Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., Bloomsbury, and Scholastic respectively. Star Trek is owned by Gene Roddenberry, CBS, and Paramount Pictures. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me, and I make no profit from this story.

Beta Love: Scarlet Dewdrops, Insanity-Red.


Chapter 2

"Hermione!" The man kept repeating her name and pleading with her to wake up. "Please, Hermione, open your eyes. I can't heal this wound. You have to do this – please!"

With every passing second, he became more and more desperate. The woman – Hermione – looked injured, and her face was deathly pale. From his seated position Christopher Pike couldn't see much of the woman; her body was mostly obscured by the distressed young man who had his forehead on Hermione's sternum, messy black hair obscuring his face.

Captain Pike kept his confusion and shock hidden. It was his responsibility to keep the crew calm and working smoothly, after all. Nevertheless, he was an honourable and kind man, so it was natural for him to take pity on the frantic newcomer who was clearly distressed and in need of help – even given the questionable fashion of their appearance on the Enterprise.

He leaned to the side a bit and pressed a button on the arm of his command chair. "Dr. Puri, come in!"

"Puri here!" sounded a voice over the intercom.

"Doctor, report to the Bridge immediately. Bring your medical kit. We have an emergency here."

If the doctor was curious as to what kind of emergency there could possibly be on a ship that had just barely taken off, he didn't indicate it.

"Aye, Captain! On my way, sir."

"Pike out."

The young man, as if he had just realized that he was not alone, turned around and slowly stood up, eyes flicking around the room. Though he appeared shocked at his surroundings, it didn't seem to hamper his assessment of the situation – the result of some sort of law enforcement or military training, perhaps.

He looked to be in his early twenties, maybe even younger. His jet-black hair looked even messier from the front. His pale, tear-streaked face had a few scrapes and bruises, and was crowned by a strange scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on his forehead. Startlingly bright green eyes looked out from behind his antiquated glasses, which were cracked and sitting askew on the bridge of his nose. He was wearing an odd burgundy coloured robe that had a badge on the left side of his chest boasting the letters 'DMLE', a button down dress shirt of the same colour and black pants underneath, all of which were torn or slashed in various places. His hands, which were covered in blood, were visibly shaking. A strange-looking stick was firmly gripped in his right hand, as if it was some sort of weapon or defense mechanism.

Overall, the entire scene looked so bizarre that Pike half thought that the strangers had been beamed up to the Enterprise from some sort of Halloween party that had ended in a fight.

"Mr. Sulu, did you accidentally beam them up?" Pike demanded impatiently, standing up from his chair and walking towards the newcomers.

"No, sir, I did no such thing. All I did was follow your orders for takeoff," responded the helmsman respectfully, though a slight tone of defensiveness could be detected.

"Captain, considering the fact that we know nothing about these people, I would recommend that you keep a safe distance –" Spock cautioned as he stood up from his seat and walked forward to stand next to his captain.

Pike silenced him with a gesture.

Taking note of the defensive posture of the newcomer, Pike put his hands up in the universal motion of non-hostility and told the nervous young man, "We aren't going to attack you, if that's what you're expecting. I already sent for a doctor, he'll be arriving shortly to help your companion."

Harry, feeling disoriented and at a loss over his new location and the method of his arrival, did his best to focus on one thing and one thing only – saving Hermione. Out of all the things these people were talking about, one word in particular caught his attention – doctor.

"I doubt he'll be able to do anything for her," Harry said dejectedly, his voice thick with emotion, as he dismissed the others in the room and knelt down beside Hermione again.

Definitely a British accent, Pike noted to himself.

Now that he was closer, he could see a rather deep cut on the young woman's right side that was bleeding profusely. She appeared to be around the same age as the young man and was dressed in a grey pantsuit with a white button-down blouse. Her clothes were soaked with blood, though he noticed the jacket had three letters embroidered on the left side, right above the heart: 'DoM.'

What's with these letters on their clothes? The acronyms don't ring a bell, Christopher thought, watching as the young man stripped off his robe to press it against Hermione's wound.

