41. He's Back.

For several days, Madam Pomfrey came to Grimmauld Place to check on the two patients, bringing with her both an abundance of potions and advice for McCoy, instructing him to take care of them where he could. With Umbridge on the rampage, she was having more and more students coming to her complaining of cuts and sores. As long as there was a qualified doctor to look after Kirk and Snape, she was confident in leaving them alone, even more so when they began to regain their strength.

McCoy was beginning to wonder who was more stubborn. Both men refused to sit still and simply recover – they had to battle tooth and nail to be up and about again. McCoy admitted that Snape, as Potions Master and spy for the Order, had a good enough reason to want to recover quickly, but Kirk did not. It was almost as though they were simply going out of their way to annoy the surgeon, trying to see how far they could push him.

Right now, it was Snape who was pushing him too far.

"I'm trying to help you, you overgrown curtain haired bat!"

Snape currently stood at the foot of his bed, looking as menacing as he possibly could dressed as he was in black pyjamas that Pomfrey had brought round – and McCoy grudgingly admitted that it was actually a pretty effective technique. It would have been even more effective, McCoy reflected, if the man hadn't been visibly shaking from the effort of standing unassisted so soon in his recovery.

"I do not need help," Snape hissed, his voice dangerously quiet.

McCoy, by contrast, was getting louder and louder. "You nearly died," McCoy shouted, "you can barely stand up, you're shaking like a leaf and yet you still tell me you don't need help? Good God man, take a look at yourself!"

Snape raised his eyebrows. "I'm quite familiar with my condition," he replied coldly, "after having to put up with it for days."

"Then you can either get your ass back into bed or let me help!" McCoy snapped. "I'm sure I can find a bedpan around here somewhere, if you want to go back to doing it the hard way!"

Snape allowed himself a small cringe. "I have no desire to use that," he spat.

"Well you're going to unless you listen to me," McCoy retorted.

"Having you assist me is hardly on my list of things to do."

"I don't exactly enjoy the idea either," McCoy snapped, "but I'm a Doctor and you're my patient – it's my job. I've done it many times before and you can either accept the fact I'm helping or use the pan!"

Snape simply crossed his arms, his stance unyielding.

"Good Lord," he groaned, running his hand through his hair, all shouting gone. "I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually worse than Jim."

"I have work to do, McCoy, I cannot afford to sit around and let myself be mollycoddled."

McCoy threw his hands into the air. "Fine," he drawled in annoyance. "Go ahead. But if you collapse and manage to drown yourself in the toilet bowl, don't come crying to me!"

Snape smirked at him. "I doubt I would be in any condition to, if I manage to 'drown myself' in the toilet."

Before McCoy could even think of a reply to the unexpected humour, Snape had disappeared through the door to the bathroom, footsteps shuffled but strong enough to reassure McCoy that he would be alright. The door creaked open to admit Kirk, pushing McCoy even further into a bad mood.

"Damn it Jim!"

Kirk blinked. "I only wanted to see how he was doing."

"I told you how he was doing! Will you get back in your own room?"

Kirk rolled his eyes at him. "Bones, you're getting power-mad."

McCoy sputtered for a moment. "Power-mad?" His mouth flapped for a bit. "POWER-MAD?"

"Perhaps," Spock murmured from outside, having overheard their argument through the still open door, "you should not have said that, Jim."

Kirk stared at McCoy's steadily reddening face with something between fascination and horror. "I think you might be right..."

McCoy promptly exploded. "SPOCK!" He roared, stomping into the hallway, ignoring the surprised expressions of both Kirk and the Vulcan. "How did he get out of his room?"

Kirk turned around and watched them in some amusement. "Don't I get a look in on this argument?"

"Do you want to?" McCoy growled.

"Not really..."

"Then shut up." McCoy whirled back to face Spock. "You," he snarled, jabbing the Vulcan in the chest, "were supposed to keep him in there!"

"Affirmative."

Kirk widened his eyes in a frantic attempt to get Spock to say something less infuriating, but it was too late. McCoy was, it appeared, beyond rational thought at this point.

"Then how did you manage to fail? You're a Vulcan damn it – the most over-achieving race in the universe!"

"I am familiar with the concept of a Vulcan being."

"That doesn't answer my question!"

Spock sighed lightly. "I believed that it would be advantageous to his recovery should he be able to partake of light exercise. I believed that it would aid in replenishing his strength-"

McCoy swore, drawing Spock up short, and turned back to Kirk. "Get back in your bed, Jim. Don't make me come over there!"

Kirk dithered for a moment. "Can't I see-"

"No," McCoy interrupted flatly.

"Even if I was sitting dow-"

"No, Jim. He's not going to disappear in a puff of smoke. You both need your rest – when you're recovered you can see him, he'll be here until then, even if I have to strap him to the bed."

"That's a bit extreme even for you, isn't it Bones?"

