A/N I really need to update more because I've nearly finished the Year Six and there's another ten or so chapters left with this one. So I shall try and update on Sunday/Monday and start a system of Monday-Wednesday-Friday is I possibly can (it might turn into something else but who knows?) SO keep you're eyes open because I'll be updating more:) Thanks for all the reviews, and I hope you like this chapter! xxx
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Sacking
Harry told Dean and Neville (and Seamus, because he was sat near them) about the interview he did on Monday night. Ron was at Quidditch practise (Fred and George had told Amara that they were going to see if there had been any improvement since the all-day practise) and it was Amara, Hermione and Harry at the table eating dinner with the three other boys.
Seamus, who was obviously listening in, was shovelling pie down his throat so fast Amara thought he was vanishing it.
Dean and Neville were very impressed at what Harry had done during the Hogsmeade visit and were looking at him in awe when he had told them.
"Can't wait to see what Umbridge thinks of you going public," said Dean, his pie forgotten on his plate as he gazed at Harry.
"It's the right thing to do, Harry," said Neville, who was sitting opposite him and next to Amara. He was rather pale, but went on in a low voice, "It must have been . . . tough . . . talking about it. . . . Was it?"
"Yeah," mumbled Harry, "but people have got to know what Voldemort's capable of, haven't they?"
"That's right," said Neville, nodding, "and his Death Eaters too . . . People should know. . . ."
Neville left his sentence hanging and returned to his baked potato. Seamus looked up, but when he caught Harry's eye he looked quickly back at his plate again. Soon, Dean, Neville and Seamus left for the common room, muttering darkly about the amount of work they had to do. Amara watched them leave, and noticed Cho Chang walk into the hall with her friend Marietta, who was in Dumbledore's Army too. Amara didn't think she wanted to be there still, and it was making her uneasy. Cho also ignored the Gryffindor table when she sat down with her friends.
"Oh, I forgot to ask you," said Hermione brightly to Harry, glancing over at the Ravenclaw table too, "what happened on your date with Cho? How come you were back so early?"
"Er . . . well, it was . . ." said Harry, pulling a dish of rhubarb crumble toward him and helping himself to seconds, "a complete fiasco, now you mention it."
He took a gulp of crumble as Amara and Hermione raised their eyebrows at him.
"It was going fine until we went to Madam Puddifoot's –" Harry looked pained.
"Fred told me about that place," said Amara, nodding. "Never been there myself."
"Don't," Harry advised. "It's awful – she decorated it for Valentine's Day and," He shuddered. "We had run out of things to talk about, so I told her about meeting you, Hermione, at midday and that Amara was probably going to be there as well. She got kind of snotty when I mentioned you, right, and then she began to talk about you and Cedric and 'how did it happen?' 'did he mention me at all?' and how she felt really bad about when he died and how she was acting with Amara … so then she asks me if I talk about it much, after she's there, tearing up over how horrible she apparently was last year and how she regrets it, see, and I tell her I talk about it with you, and you, Hermione, and Ron, and she gets cross about the fact that I tell you guys about it. She asks me if I'm meeting any other girls after you two! And so I finally figure out what she's talking about and try and explain, but she gets more upset, so then, she jumps up, right, and says 'I'll see you around, Harry,' and runs out of the place!" He put down his spoon and looked at Hermione and Amara, who was trying not to laugh at his confused expression. "I mean, what was all that about? What was going on?"
Hermione glanced over at the back of Cho's head and sighed. "Oh, Harry," she said sadly. "Well, I'm sorry, but you were a bit tactless."
"Me, tactless?" said Harry, looking outraged. "One minute we were getting on fine, next minute she was telling me that Roger Davies asked her out, and how she was jealous of Amara and Cedric — how was I supposed to feel about that?"
"Well, you see," said Hermione, kicking Amara under the table because she was sniggering behind her goblet of pumpkin juice, "you shouldn't have told her that you wanted to meet Amara and me halfway through your date."
"But, but," spluttered Harry, "but — you told me to meet you at twelve and to bring her along, how was I supposed to do that without telling her — ?"
"You should have told her differently" said Hermione, still with that maddeningly patient air. "You should have said it was really annoying, but I'd made you promise to come along to the Three Broomsticks, and you really didn't want to go, you'd much rather spend the whole day with her, but unfortunately you thought you really ought to meet me, and Amara too, and would she please, please come along with you, and hopefully you'd be able to get away more quickly? And it might have been a good idea to mention how ugly you think Amara and I are too," Hermione added as an afterthought.
