7. Learning to Learn.
After asking directions from several students, and getting lost twice for good measure, they finally arrived outside the dungeons, eying the door with distaste.
"I have a bad feeling about this," Kirk said as they pushed open the door.
"That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that we're late for a lesson with the grouchiest man we've met since Spock, would it?"
"Kind of," Kirk replied, stopping dead inside the door. "Sorry we're late, Professor," he said when all the eyes in the room turned to them curiously. "We got lost."
"I guessed as much," Snape sneered. "Apparently your little jaunt through the castle a few days ago did nothing to improve your navigational skills. Sit," he pointed at some seats at the back of the class.
"Unfortunately, there are no other places," Snape continued smoothly as they walked down the aisle. "However, you should be able to survive Potter's presence for an hour and a half."
He waited patiently until they had sat down and placed all of their equipment on the table. "As I was saying, you will be sitting an examination next June, during which you will prove how much, or how little depending on your intellect, you know on the topic of composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my...displeasure."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "He hasn't changed at all."
"Obviously," Spock replied.
Snape's gaze lingered on them. "Kindly refrain from talking in my class. I assure you that I can make life very unpleasant if you refuse to co operate."
There was silence.
"After this year of course, many of you will, thankfully, cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will be certainly saying goodbye." His eyes drifted to Harry, his lip curling.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," he continued smoothly. "Whether or not you are intending to attempt a NEWT, I advise you all to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level that I have come to expect from my OWL students.
"Today, we will be mixing a potion that often comes at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep,"
"Oh God," McCoy murmured fearfully.
"...so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method..." he flicked his wand at the board, "are on the black board. You will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half...start."
Everyone immediately sprang to life, scrabbling to get the equipment and set up so that they had a better chance of finishing on time. The three officers followed suit, feeling completely lost as they made their way back to their bench, equipment in hand.
"Right," Kirk announced among the general hubbub. "Let's do this!"
"Be careful, Jim," McCoy warned. "I know what you were like at chemistry...I'll never forgive you if that cauldron blows up in my face."
Snape approached them. "Since you are unable to use magic, I have taken the liberty of acquiring Muggle technology." He handed them a Bunsen burner and thermometer each. "They are less precise, but they will have to suffice."
Just as they had predicted, the potion was extremely difficult, almost impossible, in fact, for people who had never before concocted a magical potion. Even while using the three people next to them as a guide, Kirk and McCoy soon found their potions to be going drastically wrong.
"Jim..." McCoy asked hesitantly, "do you know what to do for step five?"
"Nope," Kirk answered, unconcerned. His cauldron was emitting an ominous amount of smoke. "I was hoping you would know that."
McCoy swatted at his cauldron, which was emitting small amounts of sparks, although the colour was almost the correct shade. "I got lost after 'stir five times anti clockwise'..."
Spock sighed, momentarily abandoning his own perfect mixture to help his two fellow officers. "You must now stir it five times clockwise," he explained, "and add this ingredient," he held up a strange looking chopped plant.
At least, they thought it was a chopped plant.
"Ok," Kirk muttered dubiously.
"Not all at once, Captain."
"Too late," McCoy snickered as Kirk's cauldron disappeared in yet more smoke, flames leaping up now.
"You could have told me that before!" Kirk said angrily, eyes staring out of the mist accusingly at Spock.
"I assumed that you would deduce from the current amount of the ingredient on my bench that you do not add it all at once."
Kirk glanced at Spock's bench, noticing for the first time the extra pieces of chopped plant. "Oh...still, you could have told me."
"I will endeavour to do so next time, Captain."
"I won't get lost next time," the human retorted in determination.
"What is this, Mr Kirk?" Snape sneered, halting in front of them and swatting at the smoke.
"The Draught of Peace."
"Really? What is the purpose of said potion?"
"To relax the patient."
"Correct. And will this potion achieve that result?"
"It should."
