Potter-Trek
Episode 1: First Command
Spacedock, Earth
United Federation of Planets, Sector 001
2293 AD, old calendar

Stardate 9800.0 – Late 23rd Century
Shortly after the events of
Star Trek 6: The Undiscovered Country

What was the old saying?

"Turn out the lights, the party's over!"

Was that it? And the other?

"The captain goes down with his ship."

In this case, the USS Enterprise, NCC 1701-A, had not gone down. And James Tiberius Kirk had not gone down with her. No, his beauty was to be decommissioned, relegated to a glorified parking spot in spacedock above Earth. She would become a museum, a training vessel, a keepsake – just as her predecessor of a sister ship had been slated to become before she'd given her life to save theirs at the Genesis Planet in the Mutara Sector.

He thought back to history. He thought of the ancient steamships RMS Titanic and the Olympic. But no, it was more than that. Titanic had been totally lost, as he thought his beloved Enterprise had been. Like Olympic, the Enterprise-A had simply been a replacement. A replacement, until the salvage and recon crews had reported finding tiny bits of debris in the Mutara Sector. Then they'd delivered that one sacred piece, and this ship had become more than a sister. This ship had become home. Again.

They'd found the dedication plaque of the original Enterprise - To boldly go where no man has gone before. Impossibly, perhaps magically, he thought, Mr. Scott had at some point coated it in neutronium – and told no one.

As Robert April had done. As Christopher Pike had done. As he had done.

But as no captain would do again.

He supposed if there were an emergency, that the Enterprise might be dispatched to assist. But as far as exploring the galaxy, those five-year missions were certainly over. New crews in new ships would do that now.

There was no one on the bridge. The lights were low. Engineering was dark, the warp core silent and cooling. It would take hours to restart her. Kirk had to smile. No, Montgomery Scott could restart a cold warp core in minutes if he had to. He'd done it at Planet Psi-2000. If it can't be done, just ask Scotty, he thought. Our magical miracle worker.

There was someone on the bridge, however. As Kirk looked around, he saw that it was crowded. Ghosts. Not the silvery, floating ghosts that one imagined in a Halloween story, no. These were the ghosts of his memory. Ghosts of the past, come to bid farewell to their captain, their confessor, their friend…and their ship.

Spock and McCoy were behind his command chair, arguing. McCoy thought he was winning. The emotionless Vulcan was looking smug, one eyebrow raised. Mr. Scott was at his engineering station, shouting at him, "I'm givin' her all she's got, sir!" Mr. Sulu's hands were dancing over his controls, maneuvering the ship away from danger as Mr. Chekov (so young) was attributing something to Mother Russia that someone else had done. Nyota Uhura was opening a hailing frequency, and there was that soft whistle. Janice Rand brought him coffee.

He stood, his fingers tracing along the arm of his chair one last time.

"Permission to disembark," he whispered, turning to go.

Not even the computer answered him as he touched the plaque that had survived even the destruction of a planet that had taken his beloved son with it.

The chirp of a communicator.

He felt old.

"Beam me down, Scotty," Captain James T. Kirk said.

And then the bridge of the USS Enterprise sat empty.

Three months later

"Admiral, we're receiving a distress call!" The young ensign called out, her comm board lighting up in red. "Outpost 4 along the Klingon Neutral Zone reports they are under attack!" She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, on her feet and moving with a stylus to the holographic board nearby to plot the location of the nearest starship.

"What is the closest heavy cruiser?" Admiral Archer demanded, pushing aside the padd where he'd been browsing old images of his father's first ship.

"The nearest in range is Farragut-A, but she's a week away at maximum warp!" The Ensign reported. "Incoming transmission, sir! Long range sensor drones near the border have detected another Klingon vessel closing on those coordinates!"

"Did anyone bother to tell them that we're having peace talks at Camp Khitomer?" The Admiral growled, slamming his fist on the desk. "Dammit! We've worked too hard for this! They've got to be renegades!"

"Sir, there are over fifty-thousand Federation citizens on the outposts along the Zone…" she began.

"I KNOW THAT!" Archer snapped. "Get me someone in personnel. We need a starship captain, and we need one now! Cancel all shore leave, and recall all available crewmen. And track down Montgomery Scott and have him prepare the Enterprise for immediate departure!"

"Sir? The Enterprise has been sitting for three months! You're going to send a museum ship to intercept the Klingons?" She gasped.

"Just as soon as Mr. Scott can get her running again," Archer nodded. "Get me Chancellor Azetbur on subspace, and find us a crew!"

"Sir!" The Ensign added, and Archer nodded.

Later that evening, local time

Within hours, a miracle was taking place. Once a very disgruntled Montgomery Scott had been unceremoniously beamed away from his favorite tavern, The Hog's Head Pub, it had taken him only minutes to bring the ship back to life. "Aye, yeh may not be me ol' lass, but yeh've got her spirit!" Scotty told the throbbing impulse engine, as all throughout the quiet ship, lights came on and transporters came to life. "But do yeh have ter do it so loud?" He sighed, rubbing his aching head. "Och! I've gotta quit drinkin'," he swore for probably the millionth time in his life.

"Scott to Control, I've got the warp core prepped for cold start. I'll need a top pilot to plot a course outta the solar system, even if they are still in balance!"

"Don't tell me, I don't want to know," Archer replied. "I make it a point to avoid discussing the magic and miracles happening on that ship, Mr. Scott. If you can save those remaining outposts, and what's left of the peace talks, then by all means, do so. We're sending your new captain up now. We, ahhh, don't seem to think it's a good idea to send Kirk on this one. Besides, it was hard enough dragging him out of there three months ago, and he's lost somewhere in Yellowstone, anyway."