"Dr. Puri is one of the best doctors in Starfleet –" started Spock, but was interrupted by the hissing sound of the doors of the turbolift opening.

Out came Dr. Puri, looking slightly breathless, carrying his medical kit.

"Where is the emergency?" he asked right away.

Spock merely gestured to the woman on the floor by the view screen, and the doctor made a beeline for her. He looked at her and then at the young man, instinctively turning to look at the Captain with a raised eyebrow – but then thought better of wasting time with any irrelevant questions. He knelt on the other side of Hermione, pulled out his medical tricorder, and began to scan her.

Without looking up from the device, he addressed the young man, "What's your name, son?"

"Harry Potter," Harry answered, his gaze flicking warily between the doctor and his tools. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out what's wrong with her," the doctor replied, his gaze glued to the tricorder's output.

The doctor was an older man in his late forties with graying, dark brown hair and kind hazel eyes. He wore a blue shirt, black trousers, and black boots – a uniform, judging by the similar attire of the others in the exceedingly strange room. The doctor was old enough to be Harry's father, but that didn't make him any less surprised that a strange man would call him a 'son.' Moreover, he didn't recognize any of the devices that the doctor was using. Having lived with Muggles until the age of eleven, Harry had thought that he was aware of most Muggle contraptions – either via seeing them in person or on television, or even reading a description in a book. He filed his observations away for later consideration because right now, his best friend was in need of assistance.

The machine was making random bleeps, and the man was looking at a handheld display, but what Harry cared about right now was rousing Hermione to consciousness – perhaps the doctor had a method that might work. "Doctor, could you help me wake her up, please?"

"Wake her up?" echoed Puri somewhat disbelievingly. "We don't need to do that, son. I can treat her while she's unconscious."

After a moment of fumbling in his medkit, he pulled out a syringe-type object and leaned back down towards Hermione with it.

"Hang on! What's that?" demanded Harry, grabbing hold of the doctor's wrist.

"Never seen a hypo before?" Puri asked in disbelief, lightly tugging back his arm to test the firmness of Harry's grip. "Have you been living under a rock, son?"

Something like that, thought Harry, and asked, "What does it do?"

"A hypospray is a medical device used to inject medication into a patient's body. I'm trying to give her the coagulation activator in order to stop, or at least slow the bleeding," the doctor explained patiently.

Harry reluctantly let go of the doctor's hand. Puri didn't waste any time bringing the hypo to Hermione's neck and gently pressing it against her skin.

Puri took up his tricorder again and ran another scan, expecting to see the data reflecting the usual results of treatment. Not so. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"I don't understand. This should have worked immediately. Tell me, Harry Potter, how did your companion get that wound?" inquired Dr. Puri as he lifted up Harry's robe, which was now soaked in blood, to take a more careful look at the injury. "Looks like it could be from a knife, but something tells me it wasn't. Am I right?"

Harry hesitated for a moment as he considered his options. He was obviously in the presence of Muggles who didn't know anything about magic. He knew he should have lied, told the doctor it really was a knife . . . But Harry Potter was not a good liar. Everyone always knew when he was lying. And on top of that, the doctor was already skeptical. Harry highly doubted he would be able to convince him.

No, there was no point in lying. Everyone in the magical world knew all too well that curse wounds could only be healed by magic. It was why St. Mungo's existed in the first place . . .

"So?" prompted Puri at Harry's continued silence. "I need more information so that I can help her more efficiently."

Puri took one more look at his tricorder, standing abruptly in his frustration. "If something isn't done about this soon, we will lose her," he told Harry impatiently. "I need to take her to the Medbay."

Harry's expression changed to the one of panic, as he leapt to his feet and exclaimed, "Wait! You can't! You won't be able to help her!"

Seeing the affronted look on the doctor's face, Harry summoned up all the courage and professionalism he could muster at the moment.

"Look, I don't mean to question your abilities as a doctor," he told the man respectfully, but firmly. "And I appreciate your willingness to help, sir, but you really don't know anything about us. You wouldn't believe me even if I told you, so I think it would be best if you could just help me wake her up. Please."

