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.

Many thanks to my beta, amazing Insanity-Red, for all the help with this chapter.

Chapter 11

Stardate 2258.44 – U.S.S. Enterprise, Alpha Quadrant

"Acting Chief Engineer's Log. Stardate two-two-five-eight-point-four-four . . . or point-four-five? Argh . . . whatever. Does anyone actually ever listen to these things?" Scotty spoke, his speech hindered by a small tricorder stuck between his teeth.

Currently, he was tinkering with the equipment on the engineering deck, trying to remove a fried plasma relay.

"I dunno exactly how many days it's been since we saved the galaxy from a mad Romulan with a badass pointy ship and barely escaped the grip of a spontaneous black hole. All I know is that I've been stuck in Engineering all this time, trying to revive the Enterprise in hopes of getting us back to Earth. Actually, the nearest starbase would be a good start. An astonishingly well-equipped one, preferably, since our well-endowed lady is now a mess of broken parts and fried circuits."

Scotty succeeded in removing the fried plasma relay and tossed it to Lieutenant Boma, who was working nearby. "Add that to the pile, will ya, laddie?"

"Yes, sir," Boma responded as he moved to follow the order.

"Aye then," Scotty started, standing up from his position on the floor and brushing off his pants.

He turned to address the red-shirted officers of the engineering division, "Ya all make yourselves useful and don't touch the impulse engines. At all. And I'll go and talk to the Capt'n. Be right back," he finished, leaving the engineering deck and heading towards the Bridge.

Christopher Pike woke up in one of the private isolation rooms of the Medbay on the second day of their return journey. A soft whirring sound had woken him up: a disheveled and rather tired-looking Doctor Leonard McCoy was running another one of his innumerable scans, brow furrowed and mouth turned down at one side.

The white of the room was a shock of brightness against Pike's retinas, rather overwhelming after the perpetual half-night of the Narada . . .

The Narada. As the memories of his time on that ship came crashing down on him, Pike swallowed hard and tried to banish them. He'd survived. That was all that mattered right now. He was going to be grateful for that and count it as a win . . .

"Welcome back, Captain," greeted McCoy, noticing that his patient was now awake.

"Thank you, doctor," responded Pike weakly, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a bus. And then someone knocked me over the head with a frying pan," responded Pike, trying not to think about how many sedatives and painkillers were currently coursing through his bloodstream.

"Had a lot of experience with that, Captain?" asked McCoy sarcastically, putting down his bioscanner and picking up a PADD to make a few notes.

Pike merely gave the doctor a look and asked, "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half. We've had you in surgery for about five hours, give or take – try not to move too much. You're still recovering from a massive shock to your nervous system – not to mention broken bones and a few internal injuries. You're gonna feel somewhat groggy and very tired for a while, but that's perfectly normal. You'll recover soon enough and be good as new. You'll be running marathons, climbing mountains, skydiving . . . or whatever you actually like, soon enough."

"Good to know. Could have been much worse, if it hadn't been for Harry Potter. Nero was planning to use a Centaurian Slug on me to get the information that he needed." McCoy blanched at the mention of the parasitic creature, and Pike continued, "I take it, judging by your reaction, that you've heard of them?"

The doctor nodded, looking up from his PADD. "Yes. The Klingons use 'em to interrogate their prisoners. Nasty buggers. Doctor Philips, our xenobiology instructor, briefly mentioned them at one point."

"Well, thanks to Harry, you didn't have to extract one of those out of me," said Pike.

And unspoken, the rest of the sentence hung in the air between them: If I would have even still been here for you to perform the extraction.

After a brief silence, Pike asked, "How are they, by the way? Harry and Hermione?"

Something (confusion, guilt maybe?) flashed across McCoy's features as he responded, "Fine. Nothing's terribly wrong with them from the medical standpoint – a dislocated shoulder, concussion, exhaustion. Everything's mostly healed, really. However, for reasons unknown to me, they're still out cold."

"What? You said I'd only been out a day and a half, right? Shouldn't they be up and about by now?"

"Yes, they should. But they aren't. And I'd like to know why. Doctor Bennet performed a full medical exam and took a blood sample from them. There are a few odd quirks in their DNA. They're still perfectly human, like you and I – just a bit . . . different. Their DNA doesn't match anything from the Federation databases.

"And they're perfectly healthy, as far as we can tell," he added. "Some good news there, at least. They're in the room next to yours, by the way."