"Aye," Scott sniffed, knowing that Jim Kirk wouldn't have taken his communicator along on his first big trip after retirement. Somehow it just didn't seem right having a different captain at the helm of this ship. "And a green one at that," he told himself, as his engineering staff arrived and promptly began fussing over controls. Many of them looked quite nervous at the idea of going from zero to somewhere around unimaginable speed in seconds.

One of the new midshipmen, a small jumpy fellow, could have sworn that he saw Scott put a long piece of wood in his pocket.

The last crew members had just been beamed aboard as Scotty brought the navigational deflector online. Enterprise's running lights came on, and her warp nacelles began to glow softly blue as her warp coils began heating. On Deck A, the bridge, lights snapped on as the turbolift doors popped open and crew members scampered to their stations.

"Engineering reporting ready, confirmed, sir, engine/navigation relays in synch," the helmsman reported, his skin a light blue and his antennas waving atop his white hair as he studied his controls. For an Andorian, he looked quite young.

"Weapons and shields charging, navigational deflector online," the navigator announced, his slightly longer than Human fingers of an Alpha Centaurian laying in course plots. "Course plotted to Klingon Neutral Zone!"

"Sensors online," a cool voice reported from the science station.

"Mr. Serok, can you verify gain control on communications relays?" The human woman at the communications stations asked of the Vulcan Science Officer.

"I shall, and I have, Lt. Miyagi," Serok replied, going over his console. "Your channels should be free of static now."

The turbolift doors whooshed open.

"CAPTAIN ON THE BRIDGE!" Serok called out, as backup personnel ran to other auxiliary stations.

"Mr. Serok!" He greeted the Vulcan.

"You're late, sir," Serok pointed out.

Vulcans, Goblins, what's the difference? Vulcans don't care about gold, the captain thought.

"Thank you! As you were! REPORT!" The new captain of the Enterprise barked, running a hand through his messy and almost non-regulation black hair that stood up in the back. As he moved to take the center seat, the bridge lights hit it just right, turning it almost auburn in the highlights and revealing his slight case of freckles. He adjusted his glasses.

"Course laid in and ready to intercept the Klingons, sir!" The helmsman reported. "All speeds available at your command!"

"Thank you, Mr…?"

"Shrann, sir," the Andorian replied.

The captain couldn't help but think that he looked like an overgrown Cornish Pixie as he settled into the famous chair that had, for so long, been occupied by another Captain. He buttoned his tunic, hiding the white front and the green and silver pin of a serpent that augmented his rank and decorations.

"Clear all moorings, disengage umbilical. Request permission to depart!" The captain barked.

"He wears glasses?" Shrann asked his partner at the forward seats.

"He's allergic to Retinax VI," Tauros the Centaurian answered. "Besides, you have horns!" He joked.

"They're antennas, and you smell!" Shrann grinned at him.

"Centaurians are 'earthy'," Tauros smiled.

"Incoming message from Admiral Archer, sir," Miyagi spoke up.

"On screen!"

The forward viewer snapped on to reveal Archer with a bustling command center in the background. "Give my best to the Klingons, Jim!"

"AGAIN with the Klingons," the Captain rolled his eyes.

Several decks down in Sickbay, Cmdr. Dianthus Pomfrey, (she preferred 'Diana') Chief Medical Officer, was getting things in order. She knew the captain well, having gone through school and Starfleet Academy with him. If there was one thing that she could count on, it was the fact there were going to be casualties once they hit the Neutral Zone.

"Full impulse power, then take us to full-emergency warp speed once we've cleared Spacedock," the captain ordered.

Several bridge officers, with the exception of Serok, shivered. It was bad enough going to warp one inside a solar system, especially on engines that had been sitting cold for so long. One minor fluctuation, and the ship could fall into an artificial wormhole and emerge on the other side of the galaxy in the middle of last week!

"Thrusters only while in spacedock," Shrann whispered, as the Enterprise jumped forward. She was out the doors in under a second, and chasing the speed of light as they banked to avoid the moon and a few startled transport pod pilots.

"That was fun," Tauros offered.

"WARP SPEED!" The captain exclaimed, and the USS Enterprise vanished into a blur of rainbow colored light.

"Warp two, warp three, warp four," Mr. Scott's voice called out over the intercom, mixing with the whine of the engines as they collided matter and antimatter to propel the ship, "No sign of imbalance! Watch that plasma wave-guide, will yeh, yeh bleedin' green…och! Warp seven, eight, nine," he called out without pause, "Hold on tight, laddies, it gets bumpy from here!"

"Mind the Oort Cloud, Mr. Tauros," the captain commented.

Mr. Scott then dropped a chip into his main data console, and the specifications for structural integrity field support that had been written up by the Kelvins from the Andromeda Galaxy so long ago came online. It was one of his most closely guarded secrets, as to how one could push a Constitution Class starship to such speeds without flying her apart. That, and he still remembered all the tips that the Kelvins had given him so long ago. The lights went dim. "Warp nine-point-five, -six, -seven, -eight," He continued to count, reading from the velocity scale that had since been recalculated to show that Warp Ten was infinite, and therefore, unattainable speed. "Captain, tha's all she's got!" Scott called.

"Cruising at Warp 15, old scale, sir," Tauros reported, as the shivering of the ship subsided.

"Captain, engineering reports that we can maintain this speed for just over one solar day," Serok reported, "Although I cannot explain how Mr. Scott does it. Theoretically, we should have shed our warp nacelles somewhere around warp nine-point-six. The Klingons will certainly not expect us, and will be taken completely by surprise, as their sensors will not be able to see us coming."

"Time to intercept?"

"One-point-two-five solar days."