"But I don't think either of you are ugly," said Harry, bemused.
Hermione laughed.
"Harry, you're worse than Ron. . . . Well, no, you're not," she sighed, as Ron himself came stumping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy. "Look — you upset Cho when you said you were going to meet me and Amara – who already went out with Cedric instead of her, so she tried to make you jealous. It was her way of trying to find out how much you liked her."
"Is that what she was doing?" said Harry as Ron dropped onto the bench next to Amara and started pulling every dish towards him. "Well, wouldn't it have been easier if she'd just asked me whether I liked her better than you?"
"We don't ask things like that," said Amara, emerging from behind her goblet. "We like to go the more complicated, emotional route."
"Well, they should!" said Harry forcefully. "Then I could've just told her I fancy her, and she wouldn't have had to get herself all worked up again about her jealousy over Amara and Cedric, and his death!"
"I'm not saying what she did was sensible," said Hermione, as Ginny and Ethan joined them, both just as muddy as Ron and looking equally disgruntled. "I'm just trying to make you see how she was feeling at the time."
"You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them."
"Yeah," said Harry fervently, he glanced at the Ravenclaw table, then to Ron, Ginny and Ethan. "So, how was Quidditch practice?"
"It was a nightmare," said Ron in a surly voice.
"Oh come on," said Hermione, looking at Ginny, "I'm sure it wasn't that —"
"Yes, it was," said Ginny. "It was appalling. Angelina was nearly in tears by the end of it."
"I regret ever trying out," said Ethan, glaring at a potato on his fork.
"If you didn't try out, we'd be stuck with two awful Beaters," said Ginny.
The three of them went off for baths after dinner, all looking grumpy still, and Amara, Harry and Hermione went to the Gryffindor common room to make a break in their ever there pile of homework.
Amara and Harry had been struggling with their star charts for half an hour, both trying to figure out which was what, and Amara got very annoyed, before Fred and George walked up.
"Ron, Ginny and Ethan not here?" asked Fred, looking around as he pulled up a chair next to Amara and, when Harry shook his head, he said, "Good. We were watching their practice. They're going to be slaughtered. They're complete rubbish without us."
"Come on, Ginny's not bad," said George fairly, sitting down next to Fred. "Actually, I dunno how she got so good, seeing how we never let her play with us. . . ."
"She's been breaking into your broom shed in the garden since the age of six and taking each of your brooms out in turn when you weren't looking," said Hermione from behind her tottering pile of Ancient Rune books, which Amara wished she was doing, but she'd already done it.
"Oh," said George, looking mildly impressed. "Well — that'd explain it."
"Has Ron saved a goal yet?" asked Hermione, peering over the top of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms.
"Well, he can do it if he doesn't think anyone's watching him," said Fred, rolling his eyes. "So all we have to do is ask the crowd to turn their backs and talk among themselves every time the Quaffle goes up his end on Saturday."
He got up again and moved restlessly to the window, staring out across the dark grounds.
"You know, Quidditch was about the only thing in this place worth staying for."
Hermione cast him a stern look.
"You've got exams coming!"
"Told you already, we're not fussed about N.E.W.T.s," said Fred. "The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us onto it. . . ."
George yawned widely and looked out disconsolately at the cloudy night sky.
"I dunno if I even want to watch this match. If Zacharias Smith beats us I might have to kill myself."
"Kill him, more like," said Fred firmly.
"I'll do that," said Amara vaguely, crossing out another mistake and writing the correction. "Damn it, Harry you got it wrong."
"That's the trouble with Quidditch," said Hermione absentmindedly, as Harry checked his star chart too, "it creates all this bad feeling and tension between the Houses."
She looked up to find her copy of Spellman's Syllabary and caught Amara, Fred, George, and Harry looking at her with expressions of mingled disgust and incredulity on their faces.
"Well, it does!" she said impatiently. "It's only a game, isn't it?"
"Hermione," said Harry, shaking his head, "you're good on feelings and stuff, but you just don't understand about Quidditch."
"Maybe not," she said darkly, returning to her translation again, "but at least my happiness doesn't depend on Ron's goalkeeping ability."
Amara avoided eye contact with Fred and returned to her Star chart, which was starting to be very messy. Sighing, she vanished the mistakes and put the things that she thought were right.
