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WHEN ESTE BLACK ENTERED THE GREAT HALL for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning. She was not the only person eagerly awaiting her Daily Prophet: Nearly everyone was eager for more news about the escaped Death Eaters, who, despite many reported sightings, had still not been caught. She gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly. Then, a second owl swooped down handing her a brown package. Este excitedly ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. "I didn't know you read the Quibbler," Atlas said, frowning slightly.

"I don't well, at least not until now," Este said, she unrolled it to see Harry's face grinning sheepishly at her from the front cover. In large red letters across his picture were the words:

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN.

Este beamed and began to read and when she finished, she handed Atlas the Quibbler. "That's nice," he said taking the magazine and scanning the pages. By mid-morning enormous signs had been put up all over the school, not just on House notice boards, but in the corridors and classrooms too.

— 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:
Delores Jane Umbridge
high inquisitor

By the end of that day, though Este had not seen so much as a corner of The Quibbler anywhere in the school, the whole place seemed to be quoting the interview at each other; Este heard them whispering about it as they queued up outside classes, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while Atlas even reported that every occupant of the cubicles in the boys' toilets had been talking about it when he nipped in there before Ancient Runes.

Meanwhile, Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets. Harry knew she was looking for copies of The Quibbler, but the students were several steps ahead of her. The pages carrying Harry's interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to peruse it again. Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it.

The teachers were, of course, forbidden from mentioning the interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty-six, but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can, and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister of Magic and have twelve children.

The week went by rather boringly──but on one day, Este was at dinner in the great hall when a loud scream surprised her──and many other students because they all went out to the entrance hall. Students had come flooding out of the Great Hall, where dinner was still in progress, to see what was going on. Others had crammed themselves onto the marble staircase

Professor Trelawney was standing in the middle of the entrance hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking 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. Professor Trelawney was staring, apparently terrified, at something Este could not see but that seemed to be standing at the foot of the stairs.

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

"You didn't realize this was coming?" said a high girlish voice, sounding callously amused, and Este, moving slightly to her right, saw that Trelawney's terrifying vision was nothing other than Professor Umbridge. "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!" howled Professor Trelawney, tears streaming down her face from behind her enormous lenses, "you c-can't sack me! I've been here for sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It was your home," said Professor Umbridge, and Este was revolted to see the enjoyment stretching her toadlike face as she watched Professor Trelawney 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."

But she stood and watched, with an expression of gloating enjoyment, as Professor Trelawney shuddered and moaned, rocking backward and forward on her trunk in paroxysms of grief. Este heard a sob to her left and looked around. Lavender and Parvati were both crying silently, their arms around each other. Then she heard footsteps. 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. . . . You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts. . . ."

"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" said Umbridge in a deadly voice, taking a few steps forward. "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 at the entrance. What he had been doing out on the grounds Este 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, tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, Professor McGonagall alongside her.

"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."

To Este's very great surprise, Dumbledore continued to smile. He looked down at Professor Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, "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 continues 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, Sibyll." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"

"Of course," said McGonagall. "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 said 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," 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 now drifting. Harry 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 with 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," said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

♰

It was breakfast time a few days after the sacking of Professor Trelawney, and Este was curling her eyelashes around her wand and examining the effect in the back of her spoon. They were to have their first lesson with Firenze that morning. "I wonder what it'll be like, learning with a centaur that is," Atlas wondered.

"Oh, it'll be fine," Mattheo said, shaking his head, "Plus, it can't be as bad as Trelawney."

"Hey, give her a break, she's just been sacked," Este frowned, "Lavender and Parvati told me She was crying and saying she'd rather leave the castle forever than stay here if Umbridge is still here, and I don't blame her. Umbridge was horrible to her, wasn't she?"

"I've got a feeling Umbridge has only just started being horrible," said Mattheo darkly.

"Impossible," said Atlas, who was tucking into a large plate of eggs and bacon. "She can't get any worse than she's been already."

"You mark my words, she's going to want revenge on Dumbledore for appointing a new teacher without consulting her," said Mattheo, "Especially another part-human. You saw the look on her face when she saw Firenze. . . ."

After breakfast Atlas departed for her Arithmancy class and Mattheo followed Este into the entrance hall, heading for Divination. "Aren't we going up to North Tower?" asked Mattheo, looking puzzled, as Este bypassed the marble staircase.

Este looked scornfully over her shoulder at him. "How d'you expect Firenze to climb that ladder? We're in classroom eleven now, it was on the notice board yesterday."