"And what good would waking her up do, if we can't stop the bleeding?" said the doctor dryly.

Harry ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Because she can stop the bleeding! She's the only one around who can heal that wound!"

Spock noted the use of the word 'heal' instead of 'treat' or 'cure' and interjected skeptically, "Heal it? Are you suggesting that she is a healer?"

Harry only offered a nod in response.

"Don't you mean 'a doctor'? She definitely looks human to me, and we humans refer to people who practice medicine as doctors – not healers," said Dr. Puri, sounding a mix of annoyed, sarcastic, and insulted.

"Doctor . . . healer . . ." Harry repeated in a daze, thinking about something.

His face cleared, as if a lightbulb had suddenly lit up in his foggy brain. He clapped himself on the forehead and exclaimed, "Of course! I am such an idiot!"

The next second, he was on his knees again, grabbing his wand and pointing it at Hermione's face. She hadn't exactly been stunned into unconsciousness, but it was worth a shot.

"Rennervate," he murmured hopefully.

The woman immediately began to stir. A few moments later, her eyes opened slightly, only for them to slam shut again as she gave a pained wince.

"Hermione?"

"Har-ry?" she managed to weakly eke out the two syllables.

"Yes! Yes, it's me." He let out a short, relieved sigh and smiled worriedly.

His face became serious again.

"Hermione, I need you to heal that wound that you have on your side," he said gravely, his voice only growing in volume and panic as he continued. "I didn't see what you were hit with, you know I'm pants at diagnostics, and you won't stop bleeding. I need you to fix yourself! I can't lose you, Hermione!"

The Captain and doctor just looked at each other with a shared mental shrug, and Spock lifted an eyebrow at this strange exchange.

Hermione squinted open her eyes once more, batting an absent hand at her friend. "It's so bright in here, Harry. Are we at Mungo's?"

"What?" Harry thought dumbly that he might not have heard her correctly.

"She's delirious! She's lost too much blood!" The doctor felt compelled to offer his opinion, also kneeling down beside the young woman.

"Harry . . . my locket . . ." Hermione didn't seem to hear the doctor.

"What? Why?" Harry said in disbelief.

Why on Earth would she need her locket, when she was bleeding to death?

"My locket, Harry . . . Open it," she insisted, managing to slide in a bit of her exasperated 'you didn't do your homework again, did you?' tone.

Harry complied, carefully pulling the locket from underneath her blouse by its chain. He recognized it as the same locket that Ron had given Hermione on her twentieth birthday – golden and shaped like a heart, with a single ruby embedded on the center.

"Okay. It's open."

Inside was a picture of Ron, smiling and blowing a kiss – on the other side, a shot of the happy couple embracing each other and waving at him. Ron and Hermione were both positively glowing in that picture. He didn't know when exactly it was taken, but he assumed it was a couple of years ago, probably just after Hermione graduated from Hogwarts.

Then his eyes fell on another object inside the locket. It looked like a miniature version of the famous beaded bag that had been Hermione's constant companion during the Horcrux hunt. He thought she'd retired that thing ages ago.

"The bag . . . Enlarge it." Her eyes were drooping but she managed to keep herself awake.

Harry did as he was told, and waited for further instructions.

"Get . . . Dittany and . . . the Blood replenishing . . . potion," she instructed with difficulty.

Harry waved his wand at the opening of the bag, muttered a Summoning Charm, and caught the two tiny bottles that came flying out. He quickly unstoppered the dittany, applying a few drops directly to the wound, and then helped Hermione to drink the replenisher.

The doctor's eyebrows arched high in surprise as the skin around the wound started knitting together with a sizzle and hiss.

The rest of the Bridge crew watched in silence, all attempting to figure out what was happening – one theory was that some sort of hallucinogen had been released. Little else made sense. No one wanted to admit it, but everyone's attention was focused on spotting any further strangeness from the newcomers, rather than on their actual work.

