14. Blood Blisterpods.

The next two weeks passed reasonably uneventfully, aside from the fact that Spock seemed completely incapable of keeping away from Umbridge's detentions. After a constant week of detention and struggle to fit in time for Quidditch practice for his own team and homework, Kirk and McCoy could deny Spock's situation no longer. Together, they cornered Spock when he came back into the Room of Requirement after yet another evening with Umbridge, determined glares on their faces.

"Spock," Kirk said with as much force as he could muster, "you have to stop getting detentions from her."

"It is unavoidable."

"No," Kirk said, his eyes flashing. "It's not. I don't care what you believe, Mister Spock, but you can't keep antagonizing her! I know she's completely out of line-"

"-and bigoted-" McCoy added.

"- but you barely have any time after she's finished with you! You can't keep neglecting your studies like this. As you said, we need to know as much about this universe as possible, and with you in constant detention it just isn't happening."

"Captain-"

"No arguments!" Kirk exclaimed. "I listened to you the first few times, even agreed with you...but it can't go on... I thought you controlled your emotions!"

"I do," Spock said stiffly. "It is not out of emotion that I contradict her statements, but-"

"Spare us," McCoy said. "We know why you're doing it Spock, but you can't. Surely you understand the logic of this?"

"Of course, Doctor." He sounded vaguely insulted and McCoy had to duck his head to avoid showing the Vulcan an affectionate smile that had rebelliously sprung onto his face. Kirk had managed to remain appropriately grim faced, however, and McCoy could hear the rant continuing even as he stared.

"Spock," he finally said quietly, reaching out, "what's that on your hand?"

"I beg your pardon?" Spock asked, completely distracted from Kirk's abruptly halted reprimand.

"There's something on your hand."

Spock stiffened and immediately began to move his hands out of sight, behind his back in his customary stance, before McCoy caught a hold of it. "No you don't. What's so important that you want to hide it?" When Spock didn't answer, McCoy dragged him unapologetically further into the light and yanked his hand up to examine it, almost dropping it in shock.

The words "I shall keep my place" were now ingrained firmly into the Vulcan's hand, the wounds a deep and slightly angry shade of green, beads of blood still trickling over the rest of the skin.

"That's your handwriting!"

Kirk immediately came over. "What?" McCoy shoved Spock's hand into the Captain's face. "Spock...how did this happen?"

"You're not getting out of this one, you green blooded hobgoblin," McCoy said angrily when Spock didn't answer. "Did Umbridge do this?"

"Not directly," Spock hedged.

"Then how?" Kirk snapped uncharacteristically.

"I trust that you are familiar with the Earth tradition of 'writing lines'?"

"Good God," McCoy spluttered, "did she make you carve it into your hand?"

"Doctor, perhaps you should allow me to complete my explanation before you make a conclusion." He paused for a few moments before carrying on, McCoy seething silently but letting him finish. "Professor Umbridge gave me a quill with which to write the lines. However, I did not discover until I attempted to use it that, in order for it to function, it draws the blood of an individual as a substitute for ink. In doing so, the words written are engraved onto the skin."

There was a pregnant pause.

"WHY?" McCoy finally demanded.

"Professor Umbridge is of the opinion that it increases the learning capacity of the individual."

"Through inflicted pain?"

"It is a method much cultivated on Earth, Doctor," Spock said emotionlessly, as though they were discussing the weather.

"Not like this," Kirk said, still staring at the hand which McCoy was now waving about in the air to emphasise his point.

"This..." the hand jerked, "is..." McCoy propelled it furiously around him, almost making the Vulcan fall over, "a school!"

Spock sighed slightly and attempted to disengage his hand but McCoy seemed reluctant to let it go. "Indeed it is, Doctor. However, Professor Umbridge has been granted the power to punish students as she believes appropriate."

"We'll have to go to Professor Dumbledore," Kirk said decisively.

"He is unable to put a halt to the practice."

"How do you know?" McCoy asked angrily, jerking Spock's hand once more and missing the Vulcan's brief wince of pain as his wound was jabbed. "Have you asked?"

"Negative. However, I believe that Miss Granger and Mister Weasley have previously attempted to persuade Mister Potter to do so."

"They're teenagers, Spock!" McCoy almost yelled in exasperation. "Of course they're not going to go to the Headmaster!"

"Doctor, it does not appear that you have understood."

"Of course I don't bloody understand, you gormless computerized elf!"

Kirk looked confused. "What's 'gormless'?"

"Definitively speaking," Spock said, "it means 'unintelligent or lacking initiative'."

"Well you really outdid yourself on that one, Bones," Kirk said cheerfully. "You're so angry you're inventing words."

"That term is not of the Doctor's invention, Captain. It originates in Britain."

"This place is rubbing off on you, Bones."

"Don't change the subject!" McCoy suddenly screeched, flapping Spock's hand in Kirk's direction.

Spock, for his part, seemed to have finally had enough. "Doctor, I must request that you cease waving my hand about in that fashion."

McCoy looked slightly surprised to see that he hadn't let go and dropped it suddenly. "Sorry..."

"Bones is right, Spock, you have to tell Professor Dumbledore."

"As I was attempting to explain earlier," Spock said calmly, "that is not possible, as Professor Dumbledore does not have direct control over Professor Umbridge's activities. That is why Mister Potter could not inform him."

"Damn it," McCoy cursed. "That over puffed jumped up toad!"

"Although I must commend you on the creativity of your insults, Doctor, I must remind you that emotionalism will not solve the problem."

"Exactly!" Kirk said loudly, immediately pouncing on this. "So stop getting into detentions in the first place. And that's an order," he added for good measure when Spock looked like he was going to argue.

