23. Weasley is our King.

The day of the first Gryffindor match dawned, cold and early but mercifully clear. Around the Great Hall, the tables were a bustle of activity as everyone debated on who should win; Gryffindor or Slytherin. Needless to say, there were more Gryffindor colours flashing around the room than green and silver. Yet there was something else, they noticed as they crossed the room, that was not part of the team colours.

"This can't be good," McCoy muttered as he saw a Slytherin waving his arms at his badge and jeering in the general direction of Ron.

"What do the badges say?"

McCoy squinted and read, reporting quietly under his breath so that no one else could hear. "Weasley is our king."

"We can't let Ron see them."

"Why would they be targeting him?"

Kirk rolled his eyes at the inane question. "You haven't been paying attention, have you, Bones? Whenever we've used the pitch, the Slytherins have been there watching. They used to jeer at anyone who made a mistake." He lowered his voice a bit more, making McCoy strain to hear him. "It made Ron so nervous that he let in more goals than he should have."

Comprehension dawned on McCoy's face. "He looks nervous enough as it is," he noted, glancing at the teenager. "We definitely can't let him see them."

Giving a slight nod of assent, Kirk sat in his usual spot, hearing McCoy drop into the seat next to him and immediately reach for the cereal. Nearby, Ron had sunk into his own place and was staring at the toast as though he feared it would cut his head off.

"I must've been mental to do this," they heard him groan. "Mental."

Harry passed him several boxes of cereal, but Ron made no move to touch them. "Don't be thick. You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."

Everyone who was in close enough proximity to hear this automatically categorised that as an understatement. Ron's skin had turned almost as pale as the milk in McCoy's cereal, and when he wasn't speaking his lips were pressed tightly together – as though he suspected he was going to be sick.

"I'm rubbish," he whispered, voice croaking slightly. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"

Harry assumed as stern an expression as he could muster, his gaze focused unwaveringly on Ron. "Get a grip," he ordered. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant."

Ron shook his head in miserable defeat. "That was an accident. I didn't mean to do it – I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and when I was trying to get back on I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

Harry blinked in surprise but recovered quickly. "Well...a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

Hermione and Ginny had sat down during this exchange, their cheerful grins becoming more sombre and understanding when they saw the state that Ron was in.

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked quietly.

Ron left Harry to answer. "He's just nervous."

Hermione, upon hearing this, attempted a genuinely bright smile in a valiant attempt to cheer Ron up. "Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."

"Not really the same thing," Kirk muttered, but no one heard him.

McCoy, who had been staring into the distance in shocked silence, poked Kirk in the ribs. "Look at that," he murmured, nodding his head in the direction of Luna, who had arrived at their table and was smiling dreamily down at them. On top of her hair perched a very realistic lion head.

"Hello. I'm supporting Gryffindor." Everyone immediately found their eyes drawn to the oddity on her head. "Look what it does..."

With a quick tap of her wand, the lion's head roared, causing McCoy to jump and knock his cereal bowl off the table and into his lap.

"Damn it!" He shrieked dramatically, dabbing at the mess futilely with an increasingly soggy napkin, "Why is everyone in this castle trying to give me a heart attack? You've all taken years off my life!"

Kirk laughed and slapped the irate man on the shoulder. "I've been doing that for years..."

"Which definitely hasn't helped," McCoy snapped.

"Here," Hermione said sympathetically, reaching across the table and vanishing the mess.

"Thanks," the Doctor grumbled, putting his empty bowl back onto the table.

"You should have left it there you know," Luna said. "My father tells me that milk helps to repel Krinklebiters. You don't want them biting you there."

"...No," McCoy agreed, looking slightly lost, "I suppose I don't."

Luna made her hat roar again, grinning up at it through her eyelashes, which caused her subsequent comment to be directed at the ceiling. "It's good, isn't it? I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway...good luck, Ronald!" Humming a tune to herself and not waiting for a response, she drifted away.

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "That hat was...creative." McCoy half snorted and half growled, torn between amusement at Kirk's assessment, and anger at the fact that the growling hat had made him make a spectacle of himself at breakfast. Again.

"When you're ready," Angelina said, approaching them without any preamble, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions, and change."

"Are you going with them, Jim?"