"Do you want to find out?" McCoy growled.

"I'll be in my room..." Kirk muttered to the room in particular before fleeing the scene in an obvious attempt to escape McCoy's presence.

McCoy snorted in a mixture of exasperation and affection. "Idiot."

"Leonard?"

McCoy turned around to see an insulted eyebrow pointed at the ceiling. "Not you," he sighed, "though come to think of it you might as well be, seeing as you let him out of the room in the first place."

"I apologise, Leonard, however I feel the need to remind you that he has made significant progress with his recovery."

"He's staying in the room," McCoy enunciated, "until I say he can leave."

"Very well."

"Right," McCoy decided. "Before anything else happens, I'm going to check on Snape. I dread to think what he's managed to do in his state..."

Leaving behind a really confused looking Vulcan, McCoy walked back into Snape's room, closing the door quietly behind him. Snape was nowhere to be seen, and McCoy glared heavenwards before stalking over to the bathroom door.

He knocked on it pointedly.

"...Yes?"

McCoy resisted the urge to snort at the confusion in Snape's voice. "You aren't unconscious in there, are you?"

"Obviously not."

There was a pause.

"Are you going to grace us with your presence anytime soon?"

"I can hardly stay holed up in a bathroom for the rest of my life," Snape snapped back.

Silence descended once more, and proceeded to stretch for a further five more uncomfortable minutes.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Are you coming out, then?"

"In a moment."

McCoy rolled his eyes, muttered under his breath, and promptly barged in, earning himself a glare from the Potions Master sitting sprawled on the floor.

McCoy raised his eyebrows back at him. "If you didn't want me to interfere, you should have locked the door."

"There is no lock," Snape replied in annoyance.

McCoy grinned. "Good. So this won't happen again." He walked over and turned the tap off, noticing as he did so that Snape was fully dressed. "At least you didn't get caught with your pants down," he quipped.

Snape's glare intensified. "There is no need to be crude about it."

"You obviously haven't known Jim for long enough if you think that was a crude comment, given the circumstances."

"Given your friend's level of intellect it is hardly surprising that he prides himself on his 'toilet jokes'."

McCoy scowled at him. "Do you want to stay on the floor?"

"That is hardly my first choice," Snape sneered, attempting to lever himself up but failing completely and sinking back onto the cold surface with a displeased expression.

McCoy snorted. "Are you finished failing to stand up?"

"Apparently."

Without further ado, McCoy leaned forwards and wrapped one arm around Snape's back, not missing the stiffening of the form beneath him, and then proceeded to curl the other arm under the Potions Master's legs.

Snape promptly batted his hands away. "I do not need to be carried like a child," he snapped, furious.

"Really?" McCoy drawled, crossing his arms in a worthy imitation of the man before him. "That wasn't the impression I got."

He moved to gather Snape up in his arms again but the Potions Master twitched – if there had been room, he would probably have fled. If he had the strength.

"Would you prefer to crawl back into the room? I tell you, that'll make you look even more like a child."

Snape pressed his lips into a thin line before relaxing slightly, not looking at all pleased at the fact he was allowing himself to be gathered into McCoy's arms and carried back to bed. McCoy resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and picked the man up, noticing as he did so that he was unexpectedly light.

"You know," McCoy said in exasperation, "you really need to do something about that workload of yours."

Snape's brow furrowed in confusion, momentarily distracted from his current position. "My working habits are none of your concern, McCoy. I do not need someone to supervise me or interrogate me in everything I do."

"If you carry on neglecting yourself, then you probably should. You haven't been eating enough."

Snape's face became, if possible, even more closed off. "Perhaps if you were even listening to a word I said," he drawled menacingly, "you would remember that I told you it was none of your concern. Surely even you can remember such simple phrasing."

McCoy ignored the barb. "I'm your doctor."

"How astute," Snape sneered as McCoy placed him gently back on the bed, "however I feel the need to remind you that you are not permanently so and as such these questions are unnecessary."

"So my caring about your well-being is unnecessary?" McCoy repeated incredulously.

"It is. I am thrilled that you have understood the concept so quickly."

"Well, like it or not," McCoy said gently, careful not to put any venom into his voice, "there are people around who do actually care about you."

Snape snorted. "Surely sentimental drivel is not part of your prerogative as my 'Doctor'."

"No, it's not, which just proves my point," McCoy replied. "Is it so hard to believe that people actually care about you?"

"Given my past...profession," Snape said, lip curling, "it does not seem to be particularly likely. In any case," he added before McCoy could interrupt, "I do not see how this is relevant to anything."

"Did it never occur to you," McCoy elaborated obediently, "that the people who care about you – who work with you – would be willing to help you?"

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Surely even you realise that they cannot become-"

"I meant," McCoy interrupted, seeing where this was going, "that they could help you with whatever work you do at Hogwarts. Wouldn't that leave you free to do your...other duties?"

