Anything (Male Reader x Hermione)

Sacked

The overcast sky and slight mist in the air were the perfect backgrounds for the day. The Hogwarts student body funneled out of the front doors and into the courtyard. (Y/N) stood next to Hermione, and Ron walked up to them. They were only missing Harry; then, they would be ready to watch the hell unfold. Professor Trelawney stood in the middle of the yard, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, and 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 after her. "No!" Trelawney shrieked. Hermione jumped, reached down, and grabbed (Y/N)'s hand at her side. "NO! This cannot be happening . . . It cannot . . . I refuse to accept it!" Harry slipped next to Hermione, a wave of students carrying him along.

"You didn't realize this was coming?" said the high girlish voice of Delores Umbridge, 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!" 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. Her enjoyment stretched 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." Umbridge 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. There was a sob to (Y/N)'s left. Lavender and Parvati were both crying silently, their arms around each other. Then, footsteps echoed through the yard. 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 castle front doors swung open. Students beside them scuttled out of the way as Dumbledore appeared at the entrance. There was something impressive about the sight of him framed in the doorway against an oddly misty evening. Leaving the doors wide behind him, Dumbledore 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 everyone'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."

"Oh, thank you," Trelawney wailed, grabbing Dumbledore's hand.

"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 into the castle. 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. The sound of hooves on the hard stone floors of the castle echoed through the afternoon air. There was a shocked murmur around the courtyard, and those nearest the doors hastily moved even farther away, some of them tripping over in their haste to clear a path for the newcomer. Through the mist came 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."

"A centaur?" Umbridge's astonished voice demanded.

"Indeed," Firenze the centaur responded. "Divination has been in my people's culture longer than your ministry has been around." Umbridge snorted.

"Your people are not people. You are Beasts, by request."

"We were unhappy at having to share Being status with hags and vampires, which are known dark creatures. We are not."