19. Meet the Family.

Opening the old fashioned wooden door quietly, Scott poked his head into the room and tried his best to smile, aware that it did not seem quite as genuine as it should to the figure lying on the bed. Tohn had been transferred to a hospital nearby when it became apparent that the Academy doctors did not know enough to look after the Gaaran. In fact, it was a miracle that they had been able to operate on him at all.

Tohn had retreated to a vegetative mental state for a few days, apparently repairing the damage within his body as a Vulcan would; through a mental trance. He had channelled all of his energies into recovery and as a result, had remained bedridden after he had woken up. His mind and body were exhausted after the trials that healing so many injuries brought, even with a steady stream of fluids and vitamins to support him.

Tohn turned a weak head to look at Scott, grinning tiredly as he saw who was at the door. "Heeey, Scotty. Come on in."

"Tohn...I'm sorry."

"What for?" An alien mouth pulled down into a frown. "You weren't one of the ones beating me up."

"No..." Scott admitted. "But I was there."

"Yes, I know."

Scott's well rehearsed apology stuttered to a halt at this latest admission. "You knew I was there?"

Tohn shrugged wearily. "Of course."

"How?"

"When a person is in peril," Tohn explained patiently, "the mind, if it has telepathic ability, automatically searches for those who can help, or who are close to them. In humans, this would be a flashback, I suppose, although I wouldn't know personally," Tohn smiled slightly. "My mind reached out for you, Scotty, because you're special to me. And it found you, closer than I had originally thought. I knew then that I would be found." Intense eyes bored into Scott's. "You gave me hope, my friend."

Scott looked down at the fingers which wrapped around his wrist. "Ye're...not angry with me for leaving ye there?"

"Of course not," Tohn chuckled. "What else could you do? If you'd run in there yelling with arms flailing then BOTH of us would have been attacked."

Scott snorted suddenly. "My arms don't flail," he sniped before he could stop himself.

Tohn regarded him with unmistakably fond affection in his eyes. "I've seen you practising, Scotty, and trust me, 'flail' is too kind a word."

"Hmph," Scott replied in mock offense.

"Do you want to meet my family?" Tohn suddenly questioned.

"I suppose so," Scott agreed.

"Good," Tohn chuckled, "because they're coming now." At Scott's perplexed look he added, "telepathic, remember?"

"It's easy tae forget," Scott said, only slightly sarcastic.

The door opened once more and a tall man who looked disturbingly like Tohn stepped through, a young girl and a young man trailing behind him. Scott recognised them instantly from the photo which he had seen hanging up on Tohn's wall at the Academy on the first day.

"Ah, Montgomery Scott," the man boomed, coming forwards with his arms wide open and treating Scott to a hug, "Tohn has told us so much about you."

"...He has?" He finally asked when he was released from the crushing embrace, only to find himself given the same treatment by the other man.

"Oh yes," the man said. "Did he not tell you? All Gaarans have family bonds. We can communicate with each other quite easily, even over long distances."

"That would explain why he never made calls home," Scott pondered, holding out his arms and going towards the young girl.

"No no no no!" The man said in amusement. "There is a different greeting for girls. Like this," he said, lifting his hands up to Scott's and twining the fingers together and then separating them.

"Oh," Scott answered, repeating the gesture for the young girl. "I'm sorry, I did nae know..."

"Well, that's to be expected isn't it?" The man asked cheerfully. "We're a new planet and I know that Tohn here isn't exactly very informative on some subjects."

Tohn shrugged from where he lay on the bed. "You can't expect me to remember to tell him everything."

The man chuckled. "Glad to see that the little bout of rough and tumble hasn't dampened your spirits! I'm sorry!" He abruptly exclaimed before Scott could remind him that it was more than a 'bout of rough and tumble', "I forgot to introduce us. My name is Tohr. I'm Tohn's father."

"We have similar names," Tohn said rather unnecessarily. "It's a popular tradition on Gaar. The son gets the father's name, but usually with a slight change. It can get a bit confusing, especially within the household."