Pike nodded and asked, "Do you think that these 'quirks' in their DNA are what allow them to perform their so-called magic?"

"It is possible," answered McCoy, putting the PADD away.

"How long till I can leave this bed?"

"Well, I can't run you under the regenerators non-stop. Your body needs a break from it to recuperate. So, I would estimate a few more days before you should at least be able to get into an autochair."

Then, seeing that Pike was about to protest, he added, "Sorry, can't do more than that. If Granger were awake, she'd mend your bones up in seconds. As it is, you'll have to make do with my brand of magic," he finished, waving a bone regenerator at the Captain, as if it were a wand.

"In seconds, you say?" asked Pike, his tone disbelieving.

"Oh, yes. She was helping me here while you and Potter were on the Narada. The Sickbay was overflowing with injured crewmembers, plus the Vulcan refugees. For example, Ensign Petrovsky broke his arm during Nero's initial attack. So she knocked him out with a mild sedative, mended his bones, and sent him on his way back to Engineering – all in about thirty seconds. As far as Petrovsky is concerned, he didn't even have a broken arm."

"That's . . . that's good," said Pike, impressed. Mending broken bones in seconds – that was something that even their advanced medicine currently couldn't do.

"Yeah. We've been able to make some room here with her help," said McCoy, turning his attention to the readings over the biobed. "And we needed all the hands we could get."

Pike changed the subject, "Given the time that's passed, shouldn't we be back at Starbase 1 by now?"

"Well, we . . . ah . . . currently can't warp . . ."

"What happened?"

"Well, I don't know all the details, since I've mostly been stuck in Medbay, but from what I heard, our Acting Captain ordered the ejection and detonation of the warp core. The explosion stopped the Enterprise from being sucked into the black hole that was created when the Red Matter ignited . . ."

"Spock ordered that?" Pike asked incredulously.

"Er, no, Jim Kirk did. Commander Spock resigned commission as acting captain due to being emotionally compromised . . . But that was only after he marooned Jim for perceived mutiny on some icebox of a planet, and the kid somehow miraculously reappeared on the Enterprise with a Scottish engineer in tow . . ."

"For goodness' sake, I wasn't even gone an entire day!" groaned Pike, closing his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," said McCoy frowning at the biobed readings. "Your vitals are a little high."

"I wonder why," Pike said sarcastically. "Have you contacted Starfleet Command yet?"

"No, not yet. Subspace comms are still down. Spock and Chekov are overseeing repairs. They said we should have 'em back sometime tomorrow."

Pike nodded, and said, "Get me Kirk. I need to talk to him. I need a full report about what happened here from the moment I left the Enterprise. And no objections, McCoy. Put the hypo down," Pike said firmly, seeing that the good doctor had surreptitiously picked up what was most likely a sedative and seemed like he was about to put up a fight. "I just want to talk to him."

"Look here, sir, you may be the captain, but as this ship's doctor, I insist that you –"

At that moment, the door opened, and James Kirk himself poked his head into the room.

"Ah, speak of the devil," muttered McCoy.

"Sir, you're finally awake!" Kirk said, fully stepping into the room.

"How very observant of you, Kirk," responded Pike dryly, a hint of amusement in his voice as he observed the Acting Captain, catching the evidence of recent bruising on his face and around his neck.

"Jesus, Jim, did you get into another fight? Or is this still from beforehand? Why didn't you come and find me sooner?" McCoy showered Kirk with questions as he grabbed a tricorder and crossed the room in a couple long strides to wave it in his friend's face. "Hm . . . it's mostly superficial, actually," he continued, poking a finger in Jim's ribs.

Kirk winced and swatted the doctor's hand away. "Stop it, Bones! You can get your hands on me later. I'm kind of busy. I just had a free moment and wanted to see if the Captain was awake –"

"I know, I know. You avoid the Medbay like a plague. You probably wouldn't have come down here otherwise . . . unless hell froze over and you needed an extra blankie –"

"How are they?" Kirk cut him off, nodding towards the room next door.

"Still no change," sighed McCoy, turning his gaze back to the tricorder. "Well, there's nothing life-threateningly wrong with you at the moment, thankfully. But I swear to God, Jim, if you don't come and see me later, I will find you, knock you out, drag you here, and then run you under the regenerators until you get sick of them. Got it?"

