8. Quidditch.

"I tell you Jim," McCoy moaned as they made their way to their first class of the morning, potions, "I'm never going to understand this place."

"Come on Bones! It's not that bad!"

The acerbic physician studied the Captain, who was moving calmly through the throng of students, completely at ease. "Don't you miss the Enterprise?"

The voice was so soft and the comment so unexpected after all the rough complaining that Kirk blinked, stunned, before regaining himself and nodding with an unmistakably melancholic air. "Yes."

"Mr Scott is a perfectly capable commander," Spock reminded them. "The Enterprise will remain safe until our return."

"If we return."

"Bones, that isn't exactly helping..." Kirk trailed off grimly, rubbing his hands over his eyes slightly wearily.

Spock gave McCoy the Vulcan equivalent of a glare. McCoy had the good grace to look sheepish. "Sorry Jim...I know how much you're worried about her, but Spock's right. Scotty'll take good care of her, and her...prisoners."

Kirk grinned. "They'll soon find there's nothing worse than an angry Chief Engineer..."

"We are fortunate to have such a dedicated officer within the Fleet."

Kirk nodded at Spock's general direction. "He's saved our hides more times than I can count."

"That is true."

McCoy sighed. "If this magic doesn't get us before we get back," he moaned, suddenly changing the subject, "I think the homework will!"

The Vulcan frowned slightly, taken off guard by the sudden comment. "Are you having difficulty?"

"Who wouldn't?"

"I have had none, Doctor."

McCoy eyed him for a moment. "Of course not. You're insufferably good at everything. Sometimes I think you do it just to annoy me."

Spock raised an amused eyebrow. "Such an achievement is hardly difficult."

Kirk rolled his eyes slightly and smiled. "What exactly are you stuck on, Bones? I might be able to help."

"The Potions essay."

The eyebrow was elevated even further. "That is due in for the next lesson."

"Which is now," Kirk added helpfully.

"I know that, thank you very much!" McCoy snapped at the two officers. "Why else would I be bringing it up?"

"Snape's going to kill you," Ron said, having overheard their conversation whilst the group was jammed in the corridor traffic.

"I can help you next time," Hermione offered. "I know that's not much use for you now, but..."

McCoy smiled thankfully. "I'd appreciate that, thank you."

She brushed aside his thanks with a well practiced air. "Just let me know."

"Trust me," Ron interjected with pride, "she's brilliant."

"We are well aware of that," Spock said, levelling his piercing gaze upon the teenager.

"Spock..." Kirk said gently, eyes reminding the Vulcan of the conversation that they had had last time the First Officer had inadvertently started an argument with the three students.

Spock, for his part, seemed to regret promising to "let his hair down". He allowed his features to lose some of their severity, however, as he returned his gaze to a bewildered and slightly insulted Ron. "I apologise," he said neutrally, "for my...abrupt tone."

"It's a usual thing for him," McCoy added. "You get used to it."

Spock shot the Doctor a brief look. "I have been informed that my manner of communicating may cause offense to some humans less well versed with Vulcan speech patterns. Therefore, I apologise for any future instances that may occur and assure you that it is not my intention to cause offense." He hesitated slightly before adding; "it was merely the way of the Vulcans." There was a pang of grief in his eyes.

"Ok," Harry said sceptically, clearly at a loss for words.

"We understand," Hermione assured him although her expression belied her words. "Don't we, Ron?"

"Yeah..." Likewise, he did not sound convinced.

There was a sudden cackle overhead and pandemonium reigned as a recognisable poltergeist swooped mischievously over the masses, pure glee shining on his silvery face.

"Not again..." McCoy growled, even as the three teenagers tried to pull them through the screaming crowd to safety. Their exit was blocked.

"Has anyone gone to the Bloody Baron?" Hermione asked.

"I dunno," Ron answered, ducking a dumb bomb aimed at his head. "He's not very inventive, is he?"

"Who?" McCoy asked. "The Bloody Baron?"

"No...Peeves. This is the second time since we got back that he's done this..."