Kirk nodded. "I have to be ready to replace someone if it's urgent."

McCoy frowned his displeasure at that, but otherwise said nothing.

Ten minutes later, and Ron was still staring at his breakfast as though it was the ultimate bringer of doom. Finally, Harry relented and began to gently guide his dazed and miserable friend away from the table.

Before they left, McCoy grabbed his arm. "Don't let Ron see those badges," he warned.

"Why not?"

"You'll see why," he said grimly before letting go of the boy's sleeve.

Together, the Quidditch players began to leave, McCoy following them to the Entrance Hall. "And don't do anything idiotic, Jim!" He bellowed after them.

Kirk grinned and gave him a mock salute before following the others out the door, leaving McCoy to grumble his way back over to the table.

"At least they're not facing dragons," someone muttered to him helpfully.

McCoy glared at them. "Thank you for putting that image into my mind," he snapped.

"They'll be fine," Ginny assured him.

McCoy snorted. "The last time Jim said that he ended up almost bleeding to death in the Hospital Wing."

Hermione frowned disapprovingly. "I told them to stop using the Blood Blisterpods, but they wouldn't listen to me."

McCoy waved his hand at her. "That was an accident, this won't be."

"Jim's not even playing," Ginny commented.

"He doesn't need to be involved to be involved, if you know what I mean," McCoy muttered darkly as they polished off their meals and began the cold trek to the pitch.

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Hermione replied.

"Then you don't know Jim Kirk."

They filed into the stands and took seats close to the action, noticing as they did so that the Slytherins looked particularly hopeful. Badges glittered upon every single chest, the only exception being Spock, who didn't look happy about this tactic but couldn't do anything about it. He was already on the substitute bench, McCoy noticed, and the Slytherin team were already waiting on the pitch. Then, with an almighty cheer from the crowds watching, the Gryffindors emerged.

When everyone was in position, the stands quietened in anticipation, allowing for the next words to be heard clearly.

"Captains, shake hands." Two people came forward and shook hands, and McCoy could imagine them glaring at one another. "Mount your brooms..."

A whistle blew.

Players and balls shot into the air in a brief crowd of confusion before training took over and some semblance of organisation returned to the pitch.

"And it's Johnson," the disembodied voice of Lee Jordan boomed, "Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me-"

"JORDAN!" The equally disembodied voice of McGonagall yelled.

"You have quite a commentator there," McCoy chuckled to the two students beside him.

"...fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague-"

"Oh my God," McCoy gasped as he gawped at the pitch.

"...been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe..."

"This game is a death trap."

"That's why we love it," someone replied cheekily, causing McCoy to roll his eyes.

"...Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle-"

"And several brain cells," McCoy muttered, wincing at the impact of the Bludger on the boy's head.

"-caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away-"

Everyone in the audience seemed to be holding their collective breath.

"-dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Alicia – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

"This can't be good," McCoy muttered, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring sea of green and silver:

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King."

McCoy rolled his eyes in annoyance. "If they're going to mock someone they could at least pick a decent tune..."

"-always lets the Quaffle in

Weasley will make sure we win

Weasley is our king."

"-and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" The voice was trying valiantly to drown out the malicious chanting, and anger rippled across the stands as the Slytherins raised the pitch to counter-act this. "Come on now, Angelina – looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE-"

-McCoy found himself on his feet cheering enthusiastic encouragement along with the rest of the crowd-

"-aaaah..."

The goal had been saved. This prompted a fresh wave of chanting from the crowd. "Weasley is our King..."

"-and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for the goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead-"

"Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring..."

"They're not helping damn it!" McCoy bellowed amidst the hubbub, jabbing an angry finger at the Slytherin supporters.

"-so it's the first test for the new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team – come on, Ron!"

This cry was echoed all over the stands, but was soon drowned out by the Slytherin jeering as the Quaffle sailed through Ron's hands and into the central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" The voice boomed without enthusiasm. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin – bad luck, Ron."

"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN..."

"Is there some way we can shut them up?" McCoy demanded.

"No," Hermione said gravely. "We just have to hope that Ron doesn't listen to them..."

"-and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch, and it's Warrington again, who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him – turns out you can't – but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh, who cares, one of them, anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell-"

A cheer was abruptly cut off by disappointment.