"Thank you, Mr. Serok," the captain replied. "Take the conn, would you? I want to speak with Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir."

He stopped at the lift doors. "It's magic, Serok!"

"That is highly illogical, sir!"

And with that, Captain James T. Potter of the starship Enterprise left the bridge.

The Magical Community had largely been unaffected by Muggle doings since the fall of Lord Voldemort in 1998. They had even been able to use magic to shield themselves from the Eugenics Wars, World War III, and the other various squabbles that seemed to break out from time to time. Then, on April 5, 2063, Zephram Cochrane had broken the warp barrier, establishing first contact with the Vulcans. For the first time in history, other than those like Arthur Weasley who were fascinated with Muggle devices and how they got along without magic, magical students of Hogwarts and other academies around the planet Earth began expressing a desire to leave and explore something unbelievable.
Space.

Before, they had only been able to see it with telescopes and study it from an astrological viewpoint as it related to magic. But now, thanks to Muggle and even alien technology, these magical graduates of Hogwarts could travel into space – to other worlds. Yes, they were no longer alone in the Universe.

There was life out there. A lot of it.

And so it was that Wizards and Witches had begun to venture out, and when Starfleet had been formed, the Enterprise NX-01 launched, and Starfleet Academy opened, they had gone there.

There were a few surprises awaiting them, of course. The foremost was that magic tended to be wilder and required more focus in space. This made sense, as Astrology dealt with the positions of the stars and planets. It was hard to predict how magic would work in, say, the Vulcan solar system. Those afflicted by lycanthropy, the werewolves, were all about going to the Academy. This was mainly because once they got out of Earth's solar system, well away from its moon, they stopped changing into wolves once a month.

They also discovered that given the nature of Space/Time, it was possible to "rewind time" and alter the past, thus altering the future or seeing the past. Parallel timelines were also discovered to exist, thus verifying an ancient story from the early 2000's as told by one Albus Severus Potter and his friend Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. The two intrepid young Slytherin Firsties had told a fantastic tale of jumping into alternate realities, but no one had ever been able to prove it – until the discovery of the "Dark Mirror Universe".

For the magical community, time travel had largely been forgotten once the first Harry Potter had destroyed the Office for the Study of Time at the Ministry of Magic during his Fifth Year at Hogwarts. Captain Potter, however, had never mentioned his own theories on the formation of the Dark Mirror Alternate Universe. In fact, the Potter family had known of its existence long before Captain Kirk had ever discovered it.

Besides, with as complex of a machine as a starship, it certainly didn't hurt to have a handy Reparo Charm now and then. Breaching warp cores were, after all, messy business.

Still, the Statutes of Secrecy were kept in place, and no magical Starfleet officer ever revealed himself.

"Mr. Scott, you old scalawag!" Captain Potter greeted him in engineering. "You received my offer, I see?"

"Aye, I'd not be here if ol' Aldebaran Dumbledore at the pub hadn't had that case of 2012 scotch waitin' fer me!" He smiled.

Captain Potter laughed. "And Jim Kirk never knew?"

"Och, no!" Scotty laughed as well, "He jus' thought o'me as his miracle worker!"

"You made the adjustments to the bridge circuitry as I asked?" Potter wondered.

Scotty nodded. "She's all ready fer yeh."

"Mr. Serok is quite upset by your modifications to the engines," Potter went on.

"Well, they don't have magic on Vulcan, now, do they?" Scott reminded him. "Logical lot as they are?"

"They'd make the ultimate Ravenclaws, wouldn't they?"

"Aye," Scotty agreed. "Still, it feels all wrong ter be here, while Jim's not."

"Jim Kirk isn't going to live to be nearly two hundred years old, either!" They both laughed again. Then Potter turned serious. "I'll try not to ruin the repair job you did on her on the way home from Khitomer the first time, Mr. Scott," he promised.

Captain James T. Potter had hardly believed it when Admiral Jonathan Archer II had contacted him about a first command. After his tour of duty on the USS London, James had taken a leave with his best mate and cousin, Gideon Weasley. They had gone through Hogwarts and the Academy together, but while James had pursued the command track, Gideon had gone into starship operations. After all, Gideon had always said, someone had to hold the bloody ships together while the captains were busy getting them shot up.

But his orders had come only weeks into their leave. They were exploring the ruins of Mars, long suspected by the Wizarding World to be ancient evidence of a lost civilization on the desolate red planet. Of course, it did free up their bodies to not have to wear environmental suits, as Bubblehead and Warming Charms were all they needed. They just had to make sure that no one saw them! Memory Charms were also used in abundance in Starfleet those days.

Much to Gideon's chagrin, an engineer had not been needed for this mission. He'd gone back to the Burrow, largely unchanged even after almost three hundred years, and had scheduled a series of lectures on space travel for the students of Hogwarts.

But James was being sent to command the Enterprise, former flagship of the Federation. 452 lives would be his responsibility. There were less than a dozen of the Constitution Class vessels left in service, too, and they were being replaced by Excelsior Class ships as fast as Utopia Planetia above Mars could build them. Come to think of it, James recalled, there had only been a dozen of them commissioned to begin with 'back in the day'. He tried to remember his family's complex genealogy, wondering just which Harry or James or Albus had been alive when the original Enterprise had launched under the command of Robert April.

2245 AD, old date.

That was 247 years after the fall of Voldemort, which was still a banner date in the Wizarding World.

He tried to remember it. Finally he gave up. "Computer, which Potter was the family patriarch on that date?" He asked it.