"I shall endeavour to do so, Captain," Spock finally conceded. "However, I must impress upon you the importance of lack of protest."

"You can't expect us to just sit back and do nothing," McCoy protested.

"That is exactly what I expect, Doctor," Spock said, his eyes steely even if his voice did not betray it. "There is no course of action to prevent her from utilising that form of punishment. We have no authority over her."

"Spock-"

"Captain," Spock interrupted Kirk uncharacteristically, "I do not make this request lightly. If she believes us to be revealing too much information about her teaching methods, she may attempt to remove us from the grounds."

"By Merlin's baggiest Y fronts," McCoy snarled, "I'll stop her from doing this!"

"You've been here too long," Kirk said in amusement at McCoy's latest phrase.

"Damn it Jim, are you on my side or not?"

"Of course I am!" Kirk exclaimed, looking slightly affronted.

"Doctor, you are being highly illogical," Spock said in a slightly exasperated tone of voice.

McCoy rounded on him immediately, his eyes flashing. "I'd have thought you would have realised by now," he hissed, "that calling a human illogical is not a logical practice, Mister Spock, as you should expect us to act that way. Furthermore," he rambled on, waving his finger for emphasis and ignoring Kirk's dumbfounded expression, "it is a waste of energy as everyone knows the statement to be true. Therefore, every time you call a human being – namely me- illogical, you are in fact disregarding logic."

There was a silence, during which if Spock had been human his jaw would have hit the ground at this unexpected development.

Finally, Kirk chuckled. "He's got you there, Spock."

The Vulcan was not at a loss for words for long, however. "Your attempt at logic is, although commendable, flawed. It is logical for me to remind you that you are being illogical in order for you to cease wasting your energies in such a way. It is hardly through fault of mine that you do not adhere to my advice. I have cited what I believe to be the logical course of action and you refuse to listen."

"Just like we told you not to get more detention and yet you did so anyway!" McCoy retorted angrily.

"Alright," Kirk said, holding up both hands in an attempt to placate his friends who seemed to be on the verge of blows, "just...stop calling each other illogical using logic, will you? You're both tying yourselves up in knots."

"Such an action would be both logistically and physically impossible."

"Spock, seriously," Kirk said in amused exasperation. "Stop the logic. You'll make Bones explode." He sighed and looked at them both when they stopped insulting each other. "Thank you. Now, we'll make a pact otherwise we'll be arguing until midnight."

"What do you propose?" Despite himself, Spock sounded curious.

"As long as you insist upon illogically," Kirk said, stressing the word with a teasing grin on his face, "getting into detention, Bones and I will not insist upon illogically telling Professor Dumbledore."

"That is a remarkably sound conclusion, Captain."

"Jim, a moment ago you were as outraged as me!"

"I know," Kirk conceded, "but if what Spock says is true, then Professor Dumbledore really can't do anything, and-"

"How do we know Spock's right?" McCoy interrupted.

"Because," Kirk said calmly, "he never lies...well almost never, I mean, he implies stuff...and only mentions something when he's sure of his facts."

"Oh wonderful. And if this is one of the occasions when he's 'implying'?"

"I am not, Doctor."

"Of course you'd say that," McCoy snapped.

"Anyway," Kirk interrupted loudly before yet another argument could get rolling, "we can't risk her kicking us out."

"It is gratifying to see that you understand, Captain."

McCoy looked furious, but Kirk cut in again. "Besides, I ordered Spock not to get into more trouble, so we won't even have to think about telling Professor Dumbledore again."

"Unless he decides that it's 'logical' to disobey you," McCoy spat. "Lord knows he's done that a few times."

"Well..." Kirk said eventually, clearly struggling to wrap this matter up, "we'll just have to hope he doesn't. But either way, we can't let this discussion past these walls. We can't get chucked out the castle." He peered at McCoy who was grumbling under his breath. "Bones? Do I have your word on this or do I have to order you not to tell anyone?"

With an uttered oath, McCoy finally nodded. "Fine."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock said.

McCoy glared at him. "I agreed with you, Mister Spock, but that doesn't mean I have to like it!"

"As long as you don't try and murder her with a broom..." Kirk muttered.

"Trust me Jim, I'd enjoy it if I could."

With the discussion closed, they had kept their word and not informed Dumbledore of what actually went on behind the classroom doors in Umbridge's class, although for several more days McCoy's expression would darken considerably whenever he saw the raw and bleeding skin on the back of Spock's hand. Umbridge, for her part, seemed to have successfully squashed any previous feelings that she had felt towards Spock, now treating him as though he were a bug barely even worth stepping on. It seems that, despite having originally liked him even though she held certain prejudices, she had finally given in under the barrage of logical insults which assaulted her in every lesson.

McCoy had for his part stuck to his promise to help Spock out with the research as much as possible, although he had to admit that he spent much of his time struggling to figure out what everything meant. Still, Spock no longer had to try to do everything by himself, and even though neither McCoy nor Kirk completely understood the complicated library books that Spock was constantly buried in, they busied themselves with making notes whenever appropriate so that Spock did not have to sift through all of the information himself. In fact, McCoy had noticed with a relieved physician's eye that Spock seemed to have completely recovered from his earlier illness, due to a combination of not going outside in stormy weather – something that McCoy forcibly ensured happened – and help with research. He no longer stayed up late into the night scribbling down notes and frankly, McCoy couldn't be happier.

It meant he had more time to annoy the man, which he enjoyed doing despite himself, though he would never admit it.