"-er – drops it, too – so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!"

"WEASLEY..."

"OH GOOD LORD!" McCoy bellowed at the Slytherins, thoroughly incensed by now. "CAN'T YOU PEOPLE JUST SHUT UP?"

"-and Pucey's dodged Angelina again and he's heading straight for the goal, stop it, Ron!"

The Slytherins were on their feet now, stamping along to the tune. "THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING..."

McCoy was still raging. "Can't we remove all their voice boxes or something?" He demanded for what felt like the tenth time that match, and Hermione shook her head regretfully, her eyes fixed worriedly on Ron.

"-and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for the goal, come on now, Angelina – GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

Everyone but the Slytherins screamed in triumph and jumped up and down, drowning out the jeers from the green team.

"It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle..."

"Can Gryffindor still win?" McCoy asked.

Ginny nodded. "Unless the Slytherins score much more or catch the Snitch, we have a chance."

"-Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey – Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good – I mean bad – Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again..."

"Look!" Ginny suddenly bellowed, pointing into the sky. McCoy followed her gaze.

Both Harry and Malfoy had begun zooming after the Snitch – a glittering gold prize or bringer of defeat depending on who caught it...

"They're neck and neck!" The voice bellowed in nervous excitement.

Everyone leaned forwards and held their breaths, attention diverted momentarily from the pitch to the sky where the fate of two teams was playing out before their very eyes.

"AND HARRY POTTER HAS WON THE GAME FOR GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a frantic collective cheer from the Gryffindor supporters even while the Slytherins booed their disappointment.

"He's holding it up for all to see – Harry Potter, who was the youngest player in decades when he first joined the team, has caught – WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME WAS THAT FOR?"

"JORDAN!" Someone bellowed, their voice getting drowned out as the whole of Gryffindor voiced their protest.

"Harry Potter has been hit in the back by a Bludger-"

"I knew something like this would happen!" McCoy shrieked. "Whichever fool invented this game should be thrown in an asylum-"

"Calm down," Ginny said, smiling and pointing at the pitch. "Harry's alright, look."

"Oh," McCoy muttered in relief, having run out of steam. "In that case..." he sat back down fairly calmly compared to the way in which he had leapt to his feet, much to everyone's amusement.

"-is alright, folks," Lee Jordan boomed. "It seems that Crabbe – that big gorilla-"

"JORDAN!" Though this time the voice sounded half hearted.

"-smacked him in the back with a Bludger. Doing that when someone's back is turned, I don't know, he should be locked up in a prison – or a zoo, maybe-"

"Your job is to commentate," McGonagall snapped, apparently having reached her wit's end, "not to rant."

"And right you are, Professor McGonagall," though there was not a hint of remorse in the voice.

"Uh oh," Ginny muttered.

Following her gaze, McCoy could see Malfoy laughing before the usual group of Gryffindors, triumph written on his face. His mouth opened and he spat another insult, causing both Harry and George to rush over to him, wearing twin murderous expressions.

"What do they think they're doing?" Hermione exclaimed, worry written plainly across her face.

"Starting a brawl with Malfoy?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"If Umbridge catches this she'll have them taken off the team," Hermione continued, searching the teachers' seats frantically. "You know what she's like..."

"Madam Hooch has seen," Ginny murmured, pointing at the scene before them.

Sure enough, the angry and storming figure of Madam Hooch could be seen towering over what had been a free for all brawl, eyes blazing and screaming words that they couldn't hear over the murmur of speculation in the stands.

A few moments later, Harry and George turned and stormed back up to the castle, leaving a curled up Malfoy on the ground.

"He's milking it," Ginny said in automatic disgust.

"If they'd let me down there," McCoy muttered, every doctor's instinct having snapped into place, "I could tell you for sure."

"Madam Pomfrey has it under control," Hermione said.

"We should probably get back up to the castle," Ginny suggested, even as groups of people around them began to get up and make their way out the stands. "I want to see what happens..."

They met up with Spock, who did not look gleeful, as the other Slytherins did at the thought of the Gryffindors being punished, but sombre. Ahead of them, Madam Pomfrey was helping a whimpering Malfoy up the steps to the castle.