"We have a similar system on Earth," Scott said conversationally. "Usually though, the middle name of the son is the father's name. It's becoming more and more rare," he added, "and it was rare to begin with."

"I'm Pohn," the young man announced when Scott looked at him curiously. "Don't say it," he added in exasperation when Scott opened his mouth, "I've heard from every human I've met so far what it sounds like. Trust me, I know."

"I was just going tae ask if ye were Tohn's brother," Scott said calmly, inwardly trying hard not to laugh.

"Oh," Pohn muttered, though he did not look convinced. "In that case – yes, I am."

"And this," Tohr said proudly, gesturing to the young girl, "is Ehlette. Tohn's fifteen year old cousin."

Ehlette immediately blushed. "I sorry," she said in heavily accented standard, "I speak not much English...is nice to meet you now. Tohn talks much of you. I know you for years, it seems," she concluded, grinning shyly at him.

"It's good tae meet ye too, lass."

"I'm sure that you two will get along great," Tohn said impishly from the bed, "you're in the same age range."

Pohn scowled. "Don't you start Tohn. You're supposed to be a patient in this place, not a stand up comic."

"I've missed your unwavering cheerfulness."

"And I've missed your intelligence," Pohn shot back at his brother.

"Ouch," Tohn chuckled.

"The others will arrive soon," Tohr announced suddenly, an amused gleam in his eyes. "Their shuttle got delayed, I'm afraid."

"I know," Tohn said simply. "Uncle just told me."

Scott suddenly felt like a third wheel in the room amongst all of the people who were now obviously communicating telepathically with one another. "I'll leave ye to it, then," he finally muttered after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, don't leave on our account!" Tohr protested cheerfully.

"I should get back tae the Academy," Scott clarified.

"You don't have any mechanical experiments waiting to blow up, do you?" Tohn asked in unhidden amusement.

Scott grinned in reply. "I do, as a matter of fact..."

Tohn rolled his eyes and Pohn snorted.

"Well, don't blow up our room," Tohn warned, waggling a finger in an over the top gesture. "I need somewhere to come back to tomorrow."

"I'll try not tae," he replied seriously.

"We'll see you at some point then," Tohr said hopefully. "Maybe you could visit our home on Gaar during the next holiday?"

"I'd love tae sir," he replied, the mention of the grand house suddenly reminding him that technically he was in the company of royalty.

"Tohr," he corrected with a warm smile. "Is there a name which you prefer?"

"Nae...Tohr."

"In that case, Monty, we'll see you on Gaar, if all goes well," Tohr said cheerfully.

"Aye," Scott grinned. "It was great tae meet you all." He nodded once more and then turned to walk out the door.

The scene shifted as though from an old movie extract, and Scott suddenly found himself stood before a grand house several months later, a clearly recovered Tohn standing next to him.

"Welcome to my Uncle's house!" Tohn announced with no small measure of pride evident in his voice.

Scott gaped. It truly was royal; with so many circular structures perched on the main bulk that it looked more like bubble wrap than an actual house. Large, sprawling grounds lay behind the house, and Scott could almost imagine the animals that roamed there, although he could not see any from his vantage point.

"Wow..."

"I know," Tohn agreed cheerfully.

"When you said," Scott continued, still gaping helplessly at the sight before him, "that if ye were rich on this planet ye had many circular structures, I did nae imagine this..."

"Well," Tohn chuckled, "my Uncle is the ruler of Gaar. He can't really live in a square house, can he?"

"Of course not," Scott quipped, "because squares are just weird."

Tohn laughed and grabbed Scott's arm, pulling him up the enormous drive way. "Unfortunately you can't see my house," he said regretfully, "we're having it renovated."

"Really? What are ye doing tae it?"

"Making it less square and putting on ten extra rooms...No – leave the bags," Tohn broke off when he saw Scott double back down the path to retrieve their luggage, "the Ba'nesh will care for it." Sure enough, a Gaaran came into view and, bowing, grabbed their cases and hurried into the house ahead of them.