Kirk had been a different matter altogether. Despite not having made it onto the direct Quidditch team, he had been determined beyond all persuasion that constant practice was going to hone his skills into levels necessary. Consequently, he had been sneaking out of the Great Hall halfway through mealtimes, having shoved as much food down his throat as humanly possible in such a short space of time, to practice his flying. Although it had gotten undeniably better, that much McCoy knew from Kirk constantly flying past the Room of Requirement window, his schoolwork was beginning to suffer. In fact, he had recently received a "Troll" grade from a very disgusted looking Snape on their latest essay question. Snape had then proceeded to lecture Kirk on the merits of academic study, sneered at him when he found out that he had been shirking this for Quidditch, and generally insulted the Captain's intellect in general. His anger only appeared to be made worse by Kirk's argument that he remembered a lot more in other teacher's classes, and that it was not his fault that chemistry was naturally his worst subject.

McCoy rolled his eyes at the thought of the taciturn Potions Master. No matter how much he tried, he could simply not bring himself to like the man, not even close, although Spock had said that he was merely doing his job. The Vulcan had, needless to say, received very strange looks for that statement and a slightly insulted grunt on the part of the Captain.

Another interesting fact was that they received no trouble whatsoever from Malfoy or any other Slytherins, at least when Spock was around. When they were alone, the occasional hex was sent their way in order to make them drop their books or fall down the stairs, but nothing major enough to warrant any worry. Yet Malfoy still seemed to target the three Gryffindor students whom they had befriended; perhaps because he knew that Spock could do little to protect them. In fact, it was only Spock's very obviously close friendship with the two Star Fleet officers that kept Kirk and McCoy from finding themselves dangling upside down from the Whomping Willow, as had been threatened at the beginning of the year.

It was with this thought in mind that Kirk and McCoy sat down at the Gryffindor table, silently marvelling at the fact that Malfoy had refrained from insulting them as they had entered the Great Hall with Spock in tow. They still could not get used to it, but they were relieved that they did not have to endure snide references to their non-magical origins any longer. Apparently, a talk with Malfoy on Spock's part had put a stop to that.

Ron, who had been munching contentedly on a piece of food, stared at Malfoy, having noticed the odd behaviour patterns as their entrances to the Great Hall had coincided. "Mental, that one," he murmured, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

"Normally he would have insulted everyone at our table by now," Harry added suspiciously, staring at the blond who was smirking back at them.

Kirk shrugged unconcernedly, shovelling a forkful of food into his gaping mouth. "Spock talked to him."

Harry was staring at him, a fork halfway to his mouth. "He talked to Malfoy?"

"Yeah," Kirk grunted back as he swallowed a painful amount of food at once. "He told him to stop victimising us so much, apparently."

"Mental," Ron repeated, shaking his head now. "Imagine having that talk with Malfoy!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed heartily, glancing back at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was apparently in deep conversation with Spock once again. "Your friend surprises me."

"He surprises everyone," McCoy muttered darkly, taking a bite of his own meal, which was heart wrenchingly close to what he used to eat at home, before he had joined Star Fleet.

"One minute," Harry continued, as though he was talking to himself, "he's over there with the Slytherins and the next he's defending Gryffindors in front of Umbridge."

"She's evil," Ron said as if that explained everything. "No wonder he wants to constantly argue with her."

"None of the other Slytherins do it though, Ron," Hermione pointed out reasonably. "Spock seems different to the others."

"Aside from the obvious, you mean."

"Ron!"

"What?" Ron asked, completely innocent. "He is!"

"That doesn't mean that you have to be so tactless," Hermione hissed, giving Kirk and McCoy a glance.

Ron, finally realising what he had done, blushed sheepishly. "Sorry."

"You need to learn to think before you speak," Hermione admonished, though she looked slightly less angry now that he had apologised.

"It's alright," Kirk said, shrugging, "Bones insults him like that all the time."

"Not in seriousness though," McCoy said defensively.

"It looks serious," Harry pointed out.

"They're great friends really," Kirk said cheerfully, slapping McCoy on the shoulder. "They just pretend not to be. I think they find it more entertaining that way."

"Damn right it's more entertaining."

Kirk laughed along with the Gryffindors, pausing only to shove more food into his mouth, making McCoy grimace in disgust. "Damn it, Jim, I don't want to see your tonsils when you eat."

"You're a doctor, not a dentist."

McCoy scowled. "I know that, and how many times have I told you not to steal my catchphrases?"

"They're good!" Kirk protested, grinning at him with falsely innocent wide eyes.

"Get your own," he snapped, but there was a twinkle in the depths of his grumpy eyes.

The background argument of Hermione versus Harry and Ron on the subject of homework was cut off abruptly as the morning post arrived on the leg of a madly screeching owl. McCoy desperately lifted his food off the table in an attempt to protect it from getting spilt everywhere as it had been last time, but instead the owl landed in it.

McCoy scowled and shook it hard, hoping to knock the owl off but eventually giving up and setting it back onto the table. "Why me?"

"You're a fun target, Bones."

"Shut up." He sighed morosely as the owl hopped off the food cheerfully, oblivious to the destruction that it had caused. No one else had batted an eye at the whole fiasco. "Well, that's my breakfast ruined."

Kirk rolled his eyes and swapped plates with his friend. "Here."

McCoy's eyes boggled. "You're not seriously considering eating that, are you?"

"Why not?" Kirk shrugged, digging in. "It's delicious."

"Damn it Jim, you don't know where that owl's been!"

"Which is exactly why I don't want you to tell me. I'm much happier just eating this stuff without knowing what's on it, thanks. Anyway, you can't let good food go to waste like that, Bones."