"Wrong." He vanished the contents of the cauldron with one flick of his wand. "This potion, Kirk, will poison any unfortunate soul you give it to. Twenty points from Gryffindor." He eyed Kirk, his lip curling. "Although I suppose the aim would be succeeded, if somewhat unconventionally."
Sidling along to investigate the contents of McCoy's cauldron, his facial expression remained largely unchanged. "That is a mild improvement." He stated. "I believe that your victim would at least survive."
"With all due respect, Professor," McCoy said, with as much politeness as he could muster, "you can't expect us to be perfect on our first attempt."
Snape raised his eyebrows and indicated Spock's potion. "His results would appear to be perfect, don't you agree?"
"Yes," McCoy said grudgingly. "But he's a Vulcan. They're known for being insanely good at everything."
"Perhaps you should attempt to follow his example."
"But that's impossible!"
"You cannot hope to achieve his standard if you do not try, McCoy," Snape snapped. "Nothing comes from nothing!"
"I am trying, Professor."
"Then I suggest you try harder." He turned his back on the fuming surgeon, inspecting Spock's potion instead. "An excellent first attempt," he finally said, approvingly. "You appear to have a natural talent for potions."
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course; that is significantly helped by competently reading the instructions provided," he finished with a significant glance at Kirk and McCoy before moving on.
"Potter," he declared, coming to a stop at Harry's station. "What is this supposed to be?"
"The Draught of Peace," Harry echoed Kirk's previous words to much amusement for the Slytherins.
"Tell me, Potter," Snape said softly. "Can you read?"
"Yes, I can."
Snape fixed the unfortunate boy with his malevolent gaze. "Since many of you seem incapable of correctly brewing a potion, perhaps you will benefit from hearing the instructions again." He said, eyes never leaving the boy's face. "Read the third line of the instructions for them, Potter."
"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."
"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" Snape asked smoothly.
"No." The answer was a murmur as the boy blushed, either through anger or embarrassment.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No," he repeated loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."
Snape allowed one corner of his mouth to lift in self satisfaction. "I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco."
The contents of the potion vanished, as Kirk's had a few moments ago.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework," he announced to stifled groans, "is twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday." He levelled his gaze at the Enterprise officers. "That includes you three."
"We haven't learnt it yet," McCoy argued.
"Then I suggest you start reading." At McCoy's expression, he held up a finger. "Do not argue, McCoy. I expect twelve inches."
Mercifully, the bell rang and the class filed out gratefully, immediately throwing questions at the three newcomers.
"So," Neville asked conversationally, "where are you from?"
"Iowa," Kirk replied, the other two speaking at the same time so that their replies overlapped.
"Georgia."
"Vulcan."
"Vulcan?" Someone asked. "I've never heard of it. Is it in the elf region?"
Spock visibly stifled a sigh. "Negative. It...was a planet."
"What's it like?" Neville asked eagerly, having missed this part of the conversation the previous evening.
"Hot," McCoy interjected wryly, trying to lighten the situation when Spock failed to answer. "You could shrivel up if you stayed outside for more than three hours."
"That is highly inaccurate, Doctor."
"I just thought I'd make the conversation interesting, Spock. No use in letting them suffer through your monologue as you give them the weather of the past two years."
"I assure you, Doctor; I had no intention of doing that." There was a deep emotion swirling around in his eyes; it had been a very short time since Nero and most survivors were still emotionally recovering.
"Whatever," the physician retorted, smiling slightly to let Spock know that he was joking, hiding his concern with great difficulty.
"In reply to your query..." Spock said, turning back to Neville and embarking on a long and detailed description of his home planet, with several questions from the surrounding students.
"Looks like we're finally safe from questions for a while," Kirk said cheerfully, watching as Spock was bombarded with comments.
"I just hope it stays that way," McCoy grumbled as they entered the Great Hall. "Lord knows we've done enough explaining already."