"Ye have a butler?" Scott asked, a vague feeling of surprise filling him although it seemed inappropriate given the status of the family who lived here.

"Is that the word?" Tohn asked in an off-hand voice as he pushed open the door. "I still have so much to learn it seems...but yes. He is a butler – he has served my Uncle well for fifteen years."

Scott whistled as they entered the room. Everything there was round; the tables, the shelves, the seats. Even a strange looking device which Scott assumed must be a loose imitation of an Earth television. Tohn noticed his gaze and grinned.

"We got that television fitted a few months ago," he explained, walking over to it and flicking a switch on its side. Figures immediately surrounded the two people in the room, moving right through them. "We upgraded it a bit, though."

"It's like the early Earth attempts at 3-D..."

"That's what we based it on," Tohn conceded, "but as you can see it's slightly different." He indicated the floor, where a precipice had suddenly appeared, giving the illusion that they were standing over the edge of a cliff, but not falling. "It's more realistic this way."

"I cannae argue with that..." Scott muttered, staring in wonder at the machine before him.

"Don't worry, I'll let you take it apart one day," Tohn chuckled. He gestured the room at large after switching the television off. "I thought you would like this house. My Uncle has good taste."

"Aye," Scott said weakly, still surprised at all that he was seeing. It made his eyes hurt with the sheer smoothness of it all. "Everything is so...round."

Tohn laughed, a silver, tinkling laugh, and put an arm around the human's shoulder, steering him into what appeared to be a living room. "You really should see the rest of it, then. That was just an entrance hall. But for now, take a seat. I'll go and fix you a drink. My Uncle is away on business," he continued, seeing how nervous Scott was even as he sat down in a marshmallow shaped chair, "so he won't be back for a few hours. Don't worry, you have plenty of time to prepare yourself."

"Now," the Gaaran clapped his hands together in glee, "what would you like to drink?"

"What have ye got?"

"A'rza juice, milk from a vrohk..." his eyes twinkled at Scott's lost expression. "Or coke, if you prefer."

"I think I might have the coke, if that's alright with ye."

"Of course! I offered, didn't I?" Tohn grinned. "I'll be back in five. It takes a while to find anything in his fridge. It's walk in, you see, and I have a terrible sense of direction..."

Scott shook his head in amusement at his friend's antics as he disappeared from the room, and allowed himself to sink back on the chair, surprised when it began vibrating.

"It senses nervousness," a voice explained from the doorway, and Scott jumped in surprise. "When someone who is nervous sits back in it, like you are now, it vibrates. It's supposed to calm the person down, although personally I find it more infuriating than useful."

Pohn strode further into the room, sitting on a sofa opposite of Scott. "Be careful."

Scott blinked. "Do nae worry," he said finally, "I think I have the vibrating under control..."

Pohn rolled his eyes. "I didn't mean about that. I want you to be careful about what you do to him."

"To Tohn?" Scott asked in wide eyed disbelief.

"No," Pohn drawled, "to the King of Sheba."

"Why do I have tae be careful about Tohn?" His insides had abruptly turned to ice as he remembered the warning from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"You're his best friend," Pohn explained, as though talking to someone very slow. "Too many people have hurt him in the past, and I was always the one to pick up the pieces. I can't see that happen to him again."

"I will nae hurt him."

"Can you promise that, without a hint of a doubt?"

"Aye!" Scott said forcefully. "I would never do anything to hurt him!"

"Take care you don't," Pohn said simply. "We Gaarans are a very close knit group. That's what happens when you share a mind link with the entire family." His gaze bored into Scott's. "I am more protective than most," he added. "So I advise you to keep your promise."

The chair began stubbornly to vibrate again as the gaze refused to relent.

"Feeling nervous?" Pohn asked with just a hint of menace beneath the flippant tone.

"I'll keep my promise, Pohn."

"Good," the Gaaran said simply, breaking Scott's gaze at long last. "You're a wise one, Monty."