"You disgust me."

"You love it really," Kirk said, grinning through a full mouth and showing off all of the mashed food inside.

McCoy scrunched his eyes shut. "Maybe disgust is too nice a word."

"You're a surgeon and you think this is disgusting? You need to get your priorities right."

McCoy was about to retort, when something in the Gryffindors' conversation caught his attention. "Mass murderer?"

Harry nodded. "My Godfather."

"Your godfather is a mass murderer?"

Harry, who had been absently replying to McCoy's questions, finally turned to look at the physician with that remark. "No, not really. He got framed."

"Keep your voice down," Hermione hissed.

Ron rolled his eyes at her. "He has to tell them."

"Yes, but he doesn't have to shout it across the table!"

"I wasn't shouting!"

"You are now, mate," Ron said in amusement and Harry abruptly lowered his voice once more.

"It's a long story," he said, "I'll explain it to you in detail later, but long story short is that he was framed for the murders that someone else committed, and ended up in Azkaban. He broke out, and everyone is still out looking for him."

"Oh."

Satisfied that McCoy apparently understood, Harry turned back to Hermione. "Keep reading."

"The Ministry of Magic has received a tip off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer...blah blah blah...is currently hiding in London!"

Harry looked furious. "Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything. He did recognise Sirius on the platform..."

Ron looked alarmed. "What? You didn't say-"

He was interrupted by Kirk. "If he's a wanted criminal, what was he doing on a platform?"

"He wanted to see me to the train," Harry explained as if it was obvious.

McCoy raised his eyebrows. "He's a known murder suspect and you just let him waltz onto a crowded train platform? Are you out of your mind?"

"He's an Animagus," Hermione explained, her voice low. "That means that he can transform into an animal quickly. He was in dog form when he went to the train station."

"That makes sense, I guess," Kirk muttered.

"Keep reading, Hermione," Harry said quietly.

Hermione cleared her throat slightly and returned her attention back to the newspaper, scanning through the information until she found the place where she had left off. "...Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous...killed thirteen people...broke out of Azkaban...The usual rubbish...Well, he just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all," she said finally, placing the paper carefully back onto the table. "Dumbledore did warn him not to."

A few beats of silence passed during which everyone thought about the implications of this latest development. Suddenly, Harry, who had been staring morosely at the paper, jabbed his finger at it.

"Hey! Look at this."

Ron, who had excitedly looked at the page which was being pointed at, seemed to deflate slightly. "I've got all the robes I want."

"No, look. This little piece here."

"What does it say?" Kirk asked as the three teenagers bent their heads over the article and began reading quietly.

"Should we tell them?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said slowly.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Ron demanded.

"I mean that we should keep as little people in the know as possible."

"It could be linked with Voldemort," Harry said, "and the dreams that I've been having. It could be a key to his disappearance."

"Will it help us get back to the Enterprise?" Kirk immediately asked, latching onto the last statement.

Hermione looked reluctant to say anymore, but eventually answered, "Possibly, but we aren't sure what it all means yet."

"Show them the paper then!" Ron said in exasperation. Obediently, Hermione slid the article over to them and they began to read.

They only got a few sentences in before they began to get confused. "What's the Wizengamot?" Kirk finally asked.

"The Wizard version of British Parliament," Hermione explained quickly. "Keep reading."

"Why is this important?" Kirk asked once they had finished. "People are always breaking into top security areas."

"Yes, they are," Hermione admitted, "but not Sturgis Podmore."

"He's one of the Ord-"

"Not so loud, Ron!" Hermione hissed frantically, glancing around them.

"A member of the what?" McCoy asked in slight exasperation. "And why can no one know about any of this?"

"A member of the Order of the Phoenix," Hermione explained. "And no one can know because it's a highly specialised group."

"And top secret," Harry added for good measure.

"And no one really believes that Voldemort is back," Hermione added as though she had never been interrupted, "so if we started telling everyone about Harry's dreams they would think we were crazy."

"Or lying," Ron muttered darkly.

"How do the dreams fit in?" McCoy asked.

"I dream about the Ministry of Magic," Harry said quietly. "We think that it's because of the link with Voldemort's mind."

"You have a mind link with that madman?" McCoy squawked in surprise.

"Shh!" Hermione said frantically, glaring at him.

"I can't help it," Harry retorted. "It's not something I chose. It just happened."

"How can something like that just happen?" McCoy scoffed.

"I don't know," Harry replied, beginning to sound annoyed, "but I didn't ask for this to happen to me! Do you think I enjoy seeing into his mind nearly every night?"

"I didn't say that," McCoy said calmly. "I just think there's a reason behind it."

"We've been through that," Hermione said. "I think it's more likely to be an accident."

"Well that certainly makes more sense," Kirk interjected.

"What do you reckon Sturgis was doing at the Ministry anyway?" Ron suddenly asked after a few beats of silence.

"Wait a moment..." Harry appeared deep in thought. "Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?"

"Yeah, he was supposed to be part of our guard to King's Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn't turn up; so he couldn't have been doing a job for the Order, could he?"

"Who's Moody?" Kirk asked. Everyone else was so excited that they simply ignored him.

"Well maybe they didn't expect him to get caught," Hermione was saying, practical as always.

"It could be a frame-up!" The other two regarded Ron in surprise. "No – listen! The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so – I dunno – they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they just made something up to get him!"

"How does that link with Harry's dreams?" McCoy asked.

"The setting does," Hermione explained, "but the situations might not." She was looking at Ron in surprise. "Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true."

