15. Tensions.
Grinning in elation, Scott walked across the Academy grounds to where he knew Tohn would be. The Gaaran always came out into the grounds to study no matter what the month, claiming that as a member of a highly telepathic race it was easier to be outside, away from the hubbub of unprotected minds. In fact, if it never rained, Scott was certain that his friend would spend most of his time outside. Sometimes, Scott joined him but very rarely, since he preferred using a desk for his work, usually so he could tinker with some small machine which he had found. Tohn had been trying to get him away from distractions like that for months, but to no avail.
"Tohn!" He called, reaching his friend's favourite spot and grinning madly as he saw his friend already stood up, turned in his vague direction. "Are ye talkin' to the trees now?" He quipped.
"Hey, Scott." The voice was slightly nervous and quiet, although it easily carried through the distance between them. When Scott neared the Gaaran, he saw another person stood just behind a tree, previously out of his line of sight and giving the impression that Tohn had been talking to himself. He had also been out of sight of the Academy.
Coming to a halt, he recognised the figure and his eyes narrowed slightly. "What's Dawson doing here?"
Dawson, a shy, nervous cadet who rarely spoke in class but who constantly seemed to be in trouble, cleared his throat and shuffled on the spot, compounding Scott's confusion. The cadet's gaze had dropped to the floor and his ears were steadily turning a brighter shade of red every passing second.
Tohn frowned at Dawson in slight annoyance; an odd expression for the Gaaran, who was usually smiley and easy going. "Zach was just leaving...weren't you, Zach?"
Dawson nodded vigorously, almost like a puppet, never directly meeting Scott's eyes but staring at a point just beyond his shoulder. "Yeah...uh...see you tomorrow, Tohn?"
His jaw tightening at something in that statement, Tohn nodded curtly, but draped his arm casually around the other man's neck, gently propelling him back towards the looming Academy building. "We'll talk about this later." The words were spoken softly, obviously not intended for Scott to hear, but he heard anyway. Tohn gave the cadet's arm a brief pat and then a small shove, turning back to Scott.
"Let me guess," he grinned, "the parts came?"
For the past few weeks, the two of them had been busying themselves with a new project; building a hover craft together from scratch. Although Scott had frequently repaired his own crafts during his pre-Academy years, he had never actually had the time to build one. Tohn, for his part, had never really come across the different makes of hover craft on Earth and constantly questioned Scott about it, sometimes even offering suggestions for improvement based upon the designs used on his own planet. The result was something that looked like a cross between a scooter and a car; certainly something that Scott would never have previously dreamt about building, yet which held a certain appeal to him nevertheless.
Scott, who was staring after the retreating Dawson with a frown on his face, could only nod at the reference to this project, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. "What was all that about?"
Tohn's smile did not waver. "All what?"
"Dawson never comes down here," Scott clarified, his gaze shifting back to Tohn suspiciously.
The Daaran shrugged this comment off easily. "He just wanted to ask me something."
"All the way down here?"
Tohn laughed; the sound tinkling sweetly and practically dripping with innocence. Scott's suspicions immediately deepened. His friend never laughed like that, the only exception being when he was hiding something mischievous from their professors. "Believe it or not, Scotty, other people do come down here to talk about private matters."
Scott raised his eyebrows at the barely noticeable emphasis on 'private matters'. "What's going on?"
"Oh come now," Tohn chuckled, his arms spreading out in a not entirely convincing peaceful gesture, "I have no idea what you're talking about!"
"Hey," Scott said. "I know ye. Ye only act like this when ye're hiding something."
"What do you say about finally finishing off that craft, hmm?" He began to walk away but Scott grabbed his arm before he could stop himself; not caring for once about his friend's natural telepathy.
"Ye're evading the issue, Tohn."
"Why can't you just let it go," Tohn asked, "and accept the fact that I talk to other people besides you?"
Scott recoiled slightly at this uncharacteristic abruptness. "Because ye've never hidden anything from me before."
"If I had," Tohn chuckled carelessly, "I doubt you'd know about it now." The laugh didn't quite reach his eyes, which were steely. He carefully shrugged Scott's hand off of his arm. "Now," he exclaimed, still smiling widely, "how about that hovercraft?"