"...found it!" Tohn exclaimed loudly as he entered the room, waving a coke in the air. "It was a bit dicey though...I almost couldn't get out." He handed Scott his drink. "No need to be nervous," he said, indicating the vibrating piece of furniture, "I'll tell you what to see to my uncle."

"Thank ye," Scott said vaguely, unable to ignore the two pairs of enigmatic eyes boring into his own.

oOo

"BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An organisation, society, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to reform may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or belong to, an organisation, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor."

They all eyed the poster outside the Great Hall in varying degrees of disgust or contempt, surprised that even Umbridge could go this far down the path of the power hungry.

"Fudge is insane," McCoy concluded. "After this, no one can deny it."

"This isn't the work of Fudge," Hermione pointed out, having glanced over at them as she passed on the way to breakfast. "It's Umbridge."

"Fudge is insane to put her in charge," McCoy emphasised. "Nuts, off the deep end, gone with the fairies! You name it, and Fudge is it."

"I agree with you mate," Ron said, having come over with Harry to join them, "but we can't do anything."

"She's trying to turn the school into a damn military organisation," McCoy growled, eyeing the poster as though he wanted to burn it. "She's turning the students into robots designed to carry out her every whim!"

"The process of turning the students into an automated being would be decidedly painful, Doctor. I sincerely doubt that even Umbridge is capable of such an act."

Ron blinked blankly between both of them. "Robots?"

"Like an electric powered moving suit of armour," Harry explained helpfully.

"And they say Muggles can't do magic."

"They cannot," Spock pointed out.

"Sometimes it looks like it," Ron argued. "Look at the blight lulb, or the woosh doosher."

"You mean the light bulb and the dishwasher Ron," Hermione corrected absently even as Harry grinned.

"Both of which can be easily explained in a technological fashion. Firstly-"

"Look, Spock," McCoy interrupted, "don't start explaining the science behind it, ok? It's too early in the morning for that."

"Not all possess the same apathy towards knowledge which you typically exhibit, Doctor."

"It's alright," Ron interrupted the brewing argument before it could escalate any further, "I probably wouldn't understand it anyway..."

"You must not underestimate your learning capabilities, Mr Weasley. You know more than you think you do."

Ron looked extremely doubtful of that statement. "That would be why I get D's for everything then."

"Honestly Ron!" Hermione admonished. "You only get those grades because you refuse to try! If you just applied yourself better..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."

Hermione glared at him. "I'm serious, Ron. You can't keep shirking your studies for Quidditch. You won't get anywhere if you don't set aside the time for homework, and by the time the exams come, it'll be too late to do anything."

"I won't give up Quidditch," Ron said angrily.

"Fail then," Hermione said, equally incensed.

"Speaking of Quidditch," Kirk said loudly, trying to break up the argument, "when is our next match, Harry?"

"Not for a while," Harry said distractedly, his eyes fixed on his friends in exasperation. "Ron, Hermione, we've already had this argument. No one is giving up Quidditch. There's no point arguing about it now," he added, indicating the corridor, where Snape was striding purposefully. Both teenagers abruptly silenced.

Snape, having spotted them, walked over. "Mister Spock," he said, with as near a hint of approval in his voice as was ever heard from the Potions Master, "it appears that you handled my classes well in my absence." He levelled a sneer at Harry. "Understandably, that must have been an onerous task."

"It was necessary," was all Spock could think to say.

"I won't be needing your help any more, fortunately for you," Snape drawled. "At least, for the time being."

"Understood. I will be ready to substitute again, should you require it."

Snape nodded in acknowledgement of this and turned on his heel, disappearing into the Great Hall.

McCoy stared after him. "Well," he drawled, "he's a chatty one..."

"We should probably join him," Kirk said, gently steering the group in the direction of more food.

Breakfast arrived with a large helping of general outrage at the newest measure enforced by the High Inquisitor, who was annoyingly sitting at the staff table with the most repulsive grin spread across her squat, toad like face that anyone in the castle had ever seen. This only caused much more outrage, simply because she seemed to be enjoying their dilemmas far too much for someone who was claiming to be acting in the "Ministry's best interests", and in fact it was obvious to the students who, after glaring at her grin for a good solid ten minutes, decided that she was in fact a power hungry, ridiculously self important, maniac. In their opinion, of course.