The next thing that happened was even more mind-boggling. Hermione pulled out a strange stick of her own and, without opening her eyes, traced it over her wound, whispering something over and over. It sounded almost like some sort of song in Latin, but no one could quite catch the words.

Spock, with his superior hearing, was the only one able to hear them clearly, and even understood what they were hypothetically meant to be. He simply couldn't believe that a wound could be healed with a few words – pseudo-Latin, at that – and a wave of a stick. It was not logical.

Regardless of logic, the results were immediate. The blood flow slowed even more, and then stopped altogether. Spock blinked in confusion – the wound now appeared to be several days old, new skin stretched over what had been open flesh.

One more wave of her stick, and her torso had a neat row of bandages covering the sight of her nearly-gone wound.

Hermione reached for Harry's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you, Harry. I'll be fine now. I still need a couple of days to fully recover, but in the end, there won't even be a scar left," she reassured him with a smile.

Harry, speechless from leftover worry and sudden relief, merely nodded.

"What the hell?" Dr. Puri murmured, pulling out his tricorder to scan Hermione once more.

What he found was unbelievable.

He couldn't stop himself from voicing his question, "How did you do that? Your vitals are stabilizing! Well, other than the blood pressure – it's a bit high. Is this your first time off-planet? That could be the cause. But more importantly, tell me how you did this. I've been a doctor for over twenty years, but I've never seen anything like it!" he rambled excitedly.

Hermione's eyes popped open at the onslaught of questions, and she rigidly sat up. She took in their new surroundings for the first time, eyes wide and wary.

"Harry! You should have told me there were Muggles around!" she chastised him.

Harry was somewhat agitated. Of course, working at the DMLE, he knew better than anyone about the Statute of Secrecy. However, when it came to his best friend's life, he couldn't care less about the law. In a worst-case scenario, they could always send a team to Obliviate the Muggles. The Statute of Secrecy had clauses for life-saving use of magic, after all.

"You know what, Hermione? You wouldn't stop bleeding, and I didn't want you to die," Harry retorted stubbornly. "I'm not going to apologize for prioritizing your life!"

She sighed, and leaned tiredly against her friend. "Of course, Harry, I'm sorry. I would do the same for you. I'm sorry."

Harry gave her a tight hug, careful to keep his arms around her shoulders to prevent irritation to her injury.

"I thought I was going to lose you!" His voice was slightly shaky, relief and a mixture of conflicting emotions evident in it.

"It's okay, Harry, I'm here," she said, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

She then took another glance around her and said, "By the way, where exactly is 'here', Harry?"

"Um . . . I really haven't got a clue," said Harry letting go of Hermione and looking around as well, this time looking for more than just potential threats.

"You are on board the starship Enterprise. I'm Christopher Pike, its Captain. This is my First Officer, Commander Spock," supplied Pike.

"Starship? Like, for space travel?" asked Harry in disbelief.

Pike nodded.

"You mean, we're in space?"

"That's what 'off-planet' means, son," said Puri, now waving his tricorder in Harry's direction. "Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, too. Like I mentioned earlier, it's completely normal if this is your first time in space. Nothing to worry about."

"Dr. Puri, you may return to the Medbay," Pike said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"But Captain," Puri protested, "I haven't gotten the chance to really do anything. And I'd like to know –"

"Later," Pike cut him off. "I'd like to talk to them first."

Needless to say, Pike was very puzzled by Harry and Hermione's sudden appearance and everything that had followed – but he didn't sense any danger from them. His gut feelings had proven accurate more times than not over the course of his career, so he decided to give them a chance to explain themselves.

"All right. But you must send them to the Medbay for a full examination. Everyone on board this ship has to have one. Otherwise, they don't have clearance from me to be here." The doctor proudly puffed up his chest at that.

With a tolerantly amused quirk of the lips, Pike replied solemnly, "Understood, doctor."

With that, Dr. Puri collected his things and left.

Harry and Hermione were only vaguely paying attention to the exchange between the captain and the doctor, because their attention had been captured by the view screen's display. What they saw there was downright frightening. They really were in space, judging by the stars that they saw churning past with an incredible speed.

