33. Firenze.

The results of the article were seen a week later, with the Great Hall suddenly becoming inundated with owls as they flew to deliver their letters. Kirk, who had been told about the newspaper article by McCoy, looked slightly amused as a letter dropped into his cereal.

"Looks like you've become famous, Bones. Just proves that it can follow you from universe to universe."

McCoy rolled his eyes and picked up the letter, which was sopping wet with milk. "I don't think I'll be able to read this."

"Sure you can," Ron said as he gave the owl a Knut and shooed it away. "Just dry it off."

"Oh, hand it here," Hermione said brusquely, taking the letter, waving it dry with one flick of her wand and handing it back.

"Has anyone ever told you you're bloody brilliant?"

"It's a standard spell, Ron," she replied, though she looked slightly pleased with herself.

"Looks like you've got some too," Ginny told Harry, pointing at several owls who were scrambling to reach him.

"Blimey! They just keep coming," Ron exclaimed, "can we-"

"Help yourself," Harry said.

They began ripping envelopes open.

"The Slytherins don't look too happy," Kirk observed, nodding across the Hall, where a surprised looking Spock was opening letters. Malfoy looked unenthusiastic as he watched.

"That's because they all support You-Know-Who," Ron said carelessly.

"Spock might have some trouble on his hands," Hermione said in concern.

"Malfoy only looks jealous," Harry observed.

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, stalling all further discussion, "This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker...ah well..."

"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St Mungo's," Hermione reported, crumpling up her letter.

"This one's ok though," Harry said happily, "she says she believes me!"

Across the Hall, Spock had opened a Howler.

"-RUINING THE GOOD NAME OF SLYTHERIN!" It could be heard shrieking, sounding uncannily like Mrs Black. They could see Snape striding towards Spock, expression unfathomable.

"That doesn't look good," McCoy muttered as Snape beckoned Spock out the Great Hall, leaving Malfoy stuck with the Howler.

"-EXPECT MUCH BETTER THINGS, STUDENTS TODAY HAVE NO SENSE OF LOYALTY-"

"What do you think Snape'll do?" Harry asked.

"Curse Spock into the Stone Age," Ron said immediately, crumpling up another letter. "Another one who thinks you're barking..."

There was a burst of raucous laughter from the Slytherin table as they gathered round a letter, some pointing at Harry before laughing again.

"What is going on here?" Umbridge asked, having apparently materialised out of nowhere. "Why have you got all these letters?"

"Is that a crime now?" Fred challenged. "Getting mail?"

"Be careful, Mr Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention. Well?" She said to Harry and McCoy.

"People have written to us," Harry said finally, "because we gave an interview about what happened last June."

"An interview?" Umbridge asked, her voice becoming squeaky. "What do you mean?"

"He means what the word 'interview' normally means," McCoy said acidly. "Look it up if you're not sure."

"Here." Harry threw a newspaper at her before she could punish McCoy, hitting her squarely in the face. "Sorry – er – my hand slipped," he said, sounding not sorry in the least. "Must be the lack of Quidditch practice..."

Umbridge was beginning to clash with her outfit. "When did you do this?"

"Last Hogsmeade weekend," Harry replied.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for any of you."

"Professor," McCoy protested, "they didn't do anything."

"That hardly matters," Umbridge snapped. "How you dare...how you could..." she took a shockingly deep breath, her face inflating before she blew it out. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in, Mr Potter. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions. That applies to you too, Mr McCoy."

She stalked off, breathing heavily, before they could answer back.

"It's worth it," Ron shrugged, diving back into the letters.

By lunchtime, signs had appeared all over the school, the message sounding slightly desperate despite its official wording.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor.

Hermione beamed with delight. "For once, I think I agree with her."

"You're mental!" Ron told her. "You went through all that to get the interview, and now you agree with her?"

"Don't you see?" Hermione asked incredulously. "If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read the interview, it was banning it!"

"That is hardly a logical response to a command," Spock murmured.

"No," Hermione agreed, "but you have to admit that reverse psychology is useful."

"Indeed."

"So what did Snape want with you anyway?" Ron asked Spock as they continued down the corridor.

"He merely requested that I attempt not to draw more public attention to us."

"What did he think about the article?"

"His personal opinions were not voiced, Leonard."

"So he didn't try to expel you for opposing his 'Dark Lord'?" Ron asked suspiciously.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "That course of action was hardly available."

"Yeah, well," Harry continued viciously, "he can't exactly make it public he supports Voldemort, can he? Dumbledore would sack him."

The officers exchanged a look with Hermione but did not press the point, having already had this conversation many times before.