"Yeah, yeah, got it, Bones. Besides, Hermione already did some healing magic on me earlier, when we were still on Nero's ship, so I'm fine –"

"That explains it then –"

"And didn't you say it was mostly superficial?"

"Mostly being the key word here –"

Pike cleared his throat to get their attention. This was starting to get out of hand. "Doctor, if you would, please?"

"All right, but don't take too long. You need to rest. And call me if you need anything. I won't be far." With that, McCoy left the room, patting his friend on the shoulder on the way out.

"A good friend of yours, I take it?" asked Pike, raising one eyebrow.

He remembered seeing them on the same shuttle with recruits leaving Riverside Shipyard, seeing them both from time to time at the Academy together, seeing their names together on the reports from Kirk's three attempts at the Kobayashi Maru . . . And then there was that incident on the Bridge on the way to Vulcan. Cadets of different divisions and different ages rarely bonded so deeply. Pike, who had paid close attention to Kirk as his mentor throughout his Academy years, was surprised that he hadn't known about their friendship. As far as Pike knew, Kirk's best friends were Gary Mitchell and Lee Kelso – both of whom were on Command track with Kirk at the Academy. Apparently, Pike had been wrong . . .

"The best," nodded Kirk. "Sir, I am aware that he violated regulations by bringing me aboard the Enterprise while I was on academic suspension. I would like to take full responsibility –"

Pike stopped him by simply putting one hand up. "That's all irrelevant right now, especially since I pretty much authorized your presence aboard this ship by promoting you to my First Officer. What I'm very much interested in now is finding out exactly what you did with the authority given to you."

Kirk cleared his throat. "Understood, sir. Where would you like me to begin?"

"From the beginning."

"Starting with the space jump?"

"Yes, Lieutenant, proceed."

Kirk was somewhat startled at the mention of his rank, and looked down reflexively at the blank black sleeves of the uniform undershirt he was still wearing. Pike was pretty sure that it wasn't the same undershirt in which the young man barged into the Bridge demanding for the ship to be stopped . . . The Captain briefly wondered why Kirk hadn't put on his command uniform by now . . .

Kirk gave his head a shake, cleared his throat once more, and began his report.

Pike let him get everything out without interruptions. He limited himself to frowning, raising an eyebrow, or narrowing his eyes when Kirk's explanations got vague or unbelievable. Then again, given the recent events, the very definition of 'unbelievable' had to be reconsidered.

Kirk got especially vague when it came to describing his time on Delta Vega and the identity of the elderly Vulcan who helped him.

When Pike asked him to elaborate, Kirk said, "Only if you promise me not to tell Spock about him."

"Lieutenant, I can just order you to answer my question," Pike said firmly.

"With all due respect, sir, I promised. I promised him I wouldn't reveal his identity to Spock, and I'm willing to deal with any consequences to keep that promise."

Pike was taken aback. Such a display of loyalty directed toward a near-stranger, whose request was likely to cause Kirk a great deal of difficulty, was something new in his young protégé's behavior.

"Alright, I promise that Spock won't find out about this Vulcan's identity from me," agreed Pike. "Now tell me."

"It was Spock, sir. Not the Spock that's on the Enterprise right now, but an older one. Much older. He came from the future, following Nero through the black hole."

"Another time traveler?"

"It appears so, yes. He's 129 years from the future, and so were Nero and his crew."

"And this older Spock asked you not to tell himself about – himself?" asked Pike, slightly confused. "Why?"

"Apparently, it's one of the rules of time-traveling – you aren't allowed to know about or be seen by your past self."

Pike assumed that Kirk hadn't even delivered half of his report, and already the Captain's headache went from bad to worse. Maybe he should have listened to McCoy and left this conversation for later.

So, for now, he said, "Understood, Lieutenant. Continue." He'd question Kirk more about these rules of time-travel later.

Kirk resumed his report, astonishing Pike even more – not just with the facts of the report itself, but with the way that said report was delivered. It was not merely a self-centered narration of all the great things that James Tiberius Kirk had done to save the galaxy, but rather the report of a commander who took great pride in his subordinates. It was a report filled with 'we', 'they', 'he', and 'she', instead of 'I'.

