day; Fang bounded out of the open door as they approached, barking and wagging his tail madly.
    ‘Who’s that?’ called Hagrid, coming to the door. ‘Harry!’
    He strode out to meet them, pulled Harry into a one-armed hug, ruffled his hair and said, ‘Good ter see yeh, mate. Good ter see yeh.’
    They saw two bucket-sized cups and saucers on the wooden table in front of the fireplace when they entered Hagrid’s cabin.
    ‘Bin havin’ a cuppa with Olympe,’ Hagrid said, ‘she’s jus’ left.’
    ‘Who?’ said Ron, curiously.
    ‘Madame Maxime, o’ course!’ said Hagrid.
    ‘You two made it up, have you?’ said Ron.
    ‘Dunno what yeh’re talkin’ about,’ said Hagrid airily, fetching more cups from the dresser. When he had made tea, and offered round a plate of doughy biscuits, he leant back in his chair and surveyed Harry closely through his beetle-black eyes.
    ‘You all righ’?’ he said gruffly.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Harry.
    ‘No, yeh’re not,’ said Hagrid. ‘’Course yeh’re not. But yeh will be.’
    Harry said nothing.
    ‘Knew he was goin’ ter come back,’ said Hagrid, and Harry, Ron and