"What is it with Earth and conspiracies?" McCoy groaned. "No matter which universe we're in, we always seem to find one, and always on this planet."

"Have you been to any planets underwater?" Ron asked suddenly.

"We've been to a planet covered in water, yes," Kirk replied in amusement. "We had to sign a treaty with the mermaids."

"How can mermaids get on a star ship?" Harry asked.

"They don't," McCoy snorted.

"We were just signing an agreement promising to defend them from the Klingons," Kirk explained. "They're the main warrior race; their main aim is to improve their Empire."

"Like intergalactic Romans," Ron said. Harry snorted at that.

"More violent than Romans," McCoy murmured darkly, remembering the last time they had faced a Klingon ship.

"Right," Hermione suddenly announced loudly to the world in general, making several people in the vicinity jump, "well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self fertilising shrubs first and if we're lucky we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch..."

Her voice was quickly ignored despite everyone's best attempts to listen as she droned on for a minute or two about the stack of homework that they had been given. When she had finally stopped talking and fixed them all with a glance that clearly asked them if they agreed with what she had just said, she was met with apologetic expressions on everyone's behalf, with the notable exception of McCoy.

Kirk, Harry and Ron had all bowed out of this homework schedule, using the excuse that they had Quidditch practice to go to before they did anything else. McCoy and Hermione, who had both looked mildly disgusted and annoyed about this fixation with the sport, had left for the library to do their work, while the other three made their way down to the Quidditch pitch.

After a couple of hours of practice, during which the two teenagers were amazed at how vastly and quickly Kirk had improved from his last flying attempt ("I mean," Ron had said, "you didn't even hit the ground once!"), they returned to the Great Hall for lunch, where they were immediately hounded by both McCoy and Hermione. Whilst Hermione's focus seemed to be primarily directed at Harry and Ron on the topic of their unfinished homework, Kirk was left to fend for himself as McCoy growled about safety regulations under his breath.

"Those damn sticks are worse than the transporters, Jim," the man had snapped when Kirk had said, for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had first discussed Quidditch, that he would be going to practice anyway. "They're a death trap!"

Kirk had simply rolled his eyes and tuned out the rest of the physician's protests, knowing that he would eventually back down, with the largest possible amount of grumbling of course, and allow him to continue with Quidditch. After all, he had said earlier on that he knew he could do nothing to stop Kirk from flying a broom, and that he had given up fighting him. Although, predictably, he still flung last ditch persuasion points at Kirk whenever the subject was raised.

After a tense and rushed lunch, the three players made their way down to the pitch once more for the real training session, which promised to be interesting, given the fact that it was many of the players' first.

As they walked into the changing room, Kirk could not help but feel nervous at his first ever real Quidditch game as a beater. As a reserve, he would be representing the opposing team along with the others whilst the players who had made the proper Gryffindor team practiced against him. Angelina had told him that this arrangement would be varied, so that everyone got used to working with everyone else, just in case a sub was called on at the last minute. For now though, he would have to see how well he did and hope that he did not fall off his broom again, although his last practice had been promising.

"All right, Ron?" A tall, slightly gangly boy had said when they walked in. Kirk vaguely recognised him as George Weasley, Ron's older brother and twin to Fred Weasley.

"Yeah." He didn't sound too certain, and Kirk found that he could understand why. As he donned his team colours, he could not ignore the slightly queasy feeling that was forming in the pit of his stomach.

"Ready to show us all up, Ickle Prefect?" Fred, the other twin, had emerged from the neck of his Quidditch robes, a customary grin plastered across his face.

Kirk found himself unable to concentrate on the rest of the conversation as he fought to remain calm. He could not fail now; he would embarrass both himself and the whole team. He knew for a fact that some Slytherins had filtered into the stands to watch their practice session, and he hoped that Spock was among them to give him moral support.

"Ok everyone," Angelina suddenly said, and Kirk frowned as he realised that he did not remember seeing her come in, "Let's get to it; Alicia and Fred, if you can just bring out the ball crate for us. Oh, and there are a couple of people out there watching but I want you to just ignore them, all right?"

Kirk groaned inwardly as he exited the comforting walls of the changing rooms and emerged on the Quidditch pitch. Immediately, he scanned the crowd and was relieved to see Spock sitting among the Slytherins, directing a raised eyebrow at him as he caught sight of the new Quidditch robes. Kirk grinned back and waggled his own slightly, not caring who saw. The other eyebrow escalated to join its partner.

"What's that Weasley's riding?" Malfoy was calling, and Kirk could practically feel Ron tense next to him and Harry shoot him a concerned look. Up in the stands, he saw Spock frown and say something to Malfoy, who simply whispered a few words back. Spock's annoyed look deepened, but he said nothing more as Malfoy turned back to the pitch. "Why would anyone put a flying charm on a mouldy old log like that?"

As everyone kicked into the air and Kirk stuttered to a stop, much like a stalling car, Angelina gave the Slytherins a briefly withering look but otherwise ignored them. "Ok everyone, we're going to start with some passes just to warm up," Kirk inwardly began to panic, "the whole team please," she broke off as someone yelled an insult at her, but did not otherwise appear to be ruffled, "spread out, then, and let's see what we can do."

They took it in turns to pass the Quaffle to each other, Kirk fumbling it slightly so that he looked like he was juggling in midair before finally passing it on to Ron, who dropped it. The Slytherins howled in laughter as Ron streaked towards the ground, grabbed hold of the Quaffle and hovered back into position, bright red in the face.

Angelina, however, ignored Ron's slip and shouted words of encouragement over the jeering of the Slytherins. "Pass it on, Ron."