Yawning slightly, Chief Engineer Scott awoke, groaning as he remembered which dream he had just had. For the past few weeks, they had become even more frequent until it reached the point where he could barely get any sleep any more. Even a dream like that one, with a simple conversation, was tinged with pain. The future of what happened between them hovered constantly about the edges, but his dream self never saw it. Never recognised the warning signs until it was too late.
Even now, he continued to berate himself for his naivety. He had placed his trust in Tohn, despite many warnings from those around him, the majority of whom had heard stories about the Gaarans which were not generally repeated through mainstream channels of communication. Of course, no one believed them; such stories always arose when a new planet joined the Federation; a new race brought new possibilities. And the unknown scared some people into violence.
He remembered vaguely from his history lessons the distrust with which the Vulcan race had first been greeted. Their unemotional facade had been mistaken for total cold blooded behaviour and not mere logic; no one had recognised the miniscule tell tale signs of emotion beneath the blank masks. They had been persecuted by some at first, and there had been little that the authorities could do to stop it. Likewise, any humans among a Vulcan community were distrusted. The ideologies were simply too different; too difficult for either culture to comprehend, and it had almost to violence between some groups.
Yet they had been accepted, Scott remembered, after the two cultures had learned to live together and understand each other. Perhaps that was why he had put so much faith in Tohn; he had believed that he was misunderstood, that if he just accepted him he would open up and reveal more about his kind.
Of course, he regretted that now.
Sighing once more, he slowly made his way over to his personal log and began yet another recording. He had decided, after the first few dreams, to make a note of them when he woke. He knew that he was simply witnessing his own memories, but he had once heard McCoy mention that dreams brought to light things that were not apparent in the waking world. Subconscious messages or desires, for example. Perhaps they would be important in the future.
He allowed his mouth to relate the incident into the recorder, his mind silently whirring over the events of the past few weeks. The dreams had been linear in sequence, almost as though he were reliving them. He had expected, when he had heard the voice, for the dreams to occur sporadically and randomly, picking out the relevant information of their relationship as Scott's mind remembered it. But so far, it had been remarkably ordered. Perhaps even frighteningly so.
Running his hand through his hair, he tried in vain not to yawn, knowing that he had the beginnings of dark circles beneath his eyes. This could not go on; he needed to be able to keep his duties up as he was now both Acting Captain and Chief Engineer, as he had not trusted anyone else to look after his engines. In hindsight that might have been a bad idea, but he was reluctant to give up the post. To do so would be to admit defeat; to admit that the three officers might not be coming back.
Their only hope was the interrogation of the four prisoners, and that had yielded little success. The self proclaimed Dark Lord had apparently forbidden his subordinates to reveal a single word, although he had heard numerous references to Muggles and Latin sounding words. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed that they were spells, especially after that first incident on the Bridge.
Yet he did know better. Magic did not exist. It was just impossible.
A niggling voice at the back of his mind, one sounding strangely like Mister Spock, kept reminding him that in a universe with infinite possibilities, nothing was completely impossible. Especially where alternate time lines were concerned, but how many times could that happen, really?
He tried not to dwell on that one.
Star Fleet command, of course, was having enough difficulty in understanding the situation, as his confrontation at the original scene had proved, and he really did not look forward to explaining that no matter how hard he and his research teams tried, they just couldn't get any answers out of the prisoners. Nor could they find any trace of anything that might lead them to the officers' current whereabouts. It was as though they had simply disappeared into thin air.
The crew was beginning to get on edge; certain that a hostile force had stolen the three officers and were currently interrogating them to try to gain information on the Federation, or perhaps use them as future prisoners of war; bargaining tools. Morale had plummeted, and it hadn't been helped any by Scott wandering around the ship looking both exhausted and slightly terrified.
Though no one knew the true reason why.
The only other person having an equally extreme reaction to the whole fiasco was Chekov, who was determined that some bad omen had managed to creep aboard the star ship at the last planet side stop which, coincidentally, had happened to be in orbit around a planet full of superstitious natives. Chekov was convinced, despite all attempts to persuade him otherwise, that the ship was haunted or infested with dark magic, and that at any moment someone else might disappear. He had even taken to eating garlic, although no one was quite sure why.
"It's to keep avay the wampires," Chekov had explained, as though this was obvious.