"Are you suggesting that I cannot do my job? I assure you," Snape growled, "that there is actually a reason I remain in the Headmaster's employ, and it is not strategic convenience."

"I never said-"

"Perhaps," Snape continued swiftly, "you should not attempt to lecture in areas you have no knowledge about, though I admit your ignorance is at least partially entertaining."

Back to argument, McCoy thought wearily. Just as he was really beginning to get somewhere. "You're a real pain in the ass, do you know that? You just can't accept the fact that you might actually be wrong about something, that maybe not everyone hates you!"

"Did it ever occur to you, McCoy, that you are not infallible yourself?" Snape questioned, throwing McCoy's words back into his face. "Perhaps you failed to notice the fact or simply liked to delude yourself into thinking it was never true?"

McCoy ignored him. "This is getting nowhere." He sighed, looking at the weakened man before him who so stubbornly insisted on hating himself. "But maybe one day you'll realise you're wrong." Before Snape could argue, McCoy had walked out the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

From that point on, McCoy avoided discussing the subject with Snape, knowing he had no hope of winning against the master of intimidation and stubbornness himself, but that did not stop him from subtly trying to show the Potions Master that he was indeed cared for. He would never forget the surprised look on Kirk's face when McCoy had finally relented and allowed him into Snape's room, if only for a few minutes.

Added to the attention he was also receiving from Spock, Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore, McCoy was surprised the man could still continue to believe everyone hated him. Yet he still seemed to find a way, and it was clear that years of self-recrimination would not be undone after just a few days of McCoy silently battling the subject out with him.

In fact, all this attention seemed to convince Snape that he needed to recover as quickly as possible in order to return both to Hogwarts and to the Death Eaters. Judging by the conversation he'd had with Spock after the mind meld, McCoy did not like to imagine what thoughts of atonement and duty were pushing the man to recovery rather than determination to simply get better.

Yet he did, and alarmingly quickly, as though he had had practice in recovering swiftly after severe injuries, almost as though he believed it was expected of him. Soon, McCoy found himself no longer able to regulate either Snape's or Kirk's activities, and they were roaming the house impatiently despite the irate physician's rants.

It was during one of these rants that the household was graced by an entirely unexpected visitor.

"-Completely irresponsible!" McCoy was yelling at the two unrepentant patients.

"Mr McCoy," Snape said in exasperation, arms folded over his chest and glaring at the aforementioned doctor, "I have rather a lot of work to-"

"Which you can get back to when you've recovered," McCoy said pointedly. "You can't just go sneaking out-"

"LEAVING ME WITH THE BLOOD TRAITOR SCUM!" Mrs Black wailed, having been woken by the commotion in the hallway. Her demented gaze was fixed on Snape. "YOU CAN'T LET THIS HOUSE FALL INTO THEIR HANDS!" She screeched, stamping her foot, hair flying.

Snape remained quiet, apparently amused by the woman's tirade.

"YOU ARE THE ONLY REPUTABLE-"

"Will you stay out of this?" McCoy roared back, having well and truly lost all capability of discussing things rationally. He was beginning to turn red.

"Bones, I thought you agreed with her-"

"Shut up, Jim. Just because I haven't started on you yet doesn't mean you're safe!"

"-MELODRAMATIC BLOOD TRA-"

"Just who the hell are you calling melodramatic, you wailing banshee in drag?" McCoy snapped back.

Mrs Black quivered. "HOW DARE-"

"What's going on here?" Sirius asked blearily, clattering downstairs in a dressing gown and looking slightly dishevelled.

"Nothing that concerns you, Black, there is no need to interrupt your precious beauty sleep," Snape sneered.

"-SMELLY LITTLE SHI-"

"Jim here was caught aiding and abetting Professor Snape-"

"I just happened to come across him when he was trying to leave," Kirk interrupted. "I was getting a drink from the kitchen."

"After I told you to get some rest and not wake up too early," McCoy added.

"-TARNISHING MY REPUTATIO-"

"I couldn't exactly help it! It was only going to be quick glass of water – how was I supposed to know you'd wake up and decide to have a midnight feast?"

"Which I never got to do, by the way," McCoy snapped, "because you were both out of bed! The one time I actually have a few quiet seconds to myself to eat something after babysitting you two, and-"

"You haven't eaten anything yet?" Sirius asked in confused concern.

"A completely alien concept to you, Black, I'm sure, given your love for stuffing yourself every few minutes."

McCoy ignored Snape's comment. "No I haven't eaten anything yet! How can I when those two are always acting up?"

"Perhaps a rota would be beneficial," Spock suggested, having finally decided to see what the commotion was about and join them in the hall.

"-NOT EVEN LISTENING TO ME!"

"Why were you trying to sneak out at two in the morning anyway?" McCoy demanded of Snape.