Pike studied his protégé intently. In front of him wasn't the cocky, immature, attention-seeking kid he had met three years ago in a dive in Riverside, Iowa. He wasn't the same kid who still smugly thought he had won the fight, even with napkins sticking from his nostrils to stop his nose from bleeding. This wasn't the arrogant kid who had walked the Academy grounds as if he owned the place. This wasn't even the same kid who, being brought on trial in front of the entire Academy for having cheated on a test, still thought he had done nothing wrong.

That kid, in fact, appeared to be growing up. Finally. About damn time, too.

It seemed maturity, much like lightning, could strike anyone unexpectedly – at the most peculiar moments, under the most unusual circumstances.

Once Kirk had finished his report, Pike asked, "So, if you had to do it all over again, what would you have done differently? Every experience that we have in life, every situation we encounter – they all should be considered as a means for self-improvement. So, what's the lesson to be learned here?"

Confirming Pike's assessment of Kirk's maturity, his Lieutenant didn't insist that he'd done everything correctly or that there wasn't anything he would have done differently. Instead, he said, "Well, in retrospect, I think that several of my actions were impulsive and poorly thought out. Particularly my argument with Commander Spock on the Bridge –"

"Argument," scoffed Pike. "You call that 'an argument'? Insubordination plus an attempted assault on a commanding officer do not add up to a simple argument, Kirk," commented the Captain sharply.

"Instead of fulfilling your duties as a First Officer and advising your Captain about what course of action should be taken, you outright clashed with him. And not only did you express your opinion in a disrespectful manner, you did so in front of every crew member present on the Bridge at that time, which only made it certain that he wouldn't listen to anything you had to say. Maybe if you had pulled him off to the side and presented your 'argument' in a proper way, he would have listened to you.

"And since we are talking about 'impulsive' and 'poorly thought out' decisions here, why don't we talk about your decision to jump off the drill after Lieutenant Sulu? Was it really necessary? If the Enterprise had the ability to beam back the both of you in mid-fall, they surely would have been able to catch Sulu alone. And if they had failed, then you would have deprived the ship both of its Helmsman and First Officer at the same time."

"Sir, I couldn't let Sulu fall off that platform alone, just like I couldn't let the Enterprise abandon Earth and you and Potter, or send Spock and Hermione to the Narada without my support . . . I couldn't do that. That's just not who I am. I don't leave anyone behind – it's not in my nature. Sir," finished Kirk, stubbornly staring at the instrumentation above the biobed, mouth set in a firm line, fists clenched, and his back as straight as an arrow.

The Captain didn't miss the use of Granger's first name instead of her last, now and during the report, as he took a moment to consider Kirk's words.

"And yet, you don't even realize how fortunate you were to survive falling off that platform or getting through your little trip to the Narada intact – not then, not now."

"I do, sir. I really do –"

"You volunteered yourself to be a guinea pig for a previously untested attempt at transwarp beaming! What if the calculations of this brilliant physicist of yours had been off by just a little bit more than his estimated margin of error accounted for, and you rematerialized in the vacuum of space? Or what if both of you had ended up inside the coolant tank?"

"Respectfully, sir, but what was I supposed to do? I didn't have any choice. There was too much at stake, and I couldn't do anything about it while I was stuck on that planet. If I hadn't taken that chance, nothing else would have mattered. Ever. I leapt without looking, yes, but I had to at least try!"

"But you wouldn't have been marooned and put in that position in the first place, had you behaved yourself with Spock!"

Kirk winced at Pike's tone and wondered how it was possible for him to be so intimidating even while hospitalized.

"And hiding the ship with a spell?" continued Pike. "How did you even know it would work?"

"I didn't, sir. I just trusted my instincts. I didn't have any particular plan other than to somehow catch up to Nero and stop him. I was desperate and I was willing to listen to suggestions no matter who they came from or how outrageous. I think if someone from housekeeping or maintenance had come up with something, I would have listened to them with as much respect and attention as I gave to the ship's tactical team. Hermione's suggestion made sense and it was the best one we had under the circumstances . . ."

"Made sense?" echoed Pike, shaking his head and taking note of the way the young man pronounced the witch' name – somehow, with fondness.

Knowing Kirk, Pike would have to keep a close eye on that.

"Nothing about magic makes any sense, Kirk. You could have gotten every single person under your command killed, and that would have been the end of the only ship in the entire fleet that could have stopped that madman. Would you have believed Miss Granger if she'd said that she would turn the ship into a flying pumpkin to avoid detection by the Narada?"