"Who's the Bloody Baron?" Kirk asked, oblivious to the rest of the conversation.

"He's the one who usually handles this," Harry explained.

"...Is he a vampire?" McCoy asked warily.

"No," Hermione answered calmly, as though the question was normal for newcomers. "He's a ghost."

"But very effective in a crisis," Harry added.

"With a name like that I think he would be," Kirk said wryly.

"That's...gah!" McCoy broke off what he was saying as a projectile hit him square in the back of the head. "Are you NUTS?" He suddenly bellowed at Peeves, gesturing wildly.

"Maybe," the poltergeist smirked in amusement as McCoy's face grew steadily redder.

"God damn it man!" McCoy ranted, ignoring the various entreaties to stop. "Don't you have anything more constructive to do?"

"Why should I?"

"I don't know," McCoy said sarcastically, "but since you have an infinite amount of time, maybe you could think of SOMETHING!"

"Such as?" Peeves smirked.

"Not getting attacked by me, for one," McCoy snarled, moving to lunge at the laughing Peeves.

Malfoy, who had been watching the entire exchange, guffawed as the crowd in the corridor dispersed with the arrival of the Bloody Baron. "Cursing ghosts are we, McCoy?"

"What have you got to do with it?" McCoy snapped, as Peeves was convinced into drifting slowly away, waving his phantom hand at McCoy and sneering.

"I enjoy watching you embarrass yourself," the blond said simply, a smirk spreading across his face. "It makes a change to Weasley and Potter. They've become predictable."

As the latter two stiffened, McCoy drew himself up. "You sound like the sort who is easily entertained."

Malfoy's eyes flashed. "I wouldn't push your luck, McCoy. Being friends with a Slytherin won't stop you from getting what you deserve."

McCoy snorted. "What would that be; a bogey hex?"

"Don't you need your two cronies before you threaten people, Malfoy?" Ron demanded.

"Ron!" Hermione uttered, eyes wide.

"Yeah," Harry joined in. "What happened? Did your bodyguards find something more interesting to protect?"

"Harry!"

"A toad, perhaps?" Ron suggested.

"Both of you!" She finally exclaimed, her lips tightly drawn together. "Stop it, it's not worth it."

A wand was whipped out and pointed at the two boys, who also raised their weapons, deaf to Hermione's protests. All three glared at each other.

"Ron, Harry! Put them away," she hissed.

"He deserves what's coming to him," Ron said loudly.

Malfoy sneered. "I look forward to thrashing you both."

"Without Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry asked calmly. "Getting brave, Malfoy?"

"You push me Potter," the other boy snapped, aiming at Harry and yelling a flurry of words.

Spock, to everyone's surprise, suddenly pushed the teenager to the side, taking the bolt of magic full to the chest. He blinked and stepped backwards one pace, but otherwise did not react.

"What did you do?" Kirk asked menacingly, glancing in concern from Spock to the wand and back again.

Malfoy looked stunned. "That wasn't supposed to happen..." He peered at Spock anxiously.

"I am unharmed," the Vulcan answered in reply to the silent question. "However, it would be gratifying if you reversed the effects of the spell." His lips twitched treacherously. "They are quite...distracting."

Mouths gaping, the three Gryffindors watched as the spell was reversed.

Completely unaffected, Spock nodded his head in Malfoy's direction. "Perhaps it would now be prudent to apologise for your malicious intentions."

"Apologise?" Malfoy snorted.

Spock's stony expression did not change. "I believe that is the correct human custom." He stared at the young man before him.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Potter," he finally spat grudgingly.

"Mr Potter was not the only one threatened," Spock pointed out mercilessly.

"I'm not apologising to Weasley as well!"

"Very well," Spock said, inclining his head. "Then perhaps you would prefer to explain to Professor McGonagall why you are unwilling to do so."

With a look of dawning comprehension, Malfoy turned around to stare straight into the eyes of a furious head of Gryffindor house. "Mr Potter, Mr Weasley," she began. "I have warned you against provoking your fellow students."