-OOOOO-
Amara had to say: she wasn't really looking forwards to the match on Saturday. In fact, she was right in not getting her hopes up, because the game was only rather short (Harry said it was twenty-two minutes long) and it meant that the Gryffindors didn't have to suffer through Ron's fourteenth miss or just how badly Jack Sloper was (he missed the Bludger and hit Angelina instead) which meant Ethan had to do the majority himself. He wasn't bad - not nearly as good as Fred and George, who could work together seamlessly and had a lot of experience.
However, Ginny managed to snatch up the golden Snitch under the Hufflepuff Seeker's nose (a blonde haired boy Amara was certain was in the Chess club) and it meant that Gryffindor only lost by ten points, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty.
It was dismal in the common room afterwards. Angelina was collapsed on the sofa with a dreary looking Katie and Alicia, Ginny talked to Harry, Ethan was drinking butterbeer with Eddie and Ron was crumpled in the corner with a butterbeer in between his knees.
Amara, not wanting to talk to Hermione about why-liking-Quidditch-is-bad-for-you, stood with Fred and George. Even Fred didn't seem to be able to take the mickey out of Ron.
"It's like a funeral in here," said Amara, sipping her butterbeer and closing her eyes to rest them.
"Mmmm, we haven't lost in a while, I suppose," said George. The twins weren't their usual happy selves.
Amara flopped her herself over the sofa they were sat on, her legs stretched out over their laps. She put her arm over her eyes.
"Why does Quidditch do this?" She groaned. "Why can't I be like Hermione and not care much?"
"Because we'd like you less," said Fred.
Amara did a half-hearted grin.
They wandered over to see Harry, who was observing Ron as though he had a disease and was dying.
"I haven't got the heart to take the mickey out of him, even," said Fred, looking back over at Ron's crumpled figure. "Mind you . . . when he missed the fourteenth . . ."
He made wild motions with his arms as though doing an upright doggy-paddle. Amara tried not to snort with laughter, because of her loyalty to Ron.
"Well, I'll save it for parties, eh?"
Ron dragged himself up to bed shortly after this. Amara didn't last long herself - she wasn't really in the mood for anything.
When she collapsed into bed, she couldn't get the image of Fred floating in her mind. Shaking her head firmly, she rolled over.
Get a grip, she thought. It's been six months since Cedric died.
Six months?
Fred doesn't want to go out with a person who's still sad about her old boyfriend dying.
Who wouldn't be? It wasn't as though she knew it was going to happen!
Amara's heart kept thudding every time she thought about the red headed boy, and she tried to get him out of her head. Somehow, he kept walking back in, smirking at her.
Is it too quick? She couldn't tell him about her feelings ... He'd laugh at her ... Or ruin their friendship ... Maybe she could ask Hermione for ideas ...
-OOOOO-
HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN
It was the front cover of The Quibbler - Harry had received it Monday morning from a post owl, and it had a picture of him grinning sheepishly on the front cover.
Along with the copy of the magazine (Amara didn't really count it as a "newspaper") were several more owls that all were trying to give Harry more letters.
"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna, who had drifted over to the Gryffindor table and now squeezed herself onto the bench between Fred and Amara, which annoyed her greatly. "It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send you a free copy. I expect all these," she waved a hand at the assembled owls still scrambling around on the table in front of Harry, "are letters from readers."
"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Harry, d'you mind if we — ?"
"Help yourself," said Harry. Amara started helping herself to the letter and ripping open envelopes with Ron and Hermione.
"This one's from a bloke who thinks you're off your rocker," said Ron, glancing down his letter. "Ah well . . ."
"This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at
St. Mungo's," said Hermione, looking disappointed and crumpling up a second.
"Hey, this one says he believes you!" Amara said excitedly. "Yeah - he says he doesn't want to, but he has to face the facts ... Aw he says he's amazed that you had to guts to do it too ..."
"This one looks okay, too," said Harry slowly. "She says she believes me!"
"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm too, "Says you don't come across as a mad person, but he really doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who's back so he doesn't know what to think now. . . . Blimey, what a waste of parchment . . ."
"Here's another one you've convinced, Harry!" said Hermione excitedly. " 'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly. . . . Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth. . . .' Oh this is wonderful!"
"Another one who thinks you're barking," said Ron, throwing a crumpled letter over his shoulder, "but this one says you've got her converted, and she now thinks you're a real hero — she's put in a photograph too — wow —"
"This one thinks you're full of shi-" Amara began.
"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice.
Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred, Amara and Luna, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Harry. Behind her many of the students were watching them avidly. Amara and Fred exchanged dark glances as they turned to look at Professor Umbridge.
"Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter?" she asked slowly.
"Is that a crime now?" said Fred loudly. "Getting mail?"
"Be careful, Mr Weasley, or I shall have to put you in detention," said Umbridge. "Well, Mr Potter?"
Harry seemed to hesitate before answering truthfully, which Amara thought rather good of him.
"People have written to me because I gave an interview," said Harry. "About what happened to me last June."
"An interview?" repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"
"I mean a reporter asked me questions and I answered them," said Harry. "Here —"
And he threw the copy of The Quibbler at her. She caught it and stared down at the cover. Her pale, doughy face turned an ugly, patchy violet.
"When did you do this?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly, and Amara nearly smirked.
"Last Hogsmeade weekend," said Harry.
Professor Umbridge looked up at him, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking in her stubby fingers. Amara was so glad she was in such a rags, Fred had to nudge her to make her stop grinning.
"There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you, Mr Potter," Professor Umbridge whispered. "How you dare . . . how you could . . ." She took a deep breath. "I have tried again and again to teach you not to tell lies. The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detentions."
She stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, the eyes of many students following her.
When they walked down the corridors before lunch they found enormous signs hanging in the corridors and classrooms, as well as the House notice boards.
— 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
"What exactly are you so happy about?" Harry asked Hermione when they walked past one and the girl beamed triumphantly.
"Oh Harry, don't you see?" Hermione breathed. "If she could have done one thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!"
Everyone had read The Quibbler by the end of the day. Because Professor Umbridge had banned it, everyone wanted to know what was going on, and to see what Harry had to say. Amara was pleased to see that the girls in the bathroom which Hermione and her went in before Ancient Runes were all talking about the interview and they all bombarded them with questions. Amara practically skipped to Ancient Runes when she figured the girls actually believed Harry. People were whispering about it all through the corridors – everyone knew about the article and had read the article. Ethan, Eddie, Flick and Piper came up to them at lunchtime to tell them just how cool it was that everyone was starting to believe Harry.
"They were talking about it in Charms today," said Flick. "They all seem to think you're telling the truth. Good thing Umbridge banned it, eh?"
It was a good thing - because even though Umbridge was picking out people at random and demanding them to show them what was in their pockets, the students were one step ahead. They'd charmed the magazine to look like textbooks or it was wiped blank until they wanted to read it again. Tessie eagerly showed her copy of The Quibbler as a textbook that a sixth year Gryffindor boy had apparently helped her charm.
Even the teachers were showing their feelings by doing little things - like Sprout giving twenty points to Gryffindor for passing a watering can.
The next day (when people were still talking about the interview with gusto) Cho apologised to Harry (in a strange way, but he still looked very happy) but the best thing (in Amara's opinion, because her opinion of Cho was rather low) was that Seamus found him before Transfiguration and told him he believed him too.
Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the boy named Nott glared at Harry in the library later, but as Hermione said, they couldn't say anything because they'd get expelled for knowing about the interview.
To make things even better, Luna told them over dinner that no copy of The Quibbler had ever sold out faster.
"Dad's reprinting!" she told Harry, her eyes popping excitedly. "He can't believe it, he says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!"
It was with high spirits that they entered the Gryffindor common room that night to find that Fred and George had enlarged the picture of Harry and made him say things like "The Ministry are morons" and "Eat dung, Umbridge".
Hermione went to bed early because it annoyed her, whilst Harry went to bed early because everyone kept asking him to relive his experience of last June.
Amara did not find this entertaining, so she sat on the windowsill and looked out at the dark grounds for most of the evening, trying to tune out the irritating poster which the charm was running out of and only shouted out disconnected words that weren't very funny.
This time last year, Amara realised, Harry and Cedric had just finished the second task. She'd been in an enchanted sleep the day before. Cedric had saved her from the lake ...
"Amara."
Amara jolted awake. She'd apparently fallen asleep with her face against the window, and it was now very late - everyone minus Fred and George had left the common room.
"What - what time is it?" Amara said, rubbing her face with her hands.
"Like one o'clock," said George. "Are you alright? You're really pale and you were kind of muttering ..."
She'd been dreaming about Cedric's death.
"No, I'm fine," Amara tried to smile. This is why you can't tell Fred. "I think I'll go to bed now."
Luckily, they didn't stop her and she managed to get into her dormitory before she collapsed onto her bed.