Despite McCoy's hopes, they spent their entire lunch break fending off the questions of the students in their house, and could see Spock over at the Slytherin table doing the same. He seemed to be fitting in well with them, to Kirk and McCoy's relief but to the apparent disgust of the Gryffindors. Apparently, there was much enmity between the houses, and no amount of negotiating could change that.
Divination was much the same as Potions, although thankfully their teacher was much more laid back and less likely to jump down the throats of those who made mistakes. For the most part, they enjoyed the respite from the hectic life of this new universe, allowing themselves to lounge back on the comfy chairs and drift into a state dangerously close to sleep as they breathed in the strange scent which permeated the room.
Spock, however, was not so content to follow in their example. "This entire subject is illogical," he announced as they were told to begin reading tea leaves. "I find it extremely difficult to believe that gazing uselessly at tea leaves for an undetermined period of time will solve problems which will occur in the future."
McCoy sighed, and several heads turned in their direction. "Do you have to criticise everything?"
"That is a rather hypocritical statement, Doctor, coming from you."
"Hey," Ron said, overhearing that last comment. "You shouldn't talk to your friends like that."
"I am merely stating the facts."
Ron shook his head in slight disgust. "You Slytherins are all the same...treating your friends like dirt."
"Mr Weasley," Professor Trelawney sang above the murmur in the class room. "Please turn around and concentrate on your cup!"
With a final glare in Spock's direction for good measure, Ron turned back around, but that did not stop Harry from eying the Vulcan with distaste written across every feature. Spock stared back at him impassively until Ron re-attracted his friend's attention and they got back to work.
Kirk sighed. "Spock, try to loosen up a little."
An eyebrow shot up. "'Loosen up'?"
"We know that you don't really mean to be insulting," Kirk explained to a snort from McCoy, "but they don't. Try to act less...uptight."
"I was unaware that I was doing so."
"Well," McCoy butted in, "you are. You're not on a Star Ship any more Spock, you're in a classroom."
"I am aware of that Doctor."
"Then stop acting so military," McCoy advised.
After a few moments of deliberation Spock inclined his head. "I shall attempt to follow your advice; however I can make no promises."
"We know, Spock," Kirk smiled. "Just do your best."
After much tea leaf reading later and instruction from Kirk and McCoy on how to 'let his hair down', Spock stood up to the sound of the bell and exited the stuffy room with an un-Vulcan sense of relief, waiting for his companions to join him at the bottom of the ladder.
Five minutes later, Kirk, Spock and McCoy followed the students into yet another classroom, feeling once more somewhat foolish as they sat at the back, by far the tallest in the room.
A squat, toad-like woman whom they recognised as Professor Umbridge was already seated behind the desk, wearing a ridiculously fluffy pink cardigan. A fly sized black bow perched precariously upon her head, emphasising her glittering beady eyes.
She eyed the three officers smilingly. "Good afternoon, everybody!" She finally chirped in a girlish voice.
A few people unenthusiastically murmured 'good afternoon' in reply.
"Tut, tut," Professor Umbridge admonished. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'good afternoon Professor Umbridge', yes – even you three at the back. I know that strictly speaking you are not Hogwarts students, but I expect you to act accordingly in my classes. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her, resentment written on a few faces at being treated like children. Kirk and McCoy exchanged glances before joining the rest of the class in the chorus.
"There now," the woman at the front simpered. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
There was a general murmur of disappointment as the students obeyed.
"I thought this was supposed to be a practical class," McCoy sniped under his breath.
"It makes no difference to us, Bones. We don't have any wands."
"The students, however, will not benefit from this method of teaching," Spock pointed out, ever logical.
"Silence please!" Umbridge smiled, eying them.
She rummaged in her handbag for something, which was even pinker than her cardigan. A few seconds later, she produced a stout wand which matched its owner completely. Turning around, she tapped the blackboard with it once, the words "Defence Against the Dark Arts, A Return To Basic Principles" appearing there in swirly pink script.