"I thought you said they disappeared because of magic," Sulu had said in amusement.
Chekov had nodded his head vigorously, his eyes wide. "The two are closely linked," he had explained. "Wampires are in league vith magicians."
Uhura, who had seemed to have at least some idea at what the navigator was talking about, had simply shaken her head. "It's a long story," she explained to the Bridge crew at large, "and I'm not even sure how it works."
"Just go a bit lighter on the garlic, Pav," Sulu had said, swatting at the air in front of him. "I can smell it from here."
"Good," Chekov had replied, unfazed by the expressions of all those around him. "Then I vill be able to see if a wampire is coming. He will die before he reaches me."
Everyone had shaken their heads at this and the matter had been dropped, no one knowing quite what to say in reply to the Ensign's increasingly hysterical measures against vampires and magic. In fact, Scott was certain that it was only due to ship regulation that he did not hang a horse shoe above the door to his cabin.
Finishing his impromptu report on the latest dream, he stood up and began to get ready for his shift, feeling the weariness begin to tug at his very bones. Perhaps, he considered briefly, he should get some sleeping pills.
Though knowing him and the luck aboard this ship, they would make things worse.
oOo
Having finally gotten used to the routine of Hogwarts, it was with ease that they navigated their way down to the Great Hall that morning for breakfast, saying their customary farewells as Spock headed over to the Slytherin side. Kirk and McCoy made their way to their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, where they found Harry, Ron and Hermione deep in discussion.
"...we ended up with Umbridge," Hermione was saying. "Fudge passed this educational decree and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers!"
"How can Fudge pass a decree?" Kirk asked distractedly. "Is there magically enchanted candy in this universe or something?"
"No," Hermione said shortly even as the two boys snickered. "Fudge is the name of the Minister of Magic."
"Oh..." Clearly embarrassed, Kirk proceeded to busy himself with eating once more.
"I can't believe this," Hermione said, her rant now back on full as she shoved the paper back onto the table. "It's outrageous!"
"Fudge is insane," McCoy concluded.
"Is that your professional opinion, Bones?" Kirk was grinning at him in amusement now, his face practically split into two halves by the wide smile.
"Anyone who gives her a position of authority has to be at least slightly deranged," McCoy continued, "but to actually make her an inspector and in charge of dismissing teachers, they'd have to be certifiably insane."
"We've been saying that since he came to power," Ron agreed heartily, ladling yet more food onto his own plate and tucking in. "'E nevah doss annythn snsibble," he added with his mouthful.
"Politicians never do," McCoy muttered grimly.
"Under the circumstances" Hermione said, "I think they do pretty well."
"Oh come on!" Ron exclaimed, spraying food everywhere. "Don't tell me you agree with this lunatic?" He waved in the general direction of the newspaper which was lying forgotten on the table.
"Of course not," Hermione snapped. "I just don't think that all politicians are incompetent."
"Mental," Ron muttered, "absolutely mental."
Hermione wasn't listening however; opting for angrily poking her food instead. "This is disgusting."
"What?" Kirk asked in shock. "This is the best food I've had for ages...alright, I am normally stuck with replicated food...but still, this stuff is-"
"I didn't mean the food," Hermione said curtly. "I meant Fudge's policy."
"I know it is," Harry said sympathetically.
Ron, who had suddenly snorted and sprayed McCoy with half munched food, received stares from the others at the table.
"Damn it," McCoy muttered angrily. "What am I, a human dustbin?"
"What?" Harry and Hermione demanded of Ron together, completely ignoring McCoy.
Ron's grin widened and his voice sounded positively elated when he finally spoke. "Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected. Umbridge won't know what hit her."
"Well," Hermione announced, standing up, "come on. We'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns' class we don't want to be late..."
As they arrived in the classroom, they noticed that it was conspicuously, as Ron put it 'toad free'.
"Maybe she croaked," Kirk said hopefully.
Ron stared at him. "Come on mate, I can do better than that."
"Ron's right," Hermione said from the other side of the desk. "That was a terrible pun."
"How else do you think he got his reputation?" McCoy asked wickedly.
"Through dedication, pride and honour," Kirk said. "Actually."
"Just keep telling yourself that, Jim."