It was only as they were leaving the Hall for their first lesson of the day that the full extent of this decree was realised. Angelina, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was standing with one of her friends just outside the hall, loudly complaining about the new restrictions. Kirk, Harry and Ron did not give this much thought until she suddenly pounced on them, demanding their immediate attention despite the fact that they were about to be late to class.

"Harry! Ron! Kirk!"

"Jim," Kirk corrected absently and without real feeling as he realised that she was too worked up to hear him this once.

"It's alright," Harry said quietly, "We're still going to-"

Whatever he was going to say was immediately cut off by Angelina, who furiously and verbally pounced on him, apparently put out that he had neglected to remember the point which she was about to make. "You realise she's including Quidditch in this?" Her voice was shrill and high with the injustice of this, and several passing Slytherins snickered. She studiously ignored them. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"

"That's ridiculous!" Kirk said along with Harry and Ron's violently surprised exclamations.

"You read the sign!" Angelina continued, bringing herself back under control. "It mentions teams too! So listen Harry...I am saying this for the last time...please please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play anymore!"

"We'd better remind Spock of that little pact, Bones," Kirk whispered under his breath. "We can't have him risking the Slytherin team getting banned as well."

McCoy gave him a look which clearly told him what he really thought of the matter, but decided to nod instead. "We'll keep that pointy eared menace in line, even if I have to hypo him to death."

"Without hypos?"

"Well...I have other methods. A good poking with a stick maybe. Even a logical Vulcan wouldn't be able to avoid being poked into submission."

"That's no good," Kirk said with faint grimness. "I've tried."

"What?" McCoy sputtered. "Don't tell me that you go around poking him!"

"How else would I convince him to come to my quarters for chess?" Kirk asked mischievously. "Alright, in my defence, that was only the first two times. He came willingly after that."

"Hmph," was McCoy's only reply. "So it works."

"It seems that way, but if you're going to use that tactic on him, be careful," Kirk warned. "He's probably wizened up to it by now and you don't want to wake up a few moments later with your neck feeling like it's been in a vice. He has that neck pinch act down to perfection..."

"Advice coming from the best," McCoy smirked as they began moving towards class once more.

"Trust me Bones," Kirk grinned, "I know what I'm doing. Stick with me kid, and you'll get along fine."

"Kid?" McCoy questioned with just a hint of menace. "Don't push me, Jim."

Kirk's response was to slap him on the shoulder as they settled into their usual seats in Professor Binns' classroom. Kirk being Kirk sat in the middle, while McCoy and Spock sat on either side of him.

"I find this entire scenario curious," Spock said after a few moments.

Kirk gave him a funny look. "You find the Treaty Against The Attack Of Muggles With Malicious Intent curious?"

"Of course not, Captain," Spock replied dryly. "Although it is a rather pivotal development in the relations with the vampires of that period."

"Just get to the point, Spock," McCoy groaned from within his arms on the other side of Kirk. His head was lying on the table and he was glaring at the front of the class, apparently too bored to care about the fact that he looked like he was going to fall asleep in that position.

"I find the actions of Professor Umbridge to be highly disorienting."

"Didn't we discuss this before?" McCoy asked, his voice slightly muffled. "We concluded that she and Fudge were insane, remember?"

"In actual fact Doctor, I was on the verge of making an important observation when you began your usual mutterings on the topic of insanity."

"Which were?" Kirk prompted over McCoy's incomprehensible set of muffled insults.

"She must have a significant motive for ordering the ban of student organisations, groups and clubs."

"Apart from being a power hungry maniac, you mean?" McCoy questioned from within the comfort of his arms.

"Indeed. My hypothesis is that she discovered the existence of the student group which was being discussed in the Hog's Head."

McCoy gave a low whistle. "That would mean that someone told her. No wonder Umbridge enforced that ban..."