"Well now," she announced, turning to face the class and ignoring their slightly dismayed expressions. "Your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" She clasped her hands neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry- approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year." She surveyed the three at the back. "This applies to those of you who will be taking them, of course.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that those problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory – centred, Ministry – approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
The first message was replaced upon command with the words; "Course Aims."
Spock surveyed them critically as everyone began copying them down, muttering "curious" under his breath.
"What?" Kirk whispered back.
"There is no mention of practical use of defensive magic."
"Well then, say something!" McCoy ordered, refocusing his attention on the black board and frowning slightly.
"I cannot, Doctor."
"Why not?" McCoy snapped.
"Because," the Vulcan explained patiently, "we are unaware of their usual method of teaching, and as we are in fact not students at this school but mere visitors, it would be impertinent to question her authority."
"Silence, please" Umbridge called again, smiling toadishly at them. "There is no need to talk."
They dutifully fell silent, and the room was filled with the scratching sound of quills for several minutes.
Finally, Umbridge stood and addressed them again. "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
At the dull murmur which rippled through the class, Umbridge tutted again. "I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"
"Yes, Professor Umbridge!"
"That woman is a megalomaniac," McCoy muttered.
"Do you have something to add?"
"No, Professor Umbridge," McCoy scowled.
"Good," replied Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One, Basics for Beginners'. There will be no need to talk."
"At least we won't be behind," Kirk said, turning the page in question.
A few moments passed before McCoy spoke. "Jim, this thing doesn't make a damn lick of sense!"
"That, Doctor, is due to the fact that we know nothing of this universe."
"I know that, but you'd think that they'd explain it to beginners!"
"Perhaps if you focus your attention on the text and allow yourself to attempt to decipher it, you would not feel the need to-"
"Hem, hem!"
Spock snapped his head up to face Umbridge, his eyebrows raised once he realised that he had allowed himself to disturb the class, who were all staring at them, Hermione with her hand in the air. "I apologise for the disturbance..." He finally said.
"Make sure it does not happen again, Mister..."
"Spock," he supplied.
"What an unusual name," she simpered, suddenly changing her entire attitude in a dazzling display of multiple personality. "It suits you."
"Thank you..." Spock replied, looking completely confused. The class was staring at them in total shock, mixed with horror.
She gave him an uncertain smile before waddling back to the front of the class, her steps stilted as she apparently tried to put on a graceful air. A few of the Slytherins were tittering.
McCoy turned astonished eyes to Spock. "Was she flirting with you Spock?"
"I am not certain. I believe that the comment about my name was referring to my different appearance, however that would appear to conflict with her expression at the time..." He trailed off, his expression becoming as worried as he would ever allow.
"Well whatever it is," Kirk said, trying not to smirk. "It looks like you're in trouble."
"Indeed..."
"Holy hell Spock," McCoy chuckled, tears coming to his eyes as he fought to control himself at the sight of Umbridge flicking imaginary dust off her jacket at the front of the class. "You've attracted a real stinker there!"
"Bones," Kirk chuckled, "she'll hear you!"
"Hem, hem!" Umbridge simpered, a repulsive smile plastered on her face as she glanced at Spock, who stiffened noticeably. "Resume reading, please."
It was with an expression of resignation and slight nervousness that Spock resolutely buried his face in his book, determinedly looking anywhere other than Umbridge. McCoy, for his part, was content to snicker alongside Kirk as they watched Umbridge gaze unceasingly at their Vulcan friend, despite the fact that one of the students still had her hand raised and a determined expression on her face.
Finally, when she could ignore the situation no longer, Umbridge sighed. "Do you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" She was acting as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no."
"Well, we're reading just now,"
"We are," McCoy interrupted in a whisper, sending Kirk into a fit of silent shaking as he struggled to control himself.
"...If you have any other queries we can deal with them at the end of the class."
"I've got a query about your course aims."
"As I surmised," Spock murmured, his voice barely audible.
Umbridge raised her eyebrows, eyes shifting nervously to Spock for a split second. "And your name is?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Well, Miss Granger," she simpered, back in her element. "I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."