"Surely even you realise that classes cannot go unattended for much longer," Snape replied. "Professor Umbridge has no doubt already become suspicious-"

"Looks like the little spy was caught red-handed," Sirius declared loudly, eying Snape with distrust.

Snape regarded him with equal contempt. "What could I possibly have to gain from 'spying' at this hour?" He demanded.

"You tell me," Sirius replied, "you're supposed to be the expert on Death Eater timetables."

"Performing the duty of spy at this current time would be illogical," Spock interjected for good measure. "Not only are the subjects of information resting-"

"Alright!" Sirius snapped. "I get the idea."

"-WAKING ME UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!" Mrs Black, desperate for attention, continued to screech. "THEN IGNORE ME LIKE SOME COMMON-"

There was a light rapping on the door and Dumbledore popped his head through, smiling brightly before stepping into the house and surveying the scene before him with amusement.

"Ah! A late night gathering in the hallway," he said affably, studiously ignoring the tension, "a rather interesting way of spending the night if I do say so myself."

Mrs Black had turned puce. "YOU!" She roared, flapping her arms at Dumbledore in apocalyptic rage. "YOU MEDDLING OLD FOOL OF A WIZARD, COMPLETE DISGRACE-"

"Yes," Dumbledore acknowledged her calmly, "it is pleasant to see you too, Mrs Black, though I must ask that you lower the volume slightly. We don't want everyone to turn deaf, after all."

"I'LL-"

But before she could say anymore, Dumbledore had closed the curtains around her portrait with a sedate flick of his wand.

"I wish you'd teach me how to do that," Sirius grumbled.

"I believe a relocation may be in order," Dumbledore stated, drawing them all into the dingy living room and waiting until they had all sat down before continuing. "It is, as it happens, rather fortunate that you are all awake," he said placidly, "though I gather from the general aura of unrest that this was not a pleasant social gathering."

McCoy snorted. "You could say that again." At Dumbledore's questioning look, he continued. "If I could use chloroform legally to keep them asleep, I would."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes, I suspected something of this nature would arise – Severus is a very reluctant patient at the best of times."

"If you knew that you could have warned me!"

"I was 'on the run' as it would happen," Dumbledore informed him. "While I was regularly updated regarding the goings-on at Hogwarts and the situation with its staff, I am unable to risk revealing my location through communicating openly."

From the shared looks of doubt across the room, it was clear that no-one believed him, but the headmaster seemed not to notice.

"Now," he continued, "onto more pressing matters. Severus, I believe it is an appropriate time for you to return to Hogwarts-"

"Finally," Sirius muttered, looking relieved.

"-if, of course," Dumbledore added quickly, seeing McCoy's scowl, "Doctor McCoy believes you are ready for light duty?"

"Light duty?" McCoy repeated, confused.

"I understand that Severus requires time to recover-"

"I am fine."

Dumbledore pretended not to hear him, "-but Professor Umbridge is suspicious. I shall be issuing him with a Time-Turner so that he may make necessary appearances," he turned to Snape and gave him a knowing look, "and I expect you to only use it to teach your OWL and NEWT classes."

"Headmaster-"

"I'm sure that Professor Umbridge shall accept the excuse I will provide you with," Dumbledore continued cheerfully. "Once that is done and Poppy has declared you healthy enough you will, of course, be able to return to full duty."

Snape seemed to accept this proposition, albeit reluctantly. "And the Dark Lord's ranks?"

"Wouldn't want you to abandon them now, would we?" Sirius muttered, glaring at Snape.

Dumbledore gave him a brief warning look before turning back to the Potions Master. "You shall need to make an appearance," he said gently. "They cannot suspect that you were dangerously injured and looked after here."

"They will be so relieved," Snape said drily.

"To the real matter at hand," Dumbledore said, his tone serious. "I have managed at last to perfect the spell which shall return you to your universe. Once Severus has taken care of his duties using the Time-Turner, you will be able to return home."

"Is that why we were broken out of prison?" Kirk asked.

Dumbledore nodded. "You were brought here," he explained before anyone could ask, "because the final details had yet to be finalised and this accommodation is – I am sure you will agree – much more comfortable than both prison and Voldemort's Headquarters."

"Why not just delay our jail break?" Kirk asked.

"The Death Eaters were becoming rather impatient," Dumbledore told him. "Severus was forced into action."

"Fortunately," Snape added, "I was able to convince the more intelligent of the Dark Lord's followers to remain behind in order to continue with research for the counter spell. As a result, I was able to allow you to escape with the Order without my actions appearing suspicious."

"Avery was still there," Sirius spat, "or so you tell the Order. I'd say he was one of the more 'intelligent' of your precious Death Eaters – maybe you really wanted to take them home to Voldemort."

