Fandom Star Trek TOS/XI, Harry Potter
Character(s)/Pairing(s) Kirk family, McCoy, Mitchell, Pike, Spock, no pairing
Genre Alternate Universe/Crossover
Rating PG
Word Count 2051
Disclaimer Star Trek c. Paramount, CBS, NBC. Harry Potter c. JK Rowling, Warner Bros.
Summary A fic exploring a Star Trek character based alternate universe surrounding the mythology and lore of JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. The story is set starting in the year 2244, so any mention of Harry Potter characters will be as historical figures.
Chapter One. In which there is orientation at Starfleet Wizardry and Witchcraft Academy and events before and after the ceremonies.
Warning(s) mild langugage
Notes I really don't know if this counts as Star Trek The Original Series or Star Trek XI since it's technically an alternate universe of both universes. It's even an alternate universe of the TOS!Mirrorverse, so, well, yeah. I decided to keep Spock three years between McCoy and Kirk like in TOS, but I went with Chekov's birth year in XI simply so he wouldn't miss out completely. This started as an art idea and evolved into a fic idea, so I'm sure you'll see illustrations of this fic come from me. Also I have no idea what the other genre of this fic will be, so yeah, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.
Where No Wizard
Chapter One
Eleven-year-old James Tiberius Kirk shrugged out of his mother's grasp. Winona held firm a few moments longer and then swatted him on the shoulder affectionately. "You'll appreciate the hug when you realize we won't see each other until Thanksgiving." She reached out and pulled her older son, a tenth-grader in a school issued blue shirt uniform, nicknamed Sam, into an equally tight hug.
"It doesn't matter which house you get into, Jimmy," their father George stated. "We'll welcome you home no matter which one it is." He ruffled James' hair affectionately. The family stood a little ways away from a sonic passenger aircraft with the words Starfleet Express embolden across the torso. It was the middle of August and the sun beat heavily on the hidden section of the airport. It was that time of year when all the families of children possessing a magical ability in Iowa gathered in Des Moines at gate AB and sent their children off to Starfleet Wizardry and Witchcraft Academy. The academy was based in San Francisco where American witches and wizards could be who they were without causing too much attention to themselves. The students attending were divided into four houses, much like the British wizarding school the founding wizards and witches escaped from almost one-hundred and fifty years ago when an evil wizard of much legend threatened their school. There were the blue shirts like Sam who were known for being curious and rational. Then there were yellow shirts that were known for hard work and compassion. The third house was the green shirts, known for their self-preservation and shrewdness, and finally there were the red shirts, known for tenacity and stubbornness. Sam swore up and down that you had to eat a candy and the color of your vomit placed you in a house, but James was dubious. The houses were just as much a carry over from the former school as they were a way to organize the children into bunk space and create morale during a potentially difficult transition.
Finally, the announcement to board the sonic plane arrived. The children boarded and soon were off on the brief flight southwest to their secondary education.
There were no vomit inducing candies. Faculty arranged the sixth graders into an alphabetical line and led them into an auditorium one everyone was in their designated place for orientation. James and the other first-years shuffled out and one by one placed their hands upon a book, which sent up a small flame the color of the shirt they would receive. James approached the book and swallowed. He wasn't shy normally but he could feel them, everyone staring, most of them anticipating. James wasn't sure he wanted to follow his brother into the blue shirts, but James wasn't sure he wanted to be stuck so close to Sam for the next three grades. Their parents had both gone to the magic school out east, so there was nothing to look to for guidance there. His grandfather Tiberius Kirk had been a yellow shirt, but what did that even mean to James? The man was long dead and they had never met.
James looked up at the man with the book. He looked to be about his father's age, maybe a little younger. He stood a little straighter and put his hand firmly on the book. The book instantly chilled under his touch before warming rapidly and producing a bright red flame. The instructor's lips turned into a bemused smile, but he said nothing. The man officiating the entire procedure from a podium behind the instructor with the book welcomed James to the red shirts and told him to go take a seat in that particular corner. James slipped off the stage and flopped down in the nearest empty seat in the red shirt area. There was a dark haired boy with a surfer's tan to his left. He wore the customary black sleeveless high-necked undershirt under a red long sleeved shirt with a single gold strip around the sleeve. The gold stripe showed that he was in the junior high division of the school and had yet to choose a career path. Over his left breast was a gold symbol with a red number eight embroidered onto it. To James' right sat a teenager who was as impressively tall as he was impressively lean and thin. His hair was darker than any hair James had ever seen, even darker than an Asian was or African American's hair and hung straight in a rather odd cut. But what James' young eyes focused on was not the stripes showing that the teenager planned to be a researcher or that he wore the number nine over his left breast, but his ears. They were very much like James' ears at first glance, except they seemed to hug the pale boy's head more and stuck up into two almost sharp looking points.
He was going to touch them.
"Hey." The voice to his left diverted the preteen's attention and James looked at the eighth grader. "I'm Gary Mitchell," the kid continued. "Welcome to the red shirts."