"Well I don't," came the blunt reply.
"I like her already," McCoy murmured.
"She's just as insubordinate as you," Kirk replied, giving his physician a playful smile.
"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge was saying, the sweetness becoming even thicker. Almost tangible. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class."
"There is more to life than a classroom," Kirk called, forestalling what could have become a rant on the part of Umbridge. "You can't fault them for wanting to defend themselves outside of class."
"Students, including you, raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mister..."
"Kirk," the Captain snapped.
Professor Umbridge promptly turned her back on him. Several more hands rose in the class room, the students gaining a collective expression of outrage.
"Surely," Hermione spoke up, "the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"
Smiling condescendingly, Umbridge seemed to relish the momentary power that she held in her grasp. "Are you a Ministry – trained expert, Miss Granger?"
"No, but..."
"Well then," she drew herself up to her full height, eying the class snootily. "I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised a new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk–free way..."
"She is incompetent," Spock murmured under his breath. Umbridge, seeing his lips moving and believing him to be supporting her, smiled.
"...If we're going to be attacked," Harry was saying, voice heavy with fury and righteous indignation, "it won't be in a-"
"Hand," Umbridge declared shrilly, "Mr Potter."
Spock calmly lifted his hand into the air. "Yes dear?"
"I concur with Mister Potter. An attack will not occur in a risk free environment. Such an event would be paradoxical."
Her smile became strained and her eyes narrowed. "I repeat, Mister Spock," the return to using his name was intended as a cold blow, but the only response was relief. "Do you expect to be attacked in my classes?"
Spock regarded her with a raised brow. "I would rather not voice my answer."
She stiffened slightly, back stepping as she seemed to stagger under the insulting insinuation. "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school," she said, her voice becoming slightly shaky as she attempted to regain herself, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention," she gave a nasty laugh, gazing directly at Spock, "extremely dangerous half breeds." She smirked as Spock stiffened.
"If you mean Professor Lupin," a student continued, oblivious to the insults lying under the argument, "he was the best we ever..."
"That puffed up toad," McCoy was snarling, gripping his pen fiercely.
"Doctor, calm yourself."
"She just insulted you," the surgeon spluttered. "How can you just sit there and let her get away with it?"
"I have perfected this response over many years, Doctor," Spock replied neutrally. "I assure you that I am unaffected by such a routine insult."
"It is my understanding," Umbridge continued, a despicably victorious smirk plastered on her face, "that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you."
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" One of the students was beginning to go red in the face.
"Spock, you have to at least defend yourself," McCoy said under cover of the argument which still raged.
"Such an action would be futile, Doctor."
"Why? Just because she has authority?" McCoy scoffed.
"You may be willing to be insubordinate, Doctor; but I assure you that I have no such intention."
"Damn right I'm willing! I'm not just going to sit back and let you get slaughtered..."
"I am hardly getting 'slaughtered'."
"The point still stands," McCoy snarled. "She insulted you without reason."
"Doctor, I assure you that I am unaffected by such behaviour."
McCoy looked slightly mollified. "Ok, I know that the reason for that is partly my fault..."
"Mostly," Kirk interjected.
"Alright, mostly," McCoy amended, "but you at least know that I'm not being completely serious! That...woman was completely sure that she was right; that she had the authority to insult you like that!"
"This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world," Umbridge's voice droned in the back ground.
"Bones, let it go."
"What?" McCoy rounded on Kirk furiously.
"Spock can take care of himself. This is his battle; it's his choice to fight."
"We both know he won't!" McCoy seethed. "He'll let it disintegrate into chaos!"
"Then if he does, we'll be there for him, but we won't interfere unless we absolutely have to, not while these people are the only ones who can help us."
"But..."
"Doctor," Spock placed a hand on McCoy's arm, an unusual act in itself. "I assure you that you need not worry. I am able to defend myself if necessary."
"It's NOT a lie!" Harry Potter suddenly bellowed. "I saw him, I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr Potter!" Professor Umbridge's voice was triumphant, her nose tilted slightly into the air as she remained at her full, stout height.