"Do you think it was Snape?" Ron interjected, having overheard their conversation.

Spock shook his head. "I find it highly unlikely."

"He's been looking for reasons to have stricter rules since he came to the school, apparently," Ron continued, completely ignoring what Spock had just said. "And he's the only teacher who was there at the time."

"Who said it was a teacher?" Kirk asked. "Snape said that you were being watched."

"Did you see the person who was supposed to be watching us?"

"Of course not," Kirk said, "then we wouldn't have been watched secretly, would we?"

"I saw a figure at the far end of the room," Spock interjected.

"That could have been anyone," Ron dismissed. "It's Snape. It has to be."

"Don't be ridiculous Ron," Hermione muttered, bending over her notes. "Why would he tell Umbridge when he was the one who warned us about being watched? If he'd really been trying to find evidence against us, he would have taken the list or waited until he heard when our first meeting was."

Ron had no immediate answer to that, but he still did not look convinced. Harry, meanwhile, had crept towards the window and back, and quickly grabbed the attention of his two friends.

The next few minutes passed uneventfully, with McCoy gradually falling asleep on the desk and both Spock and Kirk writing notes. Binns continued to drone on and on, lulling the class into a state of lethargy that could not be achieved so quickly even with a few of McCoy's hypos.

"Sir?" Harry suddenly asked, waving a hand frantically to attract Professor Binns' attention, a look of urgency on his face.

Binns looked astonished to see that he actually had an audience before him, although the audience wasn't what anyone could call attentive. "Yes Perkins?" He asked vaguely.

"I'm not feeling very well sir," Harry lied, quite obviously. "Can I step out of class for a moment?"

"Of course Perkins," Binns said. "Go to the hospital wing."

Harry sighed in obvious relief. "Thank you sir." He hopped down from his chair, a bundle stuffed suspiciously under his school uniform, and walked towards the door with an obviously healthy gait.

Binns stared vaguely around the room for a brief moment, apparently lost for words. Finally, he decided to look down at the stack of notes in his hands, and his face became dazed once more as he immersed himself in the lesson, Harry's exit and the rest of the class already forgotten.

"...no more Muggle attacks for another fifteen years," he droned. The class immediately began being lulled back into a state of unconsciousness.

"Was he smuggling?" McCoy asked in disbelief, still staring at the door.

"No Bones," Kirk said sarcastically.

McCoy scowled at him. "You weren't necessarily meant to answer that."

"Hedwig was injured," Ron explained, having overheard McCoy's loud question.

"Hedwig?" Spock repeated in confusion.

"Harry's owl. We think her wing was broken and that's why she didn't deliver the post at breakfast," Ron explained.

"Are such attacks on owl frequent?"

Hermione answered. "For Harry: yes."

Some time later and they were stomping down to Potions, the two humans making no secret of the fact that they would much rather be anywhere else. Many other students appeared to be thinking along similar lines; their faces were grim and set, they stride unenthusiastic. Only Spock and the Slytherins appeared unaffected by the generally gloomy atmosphere.

"Yeah," Malfoy drawled as soon as everybody was within ear shot, "Umbridge gave the Slytherin team permission to continue playing straight away, I went to ask her first thing this morning." He smirked over at the Gryffindors, all of whom were glaring back at him.

"Well it was pretty automatic," he continued. "I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry…it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"I thought you had a word with him," McCoy growled at Spock, even as Hermione tried to verbally restrain Harry and Ron.

"I did," the Vulcan replied. "However, he promised only to refrain from insulting you and the Captain directly."

"Well that was successful, wasn't it?" McCoy spat as he glared at the Slytherin boy. "Maybe it's my imagination, but I don't remember even Jim being that obnoxious."

"I was not obnoxious." McCoy glared at Kirk. "Alright," the Captain conceded, raising his hands in a placating gesture, "maybe a little."

"…from what my father says, they've been looking for a reason to sack Arthur Weasley for years…" Malfoy persisted. "And as for Potter…" he glared malevolently at the boy in question, "my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carried off to St Mungo's…apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

"I'll show him addled," McCoy growled as Malfoy began making grotesque faces. "How the blue blazes can he joke about something like-"

Neville no!"