This isn't real. It can't be. This is just one horrible dream. We need to wake up, they thought.

"How?" asked Harry quietly, letting out a shaky breath. "Apparition is out of question for this sort of distance. So is a Portkey."

"Oh, Harry!" said Hermione, remembering something crucial. "The Veil! We went through . . ."

She started frantically touching Harry's shoulders and head, as if reassuring herself that he was real. "Harry, are we – are we dead?"

Captain Pike cleared his throat and told them, "I assure you, you're very much alive."

Harry helped Hermione stand up and put an arm around her for support, carefully avoiding putting pressure on her healing wound. They were looking at each other, eyes wide.

Panic mounting, Hermione collected herself as best as she could. She took a deep, calming breath, and asked, as if she didn't really want to know the answer, "W-what . . . what is the current year?"

Spock arched one eyebrow at the odd question and stated in a monotonous voice, like a machine, "The current Stardate is 2258.42."

"Stardate?" Harry said incredulously.

Spock nodded.

"What's a 'stardate'? I don't understand. What's the current year?" Harry repeated, fear evident in his voice.

"If you are inquiring about the date in Earth time, then today would be February 11th, 2258."

If Harry wasn't holding Hermione up, he might have staggered back.

"What? Is this a bloody joke?"

"No, it is not," Spock responded flatly.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, rubbing his face with one hand.

Hermione's gears were going at full speed, but she couldn't think of anything to explain the phenomenon.

"That's – that's impossible," she said quietly, swaying on her feet.

Harry held her tighter to make sure that she didn't fall over.

"It can't be possible. Harry, tell me this is a dream. Tell me that I'm imagining this, please!"

"I can't, Hermione."

"Can either of you explain what the hell is going on here?" demanded Pike.

"Trust me, Captain Pike, we'd love to know that ourselves," responded Harry, trying hard not to freak out.

"Alright, then. Let's start with something easy," Pike told them, clasping his hands behind his back and pacing in front of them. "Your names are Harry Potter and Hermione . . ."

"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger," she supplied.

Breathe, just breathe. There's got to be a good, logical explanation to this situation, she told herself.

"Okay then, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. Do you have any idea how you came to be aboard this ship?"

"None, sir," said Harry.

"Okay. Let's try a different question. Who are you? Or rather, what are you? You look human, but you seem to possess the powers that we don't. You use words in your speech that I have never heard of. Your clothing is strange. And what are those sticks that you are holding? What planet are you from?"

Okay, that was more than one question, but he couldn't stop himself from voicing the rest, especially since they seemed relevant.

"What? What do you mean by 'what planet'? Earth, of course," Harry was getting defensive. "We look human, you said so yourself. What other planet would we be from?"

"Simply because you look human, does not mean that you are. There are many humanoid species in the universe with only slight aesthetic differences," said Spock, who was standing slightly behind the Captain.

For the first time, Harry and Hermione took a closer look at the First Officer and noticed his pointy ears and arched eyebrows. Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. Harry's mouth fell open.

"Judging by your reaction, am I correct to assume that neither of you have seen a Vulcan before?" asked Spock.

They both just shook their heads and remained silent.

This was real. Aliens were real. They really were in the future, with Muggles travelling in space on starships.

It still didn't answer the question of how they'd gotten there, though. And why in space?

"Well, are you going to answer any of my questions or not? Do I need to repeat them?" demanded Pike, when the silence continued.

"No, sir," Harry seemed to find his voice. "You don't need to repeat them. We'll answer your questions, but you won't believe us."

"Try me."

Well, if there were aliens and starships in the future, maybe they knew about the magical world too.

Hermione took a deep breath and said, "Harry is a wizard, and I am a witch."

Dead silence settled again on the Bridge. Spock arched one eyebrow. Then the Captain burst out laughing.