"Maybe she just didn't want to fall asleep," Harry whispered as Binns began his lecture, never once looking at the class huddled before him.
"Maybe that's what he died of," Ron continued, his voice also in a whisper. "Boredom."
"Ron!"
"What now?"
"That's a very sensitive subject," Hermione scolded. "You should know that by now after talking to so many of the ghosts."
"I don't see why," Ron said, shrugging. "They've had years to get over it..."
With one final glare at her friend, Hermione continued making her notes as Binns droned on and on, the never ending monotony of his voice slowly but surely sending his class to sleep. He never noticed this of course, but simply kept on droning, his lecture fading into the background like a particularly irritating wasp as some students began talking over him.
No one was sad to see the lesson finish.
They met up with Spock once more as they all trudged down to the dungeons for their 'torture' as Ron called it. Together, they trooped into the classroom and sat in obedient silence as Snape handed back the essays, not even deigning to comment on the ones which he considered to be particularly awful.
When he reached Spock and Hermione, after slamming a 'D' down onto Harry's side of the desk, he stopped and actually allowed a satisfied expression to creep onto his face.
"It is gratifying," he drawled lazily as he handed the work back to Spock and Hermione, "to see that my endless efforts at teaching such a bunch of dunderheads is not wasted on some. Clearly," he said, sweeping on, "more effort needs to be put into the work which I assign you if you want to retain any hope of passing your exams."
He came to a smooth halt at the front of the class. "I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL." He smirked at Harry, who stiffened and clutched his paper furiously. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination." He allowed disgust to creep back into his voice once more. "As I stated earlier, the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you," he glanced in Harry's direction once more, "would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal of more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detention to those dunces who get a 'D'."
In front of the Gryffindors, Malfoy sniggered contemptuously, making Snape smirk. "Some people got a 'D'? Ha!"
"My thoughts exactly, Mister Malfoy," Snape said languidly as the boy continued to snigger. He flicked his wand at the board. "Here are your instructions. I suggest that you all make a break with tradition and read them."
As the class began mixing and crushing ingredients, Snape walked around slowly, gazing carefully into each cauldron, glaring at Neville when sparks were sent shooting into his long, greasy hair. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor," he snapped at Neville, putting out the sparks. His hair remained relatively untouched.
"Did you see that?" Ron squeaked gleefully, barely paying attention at what he was doing but instead grinning at Snape's turned back. "He almost set Snape on fire!"
"Lucky for him he didn't," Harry muttered, apparently absorbed in the instructions on the board.
"I'd have paid good money to see that."
"Ron," Hermione hissed. "Your potion is solidifying."
"...I thought it was supposed to do that." Kirk, who had been listening to the conversation and ignoring his own cauldron had suddenly realised that not paying attention came at a price.
Ron glanced over at the Captain's potion, which looked much more solid than his. "We're both in trouble."
"You can say that again," Kirk said woefully.
"Just try to pay attention from now on," Hermione advised. "Both of you."
"Miss Granger," Snape said as he passed her, "your job is not to stop these two from turning their potions into cement. Back to your own work."
"Yes sir..."
Snape came to a stop in front of Spock, who had reached the finishing stages of his potion. "Mister Spock, kindly stay behind after class."
"He hasn't done anything," Harry said angrily.
"I did not say that he had, Potter," Snape said coolly, regarding the student with slight disdain. "Surely I can ask a pupil to remain behind without your personal objections? I am, after all, the Potions Master in this room." With one small smirk, he turned back to Spock.
"Of course, sir." The Vulcan inclined his head slightly, as he always did when accepting orders. With a small nod of acknowledgement, Snape walked away.
"Oh, Harry..." Hermione's despairing voice reached them a few moments ago. "Your potion's gone purple..."
Harry angrily extinguished the heat beneath his cauldron, glaring at the dark figure sitting in the teacher's chair.
The rest of the lesson drifted by unbearably slowly, most of the class having ruined their potions by the end of it. Only Spock and Hermione had got it completely perfect, although Malfoy and a few other Slytherins had come close. It was with a sense of relief that the bell rang a few minutes after McCoy's potion began turning green, so that he had an active excuse to yank the fire out from under it and preventing it from getting ruined any further.