Classroom eleven was situated in the ground-floor corridor leading off the entrance hall on the opposite side to the Great Hall. Este knew it to be one of those classrooms that were never used regularly, and that it, therefore, had the slightly neglected feeling of a cupboard or storeroom. When she entered it right behind Harry Potter and found herself right in the middle of a forest clearing, she was therefore momentarily stunned.

"What the — ?"

The classroom floor had become springily mossy and trees were growing out of it; their leafy branches fanned across the ceiling and windows, so that the room was full of slanting shafts of soft, dappled, green light. The students who had already arrived were sitting on the earthy floor with their backs resting against tree trunks or boulders, arms wrapped around their knees or folded tightly across their chests, looking rather nervous. In the middle of the room, where there were no trees, stood Firenze.

Este and Mattheo turned to join the rest of the class on the floor. Este watched as Harry and Firenze spoke, feeling a slight twinge of admiration and surprise and when Harry sat down beside Este she gave him an impressed look. When the door was closed and the last student had sat down upon a tree stump beside the wastepaper basket, Firenze gestured around the room. "Professor Dumbledore has kindly arranged this classroom for us," said Firenze, when everyone had settled down, "in imitation of my natural habitat. I would have preferred to teach you in the Forbidden Forest, which was — until Monday — my home . . . but this is not possible."

"Please — er — sir —" said Parvati breathlessly, raising her hand, "why not? We've been in there with Hagrid, we're not frightened!"

"It is not a question of your bravery," said Firenze, "but of my position. I can no longer return to the forest. My herd has banished me."

"Herd?" said Lavender in a confused voice, and Este knew she was thinking of cows. "What — oh!" Comprehension dawned on her face. "There are more of you?" she said, stunned.

"Did Hagrid breed you, like the thestrals?" asked Dean eagerly. Firenze turned his head very slowly to face Dean, who seemed to realize at once that he had said something very offensive. "I didn't — I meant — sorry," he finished in a hushed voice.

"Centaurs are not the servants or playthings of humans," said Firenze quietly. There was a pause, then Parvati raised her hand again.

"Please, sir . . . why have the other centaurs banished you?"

"Because I have agreed to work for Professor Dumbledore," said Firenze. "They see this as a betrayal of our kind."

"Let us begin," said Firenze.

He swished his long palomino tail, raised his hand toward the leafy canopy overhead then lowered it slowly, and as he did so, the light in the room dimmed so that they now seemed to be sitting in a forest clearing by twilight, and stars emerged upon the ceiling. There were oohs and gasps, and Ron Weasley said audibly, "Blimey!"

"Lie back upon the floor," said Firenze in his calm voice, "and observe the heavens. Here is written, for those who can see, the fortune of our races."

Este stretched out on her back and gazed upward at the ceiling, Mattheo and Harry on each of her sides. A twinkling red star winked at him from overhead. "I know that you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy," said Firenze's calm voice, "and that you have mapped the stars' progress through the heavens. Centaurs have unraveled the mysteries of these movements over centuries. Our findings teach us that the future may be glimpsed in the sky above us. . . ."

"Professor Trelawney did Astrology with us!" said Parvati excitedly, raising her hand in front of her so that it stuck up in the air as she lay on her back. "Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that, and when it makes an angle to Saturn, like now" — she drew a right angle in the air above her — "that means that people need to be extra careful when handling hot things —"

"That," said Firenze calmly, "is human nonsense." Parvati's hand fell limply to her side. "Trivial hurts, tiny human accidents," said Firenze, as his hooves thudded over the mossy floor. "These are of no more significance than the scurryings of ants to the wide universe, and are unaffected by planetary movements."

"Professor Trelawney —" began Parvati, in a hurt and indignant voice.

"— is a human," said Firenze simply. "And is therefore blinkered and fettered by the limitations of your kind."

Este turned her head very slightly to look at Parvati. She looked very offended, as did several of the people surrounding her. "Sibyll Trelawney may have Seen, I do not know," continued Firenze, and Este heard the swishing of his tail again as he walked up and down before them, "but she wastes her time, in the main, on the self-flattering nonsense humans call fortune-telling. I, however, am here to explain the wisdom of centaurs, which is impersonal and impartial. We watch the skies for the great tides of evil or change that are sometimes marked there. It may take ten years to be sure of what we are seeing."

Firenze pointed to the red star directly above Harry, Este, and Mattheo. "In the past decade, the indications have been that Wizard-kind is living through nothing more than a brief calm between two wars. Mars, the bringer of battle, shines brightly above us, suggesting that the fight must break out again soon. How soon, centaurs may attempt to divine by the burning of certain herbs and leaves, by the observation of fume and flame. . . ."