-OOOO O-
The next day, Harry and Ron were no longer in good spirits - in fact, they looked rather preoccupied about something. They refused to tell them until break, because they didn't want to be overheard at all. Amara and Hermione were very intrigued and slightly anxious about what Harry was going to tell them.
Once they were in their usual corner in the courtyard, where Amara noticed Fred and George selling their Headless Hats from under their cloaks, Harry told them about his dream about Voldemort.
Rookwood had told him Avery had made a mistake - Bode would not have been able to remove "it" and he was under the Imperius Curse by Lucius Malfoy, which was why he tried to remove it, even though he fought hard. Avery was in a lot of trouble with Voldemort.
Amara's mind was reeling as she took in this information. "It" was obviously the weapon Sirius had told them about, but Amara couldn't believe that they had gotten answers about Bode.
She had been right in thinking Bode knew something - and Malfoy had known this and forced him to try and get it, because Avery had said he could have. Then once they found out it backfired and he was in St. Mungo's, they'd realised he was wrong ... And then, when Bode was getting his speech back, Malfoy could risk everyone finding out ... Maybe it was him that had killed him ...
"It's why they killed Bode then," said Amara.
Hermione nodded.
"When Bode tried to steal this weapon, something funny happened to him. I think there must be defensive spells on it, or around it, to stop people from touching it. That's why he was in St. Mungo's, his brain had gone all funny and he couldn't talk. But remember what the Healer told us?"
"He was getting better," said Amara.
"And they couldn't risk him getting better, could they?" Hermione theorised. "I mean, the shock of whatever happened when he touched that weapon probably made the Imperius Curse lift. Once he'd got his voice back, he'd explain what he'd been doing, wouldn't he? They would have known he'd been sent to steal the weapon. Of course, it would have been easy for Lucius Malfoy to put the curse on him. Never out of the Ministry, is he?"
"He was even hanging around that day I had my hearing," said Harry. "In the — hang on . . ." he said slowly. "He was in the Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Your dad said he was probably trying to sneak down and find out what happened in my hearing, but what if —"
"Sturgis," gasped Hermione, looking thunderstruck.
"Sorry?" said Ron, looking bewildered.
"Sturgis Podmore," said Hermione, breathlessly. "Arrested for trying to get through a door. Lucius Malfoy got him too. I bet he did it the day you saw him there, Harry. Sturgis had Moody's Invisibility Cloak, right? So what if he was standing guard by the door, invisible, and Malfoy heard him move, or guessed he was there, or just did the Imperius Curse on the off chance that a guard was there? So when Sturgis next had an opportunity — probably when it was his turn on guard duty again — he tried to get into the department to steal the weapon for Voldemort — Ron, be quiet — but he got caught and sent to Azkaban. . . ."
"It all fits," Amara gasped as Hermione gazed at Harry.
"And now Rookwood's told Voldemort how to get the weapon?" She said.
"I didn't hear all the conversation, but that's what it sounded like," said Harry. "Rookwood used to work there. . . . Maybe Voldemort'll send Rookwood to do it?"
Hermione nodded, apparently still lost in thought. Then, quite abruptly, she said, "But you shouldn't have seen this at all, Harry."
"What?" he said, taken aback. Ron and Amara exchanged bewildered glances.
"You're supposed to be learning how to close your mind to this sort of thing," said Hermione, suddenly stern.
"I know I am," said Harry. "But —"
"Well, I think we should just try and forget what you saw," said Hermione firmly. "And you ought to put in a bit more effort on your Occlumency from now on."
Amara gaped at her in shock.
"Yeah, because we're going to stop thinking about the fact that we are the only ones that know what happened to Sturgis and Bode other than Voldemort," Amara said quietly to Ron and Harry, the former flinching at his name.
Harry nodded, he was still angry at Hermione for telling him off. He didn't talk to her for the rest of the day.
It wasn't a good few weeks, especially for Harry. People kept talking about the Death Eaters who'd escaped, laughing at Gryffindor's defeat (the Slytherins got banned from singing "Weasley is Our King" because it annoyed Filch so much) and Umbridge was still at Hogwarts, sniffing out which Professor she should give the sack too. The only good thing was that Amara got an A and an E in her Potions essays, as well as an O in her Transfiguration one.
-OOOOO-
Amara was eating a few weeks later with Ron and Hermione (Harry was at Occlumency) chatting about various things when an ear-splitting scream shattered the happy chatter in the Great Hall. There was an intake of breath as the Hall became silent - all heads swivelled towards the source of the scream, from the Entrance Hall.
