───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair entered the Great Hall with Harry and Ron for breakfast at exactly the same moment as the post owls on Monday morning. Hermione 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.

Hermione gave the delivery owl a Knut and unfolded the newspaper eagerly while Blair helped herself to some bacon while an owl landed with a thud in front of her.

"Who're you after?" Blair asked it, stroking it and leaning forward to see the recipient's name and address:

Blair Wood and Harry Potter

Great Hall

Hogwarts School

"Harry!" Blair nudged him and she showed him the back of the letter. They looked at each other, confused, before Harry made to take the letter from the owl, but before he could do so, three, four, five more owls had fluttered down beside it and were jockeying for position, treading in the butter, knocking over the salt, and each attempting to give him their letters first.

"What's going on?" Ron asked in amazement, as the whole of Gryffindor table leaned forward to watch as another seven owls landed amongst the first ones, screeching, hooting, and flapping their wings.

"Blair, Harry!" said Hermione breathlessly, plunging her hands into the feathery mass and pulling out a screech owl bearing a long, cylindrical package. "I think I know what this means — open this one first!"

Harry ripped off the brown packaging. Out rolled a tightly furled copy of March's edition of The Quibbler. Blair leaned in and Harry unrolled it. They saw their faces, grinning sheepishly from the front cover. In large red letters across their picture were the words:

BLAIR WOOD AND HARRY POTTER SPEAK OUT AT LAST:

THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT WE SAW HIM RETURN

"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 Ron, who blushed again. "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 scrabbling around on the table in front of Blair and Harry, "are letters from readers."

"That's what I thought," said Hermione eagerly, "Blair, Harry, d'you mind if we — ?"

"Help yourself," said Blair, feeling slightly bemused. Ron and Hermione both started ripping open envelopes.

"This one's from a bloke who thinks you two'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.

"This one looks okay, though," said Harry slowly, scanning a long letter from a witch in Paisley. "Hey, she says she believes us!"

"This one's in two minds," said Fred, who had joined in the letter-opening with enthusiasm. "Says you don't come across as mad people, 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," said Blair. " 'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you two very unfairly... Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you both are telling the truth...'"

"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 real heroes — she's put in a photograph too — wow —"

"What is going on here?" said a falsely sweet, girlish voice. Blair looked up with her hands full of envelopes. Professor Umbridge was standing behind Fred and Luna, her bulging toad's eyes scanning the mess of owls and letters on the table in front of Blair and Harry. Behind her she saw many of the students watching them avidly.

"Why have you got all these letters, Ms. Wood, 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, Ms. Wood, Mr. Potter?" Blair and Harry looked at each other warily, but they knew it was surely only a matter of time before a copy of The Quibbler came to Umbridge's attention.

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

For some reason, Blair glanced up at the staff table as Harry said this. She had the strangest feeling that Dumbledore had been watching them a second before, but when she looked, Dumbledore seemed to be absorbed in conversation with Professor Flitwick.

"An interview?" repeated Umbridge, her voice thinner and higher than ever. "What do you mean?"

"We mean a reporter asked us questions and we answered them," said Blair. "Here —"

And she threw the copy of The Quibbler at her. Umbridge 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.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend," said Harry.

Umbridge looked up at them, incandescent with rage, the magazine shaking in her stubby fingers. "There will be no more Hogsmeade trips for you two, Ms. Wood, Mr. Potter," she 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 a week's worth of detentions for the both of you." Umbridge stalked away, clutching The Quibbler to her chest, the eyes of many students following her. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

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:

DOLORES UMBRIDGE

HIGH INQUISITOR

For some reason, every time Hermione caught sight of one of these signs she beamed with pleasure. "What exactly are you so happy about?" Harry asked her.

"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!"

And it seemed that Hermione was quite right. By the end of that day, though Blair 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; Blair heard them whispering about it as they queued up outside classes, discussing it over lunch and in the back of lessons, while Hermione even reported that every occupant of the cubicles in the girls' toilets had been talking about it when she nipped in there before Ancient Runes.

"And then they spotted me, and obviously they know I'm with Blair and we're friends, Harry, so they were bombarding me with questions," Hermione told them, her eyes shining, "and I think they believe you, I really do, I think you've finally got them convinced!"

Meanwhile Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets. Blair knew she was looking for copies of The Quibbler, but the students were several steps ahead of her.