"You expect me to believe that?" asked Pike. "I don't know what you kids are thinking! You may have some strange healing abilities – but that doesn't equal magic. Is this a prank? Did someone dare you to beam on board of the fleet's newest flagship? Because I can tell you right now, we are in an emergency situation. The delay is not appreciated!"

Okay, the Muggles didn't know about the Wizarding world in the future.

Hermione determinedly looked at Harry and asked, "May I?"

"Go ahead," he confirmed with a wave of his hand.

Given the current circumstances, the Statute of Secrecy be damned. Their magic had already been seen by these Muggles, so it wasn't as if things could get much worse – and honestly, getting healed up and back to Earth was their top priority at the moment. If Harry and Hermione didn't manage to convince these Muggles of their truthfulness, they just might end up in a mental institution of sorts – if they weren't simply arrested for trespassing. Most likely without their wands . . .

"What are you –?" started Pike.

At the same time, Hermione pointed her wand at Harry's glasses and said loudly and clearly, "Oculus Reparo!"

The cracked glasses mended themselves in an instant.

She then waved her wand at herself and said, "Tergeo," and all the blood soaked into her clothes was siphoned away, leaving her clean, though still somewhat disheveled. She did the same to Harry and his robe.

"Accio robe!" Now Harry's robe flew right into Hermione's hands.

"Evanesco," and the blood that stained the floor vanished.

"Still think we're lying? Or that we're . . . impaired? Or whatever it is that you thought?" Hermione said proudly, handing Harry his robe back. "Would you like more proof?"

"Keptin Pike, Keptin Pike!"

"What is it, Ensign?"

"Sir, I haff deetected some form of a magnetic field on ze Bridge, but now it's gone," said a young man with sandy brown curls in a yellow shirt with a heavy accent. "It happened earlier as well. I am suzpecting zat it haz to do wiz . . . wiz Miss Hermione and Meester Harry using zouze . . . zouze steecks."

"They're called wands," Harry supplied helpfully with amusement. "And that's not surprising, I suppose, considering the way electronics reacts around magic."

"There isn't a chance for a detrimental effect on our equipment, is there?" asked Pike, slight worry in his voice.

"No! No, sir," Hermione hurried to reassure the Captain. "Nothing like that. Only strong magic, like the type around our school, could make things go haywire. But that would require at least a dozen of witches and wizards casting powerful spells simultaneously and then refortifying them every now and again. One witch or wizard casting even most powerful of spells won't break your equipment, but might cause some interference. Mind you, if those powerful spells were to be cast over and over, then there might be some problems," she finished sheepishly.

"How strong was the magnetic field, Ensign?" Spock addressed the young man with the accent.

"Not strong, Commander. But I vas able to deetect it," he answered proudly.

"What's your name again? Chanko, Cherpov?" Captain asked.

"Chekov, sir. Chekov, Pavel Andreievich," he answered happily.

"Well, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, keep an eye on that field for me, will you?"

"Yes, sir, happy to!"

"Well," the Captain addressed Harry and Hermione. "Now that we have established that you are . . . " – he seemed reluctant to actually use the terms – "a wizard and a witch, can we figure out how you got here?"

"I really haven't got the foggiest," said Harry, running his hands through his hair, making it even messier.

He mustered as much calmness as he could and explained, the sadness in his voice unmistakable, "There was a war that ended three years ago. Well, three years ago for us. Our side won the war, but some of the enemy's followers remained, wanting revenge. They somehow broke into our place of work at the Ministry of Magic and attacked us. Hermione and I were thrown through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries, and ended up here."

Harry could see the blank stares, which was understandable. They probably thought he was completely barmy.

"A war?" asked Spock, arching an eyebrow once more. "The Eugenics War?"

"What? No, it was the Second Wizarding War."

"I am not aware of such a war occurring in Earth's history," Spock stated in his usual, straight-forward manner.

"Of course not," Hermione confirmed with a slight shake of her head. "The Wizarding World is concealed from the Muggle one. You wouldn't know anything about it."

"Muggle?" Pike voiced his question.

"Yes, it means non-magical." Hermione supplied the information factually and somewhat automatically, reminding a few of the crew of how Spock iterated facts as if everyone should know them already.

