Last time...

"Well, I hope you're all proud of yourselves." They hear, as the door burst open to allow Snape into the room, and he stalked in. "Albus can't go anywhere without being beset by lemons, even those foul little candies in his office. Umbridge is trapped in the snow globe, swearing up a blue streak, and hurling her guts out; only for the vomit to disappear. Something that looks like snow, but I suspect is something else, has been falling within the globe. What doesn't land on her vanishes, and the cycle repeats."

"Super fine body glitter mixed with the same grade of itching powder." Hera offered up, looking like herself again, helpfully.

"Nice touch." Filius offered, with clear approval in his voice.

"Thanks, Professor!" She beamed proudly.

At that point Fred and George walked back into the room looking both proud and sheepish, each holding a folded bundle of Snape's clothing.

"At least I now know who your other co-conspirators were, if not how you got into my things." Snape noted, still sounding annoyed.

"That was me." Hera admitted, now grimacing. "I went looking for clothing for them to complete the authenticity. I didn't look for anything or touch anything else. Incidently, why do you have your sleeping quarters booby-trapped? I ran afoul of quite a number of those."

"In case anyone gets the idea to go snooping through my things." Snape remarked, giving her a rather pointed look. "Thank you for proving that a necessity."

Shame overwhelmed her, and she looked down at the floor, because she was in the wrong for that. "My apologies, Professor. I know I shouldn't have done that, and it was a gross violation of your trust as well as your privacy."

"Don't. do it. again." Snape grounded out, to which she nodded. She'd been expecting this part.

"It's more our fault, really." Fred insisted.

"She offered to transfigure robes for us, but we figured authenticity mattered for important pranks such as these." George admitted as well.

"She is ultimately responsible for her own choices, and in this she chose to let your influence sway her decision." Snape countered, glaring at them for interrupting. "Therefore, should I decide a punishment for her in regards to the invasion of my privacy, you two shall endure it as well. Is that clear?"

The two nodded quickly.

"Now, I want you two to go back to your dorm, and don't breathe a word of this to anyone or I will know." Snape continued. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Professor!"

"Right away, Professor!"

"Of course, Professor!"

"Not you." Snape corrected, catching Hera before she could leave. Well, she'd tried. "Did you lot even come up with a cover story for this? We're going to have to call in curse breakers, and that means Ministry attention. You are aware of that, yes?"

"Oh, that's easy." Pomona declared. "It's not our fault she was hallucinating from a bad trip. She started spouting nonsense about copies of a professor she has shown a clear stalker like tendency towards. She had to be contained. For her safety."

"For her safety." Snape repeated, deadpan. Pomona nodded, completely unrepentant, and Snape sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Do I at least get to know what lead to all of this? Just what in Merlin's name were you all thinking?"

Hera perked up at this, and began to explain. "Well, you see, Professor, it all started when I had to impersonate you this morning before breakfast…"

Chapter 104

It hadn't really taken long to dispel the jinx on Albus, but it had certainly made the curse breakers snicker a bit to see it in action. Severus would swear up and down it was still active, if only because there were times throughout the next day that any lemon slice in a dish during meal times would come flying at him at odd intervals; either that, or the students had caught on and were continuing the illusion of it. He would not put it past Potter to spread the word, if only for a bit of light hearted amusement. Getting rid of the snow globe Dolores had been trapped in had taken the better part of a day, but getting rid of the itchy glitter had been nigh impossible, but in the end they did eventually manage it...mostly. They then realized she was still under the curse of the foul vernacular, and by the time the curse breakers realized what it was…well, many of them hadn't wanted to do anything about it; the sly look that Filius shot Minerva made him wonder what else they'd done, but Severus decided he didn't want to know.

It wasn't until the evening of the following day that he realized something else was wrong. He'd scheduled a meeting with Potter for some time in the evening, in order to properly address things, and she hadn't shown up yet; though he'd not exactly scheduled a set time either. So when she stumbled into the room some moments later, he was marginally perplexed. She looked…not frightened exactly…but something was wrong. Potter was generally able to work her way through any situation with at least some level of aplomb; that she was not so assured now was disconcerting.

"Potter?"

"About the breakout at Azkaban…" Potter began.

"Apparently no one stays locked up these days." He commented dryly. She gave a weak laugh, but the comment seemed to ease her some. "You know something."

Potter nodded, still shaking slightly, before moving to sit in front of his desk. "I went over the article again, and I think…There are artefacts that can lend power, magic, but at a price…one only very few, or the very desperate, are willing to pay…Do you understand?"

Severus frowned, but nodded. He'd heard of such things. When Gaunt had been the Dark Lord, he'd had a few of them discretely do research into them. There'd been some talk of one or two in Norway, another in Tibet; nothing of any substance. He kept himself from asking about why she was speaking of this, when she brought out the wicked looking halberd; watching as it changed into a dagger as she set it on the desk.