"Yes, sir, I would have. If she convinced me that becoming a flying pumpkin could save us all – I would have," responded Kirk firmly. "And since we are still here to discuss it after the fact, I do stand by my decision to trust her."

Pike nodded and let go of this particular issue. After all, he himself had put similar trust in Harry – a complete stranger.

He moved onto another topic, "And how about your decision to fire on the Narada after the Red Matter was ignited? Was it really necessary? You spent precious time doing that – time that you did not have. If it weren't for this brilliant engineer of yours, we'd have followed that monstrosity into the black hole!" finished Pike, slipping into a coughing fit and wincing at the pain that it caused.

Kirk quickly crossed the room, poured a glass of water and offered it to Pike. "Sir, should I call for Dr. McCoy?"

Pike shook his head in answer and indicated for Kirk to continue.

"Sir, I ordered to fire on them because I wanted to be really sure that Nero would be gone for good. I didn't want another 'lightning storm in space' manifesting even further back in the past and wreaking all sorts of havoc there. We were barely able to deal with them here, I don't think our predecessors would have had any chance."

Pike, suddenly terrified by the thought, merely nodded. A tense silence settled in the room, as he studied the young man, while Kirk turned his attention back to the instrumentation above the bed.

"Well, Lieutenant, I am glad that you finally pulled your head out of your ass." Pike took a particular pleasure at seeing the look on Kirk's face at this comment, wishing he could take a picture of it.

"You know, it's all very well to take chances, trust your instincts and leap without looking – but the trick is to stand by your decisions later, regardless of what happens. You just showed me that you could do that. Consider this a test that you have passed, First Officer Kirk. Acting Captain Kirk," Pike finished more gently, without any sternness.

"Sir, if I may – why did you make me a First Officer? Not that I'm complaining . . ."

"For the same reason I dared you to enlist in Starfleet back in Iowa. You were born for this, Jim – for command. I could see it then, and I can see it now. I'd trust you with my life in the face of Klingon warbirds – or even crazy Romulans from the future. Of course, there are things you have to work on. I hope our little discussion here will help you with that."

Pike paused for a moment, looking Kirk in the eye, and said, "And if I can, I plan on getting this field promotion confirmed for you, at least as far as a commander."

"Wait . . . What?" Kirk clearly hadn't expected that. Being kicked right out of the Academy and sent back to Iowa, being locked up somewhere as a punishment – anything, really. But not a promotion.

"In light of everything that has happened, Starfleet is going to need all the talented captains and first officers they can get their hands on."

"I – I don't know what to say," Kirk said, struggling for words. "Thank you, sir."

"Just don't let this go to your head. You might get constipated on account of being so full of yourself – your ego is big enough as it is," Pike said, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

Kirk looked affronted. He wanted to shoot something back, Pike could tell. To his credit, the Lieutenant restrained himself. Another sign of maturity.

"And remember one thing," continued Pike. "If you go down this path, it's not just about you anymore – and it never will be again. Every decision you make will affect the hundreds of lives under your command. For every risk that you take, you will be held accountable. Do you think you're ready for that, son? Think it through. Be sure of your answer."

"Yes," responded Kirk almost immediately. "Yes, sir. I think I am."

"Then go on. Let your doctor friend patch you up and get some rest. You look dead on your feet."

Kirk nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh, and James?" Pike's voice stopped Kirk in his tracks. "Get a proper uniform on. You deserve it, son," he finished with a smile.

"Yes, sir," said Kirk, smiling back at him before leaving the room.

Pike let out a sigh and picked up a PADD from the small table near the biobed. Somehow, his frustration with Kirk had made his grogginess go away for the time being. He decided to use the surge of energy to look over the ship's logs and reports from the last couple of days and see for himself what the crew – composed primarily of flash-promoted cadets – had accomplished. What he had discovered exceeded any expectations he may have had.

The reports and logs were thorough and well-composed – a bit disordered, but that was understandable. The crew had performed admirably, better than any captain could have possibly asked of them under current circumstances.

In addition to the Elders, a number of other citizens of Vulcan had managed to survive the catastrophe that had eradicated their home world. Most had been working in bases on T'Khul, the Vulcan system's third world, and had been beamed aboard the Enterprise after Vulcan's destruction. Confused and ignorant of the details that had orphaned them, many were traumatized in ways that non-Vulcans could not understand. Many had been brought aboard in haste and had suffered injuries as a result, which had led to an overflowing Medbay. Living quarters on the ship had become crowded, and her life-support facilities increasingly strained. But no one complained. When a request was put out for those willing to share their living quarters with the survivors, every member of the crew had promptly volunteered. Some crewmembers had even moved in with their friends and turned their private quarters over to the Vulcans.

