25. Snape, Christmas and Snakes.
"For the third time, I am not going to do it, Albus!"
Snape's irritated voice drifted through the spacious and ancient infrastructure of Hogwarts, mystifying and amusing several half asleep portraits, before finally reaching the three pairs of now curious ears that lurked just around the corner. One eyebrow rose in contemplation, two blue eyes rolled in exasperation and hidden humour, while the last pair twinkled mischievously.
"I wonder what that's about," Kirk muttered.
"Lord knows."
Kirk grinned at the grumpy physician. "Want to find out?"
"I'm not even sure if we should," McCoy grimaced.
Kirk's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Bones! I never knew you were into stuff like that..."
Spock stared at them in confusion, but was ignored as McCoy's icy retort got the better of him.
"You know that's not what they're talking about," he snapped, "so stop being so damn dirty minded."
"I'm only trying to broaden your horizons," Kirk chirped. "You never know, in this crazy universe-"
"Universes," Spock corrected.
"Universes," Kirk amended with a grin at the Vulcan. "Anything could be possible, and imagine the techniques you could use with magic..."
"Jim," McCoy groaned over the babbling captain, "shut up."
"And now you know how I got my reputation," Kirk said to Spock.
The eyebrow took its position, years of perfecting the art of this particular move giving it the grace of an acrobat. "Indeed, although I had already suspected as much."
McCoy snorted. "I didn't even know you knew about rumours like that, at that tender age," he said sarcastically.
The second eyebrow, through complex and energetic but slightly jerky, hesitant movements, was soon having a reunion with the other one. "You as a doctor should be aware of the fact that many species are versed in sexual education from quite an early age," he said seriously, "in order to better prepare them for adulthood when their full mating potential is reached. Furthermore," he continued, ignoring their expressions, "additional research can be carried out should an individual wish to further their knowledge in order to become a more desirable mate."
There was silence.
"Have I said something amusing?" Spock asked, innocent surprise flickering not entirely convincingly across his face.
McCoy narrowed his eyes. "You have been brainwashed."
"As I stated on the first of numerous occasions when that comment has infiltrated conversation," Spock replied dutifully, "the technology of this era is not sufficiently advanced to accommodate such a need as the cleansing of brain matter."
"Not to mention," Kirk added, "that it'd look odd alongside a car wash..."
"You two are insufferable."
"We live to be, Bones."
"I believe that Jim had originally suggested that we discern the reason for the comment behind this conversation," Spock reminded them.
"I didn't know you were one for promoting eavesdropping, Spock," the blond teased.
"It would be more preductive than our current efforts."
"You said it," McCoy agreed.
"Indeed, though your employment of the word 'it' is rather ambiguous."
"Stop being so damn literal," McCoy snapped, "especially on purpose so early in the morning."
"It seems that I neglected to remember your previous comment regarding brain waves and their relevance to time."
McCoy peered at him. "Are you saying that my brain hasn't woken up yet?"
"I am not, Leonard; I am merely repeating a statement which you have made me aware of. However, your lack of memory regarding this would support the theory."
Kirk was going into silent fits of laughter.
"Why do you always have to insult me?" McCoy raged quietly, aware of the other argument around the corner.
Spock blinked sedately at him. "I find the results to be fascinating," he said simply.
McCoy sputtered. "Why not someone else?"
"Because no one else can rant at the smallest thing like you do," Kirk said.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" McCoy said defensively.
"According to the Webster dictionary published precisely two years previously in our own timeline, a 'rant' is defined as 'an overly long monologue punctuated with often random bursts of anger and or indignation, following a distressing situation or event for the individual involved'."
"Don't you ever shut up?" McCoy hissed. "Don't answer that," he added, as Spock opened his mouth to reply. "It's rhetorical."
"Does anyone actually know what the other argument is about?" Kirk asked. "I missed it because of this one..."
"Metaphorically speaking," Spock said, "it is circular in nature."
"Oh, you do metaphors now," McCoy muttered acerbically.
