{Author's Note: Thanks for the quick review, anon! I just wish you had been signed in so I could thank you properly, but regardless, thank you! I'll be sure to keep a close eye on T'rembrale after your comment.
Before anyone asks, I had her brush against the delete button so the others couldn't simply transport down and get her easily once they realize she's gone. Instead, the Vulcan researchers have to search pretty much the entire half of the globe they were on, if that makes sense. Otherwise, the crew of the ship would simply beam down, get her, and get back to Vulcan. Story over. }

Back home at the Dursley residence, Harry attempted to sleep restlessly. Uncle Vernon had picked him up wordlessly, barely pronouncing a single syllable as he had recently contracted a rather bad case of laryngitis. On the other hand, Aunt Petunia had hardly shut her mouth as she berated Harry.

"You keep your… freakishness quiet, you hear that?" She at last paused, clearly expecting a reply from Harry. It took him a second, but he evidently clued in that she was silent for a reason and nodded his head gently. "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"We don't need or want your kind around, but we took you in out of the goodness of our hearts. You had better remember that and behave, boy." She wasn't nearly as forceful as Harry's uncle, but instead his aunt possessed an acid tongue. Petunia knew exactly how to add the most bite to the words, to make even the sweetest phrase become a harsh insult.

Once more, Harry silently nodded as he sat in the back seat of the sedan his uncle drove back to Number Four, Privet Drive. His heart sank deeper within his chest with each passing mile. This was real.

He was going back to his personal hell for the summer, and he couldn't even pretend to enjoy the ride there with Dudley taking up almost all of the back seat. Harry was squished, hot, and sweaty with his obese cousin taking the full blast of the air conditioning coming from the front of the vehicle.

It was going to be a long summer, he could already tell.

The next day, Harry was outside spreading manure over the flowerbeds in front of Number Four while Vernon silently glared darkly at Harry and sipped icy lemonade spiked with just a shot of vodka. He needed the alcohol, he claimed, to soothe both his nerves with the wretched boy about and his throat tortured by the recent illness.

Harry didn't bother to point out that the burning liquor likely agitated the tissues of his uncle's throat far more than it soothed. After all, he didn't want more "chores".

The boy didn't dare call the work chores in his mind; for he considered chores something he was to be paid however meagerly for. This… slavery, he thought, it was definitely slavery. At the least, they could feed him properly as a payment of sorts.

Regardless, he spread the fertilizer evenly over the entire flowerbed before rinsing off his hands with the hose and starting on the next task: weeding and planting more annuals in the aforementioned flowerbed. This was going to be an all-day task.


The Vulcan girl walked uneasily through the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Her eyebrow instantly twitched upwards as she spied children flying. That was illogical; people could not fly… or could they?

She proceeded closer, spying the device the children hovered about on. From what she could see, it resembled what her parents used to sweep sand out of their residence while the small family resided on Vulcan, with some kind of bristles upon one end and a wooden pole on the end the children grasped.

Interesting.

At last pushing aside any shyness as illogical, she began walking up the hill towards the wooded area where the children flew about. T'rembrale's eyes wildly darted about in a restrained excitement, seeing just how green this planet was. It was so different from Vulcan.

Where Vulcan's deserts ruled the globe, this planet was evidently primarily water, which would explain why there was so much plant life. The people spanned the entire world here. From what she recalled of her studies on Vulcan, her people were confined far more specifically to clusters of civilization. On the other hand… scans here had indicated that the native people spider webbed the world except for the seas and arctic. Most fascinating in the most wonderful way, she found.

Her mind darting about despite her halfhearted attempts to calm down, T'rembrale at least reached the orchard where the local children were playing a game involving the throwing of a red fruit.

What caught her attention most, however, was how openly these people displayed emotion. Not once had she seen a non-Vulcan anywhere but on the viewscreens, and here some of the boys that seemed to be older sported a devilish grin as they batted one of the fruits back and forth, evidently attempting to hit the others.

At long last, T'rembrale saw that despite her curiosity, her silence was illogical. She could learn so much more if she just conversed with these beings! After all, she could mind-meld away their memories if she absolutely had to… hopefully.

Mind-melds weren't guaranteed to work on this newly discovered species, she knew. T'rembrale also had not completed traditional work to control the ability properly yet. Even so, the young Vulcan knew she could do it if pressed. The question that remained was whether she could do it properly or if she would bungle her first initiated meld, seeing as it would be with a previously undiscovered race.

After briefly considering all of this, she immediately pushed the idea out of her mind. It would not be logical to initiate a meld with this species, particularly since she had no idea of what their capabilities were.

Far better to keep an ace in the hole than to show all one's cards early in the game, after all.

"Na'shaya, kanlar," she said somewhat louder than she had expected. The air here was denser than on either the vessel or Vulcan, and far more oxygen-rich. Perhaps this newfound energy wasn't purely emotion. Perhaps it was a natural chemical reaction to having more resources available to process than her metabolism was accustomed to.