"We didn't-"

"I don't want any excuses, Potter." She turned her gaze to Malfoy. "Come with me."

Looking like he was being taken to the gallows, the Slytherin followed, turning to glare over his shoulder at the Gryffindors who stood, staring.

"At this moment," Spock said, "it is time to remind you that we are going to be late, if we do not continue on our route."

"Spock...what was that spell?" Kirk asked curiously as he caught up with the tall Vulcan.

"I am uncertain, however the results were not unlike what you and McCoy often refer to as...'tickling'."

"You were tickled?" McCoy asked in amusement.

"Yes, Doctor."

"Leave it to a Vulcan to take the fun out of a tickle fight..." Despite his words, the CMO was smiling at the man beside him.

"I see no amusement in what I had to endure."

"Oh of course, Mister Spock," McCoy grinned. "And you didn't feel the slightest need to laugh."

"Do not insult me, Doctor."

"I thought so," McCoy said knowingly to Kirk, making sure that his voice was loud enough for the Vulcan to hear.

Yet his good mood soon faded when they all arrived outside the dungeon doors, well aware that they were now a good ten minutes late.

"We're doomed," Ron stated.

"We'll just have to explain..." Hermione began hopefully.

"Snape never listens to explanations, Hermione," Harry reminded her. "You know that as well as we do."

"We're doomed," Ron repeated.

"Absolutely," McCoy agreed.

"A more productive course of action would be to enter the room."

Ron looked at Spock as though he had grown an extra head. "Are you mad?"

"Fortunately, no."

"You want us to go in there?"

Spock sighed slightly. "If we remain out here, Mr Weasley, we will only succeed in becoming more out of favour with your Professor."

"Alright then," Kirk said. "Let's go in..." Gathering himself visibly, he pushed open the door.

Snape halted mid word, regarding them with an angry sneer on his face as they mumbled their apologies and took their seats. The class was watching the scene with obvious empathy, except for the Slytherins who were relishing the moment.

"Why," Snape drawled in a dangerously low tone of voice, standing and approaching their bench, "are you six late for my class?"

"We were detained by Mr Peeves," Spock explained, the only one not intimidated by the Potions Master's livid glare.

"As were the vast majority of the students behind me," Snape pointed out. "Yet they, at least, managed to arrive on time."

"There were complications," Spock admitted.

"Complications?" Snape repeated, eyes narrowing.

"Malfoy tried to attack me, sir," Harry explained.

"That, Potter, comes as no surprise," Snape drawled. "Anyone within a ten meter radius of you has tremendous self control to not take the same course of action." He tilted his head. "Then again, many have. The most sensible ones, obviously."

The Slytherins snickered.

"You will all do extra homework," he said calmly, "for failing to be on time. I expect three feet of parchment on my desk by tomorrow morning."

"On what topic?" Spock asked.

"The one I am about to teach you," Snape sneered. "I suggest that you all remember it." With a dramatic swish of his robes, he strode quickly back to the front of the class, pivoting round to face them with ease. "Quills out," he ordered. He tapped the black board with his wand sharply. "Copy this down."

For the next few minutes, the sound that penetrated the room was that of scratching quills on parchment as everyone bent their heads over their work, studiously avoiding their Professor's strict gaze.

"Finished, Mr Kirk?" His lip curled. "Or perhaps you simply enjoy staring vacantly at the board."

The Captain was visibly struggling to remain civil at Snape's tone. "I can't read your writing, sir. It's illegible."

"Yet you have succeeded at reading it since the beginning of term."

There was a telling silence.

"Have you made any notes in my classes?" The Professor's voice was ominous as he leaned forwards and narrowed his eyes.

"Not in the class exactly," Kirk hedged.

"Then when?"

"Aftwerwards."

"I am astounded," Snape replied with slight irritation colouring his dour voice, "that a man as 'prestigious' as you can allow himself to be so dense. Did it not occur to you to inform me sooner?"

"...No..." Kirk admitted sheepishly. "I didn't want to annoy you, sir."