The total number of survivors was pitiful. There were Vulcans elsewhere, of course, safely scattered throughout the Federation and its allied systems – on missions and at embassies on other worlds, working on distant scientific outposts and other starships . . . However, Commander Spock had estimated that of Vulcan's six billion inhabitants, no more than ten thousand had survived. Only ten thousand out of six billion . . .

As Pike continued reviewing the reports, a few officers in particular caught his attention.

Lieutenant Uhura, proficient in 83% of official Federation languages and regional dialects, frankly put the current chief communications officer to shame with her efficiency, thoroughness and skills. Pike remembered her as the same cadet who received a gold rating for xenolinguistic skills in all categories, giving the Academy first place over Kyoto and MIT at the Oxford Linguistics Invitational a few months ago.

Then there was Lieutenant Sulu, who had a doctorate in astrophysics and a master's certificate in interstellar navigation; he had been able to not only perform complicated emergency evasive maneuvers upon arriving at Vulcan to save the Enterprise and her crew, but also move the ship into the exact coordinates needed for Hermione Granger's spell to work. This twenty-something recent graduate of the Academy – despite his initial embarrassing oversight when warping into the crisis (which had actually ended up saving all of their lives) – was regarded by many as one of the best pilots in the Federation for good reason.

Ensign Chekov, who four years ago had become the second-youngest freshman cadet in Starfleet Academy history, displayed prodigious talent as navigator, was a chief of tactical at the age of seventeen, and showed great transporter expertise.

Dr. McCoy, top of his class in anatomical and forensic pathology, had bravely shouldered the responsibilities of a CMO and successfully carried out his duties with only two-thirds of the staff he should have had. He had worked tirelessly and provided care not only to the injured crewmembers of the Enterprise who had survived the Narada's original devastating attack, but also to all the Vulcan refugees.

Lieutenant Commander Scott, whose appearance via transwarp beaming was rather questionable and astonishing, had performed several other feats that would be considered impossible by some – like ejecting and detonating the ship's warp core so that the resulting explosion would push them away from a black hole, and transporting five people from two different targets onto one pad without any injuries.

Commander Spock, one of the most distinguished graduates of the Academy of all time, had upheld his duty to the best of his abilities in the face of unimaginable loss. Despite their diametrically opposed personalities and differences, he had then followed the man he had every reason to mistrust into the enemy ship – and furthermore, he had been prepared to sacrifice himself to save the rest of the galaxy.

Lieutenant Kirk, currently Acting Captain, had been able to overcome his many shortcomings and fulfill Pike's dare to outdo his father. George Kirk had been Captain of the U.S.S. Kelvin for twelve minutes, and he had saved eight hundred lives; the lives that James Kirk had saved since assuming the command of the U.S.S. Enterprise could be numbered in the billions. Pike's life included.

The best and finest that the Academy could produce, indeed.

And then there were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, who weren't even members of Starfleet. They had literally appeared out of thin air on the Bridge of the Enterprise while the ship was preparing to jump into warp, and had consequently played a central role in saving Earth, as well as the rest of the Federation. With their skills and expertise . . . if they were to enlist in Starfleet and join the Enterprise, the crew would be unstoppable. The whole galaxy would tremble.

But he couldn't think like that. He had promised them he would get them home. And he'd be damned if he didn't even try.

Stardate 2258.45 - U.S.S. Enterprise, Alpha Quadrant

The subspace comms were repaired on the third day of the Enterprise's journey back home. As per Pike's orders, Uhura informed him the moment they were operational. Still in the Medbay, using the screen attached to the arm of the biobed, Pike made a call to the old friend who had talked him into joining Starfleet.

"Thank God, Chris!" exclaimed Admiral Alexander Marcus of Starfleet Command as soon as he saw Pike's face. "You're alive."

"Fortunately," Pike smiled imperceptibly.

"We haven't heard anything from you for days. Your transponder signal was lost, just like with the other ships . . . and Vulcan . . . Well, there is no Vulcan now. We thought the worst, Chris."

"I know, Alex. It's a damn miracle, really," said Pike. "What do you know so far?"