"WORKING," the computer replied. "Colin T. 'Teddy' Potter III. There have been 4 Potter offspring to bear the name…"

"Stop," James laughed. If there was one thing that the Potters were known for, it was name continuity. He made a vow that if he ever had a son, he'd name him something totally offwordly and alien, like 'De'Orian'. No, that was too much like "Orion", and the Malfoys' side of the Weasley family had already had a plethora of star names, anyhow. He thought of his bridge crew. "Shrann," he mumbled, "Now there's a good solid Andorian name!" Maybe he'd find a nice Andorian girl and just settle down when this was all over? Wouldn't that just make Hogwarts crazy, having a pale blue student with antennae? "Definitely not a Slytherin candidate," he had to laugh, unbuttoning his tunic again to touch the little non-regulation snake insignia beneath his captain's bars.

"Ahhh, the dream of stars – again!" The battered old Sorting Hat was telling him. "I see we never lose the love of the name 'James'?"

The rather scruffy little Firstie beneath the Hat laughed.

"It's impossible to keep all you Weasley/Potters straight," it commented, "Over the last three hundred years, you lot have filled all the four Houses. Tell me, is there another Albus coming soon?"

"Next year!" James Thomas Potter laughed again.

"I see! Well, your family has had everything from accountants to werewolves to Veelas, so I supposed a starship captain would be the next logical step? Drive and ambition is what it takes, boy! SLYTHERIN!"

The rest of the day was uneventful. The Enterprise cruised towards the Neutral Zone, while the distress calls from various outposts continued to come in. Potter studied the schematics for the updated D-7 cruisers that he knew were awaiting him, planning his attack strategy. Their long necks were vulnerable, but even with their forward "heads" cut off, they were still dangerous – like snakes. And Klingons didn't surrender. It violated their honor, Potter knew. The only way that this fight would end would be in the destruction of the Klingon vessels. "But if that's what they want, that's what they'll get," he muttered. "Hmmm, Klingon women?" He mused. Wouldn't that just make the Sorting Hat crazy? He had to wonder if a such a hybrid child would be magical.

"Coming up on Neutral Zone," Shrann reported.

"RED ALERT!" Potter snapped, and the klaxons began to wail. The bridge lights dropped a bit, control panels brightened, and the sound of the ship changed. "Shields up! Ready phasers, load torpedo bays!" Steady, old boy, this isn't the Dueling Club, Potter reminded himself.

"Sensors report Outpost One completely destroyed," Serok reported, as the ship cruised on. "Outpost Two destroyed as well."

"Five thousand people," Miyagi whispered.

"Anything on subspace, Lieutenant?" Potter asked.

"Nothing but jamming static, sir!"

"Figures," Potter muttered. "Mr. Serok, anything on sensors, like, oh, maybe some Klingon warships?"

"Negative, but given the advancements in cloaking technology, it will be extremely difficult to detect them, Captain. Even the redesigned McCoy/Spock heat seeking torpedoes may have difficulty finding them."

"So they've gotten wind of that one, and compensated for it?"

"I believe I just said that, sir?" Serok raised an eyebrow.

Well, they won't be expecting this, Potter thought, as he made sure that no one was looking. He pulled his wand, holly as was the norm for a Potter, and flipped up a specialized panel on his command chair. He slid the wand down into it. There was a tingle in his hand as the wand recognized the magical circuitry that Mr. Scott had designed. "Revello," the Captain whispered.

"Sensor contact with one object, possibly a ship, moving at high impulse towards us," Serok pointed out.

"Changing course, 2-0-7-mark 3!" Tauros informed them.

"Locking phasers," Shrann added.

The third outpost came into view. "Magnify!" Potter ordered, as on the screen, Outpost Three was burning. "Survivors?"

"Life signs positive," Serok noted. "However, if we lower shields to transport them aboard…"

Then the screen changed. In the space before them, rippling the stars, a Klingon ship was decloaking.

"Is it just me, or does that ship look a whole lot meaner than a D-7?" Shrann asked.

"Hail them, Lieutenant!" Potter snapped.

"Hailing frequencies open, sir!"

"This is Captain James T. Potter of the Federation Starship Enterprise. You were aware of the ongoing peace talks at Camp Khitomer, to say nothing of the rescue operations on Qo'noS?"

The screen changed to show the bridge of the upgraded Klingon ship. "What is this? Where is Kirk?" The Klingon commander demanded.

"Lost in Yellowstone Park," Potter replied. His reply was a tirade of Klingon profanities. While the commander was busy swearing, Potter glanced at Serok. "Any sign of that other ship?"

Serok shook his head.

"Klingon commander," Potter asked, "What is the meaning of this attack? Surely you are familiar with Chancellor Azetbur's…"

"That FEMALE petaQ?" The Klingon spat. "Women do not serve on the council! She speaks the lies of a taHqeq!"

Captain Potter then remembered a play from his days of Quidditch. The commander was distracting him, keeping him engaged in useless banter, while a Beater would be flying up behind him to try and take his head off. "Legillimens," Potter whispered, and it came to him. Slowly, as they were not in person, but it worked. Barely.

"Auxiliary power to aft shields! Evasive – starboard! Aft phasers, fire at will, pattern Theta!" Potter barked, breaking into a sweat as he struggled to maintain limited contact with the Klingon's mind.

It was a cesspool.

What the hell was 'Gagh'?

The Enterprise rocked suddenly, and the sounds of an explosion filled her.

"Klingon battle cruiser off the starboard bow!" Serok reported.

"That's not a D-7, sir!" Tauros observed, as the aft phasers lit up the outline of a ship that had just decloaked.

"Found the other one, sir!" Shrann reported.

Was he joking?

"Heavy damage to their forward shields and outer hull, as their cloak dropped," Serok reported, as the bridge fans kicked on to vent the smoke from overloaded circuits. "Engineering reports our aft shields down 50%!"