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched. "Yet you have succeeded, Kirk. How unfortunate. Twelve points from Gryffindor."

"With all due respect, sir," Kirk raised his voice slightly to carry across the classroom as the quills began scratching again at Snape's command. "I see no need to punish the rest of the house."

"Oh?" Snape asked ominously.

"You're in for it now mate," Ron muttered sympathetically.

"Tell me, Mr Kirk, are you a teacher at this school?"

"No, but I don't think it's fair to punish other people for what I-"

"I did not ask," Snape interrupted, "for your opinion."

Kirk obediently remained quiet. All eyes were now upon him.

"It is not your place," the man continued, "to question how I choose to keep order in my classes."

"I still don't think-"

"Do not," Snape said loudly, "argue with me, Kirk. I can make life very...unpleasant, for you."

"I'm sure you can, Professor," Kirk conceded.

"Jim," McCoy hissed, "for the love of God, shut up!"

"However," the Captain continued relentlessly, "I do not see how this involves anyone else. I'm the one who made the mistake, not them."

"Then it is fortunate that you do not teach in this establishment," Snape sneered. "Your class would surely descend into anarchy."

"I don't punish my whole crew for something one person did," Kirk pointed out. "Doesn't the same theory work in a classroom?"

"Your crew, Kirk, are not witches and wizards. Perhaps you would be content to sit back and allow total havoc to descend upon you, but I for one am not." He did not stop staring at the Captain, who was beginning to regret ever arguing with the man. "Twenty more points from Gryffindor."

There was a collective groan from the class. "Perhaps," Snape said smoothly, surveying the students before them. "There is someone who would wish to protest?" Everything remained still. "No one?" He sneered, glancing back at the Captain. "A most effective method, Kirk," he smirked.

Standing up, he moved to stand in front of the first row benches. "If there are no more untimely interruptions," he said pointedly, "I will continue with my class. These ingredients," he said, indicating the board "must never be used together. To do so would result in an untimely and rather messy death." His eyes roamed over the scribbling students, his eyes resting on Harry contemptuously for a moment. "Much as I would like to demonstrate, its practical use is illegal in schools."

"Jim," McCoy whispered frantically undercover of Snape's droning voice. "What the hell were you playing at?"

Kirk shrugged, not meeting his friend's eyes. "I just thought it was unjustified."

"You lost them even more points!"

"It's just house points, Bones."

"You try telling that to the students," McCoy hissed back. "I'm not so sure they'll share your point of view."

"Bones, it's not important."

"I know that and you know that, but do they?" He sighed and dropped his voice lower. "Follow your own advice Jim, and don't get on the wrong side of Snape. We need his help, remember?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then act like you do, damn it!"

"Kirk, McCoy!" Snape barked, stalking over towards them. "Have you heard a word I just said?"

"That the use of those ingredients together will result in a horrific death," Kirk said desperately.

Snape placed his hands on the table, closing the distance between them. "No," he said shortly.

"You did say that," Kirk pointed out.

"Two minutes ago, Kirk. Did you hear anything after that point?"

"No sir."

The man's jaw tightened. "Do not try my patience any further, unless you wish to experience my further displeasure," he enunciated slowly. "Understood?"

"Yes sir."

Snape favoured him with a grim look. "You are almost as infuriating as Potter...a feat which I had previously assumed to be unachievable." He began to stalk away.

"Git," Ron muttered sympathetically.

"Detention, Weasley," the professor threw over his shoulder, turning to face the rest of the class. "Seven o'clock. My office. Do not keep me waiting."

The door banging open stifled Ron's quiet protests, and Snape rounded on it immediately, eyes narrowing when he saw who was there.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," Malfoy said, glaring at the group seated along the back bench.

"You had better hope, Mister Malfoy, that it does not happen again," Snape drawled. "Potter has already explained what happened," he added when Malfoy opened his mouth to explain. "My only regret is that you got caught."

Malfoy smirked back at his teacher as he took his seat.

"Curious," Spock murmured.

"What is?"