"Git," Ginny said with feeling, glaring daggers at the pale boy's back. "He deserved every punch he got."

"No one deserves to be attacked two on one like that," McCoy said, remembering many times that he he'd had to patch Kirk up after just that.

"This is Malfoy," Ginny spat. "He's always insulting our family – obviously this time he went further than usual."

"He might be a slime ball," McCoy agreed, "but you have to look at the reasons behind it. He was sore that he lost, so he tried to take victory in the only way possible – causing pain."

"Indeed," Spock added. "If they had retained control over their emotions, they would have denied him this."

"This isn't the only time he's done something like this," Ginny argued. "Are you saying we should let him get away with it?"

"It would avoid punishment," Spock replied.

Ginny shook her head at them both. "You two are trying to turn us into hippies," she complained.

"Hippies?" Spock echoed in slight confusion.

"Have you been living in a cave on mars, or something?" Seamus asked, having caught up with them, grinning at his own joke.

"There are no cave colonies on Mars. However, there are dome covered cities on the surface, where machine regulated environmental controls ensure the survival of the inhabitants."

Seamus blinked and began walking back to his own friends, apparently having decided against talking to Spock. They dimly heard him say, "Forget I asked," under his breath as he went.

"A hippy," Hermione explained as they clambered up a flight of stairs, "is known to be someone who promotes peace and non-violence."

Spock nodded. "I see."

"Basically a very colourful, spaced out Vulcan," McCoy clarified.

"Thank you, Leonard, I was able to discern the similarities without that particular input," Spock said dryly.

"Alright, alright," McCoy said, holding his hands up as though asking for a truce. "How do you know what Doctor Who is, but not what hippies are?"

"It appears that there were some sizeable gaps in my historical education of Earth culture," Spock murmured, his brow creased as they trundled to a halt.

"You shouldn't have stopped me!" they suddenly heard Fred yell as he and Kirk came into view.

"I know he deserved it," Kirk replied calmly, "but it wouldn't have helped."

"He's a scumbag-"

"But not worth the punishment," Kirk interrupted, allowing a wry smile to touch his lips briefly. "Trust me; I've been through that many times..."

Fred scowled and opened his mouth to argue more, but the Fat Lady's irate voice interrupted him.

"Are you going to give me the password or do you intend to re-enact a soap drama before my eyes?"

Fred looked like he was about to give her a piece of his mind, but Hermione silenced him with a surprisingly fearsome glare.

"Hippogriff," she said quickly, moving to go through the door but stopping when it wouldn't open. "Has it been changed?" Her voice showed her absolute confidence that this was not the case.

"You got it right," the Fat Lady replied, but her narrowed eyes were focused on Spock and his Slytherin house badge. "But he can't come in here."

"Why not?" McCoy demanded.

"He's a Slytherin," the portrait replied in an annoyed voice at having to explain herself.

"So?" Kirk asked.

"Those are the rules."

"Very well," Spock said in resignation. "I shall visit the Slytherin common room."

"Spock-" Kirk began.

"I am most likely to be expected there in any case, Jim, as I may be needed to replace Mister Malfoy."

"We'll tell you what happens on this end," Kirk promised.

Spock nodded. "That would be appreciated. I shall be in the Room of Requirement at the usual time," he informed them.

"It's a date," Kirk joked, grinning as the predictable eyebrow rose, but there was a hint of sadness in his voice that McCoy pretended to overlook.

"...Indeed." With a slightly bemused look, Spock began the walk to the Slytherin common room.

"Stop teasing him, Jim," McCoy said in exasperation as they stepped into a very rowdy room. Apparently, complaints were well underway, instead of the celebration that they had expected. They seemed to know that a severe punishment was coming.

"Says you," Kirk retorted as they stole some empty chairs by the fire.

"It's expected of me," McCoy continued. "In fact, it's my right. You, on the other hand..."

"Am the captain and tease everybody and anybody anyway," Kirk finished, "so stop making a fuss. You're just jealous," he added, batting his eyelashes ridiculously in the campest way possible.

McCoy rolled his eyes. "You just keep deluding yourself, Jim."

Kirk was about to reply when the door to the common room swung open and both Harry and George stormed angrily over to the rest of the team, studiously ignoring the accusing eyes on them.