"Obviously," Hermione said cautiously, "he doesn't want you all getting kidnapped by Death Eaters-"

"Because it'd blow his cover with Dumbledore," Ron interrupted.

"Yes," Hermione looked slightly exasperated.

"Or put the school in danger," Kirk pointed out, after several moments of awkward silence.

"Why do you always defend Snape?" Harry demanded, looking angry.

"I just trust Dumbledore's judgement," Hermione said quietly.

"Snape hates me just as much as Voldemort does!"

"That doesn't mean he's on his side," Hermione said patiently.

"But-"

"Let's just let it drop," Kirk said hastily. "We're not going to get anywhere with this argument."

"How are the Slytherins reacting to this news?" McCoy asked Spock.

"They appear to be divided. Those whose parents were revealed to be Death Eaters are understandably upset-"

"Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle," Harry growled.

"Whilst others merely consider it to be an amusing turn of events."

"Because a Slytherin got part of the limelight?" Kirk asked in amusement.

"Indeed."

"So they don't all support Voldemort," Kirk deduced.

"As a matter of fact, many of them appear to promote the policies of Voldemort; however this may be a defence mechanism."

"To keep them safe in school until they can leave and oppose him publicly," McCoy said.

"Affirmative."

"So is Malfoy angry with you?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Negative. Mr Malfoy is directing the majority of his anger-"

"At me," Harry interrupted bitterly.

Spock nodded. "I of course provided no specific information for the article."

"Just a vague support of what I said," McCoy said. "You know, you could have been more forthright."

"That would have achieved little, Leonard, as I would have lost favour with many of the Slytherin students."

"But the best bit," Hermione said, stopping the brewing argument "is that no one can contradict you because they can't admit they read the article."

But the Slytherins found other ways to mock both Harry and the Gryffindors, especially after the disastrous Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. The only redeeming factor about their enthusiasm was that their song 'Weasley is our King' had finally been banned from the corridors, on the grounds that it was giving Filch a headache.

Snape, meanwhile, was becoming obviously more frustrated with Harry as time wore on. In addition to the many more 'D' grades in class, his snide comments increased dramatically, even more disgust lacing his features whenever they were forced into contact. Even with Spock's help and teaching of the Vulcan mind disciplines, Harry's dreams were continuing, the detail disturbingly real. In fact, they got worse and worse the more time went on, due to Harry's lack of motivation when it came to practicing. It was as though he wanted the dreams, the need for information seemingly outweighing the risk in Harry's opinion.

Snape seemed to realise the same thing, and it did nothing to improve his behaviour during the Occlumency sessions.

"Get up!" The Potions Master ordered when Harry failed yet again. "Who was that man, Potter?"

"I don't know."

Snape didn't look convinced. "You have not been practicing."

"I have!"

"Do not lie to me, Potter, I know that you have not practiced. Any scene where the Dark Lord is in captivity is clearly a recent one. Who is the man in red?"

"I told you, I don't know!" Harry spat.

"His name is Mr Scott," Spock intoned. "He is no doubt interrogating Voldemort."

"I see," Snape replied, turning back to Harry, looking extremely annoyed. "You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter? You do know why we are giving up our evenings to do this tedious job?"

"Yes."

"Yet you fail to practice," Snape snapped. "You refuse to acknowledge the danger of your connection with the Dark Lord. You are not trying!"

"I am!"

"Perhaps," Snape said quietly, "you actually enjoy having the visions and dreams, Potter. Maybe they make you feel special – important?"

"No, they don't."

"That is just as well, Potter, because you are neither special nor important-"

"Professor," Spock intoned quietly, "this is hardly appropriate."

"I am the teacher, Mr Spock. It is my job to remind students of the facts, particularly," he shot a glare at Harry, "the slower of the class. Now, if you are ready," he said swiftly, "we will start again."

He raised his wand. "One – two – three – Legilimens!"

Breathing hard, eyes screwed up in concentration, Harry raised his wand, determination spurring his next word.

"Protego!"

The unthinkable happened. Snape, halfway through breaking into Harry's mind, staggered and began to fall to the ground, knocked off balance by the spell.

Acting on impulse and training, Spock reached out to steady him...

A hook nosed man was screaming insults at a cowering woman, while a small boy cried in the corner, his body as small as he could make it so as not to attract attention...

The memory skipped, focussing on an older version of the boy, hair dark and greasy from neglect, pointing a wand at the ceiling, listlessly knocking down flies.

Realising what had happened, Spock and Snape worked together, creating a barrier to Harry's mind, but not before the image of a malnourished boy falling off a broomstick surfaced, the laughter of a long grown up girl echoing in their ears.

Blocking himself from the memories, Spock withdrew, trying to ignore the black waves of anger and humiliation directed at the student lying on the floor, water dripping onto him from a ruptured tank.