"Professor Snape did not punish Mister Malfoy, Captain. Such an irregular method of discipline is hardly logical."

"He lets the Slytherins get away with anything," Harry explained.

"Fascinating."

"Perhaps, Potter, you would care to allow me to finish my class before I retire?"

"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, not looking at all sorry. When Snape resumed talking he risked leaning further in. "See?"

"Indeed," Spock frowned.

The lesson passed in much the same way as usual, with a noticeable lack of noxious gasses engulfing the room being the only exception. Snape too appeared to be grateful for such small mercies, although his tone never betrayed such sentiments. The students, through sheer fear of their sharp professor, were quietly attentive, even making notes where appropriate when they would not have done so in any other class. It was, of course, with much relief that they began filing out when the bell rang at the end of the lesson.

"I expect six extra essays, in addition to the homework which I have just set," Snape reminded them. "Anyone who fails to complete this task will receive detention."

"Yes sir," they chorused in unison.

It was only when they were exiting the dungeons that they dared to begin talking, knowing that here they could not be overheard.

"Blimey," Ron exclaimed. "He gets worse every year."

"I pity you," Kirk said with feeling.

"We've suffered for our education."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione admonished.

"You're right...more like tortured." He received a smile from Harry and an amused shake of the head from Hermione in reply.

"I would hardly classify your education as torture."

"You'd be surprised," Harry said wryly, sharing a briefly significant look with the two other students. "RON!" He suddenly exclaimed, making everyone with the exception of Spock jump. "You'll miss Quidditch!"

"Merlin's beard, I forgot!" Ron gasped. "Do you think he'll let me out of detention early?"

"No," Hermione said shortly.

"I'll tell Angelina," Harry promised, "see what I can do."

"Thanks mate," Ron grinned in relief. "Are you going, Captain?"

"Jim," Kirk corrected absently. "I wouldn't miss it."

"Now wait just a damn minute," McCoy blustered. "I don't trust you!"

"Bones, I'll be fine!"

"Don't you remember the last time you said that? The Thestral ride?" McCoy snapped.

"That one wasn't my fault, in my defence."

"Neither is anything else, but it still happens! You're the most accident prone man I know, and I can't put you back together every time something goes wrong, Jim!"

"Nothing will go wrong!"

"One day you're going to get yourself killed with that statement."

"I'll let you know when I do then," Kirk retorted.

"Spock, back me up here!"

"Doctor McCoy is correct Captain."

"Thank you!" McCoy crowed, even as Kirk scowled slightly.

"However," Spock continued, putting a dramatically swift stop to McCoy's celebrations, "I believe that with the correct supervision, another incident may be prevented."

"What are you getting at?" McCoy asked, eyes narrowing.

"Although the Captain does show a tendency to, utilising various different methods, inflict injuries upon himself, past experience would suggest that he would be considerably less likely to do so if accompanied."

"You're coming?" Kirk asked hopefully.

"It is within my duties as First Officer."

"We both know it's really because you want to fly a broom," Kirk teased, grin growing wider when Spock visibly hesitated before answering.

"That was a factor in my reasoning, yes. It would be an interesting scientific experience."

"Spock, you're full of surprises."

Meanwhile, McCoy seemed to have recovered the power of speech. "No."

"No what?"

"You're not going, Jim."

"Bones, you're not my mother."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "I thank my lucky stars everyday that I'm not a woman."

Ron snorted, and Hermione elbowed him, making him jump visibly. "What was that for?" Hermione pretended not to hear, instead subtly picking up the pace and beckoning the two boys to follow her, leaving the other three to sort out the matter of Quidditch in peace.

"...I'd be greyer than an elephant," McCoy was continuing. "With your damn fool stunts, it's a wonder you've lived so long. You've got more lives than a cat!"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted, "a cat has only one life."

"I know!" The surgeon snapped.

"Then I fail to understand the importance of your analogy. Why not use another animal?"

McCoy stared at him.

"It's a human thing," Kirk whispered in explanation.

"Evidently that is the cause for its lack of logical meaning."