The pages carrying their 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 Blair passed her a watering can; a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on her and Harry at the end of Charms, said "Shh!" and hurried away; and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Blair and Harry were not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, Harry would become Minister of Magic and Blair would become Headmaster of Hogwarts, and have twelve children together. That made Blair and Harry look at her and each other with disgust.

That day, Blair had finally talked to Cho, and apologized for how she found out about her and Hermione. Cho gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and apologized as well before telling Blair that she was so brave for the interview then hurrying off. Blair grinned at the fact that they were alright now. 

And unbelievably, after Transfiguration, something even better happened: As she was talking to Harry and Cedric, Seamus suddenly grabbed her arm and faced her. "I've already apologized to Harry, and I just wanted to say," he mumbled, squinting at Blair's left knee, "I believe you. And I've sent a copy of that magazine to me mam. A-And I'm sorry for everything, I-"

Blair hugged him tight, the feeling of longing for her friend finally going away. The heavy weight since their fight had lifted itself off from her chest. "Oh, Ignis. We're fine, we'll be fine."

And Seamus hugged her back tighter with Neville and Dean joining in. They were fine, and the Prancers were back. Blair spent the next break with the Prancers and they caught each other up on what had been happening in their lives. Seamus was livid when he found out what Umbridge had done to Blair, and Blair smirked when she knew that they were having another prank in store.

"WHAT? YOU AND GIN ARE TOGETHER?" shouted Blair at Neville.

Neville grinned at her, "We are."

"A-And you two are together?" She said, now looking at Dean and Seamus.

Seamus leaned in and kissed Dean on the cheek, "That we are, Caelum."

Dean fiddled with his fingers, "So?"

Blair blinked a few times before grinning and jumping on them.

"Oi! What was that for?" Dean said, rolling his eyes, but smiling anyway.

"Oh, you three, I missed you so much, and let's not fight like that again, eh? Ignis, Tranqs, Gramen?" Blair said, hugging them tight.

Seamus, Neville and Dean smiled softly before saying in unison, "Of course, Caelum."

Blair pulled away and put her hand out. The three boys put their hands on top of hers though rolling their eyes at the cheesy action.

"Go Prancers!"

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

What Blair was worried about thought was Draco. They did name his father and some of the other Slytherins' fathers as Death Eaters, but to Blair's relief, Draco sent them a small smile as he left with Goyle and Crabbe. She knew they were all right and maybe, Draco himself wanted this too.

"And the best bit is," whispered Hermione gleefully, "they can't contradict you, because they can't admit they've read the article!" 

To cap it all, Luna told them over dinner that no copy of The Quibbler had ever sold out faster. "Dad's reprinting!" she told them, her eyes popping excitedly. "He can't believe it, he says people seem even more interested in this than the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!"

Blair and Harry were heroes in the Gryffindor common room that night; daringly, Fred and George had put an Enlargement Charm on the front cover of The Quibbler and hung it on the wall, so that Blair and Harry's giant heads gazed down upon the proceedings, occasionally saying things like "The Ministry are morons" and "Eat dung, Umbridge" in a booming voice.

Hermione did not find this very amusing; she said it interfered with her concentration, and ended up going to bed early out of irritation, but she told Blair that she should stay with the others and go talk with everyone. Blair grinned and gave her a peck on the cheek.

After an hour or two, Blair was not finding the poster as funny, especially when the talking spell had started to wear off, so that it merely shouted disconnected words like "Dung" and "Umbridge" at more and more frequent intervals in a progressively higher voice. In fact it started to make her head ache and her scar began prickling uncomfortably again. Blair and Harry exchanged glances before they left the many people and went near the stairways.

"Is it hurting again, Blair?" Harry whispered.

Blair nodded and rubbed it sneakily. "M-Maybe, we should sleep, Harry, maybe we'll be fine."

Harry smiled slightly before they both went to the boys dormitory. Blair didn't want to disturb Hermione since she did want to concentrate. Blair smiled at the familiar room, she missed sleeping here and ranting to the boys how much she loved her darling Granger. Sure, the giant squid was a good listener, but her friends were different. She changed to her pajamas, exchanged good nights with Harry and went to her camp bed, rubbing her burning chest.

Blair rolled over onto her side, closed her eyes, and fell asleep almost at once... She was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. Her hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of her. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders against the dark velvet of the chair. Beyond the chair, in a pool of light cast upon the floor by the candles, knelt a man in black robes.

"I have been badly advised, it seems," said Blair, in a high, cold voice that pulsed with anger.

