51. remembering.

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Even a month later, Antheia had none but few memories from the days following. It was as though she could not take in any more after what she had been through.

She and Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower the following evening. From what Hermione and Ron told them, Dumbledore had spoken to the school that morning at breakfast. He had merely requested that they leave Harry and Antheia alone, that nobody asks them questions or badger them to tell the story of what had happened in the maze. Most people, Antheia noticed, were skirting her in the corridors, avoiding her eyes. Some whispered behind their hands as they passed. Perhaps they were formulating their own theories about how Cedric had died. She was annoyed by this, of course, but found she didn't mind much. She liked it best when she was with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they were talking about other things, or else letting them sit in silence while they played chess. Antheia felt as though all four 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 Antheia, 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 and Antheia closely through his beetle-black eyes.

"You two all righ'?" he said gruffly.

"Yeah," said Harry. Antheia hummed in agreement.

"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, Antheia, Ron, and Hermione looked up at him, shocked. "Known it fer years. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. S'long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Hagrid raised his bushy eyebrows at the disbelieving expressions on their faces.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did, Harry, Antheia."

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