"So we haven't missed anything then."
"That is correct."
"Right," Kirk said decisively, glaring at his two friends, "I want to hear this."
"-only every year since I began working here!" Snape was saying sarcastically, clearly audible now that the officers had stopped arguing.
"I haven't asked you every year, Severus."
"The first Christmas hardly counts," Snape snapped, apparently understanding the meaning behind Dumbledore's words when no one else could.
"And quite rightly," Dumbledore replied solemnly.
The three officers, from their hidden position, exchanged meaningful glances.
"I only ask," Dumbledore continued, "that you do this year, Severus. As you know, I do not currently have the time available."
"And my time is obviously of mediocre importance in comparison."
"It is only one room, Severus."
"The Great Hall," Snape replied angrily.
"Admittedly, it also happens to be the largest room, but that is all the more reason for you to start now, before the majority of students wake up."
"The house elves usually complete this inane task."
"I gave them the day off, it is nearing Christmas after all – although they seem to enjoy spending it cleaning the kitchens," Dumbledore mused.
"How convenient."
"Everyone is entitled to a holiday at Christmas, Severus."
"Though apparently one morning of peace and quiet is too much to ask for."
"If you start now," Dumbledore repeated, "you will avoid the usual Saturday morning rush of students. As I understand it, most of them are having a late morning."
They could practically hear Snape scowling. "I am of course permitted to enlist help to make this odious task more bearable?"
"That is a rather Scrooge-like approach," Dumbledore said affably, "but if you think it's absolutely necessary, you may do so. I believe that there are three potential helpers around the corner."
McCoy shot his two companions a panicked look. "How did he know?"
"Because I can hear you," Dumbledore informed them, stepping around the corner with an angry Snape in tow. "These corridors have quite a lot more echo than many people realise."
"Then you knew we were there the whole time?" Kirk asked.
The wizard nodded. "Of course. I am sure that you have overheard our conversation and are probably curious enough to want to know what is going on?"
He received three nods.
"Through much persuasion I have convinced Professor Snape to decorate the Great Hall for Christmas – with some help, of course."
"We'd be delighted," Kirk said immediately, sounding slightly more regal than he'd intended.
"Excellent," Dumbledore replied, beaming at them. "I shall leave you to it – I'm afraid that I have rather a lot of research to be doing."
No one had to ask what type of research this was, and Dumbledore nodded to them with a playful twinkle in his eyes one last time before drifting up the stair case and in the direction of his office.
Kirk clapped his hands together in unmistakable enthusiasm. "Let's get started!"
Snape gave him a steely glare and disappeared into the Great Hall.
"This should be interesting," McCoy muttered as they followed.
"Have you ever celebrated Christmas, Spock?"
"Negative."
"What?" McCoy demanded. "What did you do with your time at the Academy and on the Enterprise?"
"I completed numerous assignments."
McCoy gaped. "I can't believe we never dragged you down to the Christmas party before."
"Didn't your mum celebrate it?" Kirk asked softly. Ahead of them, Snape was rustling through bright boxes, but they had the impression that he was listening.
"She did on occasion insist upon the exchanging of gifts," Spock replied just as quietly, "however she never required decoration in the living areas. In this respect, I have yet to observe the full Christmas tradition."
"The turkey might be a problem," Kirk said wryly.
"Indeed. It is reasonable to assume, however, that there are vegetarian alternatives."
"If not," McCoy said wickedly, "you'll have to live off carrots and potatoes."
"Their nutritional value would be sufficient to sustain me for a satisfactory period of time."
Snape finished his inspection of the boxes and turned around to face them. "We should start now, unless of course you would prefer to decorate a room crammed with excitable students?"
Obediently, they joined him in front of a dubiously large quantity of boxes, each filled to the brim with decorations; the clashing colours somehow appearing beautiful and festive.
Suddenly, a particularly long piece of red tinsel began to snake its way over the top of the box, light glinting off it and making it sparkle as it hung in the air. Wand raised and eyes focused, Snape sent it flying high up, until it had positioned itself near the ceilings.