Before James could reply, someone swooped in behind them, leaning a hand on both of their shoulders in warning. "Shut up," a surprisingly southern voice hissed, "or else." The hands left as fast as they came and Kirk looked back over his shoulder to see a student who had to be in his senior year slinking back to his seat silently. James wanted to ask who the senior was, but he thought the threat sounded valid.
His mother had been right. She was always right! Not that James would admit that. Sneaking out the door to the room he shared with the junior high kids had been the bigger hurdle. If not for Gary's snoring, James was sure he would have been caught. The dormitory area for the red shirts was split into nine rooms. There were three residence rooms on either end of their dominion, one for boys, and one for girls. Both sides were identical with two large rooms, one for grades six to eight and the other for grades nine to eleven. The seniors had their own room away from the underclassmen on either wing, which was smaller but apparently had nicer bathroom facilities and a better view. These three rooms were at the end of a hallway that led to a large recreation room filled with furniture, but nothing too distracting since the primary focus was supposed to be studying. There were more two entryways off the recreation room perpendicular to the residency hallways. One led to a studying room which was spelled to keep noise out unless it was an emergency, and the other was a sectioned off room designed for hobbies be it art or writing or music, and so forth.
James shuffled along the carpet in his bare feet. He couldn't sleep and recuperating from the first time really super alone from the family nerves would be impossible with the company in his dorm room. His shuffling stopped when he came in view of someone in the armchair by the fire. At first, James thought it would be that senior, who was apparently the student leader of the entire student body, and he was going to get in trouble again, but then a hand came into view and James realized the pale skin could only belong to the guy with the ears.
"I can hear you back there. Say what you will and then be done with it."
"Er…" James hesitated. He didn't really have anything he thought he should say. The longer he stood there, the less he thought, "I want to see if your ears will cut my finger open," sounded like a good icebreaker. "Why are you up?" James finally ventured.
The older male rose from his chair so that he could view James properly. His dark eyes searched the boy, taking in the data points about him and assessed the threat level. "I could ask the same of you. Humans do need eight hours of sleep to function, and at your height," the upperclassmen paused, "ten hours."
"It's fine." Kirk brushed it off with a gesture in the air. "I'll live."
"I did not say that you would die from one night without proper sleep." The older male pulled her robe tighter around him. It wasn't like a normal robe like the one James wore. It was black with a neck hole and a hood, and along the right side was white text that looked like something out of the pre-modern middle east but didn't simultaneously. He had the hood down and the robe was long enough no feet or footwear was visible.
"You're weird." James regretted the statement even if it was true instantly. Who talked like that? It was stilted and proper. He watched the spiked eared boy stiffen and go almost completely rigid. "Er…I mean…you know, all that formality and stuff." Not that the ears weren't weird, but if they were too weird, James reasoned he wouldn't have thought about touching them to see if they were as sharp as they looked.
"Normally one would give their name before passing judgments and asking questions."
"I didn't say I was normal." James put his hands in his robe pockets. Things seemed to be deteriorating. "I'm James T. Kirk, but you can call me Jim." Like hell, he was going to have everyone here calling him Jimmy. He wasn't some little kid anymore. From the disapproving stare he was getting, James supposed he had just failed some unknown test.
"I am Spock."
"Spock what?"
"You could not pronounce it," Spock said and clasped his hands together neatly in front of him.
"You don't know unless you tell me what it is," James prodded.
"It's Elfish," Spock answered calmly, though his nostrils flared a tiny bit. "You don't have adequate practice with certain utterances to speak it."
"But if I did…?"
"I do not see a point in engaging in a debate over something that is not true," Spock decided. His eyes looked past Kirk down the boys' residency hallway. "And, you are stalling."
"I am not stalling." At least, to James, it seemed perfectly obvious he was using this time to forget about what had been bothering him and prompted his escape to the recreation room in the first place.
"If you do not return to your quarters to rest, there is a high probability you will fall asleep in your first lessons and whatever lessons you might have after lunch," Spock noted.
"I'm not a little kid," James said and folded his arms. He didn't want to admit it but he was starting to feel more tired than anxious. Part of him thought that he could probably lie down and not feel like he was in some alien sterile barracks of an unfriendly place.
"You are shorter and younger than I am," Spock responded. "And, I do not call you a juvenile in a derogatory fashion when I state the needs of someone of your age and stature."
Well it sure didn't sound very diplomatic to James, but it could be the hour. "Well…what about you? Don't you need your sleep?"
"I am Elfish," Spock spoke with maybe a sliver of pride in what had been a rather monotone voice.
James waited for him to go on, but seeing that Spock saw that as explanation enough, asked, "Yeah, so?" He knew vaguely what elves were, but the last James heard they normally had fair eyes to go with their fair skin. An ebon haired elf wasn't much of a stretch though but eyes to match were. Maybe this guy was pretending to be an elf or something. There were some muggles in Riverside who thought they were a bear and a wolf, so maybe wizards could be just as confused.
Again, Spock seemed to gain tension. "Elves do not have human sleeping habits."
Well that sounded reasonable but a twinge insulting all the same. James nodded and then gave a small, almost sleepy wave. "Okay, Spock, I'll see you around or something. Good night." Then he headed back towards the junior high dorm room to hopefully fall asleep.
To be continued….