"Why," McCoy demanded, "can't you even let me rant in peace?"

"I was unaware that you required peace to fulfil what is generally perceived to be a stressful pastime."

Kirk suddenly found it very difficult to keep a straight face.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Shut up." McCoy turned back to face Kirk. "And don't think this means I'm finished with you," he threatened. "You're going to hear a lot more on my opinions of Quidditch. Both of you."

oOo

Despite McCoy's protests, Kirk and Spock made their way down to the Quidditch pitch sometime later, admiring the view as they went.

An impossibly large, ringed arena loomed before them, various turrets spaced along the walls which marked the pitch's boundaries. Flags of varying colours flapped in the slight breeze, which was beginning to turn cold with winter approaching. The rest of the Hogwarts grounds dropped away behind it, emphasising its grandeur and majestic appearance. It was a monument in its own right, and the sight of it made them wonder just how popular this game was over the rest of the wizarding world.

"Too bad Bones refused to come."

"Indeed," Spock agreed dryly. "Perhaps he concluded that witnessing such a sport would be harmful to his undoubtedly high levels of blood pressure."

Kirk snorted. "I wonder how this game is played anyway," he mused, gazing at the various players warming up around the pitch, "and how you're supposed to ride a broom..."

"It does appear to defy the known laws of physics. Although considering previous experience of this universe, such an occurrence is hardly surprising."

"Not to mention that it's illogical," Kirk pointed out in amusement, watching as Spock's eyes twinkled in reply.

"Highly."

As soon as they reached the stadium, they were spotted by Harry and Ron, who immediately motioned for them to join the group assembled around their team captain. Their captain, who had obviously been in the process of making a short speech to both the present team and the auditionees, gave them a slightly impatient smile.

"We don't have a lot of time," she explained, thrusting a broom at Kirk and giving Spock a slightly annoyed glance. "And the Slytherins decided to watch, but don't let that distract you." She studied the blond man for a moment. "So you're one of the spacemen?"

Kirk grinned at the term and offered his free hand. "Jim Kirk."

"I'm Angelina, team captain." She shook the offered hand brusquely. "Any position you're trying for in particular?"

"I don't actually know how to play," he admitted.

"If you want to make the team, you'll need to pick it up fast," she said, sighing slightly. "I might as well give you a quick rundown before we begin."

"That," Kirk agreed, "would be useful."

"It's actually quite simple," she began, beckoning him over to the equipment and ignoring Spock, who followed close behind. "A chaser," she said, lifting up a ball for his inspection, "goes after a Quaffle, which is this. They try to get it through those hoops," she pointed at three rings high above the ground. "The keeper's job is to stop that from happening." She peered at him. "Are you with me so far?"

"Yes."

"Right. The Beaters use these bats to protect the rest of the team from bludgers, which are bewitched to fly at players. The seeker searches for the golden snitch," she held up each item as she spoke. "They also try to protect their own seeker, using the bludgers to stop anyone who could distract them."

"...Ok."

"When the snitch is found, the game is ended and 150 points are awarded to the team who finds it."

"How many points do the Quaffles get?"

"Ten. Do you understand the rules so far?"

"Yes."

She regarded him sceptically. "If you perform well, I'll tell you the rest later. If you make the team." She turned her gaze to Spock. "Can I help?"

"I am merely here to ascertain that the Captain does not injure himself."

"I'd prefer you to do that in the stands," she said shortly. "I don't want my team getting distracted."

"I'll be fine," Kirk assured the Vulcan, patting him on the arm.

"Right!" Angelina raised her voice to address everybody in Gryffindor. "Form a line over here, please. We'll see how you do with each of the positions." A collective sneering drifted towards them from the stands, where the Slytherins were watching with contempt.

"Just ignore them! Luke, you're up first. We'll try you with the Quaffle, if that's alright?" When the teenager in question nodded, she motioned at members of the team to mount their brooms. "Passing first, and then scoring. Good luck!"