"What happened?" Angelina demanded immediately.

"Me, Fred and George are banned," Harry spat angrily.

There was a ripple of outrage across the room as everyone heard the news.

"What?" Fred asked incredulously.

"Umbridge decided to ban you too, mate," George explained. "She thought you were too much of a risk."

"I didn't do anything!"

"I think it was more the fact that you would have," George said darkly.

"You should have let me go," Fred accused Kirk.

"I was trying to stop you from getting caught!"

"Well it didn't work, did it?" Fred shot back. "To think I could have had the chance to break his nose..." he said wistfully.

"Banned," Angelina muttered brokenly, not having heard the conversation. "Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters...what on earth are we going to do?"

McCoy glanced warily at Kirk, as though expecting him to volunteer or die at any moment from just putting himself on the real team, but the Captain remained tactfully silent.

"It's just so unfair," a girl they recognised as Alicia said. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"

Ginny grimaced. "No. He just got lines."

"How do you know that?" McCoy asked in surprise.

"I heard someone talking about it as we came up here."

"...I need to pay more attention."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!"

"It's not my fault," Fred said, giving Kirk a defiant look.

"It was for your own good," Kirk argued.

Angelina sighed in frustration. "We're going to have to get replacements..." She surveyed the people before her. "Ginny, can you step in as Seeker?"

"I'd prefer not to," Ginny replied, and Harry immediately stiffened, "but I will."

"Good. Now...Jim, will you be a Beater? I know it's short notice and you're new to the game..."

"I'll do my best," Kirk replied seriously.

"Right," Angelina said. "As for the other Beater...I'll have to sort that out another day. Right now, I'm going to bed." She clambered wearily to her feet. "Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet..."

"In that case," Kirk announced, "we'd better be getting back to the Room of Requirement, or Spock will be wondering where we are."

"We'll see you tomorrow then," Hermione murmured as everyone else was rendered too listless by the new to react to anything much.

"Umbridge is going to be a nightmare," McCoy complained once they had stepped into the relative quiet of the corridor. "She was bad enough as it was without this happening to put her up a notch in her own opinion."

"She's definitely worse than some admirals I could mention," Kirk agreed. "Normally, I'd find a way to bring her down a peg or two..."

"But we need the protection of the school," McCoy finished miserably, "and she has the authority to throw us out. I'm surprised she hasn't already."

Kirk shrugged. "I think we have Professor Dumbledore to thank for that. I doubt Fudge would have let us stay here otherwise..."

McCoy frowned. "He should be readying troops for war with Voldemort," several nearby paintings winced, "not fighting conspiracy theories."

"Luckily for him there's less evidence supporting the return of Voldemort, now that he is technically unavailable to terrorise people."

"I wonder how Scotty's getting on."

"As far as we know," Kirk said thoughtfully, "Harry hasn't had any more visions, so there have hopefully been no repeats of what Spock saw when he protected Harry's mind."

"Unless Harry is keeping further visions a secret," McCoy pointed out.

"Knowing Scotty though, he's split them up after that incident so they'll be less likely to escape or hurt each other."

"We can only hope so," McCoy replied as they entered the Room of Requirement.

They made their way wearily to the fire, where Spock was waiting patiently for them.

"So," Kirk asked, "all quiet on the Slytherin front?"

"Negative. Mister Malfoy has been advised against participating in further Quidditch, on the orders of Madam Pomfrey. It would appear that she has finally reached – I believe the correct expression is – 'the end of her rope', regarding the numerous series of conflicts resulting in injury concerning both Mister Malfoy and Mister Potter."

"Which leaves you as Seeker," Kirk deduced.

"That is correct."

"It's too bad that Gryffindor and Slytherin have already played – I'd have enjoyed finally beating you at something," Kirk teased.

"Indeed?"

"Harry, Fred and George have been banned," McCoy filled in. "Ginny is the new Seeker and Jim is a Beater. They haven't found a second one yet."

"That is an interesting development," Spock noted. "It would appear that Professor Umbridge is gradually becoming uncontrollable."

"You can say that again," McCoy huffed, getting up and walking over to his bed.

"I would prefer not to."

The only reply was a groan and a heavy thump as McCoy allowed himself to fall backwards, not even bothering to dignify that comment with an argument.