Faces were glum as they made their way out of the classroom, leaving Spock behind to talk to Professor Snape. Hermione, never one to remain completely silent for long, launched into enthusiastic conversation as they walked towards the Great Hall for lunch.
"Obviously," she said, having not even stopped her monologue when she placed food onto her plate, "I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an 'O'..."
"Hermione," Ron butted in, causing her to cut off in slight surprise, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."
"I don't – I mean – well, if you want to tell me..." she trailed off, perhaps realising that her attempt to lie was unconvincing.
"I got a 'P'," Ron said as he helped himself to food."Happy?"
"I thought it only went down to an 'F'..." Kirk muttered to McCoy, who looked equally stumped.
"Well," Fred butted in as he sat down, "that's nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing wrong with a good healthy 'P'."
"What does it stand for?" Kirk finally asked.
"Poor," Lee Jordan explained from where he had just sat down. "Still, better than 'D', isn't it? Dreadful?"
Harry was suddenly prone to a coughing fit but everyone else tactfully pretended not to notice.
"So top grade's 'O' for 'Outstanding," Hermione recited for the benefit of Kirk and McCoy, "and then there's 'A'..."
"No," George corrected, "'E' for 'Exceeds Expectations'. And I've always thought Fred and I should've got "E" in everything because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams." He dug his twin in the ribs and everyone burst out laughing.
"So," Hermione continued, directing her recital at the two officers once more, "after 'E' it's 'A' for 'Acceptable' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"
"Yep," Fred said.
"Whoops..." Kirk and McCoy muttered together.
"Then you get 'P' for 'Poor' and 'D' for 'Dreadful'."
"I got that," McCoy said, not missing the briefly grateful look which Harry flashed him. Still everyone pretended not to notice so as to spare their friend's feelings.
"And then 'T'," George interjected.
"What does T stand for?" Kirk's voice betrayed just a tiny hint of fear.
"Troll."
"Great," Kirk said, sinking back into his chair. "I'm a Troll."
"You actually got a T?" Harry asked, astounded.
Kirk nodded and Ron patted him on the back in consolation. "It's not that bad, mate. Just ask your Slytherin friend for help."
"So what's this Slytherin been getting?" Lee Jordan asked.
"O for everything," McCoy said with no small measure of jealousy.
There was a collective whistle from around the table. "Someone beat Hermione," Ron said, awed.
"Why wasn't he in Ravenclaw?" Hermione demanded.
Kirk shrugged. "We thought he would be, when we found out the different houses, but the hat chose Slytherin."
"You should watch out for that one," the Weasley twins said seriously.
"Everyone keeps telling us that," Kirk replied, "but Spock isn't dangerous at all."
"They brain wash them, you know," George said.
"Turn them into zombies," Fred added.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione scoffed. "We all know that zombies live further away from us than the vampires."
"...Zombies actually exist?" McCoy's eyes had bugged out of his head and his mouth was hanging open marginally. "But that's medically impossible!"
"So are Blood Replenishing potions," Kirk said cheerfully, "but you don't hear me complaining about it."
"You've always been an exception to the rules, Jim."
"The zombies don't hurt us," Hermione said quickly. "We're perfectly safe."
"Oh wonderful," McCoy said caustically. "I'll just invite one around for tea and crumpets in this castle with Noddy."
The sound of laughter continued throughout their meal as the Gryffindors proceeded to give yet more examples of mythical creatures and then make fun of McCoy's reactions. In the end, even the physician had to admit that it was funny, although to begin with he staged several verbal protests, and laughed along with them, particularly at some of the impressions of the Wesley twins. Over at the staff table, Dumbledore was treating them all to one of his indulgent smiles and Snape was giving them a very weird look, particularly when Ron started waving his arms in the air and baring his teeth in an impression of a vampire bat, causing Harry to nearly choke on his drink.
It was with great reluctance that they finally left the hall and began making their way to their respective classes, Spock joining the still chuckling group on the way to Divinations. He raised a silent eyebrow as Kirk stood at the top of the staircase that they had just climbed, clutching his sides and face gradually turning red from lack of air. He uttered a silent gasp and almost fell back down headfirst, but Spock caught him and guided him over to a wall where the Captain leaned, still giggling helplessly.