"Master, I crave your pardon..." croaked the man kneeling on the floor. The back of his head glimmered in the candlelight. He seemed to be trembling.

"I do not blame you, Rookwood," said Blair in that cold, cruel voice. She relinquished her grip upon the chair and walked around it, closer to the man cowering upon the floor, until she stood directly over him in the darkness, looking down from a far greater height than usual.

"You are sure of your facts, Rookwood?" asked Blair.

"Yes, My Lord, yes... I used to work in the department after — after all..."

"Avery told me Bode would be able to remove it."

"Bode could never have taken it, Master... Bode would have known he could not... Undoubtedly that is why he fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse..."

"Stand up, Rookwood," whispered Blair. The kneeling man almost fell over in his haste to obey. His face was pockmarked; the scars were thrown into relief by the candlelight. He remained a little stooped when standing, as though halfway through a bow, and he darted terrified looks up at Blair's face.

"You have done well to tell me this," said Blair. "Very well... I have wasted months on fruitless schemes, it seems... But no matter... We begin again, from now. You have Lord Voldemort's gratitude, Rookwood..."

"My Lord... yes, My Lord," gasped Rookwood, his voice hoarse with relief.

"I shall need your help. I shall need all the information you can give me."

"Of course, My Lord, of course... anything..."

"Very well... you may go. Send Avery to me."

Rookwood scurried backward, bowing, and disappeared through a door. Left alone in the dark room, Blair turned toward the wall. A cracked, age-spotted mirror hung on the wall in the shadows. Blair moved toward it. Her reflection grew larger and clearer in the darkness... A face whiter than a skull... red eyes with slits for pupils...

"NOOOOOOOOO!"

"Blair! HARRY!" yelled a voice nearby.

Blair flailed around madly to get out of her bed. For a few seconds she did not know where she was; she was convinced that she was about to see the white, skull-like face looming at her out of the dark again, then Ron's voice spoke very near to her.

"HARRY! BLAIR! WAKE UP!" Blair stared up at Ron in the moonlight, as she lay flat on her back, her scar searing with pain. Ron had just helped Harry out of the hangings before he ran over to Blair and helped her up.

"What happened? Has someone been attacked again? Is it Dad? Is it that snake?" Ron asked, supporting both Blair and Harry. Blair and Harry stared at each other, both panting.

"No — everyone's fine —" gasped Blair while rubbing her chest, "Well... Avery isn't... He's in trouble... He gave him the wrong information... He's really angry..."

Harry groaned, rubbing his forehead. "But Rookwood's going to help him now... He's on the right track again..."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron, sounding scared. "D'you mean... did you just see You-Know-Who?"

"We were You-Know-Who," said Harry, "He was with Rookwood, he's one of the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban, remember? Rookwood's just told him Bode couldn't have done it..."

"Done what?" asked Ron cautiously.

"Remove something... He said Bode would have known he couldn't have done it... Bode was under the Imperius Curse... I think he said Draco's dad put it on him..." Blair muttered lowly.

"Bode was bewitched to remove something?" Ron said. "But — Blair, Harry, that's got to be —"

"The weapon," Blair finished the sentence for him. "I know." The dormitory door opened; Dean and Seamus came in, waving at them, and Blair, Harry and Ron went to Harry's bed.

"Did you say," murmured Ron, putting his head close to Blair and Harry's on the pretense of helping himself to water from the jug on Harry's bedside table, "that you two were You-Know-Who?"

"Yeah," said Blair and Harry quietly.

Ron took an unnecessarily large gulp of water. Blair saw it spill over his chin onto his chest. "Blair, Harry," he said, as Dean and Seamus clattered around noisily, pulling off their robes, and talking, "you've got to tell —"

"I haven't got to tell anyone," said Harry shortly. "I wouldn't have seen it at all if I could do Occlumency. We're supposed to have learned to shut this stuff out. That's what they want." He got into his bed and rolled over.

Blair sighed and patted Ron on the shoulder, "Good night, Ron."

"Night, Blairbear."

Too shaken to tell him off, Blair bid the hugging couple a good night, and she got into her camp bed and her scar began to burn; she bit hard on her pillow to stop herself making a noise. Somewhere, she knew, Avery was being punished...

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair, Harry and Ron waited until break next morning to tell Hermione exactly what had happened. They wanted to be absolutely sure they could not be overheard. Standing in their usual corner of the cool and breezy courtyard, Blair and Harry told her every detail of the dream they could remember.