They carried on passing the Quaffle to each other, the catches punctuated by the occasional jeer or catcall from the Slytherins. Even Kirk could not deny that, after several failed catches on Ron's part, Angelina was beginning to get irritated despite her best efforts to be supportive to the nervous keeper.

"Come on now, Ron. Pay attention."

This seemed to spur Ron on, and he caught the Quaffle triumphantly. Grinning from ear to ear at this victory against the Slytherin jeers, which had dropped slightly in volume, he threw the Quaffle at Kirk enthusiastically, who was completely unready for it.

Even reflexes born from numerous high risk missions could not save him from the hurtling ball, which slammed through his grip and punched him squarely in the face. Blinking, he vaguely heard Ron's anguished "sorry" as he shook himself both mentally and physically. Luckily, it hadn't hurt him too much and he grinned to let everyone know that he was alright.

"Get back in position," Angelina was barking at Ron, who had begun to drift over. "He's fine! But as you're passing to a teammate, do try not to knock him off his broom, won't you? We've got Bludgers for that!"

Holding a hand to his now bleeding nose, Kirk caught Spock's concerned gaze from the stands, and tried to nod in his general direction to reassure the First Officer.

"Here, take this." His reverie was interrupted by Fred, who had handed him a small toffee shaped thing from the depths of his pocket. "It'll clear it up in no time."

"Thanks," he muttered as he popped it into his mouth, sparing it a slightly dubious glance.

"All right," called Angelina, clapping to get their attention, "Fred, George, go and get your bats and a Bludger. Jim, you better go with them. Ron, get up to the goalposts. Harry, release the Snitch when I say so. We're going to aim for Ron's goal, obviously."

When they were all in the air and in their proper places, Angelina blew her whistle and everyone started their respective duties. As soon as the mock game began, Kirk's focus narrowed until he was aware only of his teammates and his own part in the game, completely oblivious to the Slytherins below.

Suddenly, the sharp yell of a whistle stopped them all in their tracks, and out of his peripheral vision Kirk could see Harry screech to a reluctant halt.

"Stop – stop – STOP!" Angelina's voice was wild as she stared disbelievingly in Ron's direction. "Ron – you're not covering your middle post!"

Ron, who was hovering in front of the left hand hoop and leaving the other two vulnerable to attack, shifted obligingly, ears burning once more. "Oh...sorry..." The Slytherins were howling.

"You keep shifting while you're watching the chasers! Either stay in central position until you have to move to defend a hoop, or else circle the hoops, but don't drift vaguely off to one side, that's how you let in the last three goals!"

"Sorry..."

Angelina sighed and shifted her focus to Kirk, who was now attempting to stifle a rapid flow of blood which was streaking down his face. "And Jim, can't you do something about that nosebleed?"

"I'm trying..." He missed the anxious looks that Fred and George immediately gave one another.

"Well, let's try again," Angelina said, her tone not allowing any argument. The Slytherins were singing now, Spock a stiff exception. He was regarding Kirk in mounting concern, ignoring the gleeful antics of Malfoy beside him.

After several minutes, Kirk was unable to ignore the familiar dizziness of blood loss swooping in on him, and was having increasing difficulty staying on his broom. Rather than getting better, his nosebleed had refused to stop, until he was shaky and covered in blood.

As if through a haze, he heard the whistle screech once more and saw the players flying as quickly as they could towards him. In the stands, Spock leapt out of his seat and began running towards them.

"He needs the hospital wing!" Angelina's voice was faint through the roaring beginning in Kirk's ears.

Fred spoke up next. "We'll take him. He – er – might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake-"

"I will assist you," Spock added, joining the group where they had all landed abruptly.

"Well, there's no point continuing now," Angelina said, but Kirk barely heard her as he was lifted off of his broom and onto the back of Fred's.

Spock took Kirk's abandoned broom and accompanied them up to the castle, staring in concern at Kirk, who was now chalk white and swaying dangerously behind Fred.

Mercifully, they arrived in front of the entrance to the school swiftly and carefully dismounted their brooms. Spock immediately moved over to support Kirk as he swayed when his feet touched the floor, his Vulcan strength and solidarity providing the necessary support. Fred and George watched anxiously.

"We'll never get to the hospital wing in time," Fred said in a hushed voice.

Spock felt determination flood him as the Captain began to grow limp against him, his nose still streaming blood. "I will see to it," he said shortly. He gathered the ailing human in his arms, cradling him close to his chest.

"Right," George said.

"We'll pack away the brooms then," Fred finished for him.

Spock barely paused to nod before jogging up the stairs and through the corridors, sending groups of students scrambling, wide eyed, to get out of the way. It was with a mounting sense of un-Vulcan relief that he finally caught sight of the doors to the hospital wing and broke through them unceremoniously, startling Madam Pomfrey who was propping up the pillows behind a student with boils on their face.

Immediately catching sight of Kirk, she grabbed her wand and directed Spock to lay him gently on a bed close to the door. "What happened?" She demanded, staring aghast at the amount of blood which had soaked into the Captain's robes.

"It would appear that he has accidentally swallowed a Blood Blisterpod."

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "An invention of the Weasley twins, no doubt." She was bustling around now, grabbing various ingredients and hastily mixing them together. "Not to worry, I've treated them during their experiments. He'll be alright once he takes this, it'll stop the bleeding." She finally finished mixing and handed the potion out to Kirk.

The Captain looked at it warily, noticing the unmistakable green colouring and occasional bubbles. If his nose had not been clogged with blood, he would have smelt a foul odour as it drifted towards him. "What is it?" He asked vaguely, his words slurring weakly.