"This is one such artefact; not the weapon, the stone. It is part of a set, I suppose, known as Infinity Stones; or gems, as you like. Think of them as evidence of the building blocks of the universe, literal embodiments. They hold powers unimaginable, and are a danger to any who try to possess them without understanding the price to be paid. Most mortals die upon a touch, and those that are not are changed forever in horrifying ways that can never be undone. Even longer lived races would not think to risk such a thing lightly." Potter explained, in a grave tone of voice. "I fear Nott Sr. has found himself in possession of one such artefact."

"It could be something completely unrelated." Severus pointed out, to which she nodded in acquiescence.

"It could, but I have reason to think otherwise." Potter admitted. "I suspect that the Dark Mark began taking his life force when it couldn't find any more magic to drain, and he found a source of it within Azkaban itself. The Dementors may have even acted as a defence for the artefact, unknowing though it might have been. Once in his possession, if it accepted him, it would have given him power. With that? It would have been child's play."

"You have a suspicion." Severus realized.

"The stories coming out of the Daily Prophet…There was only one guard to survive. The destruction he told of…the colour of the fire even…I'm afraid that Nott Sr has come into contact with the Power stone." Potter revealed, still shaken. "If I'm right, Professor-"

"If you're right, we will deal with it then. For now, explain to me more about these stones." Severus interrupted, hopefully countering whatever anxiety well she was about to spiral down. "Which one is this, and how are you able to hold it with the conditions being so high?"

"Because I understand what it means." She stated. Taking the weapon into her hands before he could point out how unhelpful that sentence was, she held it closer for him to inspect the stone. "This is the Soul Stone. It's power is that over souls, as the rather pointed name would imply. It was given to me by one who paid the price to attain it, who understood it and knew I would too. They sacrificed the soul and life of one they loved; a soul for a soul."

"What does that mean?" He asked, looking from her to the stone and back again.

"It means that only those who understand the weight of what they've done – that not only does it take the life of the one you killed, but alters your soul forever – can hold the stone." Potter explained patiently. "It is possible to kill someone, even someone you love, and not understand the weight of what you've done; many do. You, I think, could hold the stone; even if you have no desire to ever use it. You understand what it is to hold someone's life in your hands, what it is to snuff it out or free it, the power a soul can have."

"Potter, what you're implying is dangerous." Severus warned, hoping to caution the girl, but what he saw surprised him.

She looked at him with grave understanding, as she replied. "Yes, it is."

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that she had the knowledge of a last life, to forget exactly just who she had once been. Stark had been right in that respect, though he was loathed to ever tell him. Potter could make anyone believe she was simply some young upstart with more brains than sense, and the thing was that she didn't even know she was doing it. She masked parts of herself without even realizing it, even from herself, which was why he was convinced she had no idea how powerful she truly was. Here now though, it was easy to see that she understood the gravity of what she was saying to him, and knew not to take such things lightly.

"Power will be more volatile in who it lets wield it. As Nott Sr. had no magic of his own any longer, he'd have no power of his to try and gain mastery of it. If he survived first contact, and I still can't understand how he would have, I imagine a bargain could be struck, but-"

"You're suggesting the stones are sentient?" He asked, more wary than before.

"All magic is, in a way, but I believe these are more so than most things." Potter reasoned. "They do act as literal keys to the universe, you realize."

"Point." Severus acquiesced, deciding to put that particular puzzle aside for now, and got back to the matter at hand. "Nott Sr. is as loyal a Death Eater as they come, which is why I'd tried to warn you-"

"Yes, yes, I know, when I got stabbed." Potter grumbled, taking the dagger back and vanishing it. "Moving on."

"He would first want to find the Dark Lord, but with Gaunt no longer being the man Nott Sr. remembers, and the others looking to him for answers…" Severus trailed off, and then realized what she had. "He will want to take his place."

"And with a possible infinity stone? Even if he doesn't realize what he truly has, if it is in fact what he does have, the man will be…nigh unstoppable." Potter confirmed. No wonder she was so shaken. "With just that one stone, he could destroy everything."

…

"…Maybe not."

She hears, but doesn't understand, and is confused as she replied. "…What?"

"While he has Power, you have the power of Soul. You understand the power a soul can have, Potter. You know what it means, what it can do. Whether it is because of some instinctual knowledge of magic, or knowledge you're drawing on from your last life, you understand. That is far more than anything he can possess." Snape pointed out, which only caused her to be wary. It was still such a huge fucking risk, and he must have seen the doubt on her face; of course, he would. "It doesn't hurt that the god of the Dead and king of the Underworld views you as a friend. I'm still trying to figure out how that happened, and I watched the memory."

"You mean…?" She trailed off. "I was right?"

He simply arched an eyebrow and refused to answer.

"When I was there, he helped me. I saw…a memory, though it was fuzzy." She admitted, deep in thought. "I saw you, but…It didn't seem like you remembered it, and I wondered if you'd forced yourself to forget."

"I can show you the memory, if you like." Snape offered. "He called you something, but I think that might be a conversation you should have with him instead of me. I don't fully understand what it means. He will."

