March arrived with freezing rain that turned the Hogwarts grounds into thick mud. Inside the castle, the atmosphere was growing just as bleak.
Public trust in the Ministry of Magic was slipping. For months, Cornelius Fudge and the Daily Prophet had insisted Harry was lying and Voldemort was gone for good. The incident at Gringotts had damaged that narrative badly.
Despite the Ministry's attempts to downplay it, word had spread.
The wizarding world knew Death Eaters had fought inside the deepest vaults of Gringotts. The last time they'd been this active and organized was fifteen years ago, during the Wizarding War.
Down in the Great Hall, the afternoon feast had just begun, but at the far end of the Gryffindor table the noise of clattering plates and chatter felt muted.
Ignoring the usual house boundaries, Victor sat squeezed in beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione, leaning back against the stone wall.
Ron pushed aside his plate and flattened the evening edition of the Prophet on the wood.
"Dad says the Ministry's a madhouse," he said, leaning in so the surrounding students wouldn't hear. "People are sending Howlers to Fudge every morning. Everyone's asking the exact same thing."
"If You-Know-Who isn't back, why are the Death Eaters suddenly active again?" Hermione whispered, quoting the question echoing through the corridors.
"Exactly," Ron said. "Dad says the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is run off its feet. Death Eaters didn't just group up and attack Gringotts for a laugh. The public might be confused, but we know exactly who gave them the order."
Harry stared at the moving photograph on the front page — Fudge, sweaty and cornered, waving away a crowd of shouting reporters.
"Fudge is going to run out of excuses," Harry muttered. "He keeps telling everyone I'm making it up. Now he has to explain why Voldemort's followers are doing exactly what they did fifteen years ago."
Before anyone could reply, the oak doors of the Great Hall banged open. Seamus Finnigan came sprinting down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, breathless.
"It's Trelawney!" he panted, skidding to a halt. "Umbridge is sacking her! Right now, in the Entrance Hall!"
The Great Hall emptied fast, students from all four houses pouring out to see what was going on.
They pushed to the front of the crowd gathering in the Entrance Hall.
Professor Trelawney stood in the middle of the stone floor, terrified, a half-dozen trunks stacked haphazardly around her, clutching a fringed shawl around her thin shoulders, tears pouring behind her oversized glasses.
A few steps up the marble staircase, looking down at her like a toad eyeing a fly, stood Dolores Umbridge, holding a clipboard, wearing a sickeningly sweet smile.
"No!" Trelawney wailed, her voice echoing shrilly. "No, you cannot! You cannot sack me! I have been here sixteen years! Hogwarts is my home!"
"It was your home," Umbridge said in her high, girlish voice, sounding pleased with herself.
"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."
Trelawney let out a tragic sob, sinking onto one of her trunks, face in her hands.
Harry felt a surge of disgust. He'd never liked Trelawney and thought most of her predictions were rubbish, but watching Umbridge throw a terrified woman out of her home felt cruel.
Before Umbridge could say another word, the crowd parted. Professor McGonagall marched through the students, lips pressed thin, walked straight to Trelawney, pulled a tartan handkerchief from her robes, and patted the sobbing woman's shoulder.
"There, there, Sybill," McGonagall said briskly, glaring up the stairs at Umbridge, barely containing her fury. "Calm down. You are not going anywhere."
"Oh, I think you will find she is," Umbridge said, her voice sharp over the murmurs. She stepped down the staircase, her toad-like face stretching into a triumphant smile.
"By the authority granted to me by the Minister for Magic, she is dismissed. She is no longer a professor at Hogwarts, and she will be leaving the grounds immediately."
"No, Professor Umbridge, I do not believe she will."
The murmuring in the hall died instantly.
The crowd parted as Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, unusually stern, blue eyes fixed coldly on the High Inquisitor as he walked to where Trelawney sat weeping on her trunk.
"Minerva," Dumbledore said gently, turning to McGonagall. "Kindly escort Sybill back inside. I believe she could use a cup of tea."
"Of course, Headmaster." McGonagall helped Trelawney to her feet and guided her toward the staircase, shooting Umbridge a look of pure venom as they passed.
"No, Albus!" Umbridge's sweet veneer cracked, her face flushing mottled pink as she clutched her clipboard. "By the authority given to me by the Ministry, she is dismissed! You cannot stop this!"
"I am not attempting to, Professor Umbridge," Dumbledore replied, calm, carrying clearly across the silent hall.
"You are quite right. As High Inquisitor, the Ministry has granted you the right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to banish them from the castle."
Umbridge opened her mouth, eyes bulging slightly.
"I am afraid that power still resides solely with the Headmaster," Dumbledore continued smoothly, a dangerous edge under the politeness.
"And it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."
Umbridge stood frozen on the stairs, glaring down, her stubby fingers gripping the clipboard until her knuckles whitened.
"For now," she whispered.
Dumbledore bowed his head in a shallow nod, turned from her, and swept his gaze over the crowd. "And now, I suggest you all return to the Great Hall to finish your Lunch, or proceed to your common rooms. There is nothing more to see here."
The students hesitated only a second before the crowd broke apart, shuffling away under his watchful eye.
*****
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