Pike raised an eyebrow and slowly asked, skepticism registering in his tone, "And you are saying you're from the past?"

"Yes, from the year 2001, to be exact," confirmed Hermione.

Harry interjected after doing an easy bit of calculating, "Hermione, that's 257 years! How did we get here? Did you have a Time-turner on you?"

"Yes, Harry, I know how long the gap is," she replied with a sigh. "And no, I didn't have a Time-turner. And even if I did – which would be an impossible feat by itself, given the fact that the only currently semi-functioning prototype of a Time-turner is securely locked up in the Time Chamber under dozens of different powerful protective enchantments . . . Merlin, I wasn't supposed to tell you that!" she gasped in pain, suddenly grabbing hold of her head.

Harry looked concerned and was about to say something, when Hermione cut him off, continuing to speak, though her voice was definitely more strained than before, "Anyway, even if I had a Time-turner, Harry, you can't use one to go to the future, let alone this far into the future! And then there's the fact that we went through the Veil in the Death Chamber. By all rights, we should be dead. Instead we're here, supposedly 257 years in the future!"

She halted, grimacing in pain from her sudden headache, and gasping for air because she'd spoken for so long with little breathing.

"Are you alright?" asked Harry with concern.

"Fine, fine. Just a headache."

She certainly didn't look fine, but waved off his concern, adding, "And then, as if that wasn't enough, there's also the fact that we were in London, and somehow ended up in space, of all places. It just . . . none of this makes sense."

"No, it doesn't," agreed Harry, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "It's completely mental."

Hermione nodded in agreement, just enough to not make her headache worse. "Completely."

There was a moment of silence where everyone stared at Harry and Hermione – who suddenly found the floor very interesting – as if they had just grown two extra heads.

The Captain cleared his throat and spoke, "All right. This is getting more and more unbelievable by the minute. Witches and wizards? Ministry of Magic? Time-turners? Death Chamber? I think for now we'll have you escorted to the Medbay and get you properly examined by Dr. Puri. Maybe you have a head injury – seems likely enough, considering that headache of yours . . ."

"You don't believe us." It was a statement, not a question, and Harry sighed with resignation.

"Of course he doesn't believe us. I mean, they're all Muggles," Hermione scoffed, gesturing around the Bridge. "They've never dealt with this kind of thing before. They don't understand half of the terms that we're using."

She looked to Pike, who simply nodded in agreement.

"We must sound completely and utterly mental. . ." she trailed off.

Then, as if realizing something, she started walking towards Pike with determination and stopped two feet in front of him.

"I can prove that we're not crazy. I can prove that everything we've said is true – if you'll allow me."

"And how might you do that?" asked Pike skeptically, folding his arms on his chest.

"Reverse Legilimency."

Harry looked horrified as he exclaimed, "Hermione, no! You don't know him! You can't just let him into your mind like that!" He strode up to stand next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder as if to guide her back away from the Captain.

She shrugged him off. "Trust me, Harry, this is for the best. I know what I'm doing."

"Care to explain?" asked Pike.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked the Captain right in the eyes. He couldn't help but notice that she had very beautiful brown eyes – full of intelligence and pleading. Pleading with him to give them a chance.

Hermione explained, "Legilimency is the art of, for the lack of a better term, 'mind-reading.' It's more complex than that though. However, I will not be reading your mind. Rather the opposite, really. I assure you that your mind will be perfectly safe and untouched. I will simply show you some of my memories, so that you can see for yourself that we aren't lying or inventing things."

"How do I know you won't somehow invade my mind if we do this?" Pike asked skeptically.

"You don't. I guess you'll just have to take my word for it."

Hermione sighed.

"Look, I understand your reluctance. If I were in your shoes, I probably wouldn't let some stranger who appeared out of nowhere claiming to possess magical abilities anywhere sensitive, let alone into my head. And under normal circumstances I wouldn't even consider doing something like this – at all. But this isn't a normal circumstance. You said earlier that you are in an emergency situation of sorts, which means you likely don't have much time to be dealing with us right now. This is the quickest way I can think of at the moment to gain understanding between us . . . even if I might end up regretting it later . . ." she finished quietly.