"Of course," he sneered, "that will be slightly more...difficult without the use of magic."
McCoy eyed the nearest wall and then a box. "Even a human pyramid wouldn't reach that."
"You could try getting it up there using bow and arrow," Kirk teased. "You've always had amazing aim."
"I hit the instructor, who was out of the firing range...or supposed to be."
"Exactly. Amazing aim."
"I will decorate the high areas," Snape interrupted, "since I am able to reach them."
"Logical."
Snape gave the barest of nods in reply before moving away again and sending several decorations flying in different directions. They arranged themselves in a surprisingly tasteful way, cheering the room instantly. Meanwhile, Spock had begun to investigate the contents of one box, and was examining a multicoloured piece of tinsel.
"Curious."
"I think 'weird' is more the right word," McCoy interjected.
"It would be interesting to discover what causes the tinsel to change colour so completely, numerous times."
"What would you do with it, if you found out?" Kirk asked.
"Produce traffic lights that do not require the use of electricity."
"And here I was, thinking that you'd use it to make someone's hair multicoloured," McCoy drawled.
"While that would certainly be a fascinating endeavour, it is by no means the most useful."
"Let's get it up," Kirk chuckled, grabbing one end and helping Spock drape it as high up on the wall as they could both reach.
"I see no Christmas trees," McCoy observed, digging through the box, "except these mini ones." He held up a rather large bauble and peered at it. "And the baubles would definitely not fit..."
"They have been reduced in size," Snape explained, waving a wand wordlessly over the tree in McCoy's hands.
Suddenly, too quickly for McCoy to react, the tree began to expand, its entire growth process spanning the duration of a few seconds. A few blinks later, and McCoy was hidden behind a curtain of prickly Christmas tree branches, his hands clutching the stump of what had once been a sturdy trunk. Snape smirked in satisfaction.
"God damn it!" McCoy tried to bellow, but his voice was muffled by the foliage.
"Surely even you could have predicted the tree's sudden growth spurt, Mr McCoy," Snape said smoothly.
"It's not only that," McCoy said impatiently, "it's the branches. There's one up my nose and a few more that are trying to brush my teeth..."
"Then perhaps you should have put the tree down," Snape sneered.
"You didn't exactly give me a chance," McCoy shot back. "A bit of warning would have been nice."
"What's life without a few surprises Bones?"
"Shut up," the tree-man growled, bristling in the general direction of Kirk.
"If you stop your incessant mutterings," Snape said, "I will be able to help you put the tree down."
"Alright, but do it quickly! I think my fingers are becoming a part of the tree..."
With a sharp flick at the tree, Snape lifted it into the air...and McCoy with it.
"Mr McCoy," Snape practically purred, "your only job is to let go of the tree, nothing else. Not to attempt to fly with it."
"Just put me down!"
Legs wiggling frantically in the air, McCoy pedalled furiously on a bike that didn't exist. A pale face could dimly be seen from within the crowd of green, eyes wide and mouth keeping up a steady stream of curses, almost as though he'd rehearsed them.
"That probably solved the branch up the nose problem," Kirk muttered to Spock.
"Let go of the tree," Snape commanded slowly.
"Are you insane? I'm floating around in mid air; if I let go I'll fall!"
"An outcome which will likely provide us with some much needed peace," Snape conceded, "but which is impossible to attain. I won't drop you."
McCoy's only answer was more roared swearing at this new insult.
"McCoy, I cannot levitate you all day. Believe it or not, this chore does have a deadline and I have other work to finish."
"Leonard," Spock added calmly, "I suggest that you follow Professor Snape's instructions."
"If you think," McCoy snapped, "that I'm going to let go now, then you're as mad as he is!"
"You cannot remain there indefinitely," Spock pointed out.
"We'll be here to catch you, Bones."
"How reassuring."
"Just do as he says, Bones."