Snape whitened at the name but his anger was directed elsewhere. "I had to allow at least one person of less than debatable IQ to join me!" he snapped. "Without Avery there to keep an eye on the other idiots, the entire scheme would have been obvious!"

"How convenient."

"Sirius," Dumbledore said, "Severus did what was needed. The result is the same and there should be no cause for argument now."

"So where do we go from here?" Kirk asked before Sirius could argue.

The twinkle was once again in the older wizard's eyes. "I do, of course, have a plan…"

oOo

Snape, as it turned out, had finished using the Time-Turner that same day, allowing their plan to be put into action in the late afternoon. The Potions Master remained at Grimmauld Place long enough to discuss the plan with them once more before taking up his position at Hogwarts, leaving them standing in the living room with Sirius and Dumbledore.

"Are you sure this will work?" McCoy asked doubtfully.

Anyone else would have become fed up with the constant worrying and questioning, but Dumbledore seemed to possess eternal patience and good humour. "Positive, my dear doctor."

"I still don't like it."

"There is no direct cause for concern, Leonard."

"What about indirect?" McCoy asked Spock.

"Bones, you're being ridiculous."

"Well forgive me for worrying," McCoy snapped drily, "but as escapades go we don't exactly have a good, injury free record, do we?"

"Whilst that is correct," Spock said, "this endeavour can hardly be classed as an 'escapade'. Therefore, your subject specific concerns may be unprecedented."

"You're forgetting," McCoy growled, "that we're going back into that damn place!"

"At least it's familiar territory," Kirk reminded him cheerfully. "We'll know what to expect, so hopefully we'll avoid surprise related disasters."

"I'm not counting on it."

"You will be quite safe," Dumbledore assured him. "Severus has issued specific orders preventing major injury or death as you shall be needed alive for the spell."

"But that doesn't completely stop attacks!" McCoy pushed.

"Regrettably, no, but Death Eaters are hardly famous for their restraint."

"Great," McCoy muttered, and proceeded to glare at both Kirk and Spock. "But you two stay out of trouble. I'm not patching you up like jigsaws when we get back."

"The same goes for you, Bones."

"I still don't think this is a good idea," Sirius groused, looking far from happy at the turn of events. "What if Snape-"

"I trust Severus completely," Dumbledore replied sharply.

"You could be wrong."

For the first time since the whole discussion began, Dumbledore's expression tightened in annoyance. "We have discussed this many times before, Sirius, but my answer remains the same. Severus can be trusted and no amount of attempted persuasion or argument on your part shall change my mind." His eyes had lost their merriment completely. "Is that clear?"

Sirius nodded stiffly, though he didn't seem happy about it.

"Now," Dumbledore said, turning back to the officers. "I believe this is goodbye."

"I'd like to thank you for your hospitality, Headmaster," Kirk said sincerely. "Without your help, we would have had no chance in getting back."

Dumbledore inclined his head gracefully. "You are quite welcome, my boy."

"It's a shame that Harry, Ron and Hermione can't be here," Sirius said. "I know they'd have wanted to say goodbye before you left."

"Such is the sacrifice when these situations arise," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Could you pass on a message?" Kirk asked Sirius. "To tell them that we wish we could keep in touch – but it would be impossible, since we're from a different universe..."

"I will," Sirius promised.

"Shall I say the same to young Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked Spock, who nodded.

"That will be much appreciated."

"Good," Dumbledore replied. "I know that Draco was angry at the Ministry's treatment of a fellow Slytherin."

"He told you that?" McCoy asked in disbelief, unable to picture the cocky Slytherin confiding in Dumbledore.

The older wizard smiled slightly. "Of course not, but I do pride myself in understanding my students."

"How are you going to tell him?" McCoy asked in confusion, the thought having just occurred to him.

"Oh, I doubt I will be on the run for much longer. In any case," he added mysteriously, "I have my ways." He winked, much to everyone's amusement.

"We should probably get going then," Kirk said finally, standing up.

Dumbledore held out a small trinket, placing it in Kirk's hand. "A Portkey," he explained. "It is of course one way. The activation word is 'arachnid'."

McCoy groaned. "I hate to think why that's the word."

"Purely coincidental, I assure you," Dumbledore said calmly.

McCoy didn't believe him for an instant, but stood and put his finger on the Portkey, next to Spock's. Once Kirk saw that they were all ready, he inclined his head once more in the direction of the two wizards, smiling in gratitude. In reply, Sirius beamed at them and wished them good luck, while Dumbledore raised his hand to wave.

Now grinning broadly, Kirk said loudly and clearly, "arachnid!"

A brief jerk on the navel and bumpy ride in darkness later, and they landed with a thump on a forest floor. McCoy groaned and spat out several leaves, wondering how he'd managed to get them into his mouth in the first place.

"Definitely worse than transporters," he decided, picking himself up and brushing down his clothes.