With a slightly worried expression, Luke shot up into the air, going slightly higher than necessary and subsequently allowing the Quaffle to miss his fingertips and fall towards the earth. One of the team members swooped down and caught it, lifting it high so that Luke could see it, and then throwing it towards him. It was dropped again.

The Slytherins jeered. "Gryffindor are losers! Gryffindor are losers!"

"Not exactly imaginative are they?" Angelina said grimly, clapping her hands. "Don't let them distract you, Luke. Keep going!"

Kirk, standing nervously at the back of the queue, quietly tried to take in as much as possible; the technique of flying, the way they sat on the broom when catching the ball, the correct way to hit a bludger. Yet he found himself, due to the fast pace of it all and the distracting hollering from above, soon getting lost.

Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, he took a step or two back and sat on his broom, mimicking the actions of the people who were flying above him, all the while taking great care to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground. This roused a fresh burst of guffawing from the stands, but he ignored it studiously, concentration narrowing to include only the players on the pitch and himself.

It therefore came as a great surprise when he began to float steadily higher and higher, unable to stop himself at all. "Uh..." he muttered to himself, silently debating whether or not he actually wanted the embarrassment of asking for help.

A figure which could only be Malfoy immediately stood up and pointed. "Look! He can't even control his broom!" There was a round of jeers.

Slowly, the people below him turned around to stare, the tryouts abruptly forgotten as they gazed at him in shock, their expressions becoming even harder to determine as he rose higher and higher.

"Kirk!" Angelina bellowed. "It's not your turn yet!"

"I thought I'd practise!"

"You're not doing a very good job!" A Slytherin yelled. Kirk seethed both from anger and embarrassment as Harry patiently flew over to him.

"Place your hands on your broom and lean forwards like this," he instructed. Kirk did so, and immediately felt himself descending next to Harry.

"Thanks..." he muttered.

"No problem. But...try not to do that in your tryout." With one last grin, he resumed hovering over the stand.

Face burning slightly; he felt his feet touch the ground, everyone's eyes upon him. "Sorry..."

"Don't worry about it," one of them assured him, "I had the same trouble on my first flight...at least you didn't break anything."

"I'm beginning to think Bones' worries were justified..." Kirk muttered as his name was called and he got onto his broom once more, uneasily placing his hands in front of him and concentrating upon hovering steadily.

"Ready?" Angelina asked.

He nodded wordlessly, and a Quaffle was immediately thrown towards him. Hands outstretched, he felt time slow down and his vision zero in upon the object, which was going faster than any ball in any game he had ever played. He had just one chance, one opportunity. He could not fail.

Elated, he felt his hands grip the edges of the ball and his mouth curved into a smile, which rapidly disappeared.

The ball did not stop, and he soon found himself flying backwards helplessly with the force of the throw, until he came to a mortified stop some meters away from where he had previously been. Scrabbling for a handhold at this sudden change in velocity, he wobbled precariously on his broom, finding himself hanging from it upside down briefly.

To his horror, he began to move forwards once more, still upside down, with no idea where he was going thanks to the robes dangling in his vision. Vaguely, he could here laughter and cat calls above the thumping in his temples as his nose suddenly came perilously close to the ground.

The grass caressed his face, making him scrunch his nose up in a valiant effort not to sneeze. Not entirely successful, he made an odd sound; half hack and half hiccup, the momentum pushing him halfway into a sitting position, his own strength pulling him the rest of the way up.

Finally able to remain in at least a partially dignified position, he flew back over to the group with some caution, drawing his arm back and flinging the Quaffle at the nearest flying team member with all of his strength. It reached the target, and he received an approving nod.

"Try to stay as relaxed as possible!" Angelina shouted when he felt himself wobble once more. "Ready for another try?"

"I think so..."

"Ok." She signalled once more, and the process was repeated.

This time, Kirk was ready for the ball when it came, adjusting his position as appropriate to absorb the impact caused by speed, and drawing his hand back to throw the object back with relative ease. In comparison to his last attempt, this round was a complete success.

"Not bad, not bad," the team captain muttered approvingly. "One more try?"