"Fascinating. I do not believe that I have previously seen the Captain exhibit such behaviour."
"School brings out the worst in him," McCoy said by way of explanation. "You should have noticed when you were teaching at the Academy."
"I did, however I do not recall his reaction being to such an enthusiastic extent."
"He's always full of surprises." He turned to regard the three teenagers. "You go ahead...we might be here a while."
"It's alright," Harry said, "we'll wait."
But Hermione was viciously shaking her head. "You better go, you'll be late." With that, she hurried off to her own lesson, tossing a quick 'see you later' over her shoulder.
"Well," Ron said dryly. "We have our orders. We'll see you up there?"
"Eventually," McCoy quipped, but when they were out of sight he grabbed Kirk by the collar of his robe and shoved him up against the wall until they were almost nose to nose. "Get a grip, man!"
"I..." Kirk dissolved into another fit of giggles.
"Captain, you are behaving like a highly immature adolescent," Spock said, calmly standing there as though this sort of thing happened every day and not giving the passing crowds the tiniest bit of thought.
"Damn it Jim, snap out of it!"
"Alright," Kirk wheezed, letting go of his sides. "Remind me not to eat any more meals with so much sugar in them..."
"I warned you, but do you ever listen to your Doctor?" McCoy snarled as they began walking again. "No."
Kirk, who didn't relish the idea of yet another tirade, quickly changed the subject. "So Spock, what did Snape want to talk to you about?"
"He requires my services regarding the teaching of his classes next week," Spock replied.
"He's just going to let you teach them?" Kirk asked disbelievingly, the laughing fit now well and truly forgotten in light of this new development.
"I am the logical choice. There are no other substitutes available and I have been receiving top grades for my work."
"Vulcans really aren't modest, are they?"
"Don't tell me I have to suffer through one of your damn lessons again," McCoy whined.
"I shall endeavour to make it as painless as possible," Spock said dryly.
"You'll try," Kirk sniped, "but you'll fail."
The conversation halted as they entered the Divination classroom to find Umbridge waiting for them. Luckily, she did not notice that they had arrived late and they just managed to sneak into their usual places before she began speaking.
"Goof afternoon, Professor Trelawney," Umbridge said, smiling widely. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"
Professor Trelawney simply nodded and, grinning in malicious satisfaction, Umbridge waddled over to a chair and dragged it to the front of the class, promptly plopping herself into it with a comically heavy thud. Ignoring the amusement which rippled through the class at this, she took out her clipboard and stared at Trelawney expectantly.
Professor Trelawney nervously shifted for a few moments before allowing her customary wise expression to take precedence. "We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today." Her voice was not quite as mystical as usual. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret the other's latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."
McCoy sighed and opened his book. "Who wants to go first?"
"I believe that the Captain takes priority," Spock said very quickly.
Kirk glared at him, clearly not wanting to be put under the spotlight for once. "Ok..." he thought for a moment. "I can't remember."
"Well then make one up," McCoy snapped.
"Alright...don't laugh. I was sword fighting with the Three Musketeers."
McCoy snorted. "Really?"
"That was the best I could come up with at such short notice."
"Fine, we'll use that one." He skimmed through the information in the book. "We add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject..." he trailed off as he began making a calculation in his head.
"Now..." Umbridge said in a carrying voice, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "You've been in this position how long, exactly?"
"Nearly sixteen years."
Umbridge's quill made a scratching sound as she scribbled this down. "Quite a period. So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"
"That's right."
Umbridge raised her eyebrows as if that explained everything and underlined something. "And are you a great – great – great – granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"
"Yes."
Umbridge looked unimpressed as she made yet another note. "But I think – correct me if I am mistaken – that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"
Trelawney shifted slightly but her head remained high. "These things often skip – er – three generations."
"Of course," Umbridge simpered though she was grinning widely. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?"
"I don't understand you."
"Highly illogical," Spock muttered. "One cannot expect a prediction under such circumstances."
"Don't tell me you believe in this, after all the comments you've made since you've started taking this subject," Kirk murmured back in amusement.
"I do not. However, it would be illogical in any case to expect a meaningful prediction under duress, when they are usually infrequent in nature."
"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," Umbridge was continuing, talking as though to someone very deaf.