"Scott ter bridge! There's some minor buckling on the port nacelle pylon. Another hit like that, an' we'll lose the aft shields!"

"Return fire! Fire torpedoes, full spread! Guess he's not in the mood to talk?" Potter ordered.

And the Klingon commander was not. From his limited contact, Captain Potter deduced that this fellow had ambitions of his own. "How very Slytherin," he mused, having briefly seen the vision of his opponent overthrowing the Chancellor of the Empire and taking the throne for himself. It was a very old story.

Behind the Enterprise, the second ship's shields failed as Enterprise rocked.

"Port shields down 20%!" Shrann reported.

"Phasers!" Potter ordered, "Target the lead ship! Concentrate fire on their warp core!" He closed his eyes, "Protego," He whispered, as the Enterprise rocked again.

"Aft shields failing!" Serok reported.

"Evasive pattern Omega," Potter ordered, and the Enterprise veered, rocking side to side, as below in Engineering, Mr. Scott struggled to hold structural integrity on the nacelles. To his left, a console exploded.

"Right then, tha's it," He pulled his wand, "REPARO! Och, I've got NO time fer this! MacMillan!" He shouted.

"Sir?" A young ensign replied.

"Get your Hufflepuffin' arse up in that nacelle! Burn up yer wand if'n yeh must! Hold her in place!" Again the ship rocked, smoked filled the air. "They're trying to blow 'em off, lad! SCOTT TER BRIDGE! We're ventin' drive plasma!"

As the Enterprise spiraled, firing as she went, sparkling plasma mixed with exhaust as the port nacelle ruptured.

On the bridge, augmented phasers with magic lashed out again at Potter's order.

"Come about! Phasers, target close-aft! Release all plasma from the port nacelle, and fire!" Potter ordered.

As the twin beams lashed out again, the cloud of warp plasma ignited, engulfing the pursuing Klingon vessel.

"The pursuing vessel's shields have failed!" Serok reported, "Our shields are down to 45%, aft shields are gone! A plasma manifold has ruptured on E-deck, repair crews en route. Sick bay reports heavy casualties in the secondary hull!"

Again, the ship rocked.

"Hull breach, D-deck!" Shrann announced. "Emergency force fields in place!"

"I have had enough of him," Potter snarled, slamming his hand on his chair. "Come about and face him! REDUCTO!" He shouted.

"Sir?" Everyone asked, confused.

The pursuing Klingon vessel exploded.

"One enemy target destroyed," Serok reported. "Sir…?"

"I'll explain later! DAMAGE REPORT?" Potter demanded, as the Enterprise righted herself and came face to face with the lead Klingon vessel again.

"Port nacelle heavily damaged. Engineering reports warp drive severely limited, best speed of warp 4. Impulse engines at 50%, aft shields are down. Forward shields at 35%. Plasma leak on E-deck, contained, and hull breach on E and D-decks sealed with force fields. Doctor Pomfrey reports 128 injured, 32 critically – one dead."

The bridge went quiet as the Klingon ship went to warp.

"Where's he going?" Shrann wondered.

"Setting a trap, a feint," Potter deduced. "Serok, who was it? Who was killed?"

"Ensign Ernest MacMillan," Serok reported. "I believe he attended the same boyhood school as you, sir? My condolences."

"We'll grieve later, Serok," Potter sighed. "It could have been much worse. Do we still have transporters?"

"Transporters should be repaired within the hour, sir," Serok reported.

Good, because I really don't want to Apparate the survivors, Potter thought. Orbital Apparating, he knew, was draining on one's magic and led to serious migraines. Apparating at warp speed hadn't even been tried yet, mainly because no one was able to mentally calculate his position to reemerge at something like five times the speed of light.

"Sick bay to bridge! JIM! Are you done getting us shot at yet?" Diana Pomfrey demanded. "This is worse than that last game with Gryffin-…"

"For now, Di," Potter replied, unable to suppress a shudder at the thought of their last championship Quidditch match during his Seventh Year. It had been a long and bloody game, with a record number of penalty shots – and injuries.

"I don't like to lose," Potter mumbled to himself. Then he stood up, and his wand slid out of hiding and into his hand. "Full scans of the Klingon debris field, see if there's anything useful left, like memory disks. Serok, take the conn. Continual sensor sweeps, I want to know if our friend comes back. In the meantime, park us over top of the planet's magnetic north pole; it'll help hide the ship. And as soon as those transporters come online, beam those survivors up! I'll be in engineering conferring with Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir," Serok replied, taking the center seat and examining the right arm. This hole serves no purpose, he thought.

As Captain James T. Potter strode through the corridors of his wounded ship, he cast Charms here and there, repairing damage that the computer and crewman had failed to notice. Part of his mind was roaming the cold void of space as well, with Legillimency, looking for the diseased mind of his opponent. There was something other than conquest of the Klingon Empire that he had been hiding. Something more. Something huge.

Potter had felt it.

But what it?
And did those people actually eat LIVE raw serpent worms?

He arrived to find Engineering in a sort of semi-organized chaos. Mr. Scott was snapping orders, and liberally applying Stinging Hexes to the backsides of slow-moving crewmen. Potter smiled. "Holding her together, Scotty?" He asked.

Scott jumped, an alarm began to sound.

"Bloody hell! Me Charms'r'tha only things holdin' me poor port nacelle on!" Scotty informed him. "Wish we'd brought Gideon along now." He sighed. "MacMillan…"

"Was a Hufflepuff to the bone," Potter replied through clenched teeth. "He gave his life for this ship. An I will make that bastard pay for killing him!"