The boys all paused in midflight quickly, looking for the source of the sound. If their mum found out about another kid seeing them flying too high and therefore needing a memory charm… Each of these Weasley children wouldn't be able to sit down for a week.

Ron was the first to set down on the ground, gripping his aging broom tightly enough his knuckles turned ashen pale. "Erm, hi." He paused momentarily, eyeing the girl before him. She appeared to be younger than him by at least three or four years, if not five.

"You're not from around here, are you?" an older voice spoke from behind the youngest male of the Weasley clan. Ron jumped as Percy landed beside him. "Percy! You could give a guy some warning, you git!" he whispered angrily towards his brother.

"Shut up, Ron. I don't think she speaks English." Percy said, a concerned look crossing his eyes despite himself. By now, Fred and George had landed as well and were standing slightly to the side of their older and younger brothers.

"Well, the only thing to do…" Fred chimed in and paused, "Is to take her to Mum to see if some translation charm is possible," George completed.

Percy rolled his eyes. This ridiculous thing with the twins and finishing each others' sentences tended to get on his nerves rather quickly. Of course, the two knew that. Otherwise, Gred and Forge wouldn't pull off the trick quite so frequently.

All the while, T'rembrale stood starting at them, taking in the words that obviously weren't her native tongue. Despite herself, confusion crossed her face. Why hadn't she realized that the native sentients wouldn't speak Vulcan? Now that the fact was out in the open, she was appalled at the obvious lack of logic in her decision to make contact.

"Come on, let's take her to Mum then," Percy announced as he further took in the girl's odd appearance. Eyebrows tilting upwards and what appeared to be pointed ears under her thick black hair? Bizarre. "Ron, you're closest to her age… she'll probably be more comfortable with you leading her than me, and I'm not trusting Fred and George." Ron nodded, his signature Weasley hair blowing in the breeze.

"Will do, Perce." Ron walked up to the girl, offering his hand. T'rembrale merely looked down at the offered hand, not understanding. She kept her hands to her sides, then looked back up and raised a questioning eyebrow. Ron then raised his own eyebrow in surprise and gently leaned forward to hold her hand as they walked together.

What he didn't expect, however, was that she tug her hand away from him almost immediately. Discomfort laced T'rembrale's gaze, her mouth now remaining closed as she attempted to discern bits and pieces of this foreign language. Given long enough, surely she could figure it out… But right now, she needed to understand. Not in two or three months for only the basics.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, forcing herself to be calm. Emotion tampered with logic, and logic ruled all. She must remember that and remain calm. Instead, she used her slender hand to place his fingertips on her shoulder. There would be okay, and hopefully it wouldn't violate any cultural norms of this society she had found herself unexpectedly immersed in.

Ron shrugged, but then accepted the relocation. "Alright, come with us…" he murmured, gently pressing upon her shoulder to indicate that she was to come with them. Fred and George snickered loudly behind him, and Ron shot them a death-glare. They would use this as blackmail later, he knew it… but this girl, she didn't even look like she belonged anywhere near here.

Her clothes seemed entirely too warm for the toasty summer weather, and they appeared foreign. Mentally, he compared it to a little-seen form of wizard robes, but far warmer than those he wore to school if his impression of the fabric was correct. The material seemed to be rather coarse, but the entire outfit was made of various weaves of the same material. How odd, he thought. Almost as if she dropped out of the sky. Almost.

As the five neared The Burrow, T'rembrale's eyebrows raised dramatically. This building was neither practical in the form it was built nor aesthetically pleasing, but these people seemed to be leading her inside. As long as the building did not collapse, she supposed it would be a reasonable shelter.

"Alright, this is home." Ron pointedly announced to the odd girl despite her evident lack of a grasp on the English language. "If you stay, you'll probably share a room with Ginny or take either Bill or Charlie's old room." She almost imperceptibly nodded her head, a motion she hoped was something along the lines of an affirmative or an 'I have no idea what you said, but let's go with it anyway'.

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Fred asked incredulously. "Why would she stay?" George added. Ron rolled his eyes theatrically and proceeded to bicker with his brothers.

T'rembrale was frankly quite relaxed by this procession. Even though she couldn't understand what they were saying, perhaps persistent exposure to the language would accelerate the acquisition process.

At last tired by his brothers' persistent verbal sparring, Percy walked around to the other side of T'rembrale and gently urged her forward into the house. "Come on, then… we've got to see if Mum has anything she can do."

Inside the house, the environment appeared entirely different. First off, she noticed the drastic temperature difference and a faint almost buzz in the atmosphere. Despite Percy leaving his shoes on, she immediately took hers off and left them in the doorway. Perhaps her parents weren't exactly traditional in this regard, but they had found they needed to clean up sand far less frequently when shoes were left in the doorway.

Even now, T'rembrale considered it common courtesy to leave her shoes in the doorway of another's residence. It was only logical to remain a welcome guest by not tracking in dirt and otherwise making a mess.

Her shoes off despite the now-following Weasley boys' stares, she followed them farther into the house. Very little here seemed logical to her, but perhaps once she understood the culture it would be.