"How," McCoy snarled, standing up, "will giving a detention help anything?" All eyes trained upon him. "All you're doing is punishing him for the truth; ignoring the inevitable."
"There is no inevitable," Umbridge snapped. "He is not back."
She turned back to Harry. "Saturday evening, Mr Potter. Five o'clock. My office." She glanced at McCoy. "Do not consider arguing. You may not be a student but I still have the power to remove you from the premises."
McCoy sat back down, swearing under his breath.
"That, Doctor, was incredibly foolish."
"I had to try!"
"A futile effort. Her opinions cannot be changed. She has deluded herself into believing that Voldemort has not returned."
Suddenly, Umbridge stood before them, pink cardigan blazing. "I have told you once, Mr Spock," her previous sweetness was completely gone. "Do not talk out of turn in my class again!"
"I was merely explaining something to the Doctor," Spock said mildly.
"Perhaps you would care to share it with the class?"
"I do not believe that is wise."
She actually tapped her foot impatiently. "I am waiting, Mr Spock, and I will wait as long as necessary."
"Very well," Spock said coldly. "I was informing the Doctor that, since you are pretentious enough to assume that your views are objective, it is futile to argue." Umbridge drew back in fury, but Spock did not appear to notice or care. The class was staring at him in awe.
"Furthermore, if you wish to remain ignorant of the very real and obvious threat of Voldemort," there was a collective gasp, "rather than playing an active role to prepare yourself, thus rendering yourself vulnerable to future ridicule upon his return, we should do nothing to interfere, as it would be gratifying to see you receiving...I believe the human expression is 'your comeuppance'."
"Is that all?" She asked coldly.
"Negative. I also find your views on 'half breeds' to be distasteful, old fashioned, and overly bigoted. I am certain that much of the class would agree with me."
Everyone was gaping at him. McCoy was trying very hard to stifle a triumphant grin.
"Detention, Mr Spock, same time as Mister Potter."
The Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "Very well," he agreed neutrally. "However," he continued as Umbridge began to walk away, "it will do nothing to change the truth."
The Professor smiled fakely at him. "Any more out of you, and I will be forced to ask you to leave." She surveyed the class. "Now," she failed at trying to keep her voice girlish, as it had been before the whole fiasco, "Carry on with your reading." She glared at Spock. "There is no need to talk."
"'Atta boy Spock!" McCoy crowed, before the class fell silent once more.
Umbridge continued to perch at the teacher's desk, her smile firmly in place, but noticeably wavering when she fixed her beady eyes upon Spock, who was oblivious to this new development, having decided to continue reading the chapter. Occasionally he would raise an eyebrow at the text, his lips forming, but never actually saying, the word 'fascinating'.
Kirk and McCoy remained just as confused as they had been at the beginning of the lesson, the magical terms strewn across the page doing nothing to increase their confidence, although Kirk seemed slightly less bamboozled than McCoy. They had only managed to complete a few pages, whilst by contrast; Spock had almost finished that chapter and had made several notes by the time the bell rang.
The class gathered up their books without fuss, relieved at the prospect of escaping the room and finding the rest of their friends. A few eyed Spock curiously, smiling gratefully when he caught their gaze. It was only when they got outside the class room, and were certain that Umbridge would not hear them, that the congratulations began.
"That was incredible," Harry said, although his voice was only half sincere. Apparently he still did not like the Vulcan.
"Well well well," Malfoy sniggered, joining their small group, Crabbe and Goyle behind him. "Looks like you've lost yourself an admirer, Spock." He grinned genuinely, something that was rarely seen. "My compliments."
"It was of course the logical thing to do."
Malfoy snorted. "Either way, no one is going to forget it in a hurry." He patted Spock on the shoulder. "I'll save you your seat."
As Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle sauntered away, Harry, Ron and Hermione shot them hateful looks.
"Git," Ron said with feeling.