"Yer Slytherin's'a'showin'," Scotty reminded him.

"Something's not right, Scotty," Potter took him aside, "Enterprise should have cut that D-7's shields to ribbons the first time the phasers/Reductor hit it!"

"Any luck with the Legillimency?" Scott asked.

"Some," Potter answered, "There's more to it than just taking out Azetbur in a coup d'etat. He's hiding something huge, and I have the feeling it has something to do with Earth."

"Does the stupid git not realize that his homeworld's on the verge of environmental collapse, an' lookin' at a nuclear winter type scenario from the explosion of Praxis?" Scott asked.

"Apparently not," Potter replied.

Then his eyes went wide. He pushed up his glasses. "He's mad! Barking mad! You can't move ten billion people in forty-nine years! That's what he's up to!" Potter exclaimed, "His forces, and who knows how many of them there are, are setting up an invasion of the Federation! They'll try and evacuate the planet, rather than accept outside help!"

"Or die trying? It is the Klingon way," Scott sighed. "So what'r'yeh gonna do? Stay and get those people up here, or run as best we can and get outta jammin' range to warn the Chancellor?"

"Bridge to Captain," the intercom called.

"Potter here."

"Transporters are online, and the outpost staff are being beamed up. Transporter Two has suffered extensive damage, however. Estimated time to evacuation is one-point-three hours," Serok reported.

"Very good, Commander, keep me informed. Potter out."

"Yeh really think they'll try ter invade?" Scott asked.

Potter nodded. "A lot of Klingons don't like the idea of a female leader, and her father, Gorkon, wasn't that popular with the High Council for his idealism. Klingons aren't suited to live a peaceful galaxy. They're designed by nature to make war, to conquer. But where are our friends getting their supplies and resources? Qo'noS is devastated!"

Then something else seemed to come to him.

"He's gone. He's moving on," Potter said, "I can't sense him anymore."

"I was always rubbish at Legillimency," Scott admitted.

"So was my great-great-something grandfather," Potter smiled. "I'll be in my quarters. Any chance we can get that nacelle back online?"

"Maybe," Scott wondered, "But with MacMillan gone…I'll see what I can do. If the coils are still not too badly off, I might able to Charm the beasties back to life."

"Keep me informed," Potter took his leave, "I'll be in my quarters composing a letter to Ernie's family."

Try as he might, James T. Potter could not concentrate on his letter to Ernie's family. It had been a running joke in Slytherin House, during the Wizarding War with unfortunately-named the Dark Lord Redux (who had wanted to try and assume the role of Voldemort), that the Hufflepuffs made good canon fodder. Suddenly, though, it wasn't funny anymore.

There was something, though – some niggling doubt at the back of Potter's mind. He couldn't just blame it on contact with that diseased Klingon mind. There was more to it. He knew it, as he kept going over it.

Peace talks with the legitimate Klingon government were going well. There was commerce across the Neutral Zone, and plans were in place to repair Qo'noS's atmosphere and clean up the Saturn-like rings of moon debris that now orbited it.

Then, an attack on outposts here, with two ships involved.

"A potential D-9," Potter had labeled it, the larger and meaner Klingon ship that had so badly damaged his Enterprise. And he was already coming to think of her as his. Magical blood had been spilled upon her, and that counted for something.

That had to be avenged.

He put down the data padd where he was failing to compose his letter and picked up his wand. Had it not been for magic, he knew, they'd not be there right now. The weapons of the new D-9 were devastating. And the cloaked D-7 was out there somewhere, on a heading along more of the outpost worlds. He ran over it in his mind. He wished he didn't have be so close to cast the Revello Hex. He wished he didn't have rely on magical relay circuits to channel his magic.

But even a Wizard couldn't survive the vacuum of space.

The doorbell chimed.

"Come!"

"Fancy a drink, Captain?" Diana Pomfrey asked him. "The survivors are all aboard, and it's nothing my staff can't handle." Potter noted that she was carrying a bottle. He got up and conjured two glasses so that she could pour.

"To Ernie," James toasted him. "May he take the train … on."

It had been a long-standing toast in the Potter family. No one was really sure what it meant, but it had originated with the original Harry James Potter – the Boy Who Lived. The boy who'd saved the world, far too soon before he was ready to become a man.

"Ernie," Diana agreed, and they drank.

"Ewwwww, what is this stuff? Aldebaran Dumbledore's laundry rinse water?" Potter choked.

"Just something that Hagrid V brewed up before we shipped out," Diana laughed.

And so did the Captain.

"What is it about Hogwarts and repetitive names?" Potter wondered. "I want to marry an alien and give our children strange names," he announced.

"Jim," Diana touched his hand. "We've lost comrades in arms before."

Potter nodded. Even though they were Starfleet, it was only natural to use each other's names. Even though being a Slytherin had made him accustomed to being addressed as "Potter".

"Someone is supplying the rouge Klingon forces," Potter started thinking again. "Someone with something to gain by undermining the peace treaty."

"And who would stand to lose if we had peace in the Alpha Quadrant with the Klingons?" Diana asked, her Ravenclaw nature coming to the surface. "Who would they fight, if not us? Who does that leave?"

"Romulans!" Potter jumped up, spilling his drink. "We've not heard a peep out of them since Nanclus was executed for espionage by his government for his role in the murder of Gorkon and the attempted framing of Kirk and McCoy! If we ally with the Klingons, that leaves only the Romulans with two very unfriendly neighbors staring at them!" He began pacing. "That D-9, the new cruiser that tore us up so badly, looked a touch Romulan to me, I wonder? Sort of green, feathery paint pattern? Different nacelles?"

"And it's still out there?" Diana asked.

Potter nodded.

