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383 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2015


















"You’ve got to take the rest of your potion, Harry,’ Mrs Weasley said at last. Her hand nudged the sack of gold on his bedside cabinet as she reached for the bottle and the goblet. ‘You have a good long sleep. Try and think about something else for a while … think about what you’re going to buy with your winnings!’
‘I don’t want that gold,’ said Harry in an expressionless voice. ‘You have it. Anyone can have it. I shouldn’t have won it. It should’ve been Cedric’s.’
The thing against which he had been fighting on and off ever since he had come out of the maze was threatening to overpower him. He could feel a burning, prickling feeling in the inner corners of his eyes. He blinked and stared up at the ceiling.
‘It wasn’t your fault, Harry,’ Mrs Weasley whispered.
‘I told him to take the Cup with me,’ said Harry.
Now the burning feeling was in his throat, too. He wished Ron would look away.
Mrs Weasley set the potion down on the bedside cabinet, bent down, and put her arms around Harry. He had no memory of ever being hugged like this, as though by a mother. The full weight of everything he had seen that night seemed to fall in upon him as Mrs Weasley held him to her. His mother’s face, his father’s voice, the sight of Cedric, dead on the ground, all started spinning in his head until he could hardly bear it, until he was screwing up his face against the howl of misery fighting to get out of him
There was a loud slamming noise, and Mrs Weasley and Harry broke apart. Hermione was 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.