Standing next to Spock, Snape was shaking from the sudden rush of emotion, his face too pale. He was glaring at Harry, who still seemed slightly dazed.

"Reparo." The jar began to refill with the liquid which had soaked Harry's robes.

"Well," Snape snarled after several moments, in his wrath ignoring Spock completely, "Potter...that was certainly an improvement..."

There was a heavy silence as Snape straightened the Pensieve, as if to reassure himself the memories were still there. His chest was heaving.

"I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm...but there is no doubt that it was effective..."

Harry seemed too terrified and shocked to speak, surveying the Potions Master with slightly wide eyes.

With what seemed like an effort, Snape collected himself. "Let's try again, shall we?"

Still Harry said nothing, but regained his footing and lifted his eyes to meet Snape's.

"On the count of three, then. One – two – Legilimens!"

Snape smirked as Harry was thrown off guard by the abrupt attack, lost in a swirling vortex of memories. The smirk faded from his face even as Harry shouted out in triumph, and the spell was lifted.

"POTTER!"

Snape stalked forwards to tower over the fallen teenager, his entire demeanour more foreboding than ever.

"Explain yourself!"

"I...dunno what happened..." Harry said, standing up. "I've never seen that before. I mean, I told you, I've dreamed about the door...but it's never opened before..."

"You are not working hard enough!" Snape said angrily. "You have two teachers at your disposal and yet you fail to recognise the opportunity! You are lazy and sloppy, Potter, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord-"

"Can you tell me something, sir?" Harry demanded angrily, glaring daggers at Snape. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord? I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that."

Before Snape could answer, there was a high pitched scream, the anguished sound echoing around the castle. Spock's head jerked towards the door while Snape seemed to stare through the ceiling, forgetting Harry completely.

For once all agreeing on something, they hurriedly exited the office and followed the voice to the Entrance Hall, not entirely surprised to see it packed with watching students.

In the middle of the rind of onlookers and looking faintly like a dishevelled drunkard, Professor Trelawney clutched a sherry bottle as though it could save her from Umbridge, who was smirking at her in disgusting triumph.

Trelawney sidestepped her bags, putting herself closer to her tormentor. With her shrieking voice, trailing scarves and wild hair, she looked almost like a creation from a horror movie.

"No!" She shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening...it cannot...I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realise this was coming?" Umbridge questioned, sounding amused. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realised that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable that you would be sacked?"

There were tears running down Trelawney's face now, rendering her almost incoherent. "You c-can't! You c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It was your home," Umbridge said callously, a smile stretching her face, "until an hour ago, when the Minister for Magic countersigned your Order of Dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this Hall. You are embarrassing us."

There was a ripple of outrage through the crowd. As far away from Harry as he could get, Snape was watching the scene, his face impassive.

McGonagall broke away from the group, the only one to even think about bringing Trelawney any comfort. "There, there, Sybill..." she produced a handkerchief from within her robes and held it out kindly.

"Calm down...blow your nose on this...it's not as bad as you think, now...you are not going to have to leave Hogwarts..."

Unfortunately Umbridge heard this and took an angry step forward, clearly desperate to save her reputation after the previous fiasco in her class. "Oh really, Professor McGonagall? And your authority for that statement is...?"

"That," a voice said loudly, "would be mine."

The great oaken doors opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore, framed majestically by the dark and misty night. The doors closed with a thud upon the silence and Dumbledore strode forward.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge laughed. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here-" she withdrew some parchment, "-an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister for Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation and sack any other teacher she – that is to say, I – feel is not performing to the standards required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."

Dumbledore simply smiles, to Umbridge's apparent confusion and rage.

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid that the power to do that still resides with the Headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."

Trelawney hiccoughed. "No – no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore!" She said theatrically. "I sh-shall – leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere-"

"No. It is my wish that you remain, Sybill." He turned to a sympathetic looking McGonagall. "Might I ask that you escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course. Up you get, Sybill..."

Sprout came out of the crowd and helped to guide Trelawney back up the steps, while Professor Flitwick collected the trunks and followed, hovering them before him.

Umbridge looked furious. "And what are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem. You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found-" Umbridge was beside herself with indignation. "You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two-"

"The Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if – and only if – the Headmaster is unable to find one. And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"

Without waiting for an answer he turned towards the doors, which swung open once more, this time allowing the sound of hooves to drift in with the mist.

Students began almost tripping over themselves to make way for the handsome centaur, some gaping in shock. Umbridge looked ready to faint.

"This is Firenze," Dumbledore said happily. "I think you'll find him suitable."

In the heavy silence that followed, a laugh could be heard along with a single word.

"Excellent!"