Pike studied the young woman in front of him, gazing intently into her eyes. His gut feeling told him that he wasn't in any danger from her, that she was telling the truth. He was also very intrigued by the two newcomers and wanted to know more about them and their abilities. After all, one of Starfleet's missions was to explore strange new worlds and discover new civilizations.

Pike nodded, his mind now made up. "Alright."

"Captain," Spock interjected, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "I would strongly recommend against this. She may be manipulating you in order to obtain vital information about Starfleet or the Enterprise, or –"

Pike cut him off by putting up a hand. "Don't you have work to do?" he said to his First Officer.

Pike turned to address everyone else on the Bridge, all of which were disregarding their duties in favour of watching the drama unfold.

"Don't you all have work to do?" he asked pointedly. "Mr. Chekov, please begin a ship-wide broadcast of our mission parameters."

"Aye, Keptin!" The young Russian followed orders immediately.

Pike turned back to Hermione and said, "Alright then, how is this going to work?"

Hermione gripped her wand in her left hand and walked up close to the Captain, carefully lifting her right hand to touch his cheek. Spock was strangely reminded of a Vulcan mind-meld. However, instead of placing her fingers over the bioelectrical focal points on Pike's face, Hermione placed hers in such a manner that it almost looked like a caress.

"You will need to keep eye contact with me, sir," she informed him quietly.

Pike gave a slight nod in understanding.

She whispered, "Legilimens."

The whole scene looked very intimate. Spock felt slightly uncomfortable and decided it was best to get back to the science station. Besides, once the Captain had decided something, there was little Spock could do to stop him.

Harry similarly gave up trying to stop his stubborn friend – who had apparently taken on some of his recklessness over the years. He turned away and walked towards the view screen again. He looked out at the rapidly passing stars, but didn't really see them. His thoughts drifted inevitably toward Ginny, Ron, the rest of the Weasleys, his godson Teddy, and all of his friends. A feeling of tightness emerged in his chest, and his eyes started burning.

We will figure this out, we will get back, he tried to reassure himself.

Meanwhile, Hermione began to show Pike some of her memories – largely focusing on those that would prove the existence of a wizarding culture and society. Images floated across her mind's eye, like snippets of a movie. First, glimpses of her childhood – incidents of accidental magic. Then she was an eleven-year-old, receiving her Hogwarts letter and getting a visit from Professor McGonagall, who explained that Hermione was a witch. Then she was walking down Diagon Alley, past witches and wizards dressed in robes and pointy hats, carrying objects that would seem odd to a Muggle – cauldrons, owls in their cages, some other funny shaped packages. Images of Hogwarts flashed through her mind, with its moving staircases, talking portraits, and the Great Hall with its enchanted ceiling.

She also thought it might be relevant to show him the events in the Death Chamber that had led up to her and her friend's strange relocation.

In hindsight, transferring such frantic, emotionally charged memories was a tremendous mistake. Hermione was hit by a deluge of similar memories, some of which she had desperately wanted to forget. Her hand began to tremble, and she quickly pulled it away from Pike's face, her now-watering eyes darting away from his.

Pike instinctively reached out and wiped a few tears from Hermione's cheeks. She hadn't even realized they had fallen.

"I believe you," he told her quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

Pike gently took hold of her wrists, gave them a slight squeeze, and spoke a bit louder as Hermione looked up at him, "I can't say that I understood everything that I saw, but I believe you. And I will do everything I can to help the two of you to get back."

His eyes fell on Harry, who was walking back towards them.

"We will need to discuss everything I saw in more detail, so that I can better understand the situation and help you. But that will have to wait. Right now we are headed to Vulcan, Spock's home planet, on a rescue mission –"

He was interrupted as the doors to the Bridge hissed open, and three frantic people ran in.

"Captain Pike, sir, we have to stop this ship!"