There was something odd with this scenario, he realised. It was too quiet. Turning around, his suspicions were confirmed when he saw Kirk and Spock backing away from him quickly.

"Hey!" He called out, slightly annoyed. "What are you playing at? We don't have hours to-"

A crunch behind him halted his tirade and he turned around, body tense, fully expecting to see a ring of Death Eaters with wands raised. What he didn't quite expect to see was yet another giant spider looming before him, and a strong sense of déjà vu.

He promptly swore in every language he knew, backing up quickly, terror rising in him as he saw the beast take a step closer.

Heart pounding he found himself crashing suddenly to the floor, the spider coming closer with alarming speed.

"BONES!"

He could just about hear frantic footsteps hurrying back towards him, the panic clouding his hearing. A hair leg hovered just above his head, he could see it inching closer and closer before suddenly his world was engulfed by a blindingly white light followed by a heavy and sickeningly squelchy crash.

He couldn't see anything.

"Bones?" Kirk asked, his voice softer and slightly awed. "Did you do that?"

He refused to open his eyes. "Do what?"

"It would appear that the arachnid is undoubtedly deceased," Spock announced calmly.

"Hagrid won't be happy," Kirk muttered.

McCoy allowed himself to crack open a cautious eyelid. Before him was a giant, hairy mound of very dead spider, its legs spread-eagled everywhere as though it had been smashed on the head by a giant mallet. He opened his other eye and stood up shakily.

"I did that?" He asked, surprised.

Spock nodded, his expression curious to say the least. "You have just enabled us to witness the precise meaning of the words 'passive magic'."

McCoy gaped before laughing in relief. "Well, what do ya know?" He drawled. "Snape was right!"

"Evidently."

"Why did Dumbledore send us here?" McCoy asked, quietly this time in case they were being watched.

"Professor Dumbledore no doubt realised that it would attract attention should we accidentally utilise magic in defence," Spock replied. "He has merely hastened the finale of our expedition."

"Would it kill you to be less formal?" McCoy asked suddenly. "The world could be raining down around your shoulders and you'd still talk like you were at a conference!"

Spock's eyes had taken on a haunted look and McCoy mentally kicked himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

Before he could finish, he found himself knocked to the ground, only able to move his eyes. Two other thuds told him that his companions were no better off. As he glanced around him, frantically trying to catch a glimpse of their attackers, several Death Eaters emerged from the trees.

"There!" One of them yelled in triumph. "I knew they'd come back here!"

"Yes," another answered slowly, staring at them through his mask. "It seems our vigil here wasn't completely wasted." He turned back to his fellows. "Go and tell Snape!" He ordered.

Several ran off, eager to please the man in charge, but the man's voice rang out again, harsh in the forest setting. "One of you. Idiots."

He came closer to the three helpless officers, dropping down onto one knee to survey them all at once. "Do you recognise me?" He asked softly, his voice menacing despite the tone. "Avery," he supplied, laughing as their eyes widened. "Yes, you caused me quite a lot of trouble at the Ministry."

"Should we punish them, Master Avery?" One of the Death Eaters asked eagerly, practically hopping from foot to foot in his excitement. "I know a spell that can turn their guts inside out-"

"Do none of you morons actually listen to Snape's orders?" Avery snapped, though his attention was still focused on the three still figures lying on the floor. "We're not supposed to kill them or mortally injure them."

"But we can still hurt them a bit, right?" The same eager voice continued. "I'd like to see them pay for what they did to our Lord."

"Perhaps later," Avery replied, "but not right here. We could be seen at any minute."

Snape ran into the clearing, effectively halting any further protest. McCoy noticed that he had managed to find the time to put on his Death Eater robes, though his mask was dangling from his fingers. He stopped dead when he saw them, eyebrow raising in very convincing surprise.

"Well, well," he drawled, stepping closer to them. "The three runaways have returned."

There were several snickers.

"I have to admit, this makes our job much easier," he continued, smirking at them. "Waltzing into the lion's den does hold a certain advantage. It is a pity that not everyone we seek to capture is as moronic as you three."

If McCoy had been able to open his mouth, he would have given Snape a piece of his mind for the benefit of the surrounding audience, but unfortunately he had to content himself with simply glaring at the man.

"We will apparate to the pre-appointed place," Snape told the group, thankfully having finished his goading for the time being.

There was a long pause while no one moved, and Snape raised an eyebrow at them all.

"Well?" He demanded. "Untie them! Or would you prefer to try to apparate while balancing them in mid-air? While many of you no doubt aspired to joining the circus – a noble profession, I am sure," he smirked, "now is hardly the time to audition."

The Death Eaters obediently freed Kirk, Spock and McCoy, who stood up calmly, making no move yet to escape. They were hopelessly outnumbered.

It was only when a few of the Death Eaters disappeared with a loud and obvious 'pop' and the remainder walked over to them, that they struck. McCoy kicked his attacker as hard as he could, feeling the man double over in pain, a sharp puff of air escaping his lips before he collapsed to the floor.