And suddenly the corridor descended into a desperate struggle to restrain Neville, who was struggling frantically within Harry's grip.

"What the - ?" Kirk asked no one in particular before instinct took over and he joined the other Gryffindors in restraining Neville.

No one noticed as Crabbe and Goyle stepped forwards, cracked their fists and glared at everyone who had the audacity to be alive and in the corridor. Malfoy stood protected behind them, slight shock mixing with a type of savage glee that did not go unnoticed by a very unamused Spock.

"Mr Malfoy that was hardly necessary."

Malfoy's smirk did not waver. "Oh I think it was," he said triumphantly as he surveyed Neville's red face. "Anything to see Longbottom's famous tomato impression. It's the only fruit he's intelligent enough to mimick."

Before Spock could open his mouth to retort, the dungeon door opened and Snape appeared, his cold black eyes taking in the scene around him.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom? Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

"What in the name of Merlin," Ron asked as Neville stomped into the room, "was that about?"

"I have an idea," McCoy muttered to the other two officers, and their expressions became solemn as they all reached the same conclusion.

They entered the classroom warily and took their places. "I'm not sure if this is good or not."

"What?" McCoy asked.

"The fact that we don't have Spock as a teacher. On the one hand, he won't nerve pinch us to death for failing to make a potion properly, but on the other hand it means we have to suffer through Snape…"

"'Suffer' is overly hyperbolic, Captain."

"You would say that," McCoy retorted.

"You will notice," Snape said as he shut the door with an echoing thud, silencing the class immediately, "that we have a guest with us today."

As Snape gestured towards a corner, Umbridge struggled to her feet and gave a ridiculous bow of her head, all but waving her clipboard at them as if to remind them of why she was there. Snape's lips curled in obvious distaste.

Kirk groaned. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"We're going to be slaughtered," Ron confirmed.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions on the board. Carry on."

The class was soon lost in a sea of activity as everyone struggled to tame their out of control mixtures. Snape prowled around the desks as usual, thoroughly unnerving several of the more timid students. Umbridge was striding purposefully towards him, only avoiding crashing into several cauldrons due to a few miraculous millimetres.

"This should be good," McCoy murmured. "Who do you want to win, Spock?"

"Win?"

"You like Snape, and Umbridge likes-"

"-liked," Kirk corrected, a grin on his face, "she gave up on 'catching' him, remember?"

"Right. So," McCoy concluded, "who would you bet on?"

"Vulcans do not engage in activities of random chance, Doctor."

"Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly good sentiment," McCoy groused. "Alright, who would you bet on to win an argument, Jim?"

"I don't know," Kirk said thoughtfully, ignoring his cauldron's hissing protests as he turned the heat up too high. "Umbridge has power, but Snape has an arsenal of insults…"

"I bet on Umbridge," McCoy said. "If anyone is deluded enough to take on Snape, it's her."

"She probably won't win," Kirk pointed out.

"I didn't say she would. I'm thinking of changing the bet to who will look like the biggest fool…"

Kirk snorted. "Then I'm not betting. It'll just offend you."

"Fine," McCoy shot back, but his eyes twinkled. "I'll just bet for you."

Kirk shrugged. "Suits me. Who am I betting for, then?"

McCoy tapped his nose mischievously. "You'll find out. Now watch," he commanded.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level." Umbridge was currently having a very interesting conversation with Snape's back as the latter checked Dean Thomas' cauldron. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape stiffened and turned to stare at her, but apparently did not wish to dignify that remark with an answer.

"Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen years."

"God damn it Jim!" McCoy exploded, much to the shock of most of the students, "you spilled acid on my foot!"

Snape redirected his attention immediately, lip curling when he caught sight of McCoy hopping about on one foot and swearing. "Kindly focus on your potion, Mr Kirk," he said softly, eyes hard. "I'm sure that your classmate would hardly relish any additional ruthless applications of acid to his foot. McCoy," he snapped, "stop hopping around. You will knock your cauldron over."