Before Hera could answer him, the sound of a woman's scream reached them, followed by the muffled sounds of some kind of commotion. Somewhere above them, the woman screamed again. Snape strode to his office door, wand held at the ready, with Hera quickly following after him. He only glanced her way for a moment, before seemingly resolving to not bother wasting the time it would take to try and get her to wait in his office; especially since she had no intention of doing that. The closer they got to the entrance hall, the louder the screams became, worrying the pair of them.

When they reached the top, the entrance hall was packed. Students had come flooding out of the Great Hall, where dinner was still in progress, to see what was going on. Hera pushed forward through a knot of rather tall students, and saw that the onlookers had formed a great ring; some of them looked shocked, others frightened. Professor McGonagall was directly opposite Hera on the other side of the hall, looking as though what she was watching made her feel faintly sick. Hera's attention rested on Professor Trewlawney, who was standing in the middle of the entrance hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, and her heart sank.

"Damn it. I told her to do something about all those empty bottles, not make new ones." She mourned, muttering to herself.

"There's nothing for it now, Potter." Snape advised, his voice low, not unkind. "You tried."

Professor Trewlawney looked utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other. Her innumerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside down. It looked very much as though it had been thrown down the stairs after her.

"No!" Professor Trewlawney shrieked. "NO! This cannot be happening…It cannot…I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" Umbridge asked, in a high girlish sort of voice, sounding callously amused. "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?"

"You c-can't!" Professor Trelawney cried, 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," Umbridge corrected, joy stretching her toad-like face as she watched Professor Trewlawney sink – 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."

"Do something!" Hera hissed, somewhere between glaring at and pleading with Snape now, but he seemed just as lost as to what he could do as she was.

Professor Trewlawney was sobbing, leaning against one of her trunks, bemoaning her fate. Hera ran scenario after scenario through her mind, but none of them could cover up a sherry habit, and she knew that's what Umbridge was banking on to get the woman sacked. It was a habit Hera had warned the professor about, but she'd never not been able to do her job, and nothing had come of it…until now. A movement out of the corner of her eyes ha her glancing back at the spectacle. Professor McGonagall had broken away from the spectators, marched straight up to Professor Trelawney and was patting her firmly on the back while withdrawing a large handkerchief from within her robes.

"There, there, Sibyll…Calm down…Blow your nose on this…It's not as bad as you think, now…" Professor McGonagall tried to sooth the distraught woman. "You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts."

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge countered in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "And your authority for that statement is…?"

"That would be mine,"

The oak front doors had swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared in the entrance. What he had been doing out in the grounds, Hera could not imagine, but there was something impressive about the sight of him framed in the doorway against an oddly misty night. Leaving the doors wide behind him, he strode forward through the circle of onlookers toward the place where Professor Trelawney sat, tear-stained and trembling, upon her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" Umbridge demanded, 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."

"You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers." Dumbledore agreed, with a slight smile. "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."

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. It is my wish that you remain, Sibyll." Dumbledore denied, sharply. He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course," Professor McGonagall agreed. "Up you get, Sibyll…"

Professor Sprout came hurrying forward out of the crowd and grabbed Professor Trelawney's other arm. Together they guided her past Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick went scurrying after them, his wand held out before him; he squeaked, "Locomotor trunks!" and Professor Trelawney's luggage rose into the air and proceeded up the staircase after her, Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear. Professor Umbridge was standing stock-still, staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.

"And what," she demanded in a whisper that nevertheless carried all around the entrance hall, "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," Dumbledore proclaimed pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer lodgings on the ground floor."

"You've found — ?" Umbridge sputtered 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," Dumbledore recited dutifully. "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 now drifting. Hooves. Hera heard hooves. There was a shocked murmur around the hall and those nearest the doors hastily moved even farther backward, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer. Through the mist came a face Hera had seen only once before on a dark, dangerous night in the Forbidden Forest: white-blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes, the head and torso of a man joined to the palomino body of a horse.

"This is Firenze," Dumbledore announced happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

…

After Umbridge had stormed off…

"Hera Potter," Firenze greeted, nodding to her. "It is good to see you fair well."

"It's good to see you too, Firenze." Hera nodded, greeting him in turn, with an easy smile. "How's Mars? Still shining?"

"Brighter than ever." Firenze replied, now seemingly amused by her.

"We'll get there." Hera stated, sounding almost as if she were trying to comfort him. Her eyes darted over to Albus, who had to inwardly admit to feeling someone bemused by all of this. "I hope you know you're insane. That woman insults Professor Flitwick and myself under her breath whenever she thinks we can not hear her. What do you think her reaction will be to Firenze once she gets over the shock of what you've done?"

"Don't tell me you don't approve." Albus remarked, smiling just a touch at her confusion. "You have been steadily getting on Dolores' nerves since her placement here. The prank was simply too good to pass up. You see, I worked out just before school started back what she intended to do, and it took quite a bit of fancy footwork to get the herd to agree to my idea. They do not normally help humans, you understand."

"Then why did they…" Hera huffed, turning her attention to Firenze. "Why would your herd agree to this? Why would you?"

"Our help was not offered lightly." Firenze acknowledged. "Your actions are seen across time, written in the stars. The herd sees and wishes to help you, Hera Potter. Do not take such a thing lightly."