"Never mind that," Pomfrey said shortly. "Just drink it. It'll stop the bleeding and you'll recover faster."

Kirk sighed and reached out for the small bowl, his shaking hands having to be helped by Madam Pomfrey as he conveyed the liquid to his lips, sipping it cautiously. At her encouraging and slightly urgent nod, he drank the rest of it before weakly allowing his head to fall back onto the soft pillows with a quiet "thunk".

Immediately, she returned to her mixing bowl, cleaned it with a brief flick of her wand and began mixing another potion. Finishing quickly, she held it up for both Spock and Kirk to see. "This is Blood Replenishing potion. It'll help you recover from the effects of blood loss." She handed it out to Kirk.

Kirk shook his head weakly. "It's orange," he whispered.

"Captain, you drank green potion. I fail to understand why this one should be different."

Kirk transferred his gaze to Spock, regarding the Vulcan as though it was the simplest thing in the world and Spock was just being slow. "You really never have had to suffer through Bones' treatment have you?"

"It will make you feel better," Madam Pomfrey emphasised, "unless you prefer to be bedridden."

Kirk looked reluctant but he eventually nodded, allowing the nurse to help him down the unpleasant looking liquid. After gagging briefly, he sank back onto his bed and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

Madam Pomfrey smiled in a mixture of satisfaction and relief. "There, what did I tell you? Now, you have to stay in bed until you get your strength back," she warned Kirk, who did not appear to be going anywhere in any case.

With that, she bustled away to tend to her other patients, although she paused briefly to clean off the blood from Kirk's robes and face, leaving him pale faced but clean. Spock suppressed a sigh at this latest Kirk-induced drama and took the seat next to the bed. It was his duty after all, he told himself, to make sure that his Captain was going to recover.

The doors suddenly slammed open and McCoy barged in, having somehow received word of the accident. "What in blue blazes is going on here?"

Spock stood up to greet the man, bracing himself against the torrent of emotions that the human was emitting. "Doctor," he said evenly, "I had expected your timely arrival."

"Did he fall off his broom?" McCoy demanded, stalking over to Kirk's bed. His eyes were angry, but he was unable to hide the concerned frown which tugged at his lips. "What the hell happened, Spock? Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?"

Refraining from reminding the Doctor that he had in fact already guessed, Spock told him. He watched in fascination as McCoy began to turn puce.

"He did what?" The Doctor snarled.

"Consumed a Blood Blisterpod."

"I heard you, you green blooded hobgoblin; I just didn't believe you. Why would he do that?"

"It was through no fault of his own, Doctor. Perhaps if you will allow me to finish my explanation?"

"Fine," McCoy snapped, glaring at him as though it were his fault that Kirk had got himself into such a state again.

"After sustaining injury from a Quaffle," Spock said calmly, ignoring McCoy's confused expression at the Quidditch terminology, "he was offered an object by Mr Weasley. However, there had been an error."

"What kind of error?" McCoy asked impatiently. "Did he give Jim a Blood Blisterpod by mistake?"

"He did," Spock confirmed.

"God damn it," McCoy swore. "Even when he's not in trouble he is." He glared down at his sleeping friend. "How much blood did he lose?"

"I cannot estimate an exact quantity," Spock replied, "however; Madame Pomfrey believes that he shall recover shortly, due to the effects of blood replenishing potion."

McCoy sighed and sank into the seat that Spock had vacated. "I knew something like this would happen," he moaned. "Jim's a magnet for trouble." He glared up at Spock accusingly. "I thought you were there to make sure he didn't get hurt!"

"I was," Spock agreed. "However, there is very little that I can do to combat magic induced epistaxis."

McCoy snorted. "I should have known that even if you were there he would find some other way to kill himself."

Spock allowed his eyebrow to rise. "That is hardly a logical assumption, Doctor. The Captain does not, contrary to popular belief, seek to cause his own demise."

"Well he might," McCoy snapped back, "if he keeps pulling stupid stunts like this!"

"As I stated earlier, this was not the Captain's doing. If you wish to berate him for something that could not be avoided, then you will achieve nothing."

"I know," McCoy said wearily, running his hands through his hair as he continued to stare at Kirk's sleeping form. "I just wish that these things didn't happen every time we got off the Enterprise."

"Doctor, many of these occurrences happen aboard the Enterprise. It is hardly logical-"

"Spare me your damn logic, Spock! If you want to keep spouting it then go somewhere else, but don't say it to me!"

There was a brief silence. "I apologise, Doctor."

"It's alright," McCoy said grumpily, waving his hand as though swatting away a fly. "I'm just rattled." He sighed and looked up at the Vulcan. "Are you going to stay here, then?"

"Of course." Spock favoured the Doctor with the Vulcan equivalent of an 'are you mad' look. McCoy smiled slightly in response as Spock drew up another chair.

Without warning, Kirk began to shift and moan on his bed. "Is that supposed to happen?"

"I am not certain, Doctor."

"Well don't just sit there damn it," McCoy snarled as he began trying to stop Kirk from thrashing around too much, "call a doctor!" Spock opened his mouth to say something, but McCoy managed to spare the time to glare at him, despite being occupied with a frantically struggling Captain. "Not me, you idiot, another doctor!"

Trying not to panic, Spock disappeared briefly from Kirk's side to seek out Madame Pomfrey, who was busily humming her way around her desk at the other end of the room. Walking swiftly over to her, Spock drew to a halt in her direct line of vision. "The Captain is having an unprecedented reaction to the potion," he said without any preamble. "Doctor McCoy is having difficulty in restraining him."