When they had finished, she said nothing at all for a few moments, but stared with a kind of painful intensity at Fred and George, who were both headless and selling their magical hats from under their cloaks on the other side of the yard.

"So that's why they killed him," she said quietly, withdrawing her gaze from Fred and George at last. "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 recovering. 

"And they couldn't risk him getting better, could they? 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 we had our hearing," said Harry.

"In the — hang on..." Blair 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 two saw him there. 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..." She gazed at Blair and Harry. "And now Rookwood's told Voldemort how to get the weapon?"

"I didn't hear all the conversation, but that's what it sounded like," said Blair. "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, Blair, Harry."

"What?" they said, taken aback.

"You're supposed to be learning how to close your mind to this sort of thing," said Hermione, suddenly stern.

"We know we are," 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. You too, Blair, on whatever Dumbledore's teaching you."

Harry did not talk to her for the rest of the day, and Blair avoided Hermione too, too angry to think straight (although she knew Hermione was just worried), especially when people kept on talking about Gryffindor's abysmal performance in their match against Hufflepuff; the Slytherins were singing "Weasley Is Our King" so loudly and frequently that by sundown Filch had banned it from the corridors out of sheer irritation.

The week did not improve as it progressed: Blair received two more D's in Potions, was still on tenterhooks that Hagrid might get the sack, and could not stop herself from dwelling on the dream in which she had seen Voldemort, though she only talked about it with Harry, and they wished that they could talk to Sirius about it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Get up, Potter."

A couple of weeks after their dream with Rookwood had passed. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had urgent matters so Blair was also having Occlumency lessons with Snape and Harry since then. It did comfort her that she had Harry, but the thought of being with Snape was not one Blair liked. Blair helped Harry up as he gasped and blinked, trying to clear his head.

"That last memory," said Snape. "What was it?"

"I don't know," said Harry, getting wearily to his feet. "You mean the one where my cousin tried to make me stand in the toilet?"

"No," said Snape softly. "I mean the one concerning a man kneeling in the middle of a darkened room..." 

Blair's eyes widened. How could he see that? "It's... nothing," said Harry.

Snape's dark eyes then stared into Blair's. Remembering what Snape had said about eye contact being crucial to Legilimency, Blair blinked and looked away.

"How do that man and that room come to be inside your heads, Potter, Wood?" said Snape.

"It —" said Blair, looking everywhere but at Snape, "it was — just a dream we had."

"A dream," repeated Snape. There was a pause during which Blair stared fixedly at a large dead frog suspended in a purple liquid in its jar.

"You do know why we are here, don't you, Potter, Wood?" said Snape in a low, dangerous voice. "You do know why I am giving up my evenings to this tedious job?"

"Yes," said Harry stiffly.

"Remind me why we are here, Wood."

"So we can learn Occlumency," said Blair, now glaring at a dead eel.

"Correct, Potter, Wood. And dim though you two may be" — Blair and Harry looked back at Snape, hating him — "I would have thought that after two months' worth of lessons you might have made some progress, Potter, and seeing as how everyone speaks highly of you, I thought you would have been better, Wood. How many other dreams about the Dark Lord have you had?"

"Just that one," lied Harry and Blair.

"Perhaps," said Snape, his dark, cold eyes narrowing slightly, "perhaps you actually enjoy having these visions and dreams, Potter, Wood. Maybe they make you feel special — important?"

"No, they don't," said Harry, his jaw set and his fingers clenched tightly around the handle of his wand.

"That is just as well, Potter," said Snape coldly, "because you two are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you two to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters."

"No — that's your job, isn't it?" Blair shot at him. Harry looked at her with wide eyes. She had not meant to say it; it had burst out of her in temper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Blair convinced she had gone too far. 

But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape's face when she answered. "Yes, Wood," he said, his eyes glinting. "That is my job. Now, if you are ready, it is your turn, and we will start again..." He raised his wand. "One — two — three — Legilimens!"

A hundred dementors were swooping toward Blair across the lake in the grounds... She screwed up her face in concentration... They were coming closer... She could see the dark holes beneath their hoods... yet she could also see Snape standing in front of her, his eyes fixed upon Blair's face, muttering under his breath... And somehow, Snape was growing clearer, and the dementors were growing fainter...

'Protego!' Blair thought and held her hand out.

Snape staggered; his wand flew upward, away from Blair — and suddenly Blair's mind was teeming with memories that were not hers — a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner... A greasy-haired teenager sat alone in a dark bedroom, pointing his wand at the ceiling, shooting down flies... A girl was laughing as a scrawny boy tried to mount a bucking broomstick —

"ENOUGH!"