With a resigned sigh, McCoy released his death grip on the branches and felt himself slipping downwards, but the ground was not beneath his feet as expected. Glaring at the Potions Master, he flapped his arms in outrage, unaware that this only served to make him look like a demented flamingo.
"As you can see," Snape interrupted the preparation for rant, "I have not dropped you. Unfortunately."
"You've made your point! Now put," McCoy flapped, "me down!"
"As you wish," Snape said sarcastically, gradually bringing his wand, and McCoy with it, down to ground level. The doctor stood there, going bright red from outrage.
"All that could have been avoided if you just damn well told me to put the tree down in the first place! Whose idea was it to let a maniac like you teach students?"
"Professor Dumbledore has long considered me to be a highly qualified 'maniac'."
McCoy was obviously surprised at this remark, but decided to let the matter drop. "Let's just finish decorating," he said finally, stomping back to the box, giving Snape's wand a wide berth as he did so.
Several more minutes of decorating passed in silence, until the Great Hall was almost finished with its transformation into a Christmas wonderland. All that remained now was repositioning various items, putting the finishing touches on the trees and enchanting the ceiling.
"I have always wondered," Spock observed as he watched Snape lift a bauble into the air, "at the sensation of flying without a broom."
"Is that a hint?" Snape asked dryly, looking at Spock out of the corner of his eye.
"It would be scientifically interesting."
"If you pick up the angel," Snape pointed, "I shall show you."
"That would be much appreciated," Spock said, stooping to pick up said ornament from the box on the ground.
"Brace yourself."
"Now he does warnings," McCoy muttered irritably.
"Let it go, Bones," Kirk chuckled.
Soon Spock was hovering gently above their heads, relaxed and calm as he surveyed his surrounding and then proceeded to experiment by flipping himself over backwards, turning 360 degrees before coming to a halt. He raised an eyebrow.
"Fascinating."
"You're floating six feet off the ground and that's all you can say?" McCoy demanded.
"There is no alternative thought to vocalise."
"No fear?" McCoy interrogated.
"None."
This resulted in McCoy grumbling under his breath in a seemingly endless list of complaints.
"I am going to move you over to the nearest tree," Snape said. "Once you are at the top you will be able to put down the angel."
"Understood."
McCoy continued to complain as Spock flew in the air behind him, his attention focused solely on Kirk, who was watching the entire scenario with an amused expression.
"Am I really that melodramatic?"
"You wouldn't be the Bones we know and love if you weren't," Kirk replied, one eye fixed on Spock as he continued to drift comically behind McCoy.
"Wonderful," the surgeon sighed.
"It makes everything more interesting."
Behind McCoy, Spock had placed the angel on the top of the tree and was currently floating back to the ground.
"I'm glad it amuses you," McCoy shot back, taking a step backwards, turning around and then finding himself squashed beneath a recently airborne Vulcan.
"Leonard, you have strayed into the landing zone."
"Obviously," McCoy growled. "Now stop jabbering at me and let me up!"
"As you wish," Spock replied, gracefully levering himself off the disgruntled human.
McCoy made a huge show of dusting himself down. "These things always happen to me."
"Haven't we been over this?" Kirk frowned playfully.
"Probably," McCoy replied. He surveyed the room in interest. "I didn't know you were such a good decorator, Professor."
Snape scowled. "It is always laid out in a similar fashion."
"As you say, Professor," McCoy replied cheekily.
"I'm sure your house will be less than pleased if I were to deduct points from you."
"What for?"
"Insubordination," Snape said, "and for being, incidentally, annoying."
"I'm just trying to make conversation you pointy eared-" McCoy drew himself up short.
Snape's lip curled. "You were saying?"
"...I'm just so used to Spock saying things like that..."
"Clearly I'm not Spock."
"I know that damn it! It's too early in the morning for this..."
"Maybe your brain needs a reboot," Kirk suggested helpfully.
"Jim is correct, Leonard. Despite your frequent claims to the contrary, your previous error suggests that you do indeed possess, metaphorically speaking of course, a 'default program'."