"Mum! Can you come here?" Ron bellowed at the top of his lungs. T'rembrale was uneasy, but refused to show it and instead forced her face to become purged of emotion. "Ronald, this had better be worthwhile," a woman's voice called back. "Please, Mum, it is!" Percy responded.

Now Molly Weasley knew something was up and at last gave up on tidying up Ginny's desk a touch. "Alright, coming." T'rembrale's left eyebrow rose as she saw the plump woman descend the stairs before her, taking in the loving atmosphere that encompassed her.

A similar look crossed Mrs. Weasley's face, only magnified. "Boys, explain yourselves," she finally demanded.


At last finished with the backbreaking labor, Harry hosed himself off as best he could before sitting down on the edge of the Dursleys' front drive. Once dry, he could finally retreat to his bedroom for a while and perhaps attempt to do some of his summer homework.

That is, if his oh so dear uncle hadn't locked away his trunk again this summer. All Harry really knew was that as soon as the family arrived back at Privet Drive, he had been ushered into his bedroom and threatened to remain silent or else before the door was slammed shut and audibly locked. What the "or else" was, he still didn't have a clue.

Even without the accompanying threat identified, Harry had decided to play it safe for once. He now had Hedwig in the room and kept the cage slightly opened. When someone entered the bedroom, it easily appeared to be closed, but the intelligent creature could easily budge the hinge in order to get out.

Since Uncle Vernon had installed bars in his window, Harry regretted his inability to send post to his friends without being permitted out of the room in the first place.

When he was allowed out, it was generally a toilet run or work time ending with a small meal and an exceedingly short shower. As such, his only method of getting Hedwig out to hunt or send mail was to write the letter beforehand and carry the snowy owl outside as he readied to labor relentlessly on whatever task his aunt and uncle designated for the day.

Today had been one such day and he now was sorry for having sent Hedwig off so soon. He had much more to say now, including a request that the Weasleys see about having him come over as soon as possible in the summer, and for as long as possible as well.

Harry's stomach grumbled loudly as he waited several more minutes. To passersby, he could have easily appeared to be sunbathing, if not for the long, baggy jeans adorning his legs and the thick tee that enveloped his torso.

Surely this was a joke of sorts to the Dursleys, particularly Petunia. The thicker, more oversized Harry's clothes were, the longer they took to dry after such a washing. She also delighted in making him rinse off many times before finally being permitted back inside, frequently clad in nothing but oversized boxers as he entered the front door.

The day drawing to a close, he wolfed down the ham and cheese sandwich his aunt had shoved in his hands as he proceeded upstairs. He shoved the slightly damp clothes into the hamper under Dudley's circus tent of a shirt as he stepped into the shower for his allotted three minutes to wash up.

Not even a minute into the shower, however, Uncle Vernon came bellowing at the door. "Hurry up, boy! We don't need you wasting our water!" Harry ruefully shook his head, finishing rinsing shampoo out of his tousled hair and soap off the body now unaccustomed to such labor.

He would be sore tomorrow, he knew that. Hopefully… over time, he would become somewhat acclimated to the abuse once again.

Thirty seconds after Vernon Dursley's early protests at Harry's cleanliness, the teenager stepped out of the bathroom clad in a ratty towel and clutching a set of soaked boxers. "Don't drip, boy." The hefty man snarled, spitting out the final word. "I'll have you scrubbing tomorrow if I find so much as a drop, mind you."

"Yes sir." Harry's eyes lowered, careful to show subservience to his uncle. The man was like a razor when it came to cutting at protruding behaviors of Harry's, particularly those perceived as rebellious.

The boy then walked the few steps back to his room and draped the boxers over Hedwig's empty cage. He thought back to last year, when Dobby had been intercepting his letters from his friends. "Please be back soon, Hedwig… I don't know if I can take this like I did last year anymore." The isolation would kill him if nothing else did.

Far above all the humans on Earth, those upon the Vulcan vessel were as near to a panic as it could be said the unemotional Vulcans became. Where had T'rembrale gone? She hadn't responded to the intercom as she had been taught since she was but two.

Either the light sleeper was curled up in a dark recess of the small ship or she was no longer on the vessel. At last, Masek had found the footage of the last time anyone had seen her: when T'rembrale had been on the bridge with Sulok.

Her mother stared at the screen intently, watching the girl actively interact with her imaginary playmate for quite a while before "transporting" what she had been playing with down. What piqued the Vulcan's attention was the silvery glimmering upon the transporter pad.

"Look," was all the mother said, obliquely indicating the scene unfolding in real time. Her own child, so logical for her age, activated the transporter in such an illogical manner. T'rembrale's father barely suppressed a gasp as he saw his only child vanish, although he fully knew this had happened hours beforehand.

{Another note: Alright! It appears I've finally gotten into the swing of things a bit more! Subsequent chapters should follow the pattern of being just a tad longer than the previous, but not as a rule.

Please review this chapter and I'll do my best to respond. If all goes well, I should put up another chapter either tomorrow or the day after. Of course, that one review the anonymous benefactor put up spurred me to write all this… so please?}