He ran forwards with a short burst of speed, face contorted in carefully controlled rage as he lunged at Snape, aiming for the man's wand, but was simply knocked back down to the floor by a spell which sent him reeling. He tasted blood in his mouth and inwardly wondered if Snape had to be that convincing.

He heard another yell of pain and glanced around to see Kirk collapse under the force of stunning spell, his wrist at an unnatural angle. Spock by contrast was the only one still standing, though he was slightly hunched and had allowed a hand to clutch the bottom of his chest protectively. A burly looking Death Eater stood beside him, wand pointed at his head, growling slightly.

"That," Snape hissed at them all, "was extremely foolish."

Snape's hand yanked at McCoy's collar, dragging him to his feet, wand still pointed at him in a silent threat of what would happen if he disobeyed, and McCoy forced himself to remain still despite his spinning vision. Concussion, he thought immediately, unable to stop his doctor's instincts from coming into play.

Snape snapped a command at the remaining Death Eaters and they all began to apparate, McCoy and Snape one of the last to leave. McCoy soon found himself gasping in another forest clearing with no clue as to where they were, and realised that this must have been the pre-arranged destination that Snape had spoken of.

What looked like the entire body of Voldemort's ranks were assembled in a large circle, apparently having been alerted before Snape joined them in the clearing, masks present and hiding their faces out of respect to the master that they were about to bring back.

McCoy thought he felt Snape's grip tighten slightly on his collar as he dragged him forwards, but it was gone before he could properly register it, and McCoy made contact with the ground, the impact jarring his already painful head wound. Spock shuffled unobtrusively over to him, hand still clutching his ribs.

"Are you injured?" He murmured quietly, eying him with concern.

"Only my head," McCoy replied. "What about Jim?"

"I do not know," Spock replied, the worry evident in his voice, and McCoy marvelled at how much the Vulcan had truly come to care for the captain in the short time they had been here.

Nodding, McCoy attempted to make his way over to Kirk, who was slumped unconscious on the ground a few feet away, but he was knocked back by a powerful curse from Avery, propelling him into Spock and causing them to land in a pile of flailing limbs.

Raucous laughter surrounded them, the Death Eater ranks delighting in this long awaited moment. McCoy painfully picked himself up, glaring at Snape for good measure, who was standing in front of the large circle.

"This afternoon," Snape announced, his usual quiet, velvet tones causing the Death Eaters to fall silent at once, "is history in the making. In a matter of minutes we will finally rid ourselves of these nuisance squibs-"

Several people jeered and Snape gave them an indulgent half smile. McCoy wondered where the man had learned to act so convincingly, but his musings were stopped when the speech resumed.

"-and we shall welcome our Lord as he returns to his rightful place."

There were cheers all around and McCoy shuddered, much to the amusement of some of the masked murderers around him.

"I have, as you all know, managed to lay my hands on the full incantation," Snape purred, self satisfaction lacing his voice. "It seems that Dumbledore," he spat the name, malice coating every syllable, "is not quite as secretive as he would like to believe. Fortunately we do not need him to perform the spell ourselves," he sneered.

There were murmurs of appreciation around the circle.

"Avery," Snape said calmly, "you know what we must do."

Avery nodded and walked over to Kirk, looming over the unconscious figure with malicious intent. He raised his foot in an exaggeratedly slow motion, enjoying the silent anticipation of his fellows, before bringing it into Kirk's side with an echoing impact.

"Hey!" McCoy bellowed, throwing caution to the wind and knowing it would look more convincing if he protested. He leapt to his feet in a sudden burst of energy, rushing to Kirk's side, before finding himself knocked flat on his back, every nerve on fire.

As he squirmed and writhed on the forest floor, he dimly felt hands attempting to hold him still, a familiar, logical voice attempting to reassure him, before the hands were ripped from his side and he was left to face his torment alone. In a dim corner of his mind, it occurred to him that this must be what the Cruciatus curse felt like.

Just as he thought his insides were going to melt into fire, the curse lifted and he heard a drawn out scream – the sound of a wounded animal being torn apart as it still breathed, before the realisation hit him and he clamped his mouth closed. The sound cut itself off immediately.

"It seems you are no better at resisting simple curses than you are at handing homework in on time," Snape sneered from where he had been watching the proceedings. "Yet as always the half-Vulcan excels."

McCoy turned around to follow the gaze of the crowd, noticing as he did so that Spock was silently jerking on the ground, eyes open wide, mouth allowing only sharp pants to betray his pain.

"Let him go!" He yelled at Avery, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Avery's masked head tilted to one side. "As you wish," he said, and McCoy found himself engulfed in the fiery curse once more, no longer certain of what time it was or even if he was still awake.