Blair felt as though she had been pushed hard in the chest; she took several staggering steps backward, hit some of the shelves covering Snape's walls and heard something crack. Snape was shaking slightly, very white in the face.

"Blair!" Harry ran over to her and helped her up. The back of Blair's robes were damp. One of the jars behind her had broken when she fell against it; the pickled slimy thing within was swirling in its draining potion.

"Reparo!" hissed Snape, and the jar sealed itself once more. "Well, Wood... that was certainly an improvement..." Panting slightly, Snape straightened the Pensieve in which he had again stored some of his thoughts before starting the lesson, almost as though checking that they were still there. "I don't remember telling you to use a Shield Charm... but there is no doubt that it was effective..."

Blair did not speak; she felt that to say anything might be dangerous. She was sure she had just broken into Snape's memories, that she had just seen scenes from Snape's childhood, and it was unnerving to think that the crying little boy who had watched his parents shouting was actually standing in front of her with such loathing in his eyes...

"Let's try again, shall we?" said Snape. Blair felt a thrill of dread: She was about to pay for what had just happened, she was sure of it. They moved back into position with the desk between them and Harry in one of the seats, Blair feeling she was going to find it much harder to empty her mind this time...

"On the count of three, then," said Snape, raising his wand once more. "One — two —" Blair did not have time to gather herself together and attempt to clear her mind, for Snape had already cried. "Legilimens!"

She was hurtling along the corridor toward the Department of Mysteries, past the blank stone walls, past the torches — the plain black door was growing ever larger; she was moving so fast she was going to collide with it, she was feet from it and she could see that chink of faint blue light again —

The door had flown open! She was through it at last, inside a black-walled, black-floored circular room lit with blue-flamed candles, and there were more doors all around her — she needed to go on — but which door ought she to take — ?

"WOOD!"

Blair opened her eyes. She was flat on her back again with no memory of having gotten there; she was also panting as though she really had run the length of the Department of Mysteries corridor, really had sprinted through the black door and found the circular room... Harry was at her side, helping her up.

"Explain yourself!" said Snape, who was standing over them, looking furious.

"I... dunno what happened," said Blair truthfully, standing up. There was a lump on the back of her head from where she had hit the ground and she felt feverish. "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!" For some reason, Snape seemed even angrier than he had done two minutes before, when Blair had seen into his own memories. "You are lazy and sloppy, Wood, it is small wonder that the Dark Lord —"

"Can you tell us something, sir?" said Harry, firing up. "Why do you call Voldemort the Dark Lord, I've only ever heard Death Eaters call him that —"

Snape opened his mouth in a snarl — and a woman screamed from somewhere outside the room. Snape's head jerked upward; he was gazing at the ceiling. "What the — ?" he muttered. Blair and Harry looked at each other confused. What was happening? 

Snape looked around at them, frowning. "Did you see anything unusual on your way down here, Potter, Wood?" Blair and Harry shook their heads. Somewhere above them, the woman screamed again. Snape strode to his office door, his wand still held at the ready, and swept out of sight. Blair nudged Harry and they followed.

"What happened?" Harry whispered to her.

"Later, James."

The screams were indeed coming from the entrance hall; they grew louder as Blair and Harry ran toward the stone steps leading up from the dungeons. When they reached the top they found the entrance hall packed.

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. Blair and Harry pushed forward through a knot of tall Slytherins and saw that the onlookers had formed a great ring, some of them looking shocked, others even frightened. Professor McGonagall was directly opposite them on the other side of the hall; she looked as though what she was watching made her feel faintly sick.

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 Blair 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 Blair, 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 b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"

"It was your home," said Professor Umbridge, and Harry 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."

Blair couldn't take it anymore. She ran straight to Professor Trelawney even as Harry tried holding her back. She stood in front of her Professor and glared at Umbridge, "How could you? How could you tell your students not to tell lies when you're the biggest liar among us all?"

Gasps came from the students as Umbridge's glare turned to Blair. "Miss Wood, detention for speaking back to a Professor, insulting her and-"

"To hell with your detentions and decrees, you may scar us as much as you want to, but you won't take away our Professors," Blair cut her off with a growl.

"Miss Wood! You-"

Umbridge was cut off when 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 in the entrance. Blair was confused. Why was he here? Wasn't he doing something urgent? Wasn't that why they weren't having their lessons? Though she was a little cross, Blair couldn't deny.