Uttering a worried curse, something of the Merlin variety Spock suspected as he strode after her, she arrived back at Kirk's bedside to find Doctor McCoy now almost lying across the majority of the Captain who was doing a passing impression of an out of control octopus.

"Stand aside," she said sharply.

"I can't," McCoy panted, "he'll fall off the bed."

"He'll be alright," she assured him. "I've seen this reaction before."

Warily, McCoy gradually let go of Kirk's thrashing body, ducking down onto the floor when an out of control foot made as though to smack him in the jaw. Madam Pomfrey immediately began crushing ingredients and mixing it all together, the whole process barely taking a minute. She had obviously done this before.

Grabbing Kirk's head in a surprisingly strong grip, she forced it to remain still even as the rest of him kept slithering around in the sheets. Slowly prising his mouth open, she tipped the contents of the mixture down Kirk's throat, the muscles swallowing convulsively. Slowly, Kirk's seizure began to calm and he resumed his previous position on the bed; sprawled out and gasping for air.

Pomfrey nodded in slightly flustered relief. "There. It's a common enough reaction, he'll get over it in no time."

McCoy gaped at her. "Are you all NUTS?"

"Doctor, the Nurse just prevented-"

"Shut up, Spock," McCoy snarled, not even looking at the Vulcan. "If you knew this reaction happened to a lot of patients, why did you give him the damn potion in the first place?"

"The Blood Replenishing potion?" She was clearly confused by his tirade.

"YES damn it!"

"Because it was the only way to rebuild his blood levels. It can't be helped that a lot of people react badly to it; it's the only treatment for blood loss. If I had simply left it, his condition could easily have deteriorated."

"Can't you find another one?"

"Doctor," Spock interrupted quietly, turning to face the seething surgeon, "surely you appreciate the difficulty in such an endeavour?"

McCoy spluttered for a moment. "That's not the point!"

"That is irrational, Doctor, as you just indicated that it was."

"I..." McCoy seemed at a loss for words.

"The Captain is known to suffer from reactions of a similar category."

McCoy scowled at him. "You can just never let me get the last word, can you?"

"I cannot," Spock replied, "when you are being illogical. Unfortunately for you, that would appear to constitute the majority of your arguments."

"Thanks," McCoy groaned. He regarded Kirk wearily, who was sleeping peacefully by now. "Damn it Jim, one of these days you'll give me a heart attack..."

Madame Pomfrey favoured him with an understanding glance. "He'll recover by morning. If you want, you can remain here with him. I'm sure the Headmaster won't mind."

"That is much appreciated," Spock replied, inclining his head politely even as McCoy wordlessly flopped into his chair.

As Madame Pomfrey walked back over to her desk, Spock remained standing, deep in thought as he watched the Captain sleeping so innocently after causing so much trouble, until McCoy finally looked up in slight annoyance. "Are you going to sit down or not, Spock? You can't stand there all night!"

"An astute observation Doctor," Spock said quietly as he made his way back over to his own chair and sat down. McCoy did not answer him, apparently too emotionally drained by the past few minutes to actually engage in an argument.

Together, they sat back to begin their long vigil over their Captain, patiently allowing a few of the Quidditch team into the wing to see Kirk and assure themselves that he was alright. After they had gone and night had begun to fall, it was apparent that Kirk would not be waking up until the morning. Resigning themselves to a night spent in the hospital wing despite Madam Pomfrey's best assurances that their friend would be fine, they settled into their chairs and tried to get some sleep.

oOo

Sighing in slight annoyance at having been dragged away from marking the latest essays from his class, Severus Snape stalked up the stairs and knocked on the door of Dumbledore's office, pushing it open when he heard a muffled "come in" from inside the room.

He swept in and stood before the old man who sat at the desk. "You wished to see me, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore immediately abandoned the piece of parchment that he had been writing on, favouring Snape with a slightly grim expression. "Ah, yes Severus. Please, take a seat."

Snape sighed and sat down, knowing from the expression on the face of the man before him that the situation was a serious one. Silently, he waited for the explanation which he knew was to come, as the old wizard paced a few times behind his desk.

"Severus, you know as well as I do that we are not going to find the counter curse," he finally said, abruptly. "At least, not any time soon."

Snape nodded. "I had expected that much, Headmaster."

Dumbledore sighed again and turned to face him. "Then I do not have to tell you what this means?"

Snape said nothing, simply gazed into the fire. He had expected this also, but he had half hoped that it wouldn't be necessary, that Dumbledore would be able to find the counter curse before they had to resort to this.

"Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, sitting down once more and surveying the younger man over his half moon spectacles. "I would not ask this of you unless it was necessary. The three officers must be returned to their universe, and the prophecy fulfilled."

Snape shook his head slowly; exasperation filtering into his normally carefully controlled voice. "I will never understand the faith that you put into prophecies."

"Nor will others understand the faith that I put into you, Severus, but we both know that it is justified."

Snape scowled at this, unable to deny the Headmaster's point. When he failed to answer, the Headmaster continued talking.

"You will do what you must, to gather the needed information?"

"I will," Snape said quietly and truthfully, meeting the Headmaster's gaze without any trouble.

Dumbledore nodded and smiled. "Good. Now, try your best not to get caught."

He resisted the urge to scowl once more at Dumbledore's inane statement. "When do you wish for me to begin?"

"As soon as you think it's necessary, Severus. I must defer to your judgement on the matter."

"Very well. If that is all, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled at him and the serious mood lifted slightly. "I won't keep you from your work any longer, Severus." He continued to smile as Snape swept out the room, waiting until the man had left before allowing his expression to become slightly worried once more.