"Sure! I think I'm getting the hang of it now..."

This time, he did not even wobble, although he almost missed his target when he threw it back, forcing the player to lunge in order to catch the Quaffle. Angelina nodded in satisfaction. "On to the Bludgers!"

Harry flew over and smilingly handed him what appeared to be a stout wooden bat and a Bludger. "Good luck. And remember...don't actually try to hit him with it, just aim near him."

"Right..." Kirk answered, staring dubiously at the equipment in his grasp.

"When you're ready," came the call from the ground.

Taking a deep breath, he threw the bludger into the air gently and used both hands to bring the bat round and smash it with all of his strength, staring after it in dumbfounded fascination as it proceeded to hurtle towards a player.

Fortunately, they had been trained well and ducked in time to avoid a painful hit to the head. The bludger hurtled past him and into the stands, sending screaming Slytherins running for cover.

"Nice one, Jim!" Ron called from his own position, a manic grin plastered over his features.

"I don't think we need to try that again..." Angelina said, staring at the small hole created by the impact between bludger and stadium. "Thank you, you may land now..."

Grinning in helpless amusement, he set down among the crowd of staring Gryffindors, who proceeded to congratulate him.

"That was really good!"

"You've never hit a bludger before?"

He shook his head at the latest question. "Never. In fact, I didn't know that would happen..."

"Well," the teenager he identified as Luke said, "you did a damn good job, if you ask me."

Angelina strode over to them, a slightly tired but satisfied smile on her face. "Thank you all for coming! I'll let you know at breakfast tomorrow whether or not you made it."

The Slytherins, sensing that the entertainment was over, began to spill out from the stands, sneering at various Gryffindors.

"Well well well," Malfoy drawled, coming to a stop in front of Kirk, with Spock just behind him, eyebrow raised. "Pity you couldn't fly your broom, Kirk. You might actually have made a good impression if you could."

"My bludger was good enough," Kirk bristled. "I can't be perfect on my first attempt."

"No," Malfoy sneered. "But I doubt practice would do much use."

Kirk shook his head, irritated. "I was only here to see what the game was, and to have a go. I don't necessarily want to make the team." Yet as he said those words, he immediately knew that they were not true.

"Whatever. You'll never get in, anyway. Not unless all other players are out of action," the boy spat. "Slytherin will win, whatever happens," he hurled over his shoulder, as he turned to leave.

"That boy," Kirk snarled to Spock when the Vulcan drew level with him, "is worse than some of the people I used to go to college with."

"Understandably," Spock said dryly. "He can of course add magic to his threats."

"That's...not really what I meant but I guess you're right."

As they began walking back to the castle, Spock folded his hands behind his back and began speaking neutrally. "I was pleasantly surprised by your performance, Captain."

"Apart from the fact where I flew upside down."

The Vulcan nodded his head in wry amusement. "That was not one of your finer moments. However, you appeared to learn quickly."

"Didn't think I had it in me, did you?"

"No sir," Spock replied, deadpan.

"Why Spock, I am insulted," he said with a fake wounded expression.

"I see no reason why you should be, sir. It was merely a statement of fact. You have never before participated in this sport and as such the odds of you succeeding immediately were low."

He was about to remind Spock that he was joking, but changed his mind mid sentence, knowing it would have no effect. He settled on something else instead. "How low?"

"You would not benefit from hearing them."

"That bad?" He sighed, stepping through the doors to the Great Hall. "At least Bones will be grateful I'm still in once piece..."

"Knowing the Doctor, you are likely to receive more complaints, despite your success in avoiding injury."

Sure enough, McCoy immediately rounded on him when Kirk joined him at the Gryffindor table, and Kirk had just enough time to see Spock raise an "I told you so" eyebrow as he disappeared to the Slytherin domain before the hall melted away around him and he began the longest meal time of his life, punctuated by various assurances that nothing happened. As time dragged slowly by and McCoy proceeded to rant himself blue in the face, he couldn't help but muse that things never really changed.