chapter thirty;

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chapter thirty;

SHE WAS HALF HUMAN AND HALF A HURRICANE, A HALF THAT'S LIVING TO DESTROY AND THAT'S TRYING TO SURVIVE

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SHE WAS HALF HUMAN AND HALF A HURRICANE, A HALF THAT'S LIVING TO DESTROY AND THAT'S TRYING TO SURVIVE

MAY 26TH 1995

THE NEXT FEW MONTHS FLEW BY LIKE IT was nothing. Harry and his friends had spent the entire Easter break in Hogwarts. It was relatively quiet since most of the people who didn't go home for Christmas went then on Easter.

Mrs. Weasley had sent them toffee eggs. Harry and Ron had a great time eating the large chocolate. ( Although unknown to Ron, Harry had saved a bit of his for the midnight "date" at the lake. He didn't need to know that. )

Hermione has gotten a smaller egg for being involved in a nonexistent love square. According to the prophet, Hermione was madly in love with Harry and tried to make him jealous with Krum, but Harry was already happily in love with Athena.

Harry didn't know which was more embarrassing, the fact that a large part of the wizarding world thought he was part of a love square, how the prophet had at least got his feelings for Athena right or how Athena got so annoyed with it that she nearly ripped Krum's head off when he asked her about it.

Another thing happened.

Moody—Crouch Jr.— had disappeared shortly after his encounter with Athena and when he returned a week later, he seemed completely tortured and drained. Harry thought Athena might've had something to do with this, but when he asked her she seemed both confused and frustrated.

"Who's he, to lecture me about being out-of-bounds?" Harry scoffed in mild indignation after showing her the letter Sirius sent him this morning. "After all the stuff he did at school!"

Athena herself was currently painting a portrait of him on a canvas. She had said, quote, It was to have his stupidity on display. Harry privately thought—hoped—it was just an excuse to paint him on a picture.

"He takes after my grandfather... great uncle, whatever," she responded quietly, concentrating on the portrait firmly. "Alphard Black."

"Must be a family thing," Harry mused, resting his arms behind his head with a sigh.

This earned him a sharp, "Don't move."

He rolled his eyes. It wasn't like she didn't have a photographic memory.

They stayed quiet for a while. Athena focusing on the painting, sometimes looking between him and the canvas, and Harry watched her. When she painted, he observed to himself, she didn't look like a girl who constantly got angry. No, Athena had a professional, almost peaceful look on her face.

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