There were pockets of confused and anxious whispers around the tables, and even the Professors looked bemused and concerned.
A second scream shook through the room and everyone looked at each other. As one, the students rose and scrambled out their chairs and bustled into a mob trying to get out to see what was going on.
Amara, Ron and Hermione hurried too, trying to get past a bunch of sixth year Ravenclaws as they tried to get out.
When they did, they found that everyone had started to make a massive ring around the edge of the entrance hall. People had packed themselves on the marble staircase, and they were all looking shocked and frightened. Amara, Hermione and Ron managed to get themselves near the front so that Amara could see what was going on.
The screams had come from Professor Trelawney, who was standing in the middle of the entrance hall with two trunks next to her on the floor. She looked utterly mad - she was holding her wand in one hand and an empty bottle in the other; her eyes were wide and horrified beneath her magnifying glasses; her shawls and scarves were slipping off her shoulders and her hair was on end.
Amara, who didn't really like Professor Trelawney, couldn't help feel sorry for her as she stood in front of the entire school.
Amara didn't know why she had screamed until she looked away from the terrified Professor Umbridge, wearing her horrible fluffy pink cardigan, her Alice band and she had the expression that she was really rather pleased about something.
"No!" Professor Trelawney shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening. . . . It cannot . . . I refuse to accept it!"
"You didn't realise this was coming?" said Professor Umbrige. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"
Amara then realised why Professor Trelawney's trunks were with her, and why Professor Umbridge was so pleased: she'd sacked her.
"You c-can't!" howled Professor Trelawney, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses, "you c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"
"It was your home," said Professor Umbridge, smiling widely as Professor Trelawney sank, sobbing uncontrollably, onto one of her trunks, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."
Amara was horrified and felt sick watching the scene before her. She couldn't believe what Umbridge was doing - how could she be so cruel and sadistic?
Professor Trelawney didn't seem to be able to do anything - she rocked back and forth, her thin frame racking with sobs and moans of grief. Lavender and Parvati were crying too, and Professor McGonagall looked sick.
The Transfiguration teacher suddenly broke free of the others and hurried over to the sobbing Professor Trelawney.
"There, there, Sybill . . . 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. . . ."
"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" said Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. Her amused expression had vanished as she stared at Professor McGonagall. "And your authority for that statement is . . . ?"
"That would be mine," said a deep voice.
The oak front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance.
He left the doors wide open as he strode forwards, passed the troops of gaping students, all the way until he came to a stop in front of Professors Trelawney and McGonagall and facing a non-smiling Professor Umbridge.
"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" said Umbridge with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here" — she pulled a parchment scroll from within her robes — "an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of 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 teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."
Professor Dumbledore was smiling, which Amara thought was strange because she currently wanted to punch every part of Professor Umbridge until she begged for mercy.
But Professor Dumbledore carried on smiling and glanced down at a still sobbing and grief-stricken Professor Trelawney.
"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," he went on, with a courteous little bow, "that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."
At this, Professor Trelawney gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccup was barely hidden.
"No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere —"
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."
He turned to Professor McGonagall, who was still next to the trembling Professor.
"Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"
"Of course," said McGonagall. "Up you get, Sybill. . . ."
Professor Sprout came hurrying forward out of the crowd too and grabbed Professor Trelawney's other arm to help her. Professor Flitwick went too, squeaking "Locomotor Trunks!" so that the two large trunks rose and followed the three other Professors past Professor Umbridge on the staircase.
"And what," Professor Umbridge said, trying to whisper, but everyone heard it anyway. "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," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."
"You've found — ?" said Umbridge shrilly. "You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty- two —"
"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one," said Dumbledore. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"
He turned to face the open front doors, through which night mist was drifting in and making the people standing nearest look eerie and slightly cold. There was a slight noise, like hooves, coming from outside and everyone looked at each other in surprise.
"What is that?" Amara whispered to Ron and Hermione, who were both staring at the doors too. The students were scrambling away as though something was going to burst through and eat them.
The night mist made everything much more dramatic - for, slowly and impressively, came the figure of half a man, with white blond hair and blue eyes, and the other half of a white horse.
The centaur looked vaguely familiar, and it was not until Dumbledore spoke again that Amara realised this particular centaur once saved Harry from Voldemort.
"This is Firenze," said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."
And Amara turned to Ron and Hermione, grinning widely at this new development, and the look of pure hatred on Umbridge's face.