"But not for long! I'm going after that bastard, if I have to get out and strap antique Firebolt broomsticks to that nacelle! SCOTTY!" He barked at the communications panel.

"Scott here, an' NO, yeh can't have warp nine yet!"

"Mr. Scott, that Klingon cruiser is headed back along a generally Earth-bound path. I have a feeling there's something following it." He paused. "Something…Romulan!"

"I'm on it," Scott sighed. "Scott out!"

"Captain to bridge."

"Serok here."

"Mr. Serok, lay in a course back the way we came, best possible warp speed. Mr. Scott is busy, so consult with assistant Chief Kneazle, or whatever his name is – that Felinoid bloke what makes me sneeze."

"Chief K'norzell," Serok sounded like he was groaning, but Vulcans didn't groan, did they?

"Yes, and have Tauros lay in a course for Earth. Keep Mr. Shrann on those weapons systems, just in case. Have Lieutenant Miyagi keep trying to break that jamming. I have a feeling we're going to have company."

"Sir, if I may?"

"It was bait, Serok! They used this attack on soon-to-be-meaningless outposts to provoke us into sending the closest starship, leaving Earth fairly undefended. With all our ships making runs to other member planets for the Klingon relief effort, this was the perfect time for our other neighbors to strike!"

"A brilliant display of logic, Captain," Serok agreed, "However, this is one problem – we have no proof of this Romulan plot."

"We'll have it, just as soon as we catch that Klingon bastard and give him the bill for all the bodywork that this ship is in need of!" Potter replied.

"Bill? Ah, yes, a joke. I get it," Serok answered. "Laying in your course now, sir. Chief K'norzell reports that he can give us warp six."

"Engage," Potter snapped, taking another drink. "Ewwwww, I hate this stuff!"

"More?" Diana asked.

"Please," Potter replied. "To Hagrid! All five of them!" He toasted, a manic glint coming to his eyes.

Enterprise hurtled through space at warp speed, leaving only a very thin stream of plasma trails in her wake. The port nacelle was still badly damaged, despite Scotty's best efforts, with half of her warp coils fused and inoperative. Potter and Pomfrey had given their best efforts as well, but the Captain and the Healer were tiring with so much magical exertion. Between the wounded ship and the wounded crew, neither was sure how much more they had to give.

"He's out there," Captain Potter mused from the center seat. "But where?" His mind roamed out ahead, the speed of magical thought far outstripping that of his racing ship.

"Captain, if I may?" Serok offered, and Potter nodded. "You are making a great deal of 'mental noise'. If I did not know better, I would think that you were a Vulcan teen struggling for mental discipline?"

Shite, he can hear that? Potter thought. If you didn't know better, would you think that I was a Wizard, then?

"We were baited, and we took it," Potter grumbled. "Now there's a ship, perhaps a small fleet of them, under cloak and heading towards Earth."

Serok moved nearer the center seat, hands behind his back. "Sir, Chancellor Azetbur has been notified, in fact, as soon as we cleared jamming range. She is sending a task force, however, they are at least a day away. I believe that the general Klingon populous wants this peace as much as we do."

"But it is just like the Romulans, you have to admit," Shrann added. "Sir, there's a fluctuation in phaser power transfer. Conduits to the forward array took some damage in that last volley."

"Steady as she goes, Helm." He then turned back to Serok. "He's out there, and I intend to find him!"

"SIR! You may not have to wait!" Tauros spoke up.

"Incoming transmission, sir!" Miyagi piped up, "Audio only."

"On speakers!"

"I see you, Potter, limping along there. How was it you got to the Neutral Zone so fast, now that you're moving so slow?" A Klingon voice taunted him.

"Bad mistake!" James Potter breathed, and Serok flinched. "Close channel!"

"Sir?"

"Helm, come about to course one-four-six-mark two. Ready aft phasers, maintain speed. When we pass him by, we'll open fire," Potter ordered.

"Sir, what are we firing at?" Serok asked.

Potter got up, and Serok followed him to the science station. He was grasping at straws. He turned the sensors to maximum gain. "Here," he pointed at the screen. "That last Bird of Prey, the prototype that nearly destroyed Enterprise under Kirk's command, emitted a neutron radiation surge just before it fired. This area, right here, see that spike in neutrons? The thermal gradient rising?"

"Sir, a .02 anomaly in the thermal gradient of space is hardly…"

"In range, sir!"

"FIRE!" Potter snapped.

Twin beams of energy lashed out from Enterprise's tail, striking at nothing, until their ends revealed the shape of…

"Klingon warship decloaking off the starboard aft!" Shrann called out.

"Shields!" Potter ordered, "Continue firing before he can get his systems switched to weapons from cloaking! Aft torpedoes, FIRE!"

There were a series of explosions all along the neck of the Klingon cruiser, and when the smoke cleared, her forward head was bent – her long neck broken.

"Z-minus five-thousand! Hard to port, and roll her, Mr. Tauros!" the captain called, as overhead, a few circuits shorted out. Unconsciously, Potter pulled his wand. If I have to, I'll bludgeon him to death with it!

"Targeting engine core," Tauros said, "Firing!"

The Enterprise dived and rolled, exposing her belly and hiding her badly damaged nacelle. The Klingon ship fired, but Enterprise's more nimble impulse drive, combined with the inertia of the roll at near light-speed, carried her beyond the disruptor blasts.

Then the Klingon ship exploded, it's wreckage bouncing off of Enterprise's shields.

"About that .02 deviation, Serok?" Potter asked.

"Captain, that is illogical. It is not physically possible to show that a…"

"It's magic, Serok, just accept it," Potter smiled at him.

"And it that a wand in your pocket, sir?" Serok asked.