"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" Trelawney replied in insulted tones.
Umbridge made another note on her clipboard. "I see."
"I – but – but...wait!" Trelawney was clearly desperate now; raising a hand to her forehead as though something had just come to her. "I...I think I do see something...something that concerns you...why, I sense something...something dark...some grave peril..." Umbridge simply stood there, smiling insultingly. "I am afraid...I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" The ending was dramatic, but entirely unconvincing.
"Right," Umbridge said mockingly, making another note. "Well, if that's really the best you can do..."
McCoy scowled at her. "If she keeps going like that she really will be in grave danger."
"Grave being the operative word..." Kirk added, equally incensed.
For the remaining ten minutes of the lesson, Trelawney attempted to make up for her previous failure by grabbing Harry's dream diary and interpreting it at the top of her voice.
"I have to admit," Kirk said during a particularly gruesome monologue on the part of Trelawney, "she has imagination."
For the duration of this, Umbridge stood, smiling, only a few feet away from Professor Trelawney and making notes on her clipboard. All they could hear aside from Trelawney's desperate ramblings was the scratching of Umbridge's pink quill on a sickly shade of pink parchment.
oOo
Tohn sighed at the Cadet's stupidity. "Of course no one will catch you, Zach."
Dawson shuffled nervously, his entire being emitting psychic waves of fear. "I'm not so sure..."
"YOU were the one who wanted this," Tohn reminded him, trying not to roll his eyes at the cadet's indecision.
"Maybe I don't anymore."
"Don't be ridiculous!" He allowed himself to utter one of his silver laughs, the sound disappearing into the grounds beyond them. Stupid git and his mood changes.
"I mean it Tohn. I don't want to get caught."
"You won't get caught, Zach." How could someone be so wet? "I made sure of that, or do you simply think I'm careless?"
"Of course not," the youth babbled pathetically.
"They don't know a thing Zach," he said sweetly, ignoring the revolting beads of sweat forming on the human's upper lip.
"What if they find out?" He was waffling mindlessly now, his mind creating cascading waves of panic. "I'll be disqualified-"
Tohn briefly pinched the bridge of his nose in preparation before diving recklessly into the terrified mind before him, giving it a large mental shake. When he had its attention he withdrew, loathe to stay in that small box the human called a mind. "Shut up and listen to me!"
Fearful eyes met his. "How did you do that?"
He forced his own eyes not to roll skywards in exasperation. This cadet's stupidity was endless. "How do you think? I'm a telepath, remember?"
Dawson lifted a shaky finger and pointed it at him. "I'm warning you," his voice was shakier than his finger, "keep that voodoo of yours away from me or-"
"Or what?" He interrupted harshly. "You'll tell on me?" He gave another silver laugh, delighting in the sound as it wafted into his ears. "And how would you explain that to whichever poor soul you go whining to?"
"They all know you're a telepath, they'll-"
"They'll what? Attack me with a pitchfork? It'll be your word against mine," Tohn sneered. "And who are they more likely to believe? The affable, hardworking new Gaaran or a snivelling creep who never talks?"
Dawson attempted a half hearted glare.
Tohn smirked at him. "Besides, I can always alter your memory so you don't remember."
"There are rules against that." Dawson didn't sound too certain of that, and his eyes were beginning to dart nervously around for an escape route.
"There are no rules for me," Tohn sniffed disdainfully at the cowering man before him, sneering at the way that he was trying desperately to hide his fear. "Those only apply to Vulcans. Do I look Vulcan to you?"
"No."
"Exactly, and good thing too. So I can do whatever I damn well please, and I will if you don't stop moaning."
"But-"
"What did I just say?" He snapped, finally losing all patience with the man before him. "Stop moaning, Zach, everything is taken care of."
"No one found out?"
"Will you stop asking me that? No, no one found out." He suddenly smirked, a thought popping into his mind. "Actually, one of them did, but not a professor."
"What?" The silly young man's eyes were wide and staring now, rivulets of sweat trickling over his pudgy face.
"You remember Sarah?"
"Sarah Rodgers? Wasn't she the one who..." Dawson trailed off as realisation seemed to hit him.
"Had a breakdown, yes. She caught me snooping in the files so I wiped her memory. I had a bit of fun at the same time, of course," he said casually. "Completely insane."