"Oh shut up," McCoy snapped at the room in general. "Let's just finish the job so that I can have some peace and quiet from magic related accidents."
"Your help is no longer necessary," Snape said. "All that remains is the altering of the enchantment on the ceiling."
"You can do that?" Kirk asked in surprise.
"I may be a professor of Potions, but I am not incompetent when wand-related magic is concerned."
"I just assumed that Professor Dumbledore usually enchanted it..." Kirk said, hasty to correct himself.
"That is usually his responsibility which has, unfortunately, fallen to me."
"How complicated is it?"
"For any competent magician," Snape replied, "it is relatively simple, Mr McCoy."
"Are you going," a sickly sweet voice chimed in from the doorway, "to indulge us with a delightful downfall of snow, or is your usual style of doom and gloom going to apply here too?"
They span around in surprise to see Umbridge shuffling into the room, a disgusting smile plastered across her face as she surveyed the room around them.
"Much as I would relish the opportunity, it is obvious that anything other than nauseatingly fluffy clouds and snow would frighten a large population of the school." Snape gave a special sneer in the direction of the living embodiment of the colour pink before him.
"I am sure that with your..." she looked him up and down, "skill, you would be able to work out a way to do it anyway."
Snape glowered at her. "Perhaps," was all he said, his eyes satisfied as Umbridge's smile faltered.
Instead of a direct reply, she waved a hand at the ceiling. "In your own time," she simpered.
Turning his attention to the early morning sky above the room, Snape raised his wand lazily and murmured what sounded like a complex chain of spells under his breath, his wand drifting around to encompass the entire ceiling.
A single snow flake fell.
"Oh dear," Umbridge tittered. "It seems that you were unsuccessful."
But Snape ignored her, instead standing on the spot patiently as more and more white flakes fell, melting away just before the tables.
"Magical dandruff," Kirk joked.
Snape turned his attention back to Umbridge. "A success, I think."
"That is extremely complex magic."
"It is." Snape sounded vaguely self satisfied.
"Are you aware that it may be classified as dangerous?"
Snape's eyes darkened. "Under which premise?"
"Clearly, the Headmaster is using it as a test to show suitable competence to join his secret army."
Snape stared at her for a moment. "That is utterly ridiculous; wizards have been enchanting this very ceiling for decades."
"Professor Dumbledore usually undertakes the task?"
"Yes," Snape replied testily, "but the Headmaster currently is indisposed."
"Indisposed?" Umbridge chirped, looking disgustingly gleeful.
"He is a busy man," Snape snapped, obviously having lost what little patience he had with regards to Umbridge.
"Doing what, I wonder?" The woman mused rhetorically. "Oh this is all too convenient – the Minister will be very pleased to hear of this, very pleased indeed!"
"There is hardly any point in pestering the Minister with such trivialities."
"This is hardly trivial, Professor! This news is positively groundbreaking..." she bustled off, muttering self importantly as she made her way to the owelry, already having forgotten that no one was there to hear her.
"Well?" Snape barked suddenly, eyes flashing, "why are you still standing here? Breakfast is about to begin."
The possibilities of breakfast anytime soon looked doubtful; although the tables were of course there, no other students had yet surfaced. Nevertheless, they followed Snape's instructions and sat down at their respective house tables, waiting patiently until more students arrived.
"Wow," Ron said as a large crowd of Gryffindors entered the hall several minutes later. "This is bloody brilliant!"
"You should thank Professor Snape," Kirk said.
"No way," Ron exclaimed as he stared at the severe man sat glaring at the staff table, "Snape did this?"
"He did," Kirk affirmed, "and we were there to witness it."
"Did he kick up a fuss?" Hermione asked.
"Of course," Kirk replied. "Dumbledore eventually managed to convince him."
"I wish we could have seen that," Harry said wistfully, grinning up at Snape.
"Harry," Hermione hissed, "don't grin at him – he thinks we don't know."
"So?" Harry asked.
Hermione sighed. "Honestly, boys...If he knows you know, then he'll think his reputation is in danger and try to strengthen it, mainly by taking it out on you."