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 and Blair in front of Umbridge. Dumbledore pushed Blair back slightly behind him so she began to comfort Professor Trelawney as well.

"M-Minerva, B-Blair. Thank you-" Professor Trelawney sobbed, and Professor McGonagall and Blair exchanged worried looks.

"You're going to get in trouble, Wood," whispered Professor McGonagall in a low voice.

"It's just a bit of trouble, Professor Minnie. But we all need someone to fight back, don't we?" whispered Blair back with a wink. She grinned when Professor McGonagall smiled at her proudly though there was still concern.

"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 Blair'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 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, Sibyll." He turned to Professor McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?" He then moved to stand beside Blair.

"Of course," said McGonagall. "Up you get, Sibyll..."

With a smile at Blair, 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 and winked at Blair, 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. Blair 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 Blair had seen 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," said Dumbledore happily to a thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

Umbridge turned red and now turned to Blair. "And you, Ms. Wood, are going to-"

"Oh, I'm afraid that would have to wait until next year, Professor, as I am very well informed that Miss Wood has detentions and remedials filled up for the rest of the school year," said Dumbledore with amusement.

And that was the last straw as Umbridge stormed off, redder than ever. Blair turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, I-"

"Not now, Blair, I must go." Dumbledore said without looking at Blair and he went back on his way.

"Professor! Professor!" Blair shouted and tried running after him, but it was hard due to the crowd of students, coming towards her and someone pulled her back.

"Wha-" Blair's voice died down when she saw Hermione's furious face. Hermione pulled her away from the crowd, into the castles and up to their dormitory room before she locked it and cast a Silencing Charm.

"Her-"

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" Hermione shouted furiously. "YOU KNOW SHE'S GOT IT OUT FOR YOU AND YOU STILL DO THINGS THAT WOULD GIVE HER MORE REASONS TO GIVE YOU DETENTION OR EXPEL YOU! DO YOU NOT THINK THAT SOME OF US GET HURT, SEEING YOU HURT? WHY DO YOU HAVE TO DO THOSE IDIOTIC THINGS?"

Hermione was breathing heavily while Blair looked down at her feet, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Look, Hermione, I know Professor Trelawney isn't the best teacher, but I couldn't just let her stay there on her own! I couldn't let Umbridge talk down to her and embarrass her in front of the whole school," said Blair angrily.

Hermione glared at her. "That's my point! You keep on shielding us from all the pain and the scars, not caring if you yourself get scarred, and I'm tired! I'm tired of seeing you hurt and broken and in pain, and the worst thing is you smile it off, trying to tell us you're okay when you're not!"

It was silent as they stared at each other, both breathing heavily from all the shouting they had been doing. Blair felt her eyes soften and she took a step towards Hermione, who thankfully did not step back. "Mione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

Hermione scoffed and crossed her arms, but she did not say a word. Blair took her steps towards Hermione and held Hermione's hands in hers while smiling softly. "I know it's hard, Mione, seeing me hurt and scarred, but if no one stands up to her, what would happen to us? Everyone's scared because they fear that bloody quill and the scars that await them, but I'm more afraid of the fact that no one will fight anymore, Mione. I-I'm afraid that if I don't get up and fight, I won't be able to defend my parents' memory."

Hermione definitely softened at that as she cupped Blair's face. "I'm sorry, Blair, I didn't think of that. It just breaks my heart seeing you hurt all the time, and the fact that you try to hide the pain, smiling it off when you know it's not fine, makes my heart break even more."

Blair leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "Trust me, Mione. When all of this is over and Umbridge is finally gone, we won't get scarred like this anymore. We'll be free again, and we won't be hurt anymore."

Hermione opened her eyes and leaned in to place a deep and passionate kiss on Blair's lips. Blair kissed back with the same force. Her arms wrapped around Hermione's waist while Hermione's wrapped around her necks. They kissed for about a minute before they finally pulled away, panting for breath and their foreheads touching.

"Just promise me you'll tell me if you're not doing fine, alright?" Hermione said, staring into Blair's eyes.

Blair smiled genuinely and nodded before kissing Hermione on the lips shortly yet sweetly. "I promise, love."

And they stood in the center of the room in each other's embrace, knowing that while Blair would fight for everyone and shield them from all the pain, she had Hermione who would be there to catch Blair and take care of her wounds. Blair was everyone's savior, and Hermione was hers.

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