"Much less than you do, I imagine. We lost all contact with you and the other ships that left with you on that mission to Vulcan. I'd like to hear everything, Chris."

Pike started his report, and Marcus listened to him without interruption until the very end, his facial expression conveying all the shock, grief, disbelief, and astonishment that could be expected.

"And now we're pretty much in the middle of nowhere. With no warp capabilities, damaged and barely functioning impulse engines, and power in the lowest ranges of still-functional levels. We were nearly torn apart by that black hole. The crew is working hard on repairs, but we'll definitely be needing some assistance," said Pike, finishing his report.

"Well, that's a one hell of a report, Chris. I find the whole thing rather difficult to believe."

"Difficult or not, believe it – because it's true. You know me, I wouldn't lie to you, Alex."

"Of course," nodded Marcus. "And as for Kirk, I don't know if I'm more tempted to award the kid a medal or kick him out of the Academy and tell him to never come back. I know about his hearing. And have you seen his disciplinary record? In his three years at the Academy he's been involved in no less than eleven fights, and earned two official reprimands and twenty-four detentions. It's a miracle he hasn't been expelled, really. And that's not to mention the rumours that are going around the Academy, and his reputation with the female cadets."

"Never took you for someone who was interested in rumours, Alex," Pike said tersely.

"As you know, I have a daughter in the freshman year. So, yes, I was interested in those particular rumours. You'd be too, if you had a daughter."

"I know what you mean. I really do –"

"That's not even including his latest stunt with the Kobayashi Maru!" continued Marcus in agitation, cutting Pike off.

"Kirk can be arrogant, stubborn, headstrong and impetuous, has a blatant disregard for rules and authority, doesn't know how to lose, and his ego is the size of the Klingon Empire. Yes. Yes, I know, Alex. However, the incident with the Kobayashi Maru aside, if you've looked at his file, you should also know that his academic record, unlike his disciplinary one, is impeccable. He has aced every test and simulation presented to him, is at the top of his class in several disciplines, is experienced enough to be assistant instructor in advanced hand-to-hand combat, and – for reasons God only knows – participates in Xenolinguistics club and serves as its treasurer. And if the people in the Xenoliguistics club deem him trustworthy enough to be their treasurer, then more people than just me think that he's got at least some semblance of responsibility – so I'm telling you, give the kid a chance. Besides, he's growing up. I saw it in his eyes. He looks like he aged a year for every hour I was away on the Narada."

"You really do know him well," Marcus observed.

"I'd like to think that I do," confirmed Pike. "Although he still manages to surprise me from time to time. Alex, he led this crew to victory. Of course, he had lots of help, but without a brilliant commander, an equally brilliant crew is nothing – just as without his crew, the commander is nothing. And you know that after everything that has happened, we'll need talented people like him. We already lost six captains and six first officers at Vulcan, not to mention their crews . . ."

"Nine," corrected Marcus gravely.

"What?" asked Pike in confusion.

"We lost nine ships at Vulcan, Chris. Nine, not six. Newton, Armstrong, and Odyssey all intercepted the distress call as well. They were the first ones to arrive and be destroyed. There was nothing they could do. Nothing. Not even send out a warning, or a distress call of their own before being pulverized by this Nero," Marcus practically spat the Romulan's name.

The image of the Mayflower's saucer section – the largest remaining fragment of what turned out to be a nine-ship armada in that field of death, destruction, and chaos – floated to the forefront of Pike's mind. The horror of that instant came crashing down on him and he took a deep, shuddering breath, closing his eyes to regain his composure. It had been worse, a lot worse than he thought. Even more lives lost.

After a brief pause, Marcus continued, "Initially, they weren't even supposed to be there, you know . . ."

"Wrong place at the wrong time," said Pike quietly, opening his eyes.

"And that's not counting two more Federation ships we lost that were patrolling the edge of the Neutral Zone . . ." At this, Pike paled considerably, his eyes widening with fear.

"Defiant wasn't one of those ships, Chris," Marcus reassured his friend. "William and the ship he's on are safe and will be en route to Starbase 1 in a few days."

"Ships are safe in spacedock, Alex," Pike shot back. "But, of course, that's not what ships are for. Who did we lose?"