"Why does he hate me so much anyway?" Harry complained as the breakfast appeared and everyone began digging in. "I know I look a lot like my Dad, but that's no reason to treat me like dirt."
"Obviously Harry," Hermione said slowly, beginning to glance at the youth nervously, "Snape thinks your Dad did something terrible to him."
"My Dad wasn't like that – you can ask Sirius!"
"I know," Hermione said soothingly, "but all I'm saying is that Snape saw your father differently and is trying to get revenge on you for whatever he thinks James did."
"But it was years ago!" Harry protested.
"Snape's just a vindictive git," Ginny said fiercely. "He could carry a grudge to the end of the Earth."
"Knowing Snape," Ron muttered wryly, "he'd find a way to make it last longer."
Harry snorted and Hermione patted him on the arm. "Don't let it get to you, Harry."
Harry jabbed at his food, making milk slosh alarmingly close to the top of the bowl. "How am I supposed to do that? All I've got left of my Dad are the good memories that others have given me, and Snape's taking all of it away from me!"
"I know, Harry," Hermione replied softly, "but the best revenge against someone like Snape is to cling to those good memories, so that he gets no satisfaction from his hate of your father."
"I've tried that," Harry said heatedly, "and it didn't work."
"Give it another try," Hermione advised. "It's either that or argue with him."
"I'd prefer to argue with an enraged dragon," Harry said derisively.
"Then trying to ignore him is all that you can do."
Harry gave another sceptical snort but did not press the matter, instead allowing the rest of breakfast to be eaten peacefully, washed down with casual conversation.
"Do you know what I've always found odd?" McCoy demanded as they trooped to their quarters to collect their books.
"What, Bones?"
"Snape never once insulted Harry's mother."
Kirk pondered this as they packed their books and made their way to the school library. "That is interesting. Do you have any theories?"
"Only two. Either Snape didn't know Harry's mother enough to insult her, or Harry's mother never did anything to Snape worth insulting her over."
"Besides marrying his arch enemy," Kirk pointed out. "You'd think he'd at least comment on that."
"He may have," McCoy considered, "when we weren't here. Either way, we have no way of knowing why."
"He could have been friends with her," Kirk said suddenly.
"Then we'd have definitely heard a rant about her marriage to Harry's father."
"Like you said, he could have given one already."
"Unless her marriage with him ended their friendship," McCoy finished.
"The only way we'd be able to find that out would be to ask him," Kirk said wryly, "and somehow I can't picture that happening any time soon."
Their speculations waned as they reached the more populated corridors, neither officer wanting to be overheard discussing the reclusive Potions Master.
"Does Spock know we're coming here?" McCoy asked as they entered the library.
"Knowing him," Kirk replied, "he'll be here soon enough."
Sure enough, Spock entered the room only five minutes after Kirk had said this, and joined them at their table, where Harry, Ron and Hermione were also clustered.
"No Slytherin fan club today then Spock?" Kirk teased.
"Negative. They opted to study in the common rom. A few have decided to request the advice of Professor Snape."
"They'll need all the luck they can get," Harry decided, though without much sympathy in his voice.
Ron nodded in agreement. "Snape's not exactly the most understanding man alive."
"Nevertheless he is extremely informative. In addition, the Slytherin students are, according to my observations, on good terms with him."
"All the Slytherins have been," Ron said in disgust. "I can't remember a single one of them not liking him since we started school."
"He is their head of house," Hermione pointed out, not even raising her head from the text book that she was currently buried in.
Ron rolled his eyes. "I don't know why you always defend Snape."
"Someone has to," Hermione said simply, noticing that the librarian was beginning to give them death glares. "We'd better get a move on with this homework."
"Which one are you doing?" McCoy asked.
"Transfigurations."
"Do you understand it?" McCoy sounded vaguely hopeful.
"Yes. Do you need help with it?" Hermione replied, the tone of her voice indicating that she had half expected this to happen.