Sarah Rodgers had been officially carted off to a penal colony a few days ago after being declared criminally insane. Apparently, the professors believed that stress had brought her down. Tohn spared a brief snort at this ridiculous conclusion.
"It was quite a challenge," he continued, voice passionate with the memory. "It seems that she had some telepath blood in her. Not nearly enough, mind you, but enormously entertaining all the same. I really hadn't expected her to fight back."
"Wasn't that a bit...over the top?" Dawson asked quietly.
"No," Tohn replied dismissively. "Why would it be?"
"She only found you snooping around for that information."
"Exactly, and I wasn't caught because I destroyed her mind. What's your problem?"
"Couldn't you have just wiped her memory?"
Tohn laughed derisively. "My dear Zach," he said, shaking his head in amusement, "you really have a lot to learn. It was more fun my way."
"You're sick."
"Do you want my help or not?" He spat, his eyes flashing. "Oh, I forgot," he said mockingly, "you're not sure."
Dawson practically squirmed on the spot. "It just seemed a bit excessive for answers," he muttered finally.
"Do you want to pass?"
"Yes...but I didn't think anyone would get hurt, Tohn. It's just exam answers."
Tohn waved his hand. "A mild inconvenience; nothing of importance."
"It just seems too much trouble."
"Well," he said coldly, "since I've obviously put so much effort into it for you, why don't you follow through with it, hmm? We both know you won't pass with that walnut brain of yours."
Dawson's eyes sparked in idiotic annoyance.
Tohn shrugged and put on his best nostalgic air. "Too bad, too bad. I've taken a shine to you, Zach. It would be a shame to tear your mind apart." Grinning inwardly, he allowed their minds to touch slightly.
"WAIT!"
Tohn stopped. "Yes?"
"I've changed my mind."
Tohn grinned at him. "I thought you might have." He separated their minds completely, enjoying the expression of absolute relief on the idiot's face. "Everyone always does."
"What do you mean, 'everyone'?"
"My dear Zach...you really didn't think you were the only one to come to me for help, did you? I admit, under the circumstances, my methods are a bit extreme but they get the job done. I'm quite popular among cadets who are failures." He shrugged. "I'll give you the answers by tomorrow."
Dawson nodded. "That should give me enough time to memorise it."
"For a small fee of course."
"How much?" Clearly, Dawson had been expecting this.
"300 credits."
"WHAT?"
"How else can I pay for engine parts for Scotty? He knows that I'm from a royal family on my home planet...I have to keep up that image," he said smoothly. "Unfortunately, we ran out of money a while ago, which makes my task somewhat difficult without your co-operation."
"I can't pay you that much!"
He allowed their minds to brush once more, savouring the rush of power he received from the obvious terror of his client. "Such a pity to lose a mind with such potential..."
The moron paled and gulped. "I'll find a way!"
"Good." Their minds were separate once more. "Have it ready by the end of the month. I'll hear no excuses."
He forced a smile to his face as he saw Scott making his way towards them again. "Hey!" He yelled. Under his breath he muttered "Go, you idiot!" Dawson obediently scurried away.
"What was he doing here again?" Scotty asked as soon as he drew level with Tohn.
"Poor Zach has needed my advice quite a lot recently," Tohn replied with forced melancholy and pity for the blundering fool who had just left. "That divorce is tearing him apart."
"Divorce?"
Tohn nodded gravely. "His parents are separating; it was quite sudden, I'm afraid."
Scott looked at him suspiciously and Tohn resisted the impulse to hold his breath. "Why are you suddenly telling me all of this? You've been keeping it a secret for two weeks."
Tohn shrugged and flashed a dazzling smile. "Because you won't remember anything I say."
"What?"
Ignoring his friend's shocked expression; he delved into the familiar mind, navigating his way easily through Scott's memories. Tohn had done this many times before when he had suspected that the human knew too much, and before long the practiced process was complete.
Scott's expression was only dazed for an instant before it turned into a wide smile. "Oh, I almost forgot! More parts came!"
"Excellent," Tohn said enthusiastically. That had been too easy; no resistance at all. "Let's get cracking!"
Gasping, Scott sat up in bed. That dream had not been his; which could mean only one thing.