Lieutenant Miyagi nearly fell out of her chair laughing.

"Captain!" Serok almost sounded excited, "That was not the prototype D-9!"

"You mean that was...?"

"Another D-7, giving off false readings, sir," Serok answered. Potter sighed.

How many did they send? He wondered.

"Scott ter bridge! Are yeh quite done rolling me around down here? The gravity on this deck is down to point-five, an' some of the greener crewmen are jus' that- green!"

For some reason, everyone but Serok found that hilarious.

"I get it," the Vulcan was quick to point out.

"Captain, Chancellor Azetbur on subspace!" Miyagi called.

The screen filled with the image of the Klingon Chancellor. She was, at the very least, a commanding presence in her primal beauty. Klingon women? Potter wondered again.

"Captain Potter," she began, "I can assure you and your crew that the Klingon High Council had nothing to do with this unprovoked attack. As Ambassador Spock has pointed out, there is no honor is allowing the innocents to suffer and die. Without Federation aid, the casualties this morning from Qa'parQ Province will be nothing compared to what is to come."

"Ma'am?" Potter wondered.

"There was a meteor shower of Praxis debris. Upwards of two thousand people were killed," Azetbur informed them.

"My condolences, Madame Chancellor," Potter offered, "However, if our theory is correct, you may have a larger problem on your hands." He explained about the Romulan connection.

"It does sound logical," Azetbur agreed, nodding to Mr. Serok. "But if this is indeed true, and a new Klingon cruiser which I know nothing about is headed towards Earth with armed Romulan escort, how can you possibly intercept it?" She asked.

"Right now, we can't," Potter confessed. "Mr. Scott informs me that despite his miraculous work in Engineering, there's no way we can maintain warp six or higher for any amount of time."

The screen the split to show Azetbur and Admiral Archer. "We've contacted every ship we've got that's in possible range of Earth, but it looks like they're not going to get here in time. The Vulcans are coming, as well as the Andorians, but I'm afraid they're still too far away."

"Perhaps not," Serok cut in, "If I may?" Archer nodded at him. "Due to Mr. Scott's mysterious methods of propelling this ship, we were able to cover this distance in just over a day. However, the Klingon and Romulan ships will have to expend power to cover their cloaking devices. They cannot attain the ridiculous warp speeds that Enterprise is capable of, when she is in a proper state of repair. It is logical to assume that they are also larger, heavier armed, and therefore – slower. I would estimate that if Mr. Scott can get us to warp seven, and hold it for the needed amount of time, that we would be able to intercept them. This will also give the Vulcans and others time to arrive to assist us," Serok concluded.

"There's just one flaw with that plan," Azetbur reminded him, "By the time your ship arrives, it will be low on power, it's engines spent, and hopelessly outnumbered. You will not last long in a firefight."

"I know," Potter replied dismally, "But we'll think of something!"

Gideon Weasley was just getting ready to take questions about his career as a Starfleet officer from excited Hogwarts students when his communicator beeped. This, of course, only added to the star-hysteria that had infected the school upon the arrival of a celebrated alumnus. But while normal Muggle technology would not work inside a magical field, anything that used dilithium or rubindium crystals to function would. This was because these crystals, which extended into subspace, were in fact, magical in a way. And while the Muggles didn't know it, magic was what was driving most of their space technology.

"Weasley here!" Gideon told the communicator. The Great Hall of Hogwarts was dead quiet.

"Commander, this is Captain James T. Potter of the starship Enterprise," his voice filled the Hall.

The children cheered wildly.

(Potter glanced at Serok. "The kids love that bit," he said.)

"Say it, say it mate," Gideon told his cousin, once they'd settled back down.

"Of the House of Slytherin," Potter added.

The Slytherin students were on their feet, screaming.

"Listen, Gideon, we've got a problem," Potter explained, once Gideon had gone out in the corridor to take the call. He explained it fast.

"But bloody hell, mate! The only ship we can deploy is the USS Glasgow, and she's not even warp capable yet. They won't have torpedoes 'til Tuesday!"

"You're not taking the Glasgow, Gideon," Potter informed him. "I need you to take every student who can cast a Reductor Curse, Blasting Hex, anything at all destructive, and contact the Ministry of Magic for connections to our Starfleet operatives. You're also going to have to find someone to pull off a large-scale Bubblehead Charm. After that, you all are going to beam up to the Enterprise and take her to a station-keeping position between Earth and us."

"WHAT?! What the bloody hell for?" Gideon squeaked. "And I can't beam out to you! You're like a be-zillion light years from here!"

"The Romulans have been helping a renegade Klingon faction, and they've developed a new D-9 Cruiser carrying enough armament to crush a planet. It took out our shields in two shots, Gideon. And it's en route to Earth, possibly with other cloaked ships. Our port nacelle's badly damaged, and we can only make warp seven – even with magic driving us. We're in pursuit, but so far, I can't locate them. And you're not beaming up to MY ship, Gideon. You're taking the Enterprise NX-01 from the spacedock museum."

Gideon's jaw dropped.

"That rustbucket?" He exclaimed. "If you hit warp three in that thing, it'll spit its engine core all the way to Vulcan!"

"You don't have to take her to warp. Here's what you have to do," Potter informed him. He was halfway done explaining it when Gideon agreed and took his leave of the students. After conferring with the Headmaster, Gideon asked for volunteers of those of age. He tried to explain it without frightening them, but it looked like his leave was over. As he stepped out into the corridor and called for a beam-up, he felt a tug at his sleeve as the world dissolved into a myriad of blue light.

He had just enough time to see the sincere little face of Edward Creevey VII, First Year Gryffindor, holding onto his sleeve.