"That would be great."
"While I'm offering," Hermione said in a slightly resigned tone, "does anyone else need help with anything?"
"Potions," Kirk said automatically.
"Everything," Ron and Harry said in unison.
"But not Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harry added.
Spock, having noticed that Hermione was becoming swamped in responsibility, promptly stepped in. "I am also available to offer my services."
The group quickly divided up into two so that the workload became more bearable for the castle's two resident boffins, but despite this the hours crawled by, and less progress was made than expected. The evening arrived with a collective yawn and Hermione was forced to take over completely as Spock headed to the Quidditch pitch for his team practice.
An hour later and an exhausted and frustrated looking librarian forced them out of the library. Still not finished with their work but determined to finish what they had that evening in order to have the next day off, they migrated to the Gryffindor common room, where they found their usual seats by the fire.
The warm atmosphere combined with the late hour caused the teenagers to drop off to sleep one by one, though Harry and Ron refused to go up to their dormitory and struggled on valiantly for as long as they could manage. Soon, Kirk and McCoy were left to finish they work, moving and writing quietly in order to avoid waking the three slumbering students who were sprawled nearby.
"So for this spell," McCoy whispered, pointing at a name in the text book, "the wand movement is this?" He waved his finger, which was acting as a wand, in the air vaguely.
"No," Kirk said, "it's like this." He performed a completely different sequence of movements.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright," McCoy murmured. "Now I just need to draw it...damn it, what's wrong with describing it?"
"Because virtual instructions are easier to follow."
"Yes, but it takes too long. This isn't an art class!"
"I agree with you on that one," Kirk grimaced. "I was always the worst at art. You were brilliant though."
"I'd have to be; as a medical student, we had a lot of anatomy to draw..."
"I don't envy you..." He grinned wickedly, "or maybe I do."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "It's also one of the only things I was great at during High School," McCoy complained, "along with science."
"You weren't that bad – I've seen your CV."
McCoy gave him a look. "Did you see my French grade?"
"No."
"Exactly. I was so bad that they forced me out of the course. I once asked my teacher if I could borrow his racoon to brush my teeth with."
Kirk chuckled quietly. "What were you trying to say?"
"I was trying to ask him how to say 'tooth brush'."
"Well," Kirk said cheerfully, "you were on the right track – vaguely."
McCoy snorted. "I don't understand how Nyota does it."
"Who knows," Kirk replied. "Did you know that she still won't let me use her first name?"
"You didn't exactly make a very good first impression. Grabbing a woman's breasts and then grinning like a baboon on Prozac during a brawl isn't exactly good."
Kirk grimaced. "I've been working on that. She still hasn't really forgiven me for it, though I think I've made some progress. She doesn't look disgusted when she sees me anymore – but she doesn't look pleased either."
"Maybe she's given up the will to live," McCoy teased. "You're enough to drive anyone round the bend."
"Thank you, Bones. I had no idea you could be so sympathetic."
"No problem."
Harry hissed in his sleep and wiggled around a bit.
"...Is that normal for him?" Kirk asked.
"How the hell do you expect me to know the answer to that?"
"You never know."
"Shut up, Jim."
"No..." Harry moaned, another hiss escaping his throat.
"It sounds like a snake."
"He's having a nightmare," McCoy announced.
They exchanged glances, each knowing what this meant.
"Go and get Spock," McCoy ordered. "I'll stay here with him."
Kirk nodded and slid quickly out the door to the Gryffindor common room, his feet pounding silently on the floor as he sprinted towards the Room of Requirement.
Throwing open the door, his brain dimly noted the fact that it was two in the morning as he snapped on the muggle lights and all but leapt to Spock's bed side, where the Vulcan was already sitting up, alert despite the hour.
"Harry's having a nightmare," Kirk gasped, "we think it's Voldemort."
Wordlessly, Spock got out of bed and made his way to the door, pausing only to don a Vulcan robe to cover his pyjamas, so that he would be protected from the cold.