"It burned through my shoe!" McCoy complained loudly.

"Perhaps you should see to him, Professor," Umbridge suggested sweetly.

With a scowl set firmly in place, Snape stalked over to McCoy, shoved the hopping surgeon unceremoniously in a chair, and grabbed his foot.

"There is only a small hole," he announced finally, glaring at the foot.

"I'm a surgeon!" McCoy exclaimed, "and I recognise an acid burn when I see one!"

"McCoy, I have neither the time nor the patience for your Gryffindor theatrics. Perhaps if you spent as much time on your work in my class as you do in making an idiot of yourself, your skills would become adequate. Ten points from Gryffindor." He swept towards the cauldron which he had been inspecting.

"Well," McCoy muttered, "it was worth a try."

"Did I really spill acid on your foot?"

"Yes, but it was only enough to cause a small tingle. I was trying to create an argument for the bet…"

"I do not believe that your endeavours were necessary," Spock said, nodding subtly at the two professors.

"Besides," Kirk added as they resumed watching, "all you did was make yourself win the bet for ridiculous behaviour…" McCoy promptly flicked a worm in his Captain's eye, from where he had found it crawling along a shelf.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge was asking a decidedly irritated looking Snape.

"Yes."

"But you were unsuccessful?"

"Obviously."

Kirk snorted loudly and hid his face in his cauldron when Snape glared suspiciously at him. He promptly gagged from the fumes and slid to the floor, only Spock's quick reflexes preventing him from tipping the cauldron's contents over his head.

There was an audible sigh from the front of the class. "Someone keep Kirk away from that cauldron for the next five minutes, until he has enough oxygen in his system to function like a somewhat rational being." He watched as Spock helped his Captain into a chair. "And that, Mr Kirk, is why one of the basic rules of potion making is not to put your head in the cauldron."

"I…"

Snape raised an eyebrow and Kirk fell silent. "Doctor McCoy, perhaps you should keep an eye on him – I did not tell you to leave your cauldron!"

"I can't do both!" McCoy protested.

"And Mister Spock cannot control three while your Captain is indisposed. You will need to multi task, McCoy. Surely even you can accomplish such a simple task."

Snape turned back to Umbridge, cutting off all protests.

"And," Umbridge simpered dutifully, completely unfazed by what had just happened besides the fact that her hand was now frantically scribbling notes, "you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

Snape looked angry enough to throttle her. "Yes."

Umbridge smiled significantly, her eyes shining with a knowing light. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?"

"I suggest you ask him."

"Oh I shall," Umbridge said gleefully, scribbling down a note to herself.

"I suppose this is relevant?"

"Oh yes. Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' – er – backgrounds."

"You did not require such knowledge for any other professor," Spock pointed out unnecessarily.

"It is hardly any of your business," Umbridge said hautily.

"It is an unjustified treatment of Professor Snape."

McCoy frantically began making signs at Spock to stop talking now before he got another detention.

"There is no basis for accusation."

"I wasn't exactly accusing," Umbridge said, beginning to sound slightly flustered.

"Then what precisely was the aim of your query?"

"I…"

"That is quite enough," Snape snapped, regaining control of the situation immediately.

"Professor, I do not believe that she understands…" Spock broke off as he finally caught sight of McCoy's frantic gestures. "Doctor, may I ask why you are currently behaving as though you have contracted Cardonian muscle spasms? Such a condition cannot be displayed in humans…"

"I believe," Snape drawled, "that Mr McCoy was attempting to stop you from talking."

"Indeed?"

"Indeed," Snape repeated, sounding uncannily Vulcan for a split second. "Although his subtlety has all the finesse of a mountain troll."

"So do Spock's social skills," McCoy muttered through clenched teeth.

Snape, who had caught sight of Harry's rubbery potion and had stalked off to criticise it, did not hear, but Spock did.

"Doctor, I assure you, my social skills are adequate."

"Then you have absolutely no clue…"