"Challenger and Wilson." Marcus sighed, rubbing his temples, and continued, "The Romulans are claiming no official connection to any of the attacks, of course, but they're already using 'the expectation of unjust retaliation' as an excuse to stir up even more activity on their side of the Neutral Zone. And Klingons . . . well, you know the Klingons. Give them the slightest excuse and they all get trigger-happy. And what happened to their armada on Rura Penthe could be all the excuse they need to initiate hostilities with anyone they think is responsible – Romulan or not – as a way to recoup their lost honour. So, you see, Chris . . . peace in the galaxy is hanging by a very thin thread."

Uncomfortable silence settled between them as they contemplated potential consequences of all that had happened.

Marcus was the first to find his words again, "These magic-users – are you sure about that, by the way?"

"Absolutely."

The admiral sighed. "More time-travelers. God help us all."

"They've played a key role in defeating Nero. After everything they've done to help us, we owe it to them to at least try and get them back," responded Pike fervently. "We'll have to keep their abilities and such out of the press, though. I don't want them to have any problems with their government. They apparently have a Ministry of Magic that enforces a strict separation and secrecy between their world and ours. Don't know why, but there has to be a reason. Though, I'd like to know how they manage it, given that their magic is detectable by our technology."

"Have you considered that this Ministry of Magic doesn't exist anymore? That maybe their people are all but gone? If what you say is true, and Potter and Granger really are 257 years from the past, then it's a possibility, isn't it?"

"I have considered it, yes. But still, until we find out more, I think we need to keep things known only to Starfleet Command."

"I agree. I've been posted in London for a while, Chris. You know that. I know the city well. I'll personally accompany them there to find this Ministry of Magic of theirs. And we'll go from there."

After a brief pause Marcus continued, "Chris, if what you say about them is true, Starfleet could use them. We need people like them. You do realize that –"

"No, Alex," Pike cut him off firmly. "I promised that I would get them home."

"And what if you can't? I mean, up until now we haven't had any time-travelers, whether from the future or from the past. And now, all of a sudden, we have a slew of them. As this witch of yours said, time isn't something to meddle with. You've seen the result of what Nero did, meddling with time. Why not just leave things as they are? They'll have a good life here. I'll make sure of it."

"But this isn't home for them, Alex. Imagine losing everything and everyone you know and finding yourself two and a half centuries in the future where no one and nothing is the same. How would you feel about it then?"

"They have each other. They have us."

"Yes, but we're strangers to them. And what about their families, loved ones? They are both engaged to be married. And no, not to one another." Pike felt personally responsible for Harry and Hermione and fiercely protective of them – just as he did for everyone who had been entrusted to him. "To help them, we need to first find out exactly how they got here. It had something to do with some kind of a veil. If they can find this Ministry of theirs, they might be able to find help there. If not, then we'll have try and find something here, with our technology.

"Alex, we have to try. We owe it to them. Without their help, Nero would have gotten to Earth and destroyed it too. And you and I wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Marcus considered this for a moment and said, "Of course, you're right. We'll do all that we can."

"Thank you, Alex. I knew I could trust you."

"Of course. I'll have a separate shuttle ready and waiting for them at Starbase 1 to take them back to San Francisco. You guys should prepare yourselves for the media blitz that's sure to be waiting for you the second you arrive at spacedock. We don't need Potter and Granger to be mixed up in that."

"Thank you, Alex. And once I'm done dealing with the media, I'll take them off your hands."

"Don't be ridiculous, Chris. It's no bother."

"No, they're my responsibility."

"I'm always here to help. You know that, right?"

"I do," Pike nodded, the gratitude in his voice unmistakable. "I'll make sure my crew is warned, as well as our Vulcan guests. They can't even grieve in peace," he finished with a sigh, shaking his head.

"Well, I suppose I'd better leave you to rest," commented Marcus, gazing at his tired-looking friend. "I'll call someone from the primary fleet back to give you a tow to Starbase 1. They should catch up to you in a few days. And in the meantime, for the love of God, try not to trip over any more disasters on your way back."

"Don't plan on it," responded Pike, a grim smile gracing his lips.

Marcus shook his head, suddenly looking much older, "I'm sorry, Chris. About everything that happened. I truly am."

"I know, Alex," Pike replied somberly. "I know."

"Well, keep me in the loop," said Marcus after a brief pause. "And let me know if there is anything else you need. Anything."

"Will do," nodded Pike.

On the other side of the communication, Alexander reached towards his screen to terminate the connection.

"Marcus out."