Sprinting back along the corridor, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady, whom Kirk was about to awaken until he felt Spock's hand lightly touch his forearm. Following his First's lead, Kirk knocked on the portrait door and waited for it to open, allowing them to step inside as McCoy let them in.
"What is his condition?" Spock demanded, falling to his knees before the tossing youth.
"The same as last time – Jim, help me restrain him!"
"I will attempt a mind meld," Spock told them as they held Harry down, "in order to rouse him. If that is not possible, then I will only be capable of shielding him from the onslaught."
"Go ahead," McCoy urged, looking anxious.
Placing his fingers on the meld points, Spock dived into the mind, immediately finding himself wrapped up in a disturbing vision.
Before him, sliding between strange, shimmeringly colourful objects, was the largest snake that Spock had ever seen. The movements of the long body were lithe and agile, speaking of much practice in the art of stealth.
His keen Vulcan eyes caught sight of a man sitting on the floor, clearly asleep, and he wondered for a moment if this figure was Voldemort in an early memory until they drew closer.
The silhouette gained a more defined outline; showing a man whose build and hair colour were vaguely reminiscent of the Weasley siblings.
Spock followed silently behind the snake, this time distancing himself from the vision until he could find Harry, perhaps lurking in a shadowy crevice as Voldemort...
As the snake slithered closer to the man, Spock quickly checked the corridor, noticing with a distant feeling of dread that it was empty aside from the two beings before him.
A sudden suspicion blossoming in his mind like a poisonous flower, Spock darted forwards, too late to stop the snake as it struck, the victim falling to the ground with a sharp cry.
Forcing himself to ignore what he knew was not the physical version of the injured man, Spock stood his ground and looked directly into the snake's eyes, probing them gently, gingerly.
Harry was there.
Thinking quickly, Spock sent his mind further towards the snake, mentally calling out Harry's name as he did so. The cry reverberated off the walls at the same moment as he sensed people in the waking world calling the boy's name.
The snake stopped dead, its surroundings dissolving instantly.
Green eyes from a frightened human face stared, wide and unblinking, into Vulcan ones, and Spock knew that he had succeeded.
"Your dad," Harry gasped, chest heaving, staring straight at Ron. "Your dad's...been attacked..."
Ron went very pale. "What?"
"Your dad," Harry repeated urgently, voice stronger this time. "He's been bitten, it's serious, there was blood everywhere..."
"I'm getting Professor McGonagall," Kirk said decisively. "We're going to need some help if he has been attacked." He quickly disappeared out of the room.
"Harry, mate, you...you were just dreaming..." he sounded as though he desperately wanted to believe those words.
"No, Ron! It wasn't a dream...not an ordinary dream...I was there, I saw it...I did it."
Ron looked taken aback and even more desperate at this last piece of information. "Harry, you're not well..."
"I'm fine!" Harry interrupted. "There's nothing wrong with me, it's your dad you've got to worry about – we need to find out where he is – he's bleeding like mad – I was – it was a huge snake."
"Over here, Professor," Kirk said, opening the door and beckoning McGonagall in.
McGonagall, in her dressing gown and with slightly rumpled hair, swept efficiently into the room, her usually severe expression softened by concern. "What is it, Potter? Where does it hurt?"
"It's Ron's dad," Harry explained impatiently. "He's been attacked by a snake and it's serious. I saw it happen."
"What do you mean, you saw it happen?"
"I don't know...I was asleep and then I was there..."
"You mean you dreamed this?"
"There could be a man dying out there!" McCoy snapped, jabbing his finger at the door. "Why are we wasting time arguing about it?"
"Professor," Spock interrupted, "I can confirm Mr Potter's vision. As a natural telepath, I can inform you that this was indeed contact with another mind and not a dream."
McGonagall looked horrified and vaguely surprised.
"I'm not lying and I'm not mad!" Harry added for good measure, though it was apparent to everyone that the professor had been persuaded.
"I believe you, Potter," McGonagall said brusquely. "Get ready, all of you, we're going to see the headmaster."