An indeterminable period of time later he lay panting on the ground, leaves strewn through his hair and throat burning as though he had just swallowed fire. He saw that Spock was in a similar condition, though his stoic face showed no sign of the pain aside from the eyes which were currently staring past McCoy, locked onto a figure behind them.

It was then that McCoy heard it, the still continuing sound of screaming, the voice not coming from his own throat, and he turned around to see Kirk spinning in mid air, limbs jerking, the Death Eaters taking turns to cast the Cruciatus on him. Snape stood to the side, completely calm, but McCoy could somehow tell that he was poised to intervene before the physical damage became too great.

McCoy tried to yell, tried to shout at them to let his best friend go, but all he could manage was a feeble croak, his voice well and truly pulverised. Above him the sky was beginning to darken into evening and he wondered how long the torture had been allowed to endure.

Finally, Snape stepped forwards, raising his hand imperiously, and the screams of pains stopped as Kirk was dropped unceremoniously back onto the ground, the movement jarring his broken wrist and causing him to hiss as he attempted to right himself.

"Now that the celebration and punishment is over," Snape declared, "let us begin."

Nodding at Avery, he pointed his wand at a spot in the clearing and McCoy found himself being dragged towards it by an invisible rope, the movement causing his limbs to scream, but he forced himself not to make a sound. His body jerked slightly as it impacted with Kirk and Spock.

Avery walked around them to stand opposite Snape, the three prisoners lying in a heap on the floor between the two Death Eaters.

Both wands raised simultaneously, the two Death Eaters began to chant in time, jets of light coming from the ring around them telling McCoy that the remaining Death Eaters were feeding them magic. Smoke began to tinge the edge of his vision and he wondered briefly whether he was losing consciousness or whether the spell was working.

A tingling feeling engulfed him, soothing his injuries slightly, and he glanced up to stare at Snape, who was looking straight at him, his face set in concentration but his eyes slightly warmer than usual, and for the first time it truly hit McCoy that he would never be coming back, that he would never see anyone in this universe again.

The smoke thickened, swirling around them in a cloud, and McCoy saw the Brig materialise around them, barely registering the shocked cries of the crew on duty before blackness took hold of him.

Snape stood in the clearing, staring at his Master in shock for a few moments before hastily throwing himself onto the ground in a deep bow, ignoring the protests deep within him at debasing himself before such a monster.

The Dark Lord glanced around himself in slight confusion before a slow smile spread across his lips, and Snape resisted the urge to shudder as he warily watched the inhuman man from beneath his curtains of greasy hair.

The Dark Lord strode forwards to stand in front of Snape and the Potions Master obediently kissed the bottom of his robes, muttering inane comments about how relieved he was to have his Master back, safe and sound, albeit without a wand.

The Dark Lord chuckled in delight, placing a cold hand on Snape's shoulder to indicate the he no longer had to bow. "You have done well, Severus," he said in his cold high voice as Snape regained his footing, still keeping his head lowered slightly out of respect. "You shall be rewarded for this," he promised.

Snape inclined his head, allowing a small smile to grace his lips though he inwardly wanted nothing better than to cringe at the thoughts of what 'reward' the Dark Lord could have in mind. "You are most generous, my Lord," he said softly, allowing devotion to enter his voice.

"I am," the Dark Lord agreed with no trace of humility, the smile still distorting his face. He clicked his fingers. "I need a wand!"

Several Death Eaters immediately hurried forward to offer theirs and Snape did the same, careful to arrange the appropriate expression of devotion onto his face. He had often seen a similar look from Dobby whenever he served a certain Potter, and he did not relish having to imitate it.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Not from you, Severus, you have done more than enough in bringing me back here."

He pocketed his wand once more, shielding his mind against his relief. "Yes, my Lord," he said in apparent disappointment.

The Dark Lord chuckled again before turning to select a wand and twirling it in his fingers. Without warning, he span around and aimed it at the young, nameless Death Eater who had accompanied him to the other universe.

"You have not forgotten your impending punishment, I hope," the Dark Lord said, fury tingeing his voice.

The man visibly trembled. "N-no, my Lord."

"Good. Crucio."

Snape watched impassively as the man fell to the ground and squirmed, wondering what he could possibly have done to incur the Dark Lord's wrath, but knowing much better than to ask.

"This wand shall suffice," the Dark Lord said after a few moments, eying it with satisfaction. "Though I shall require my own to be mended after those ignorant Muggles snapped it in two," he spat. "Fortunately they were stupid enough to let me keep it, believing it to be a simple stick."

Snape snorted obediently as the Death Eaters laughed at this drastic oversight, but the celebration was abruptly cut short as several curses fire balled into the trees around them. Death Eaters were sent scattering for cover, too cowardly to raise their wands and fight, and Snape twirled around to face the danger even as his Master's eyes glared at it.

Ministry Aurors were trampling through the undergrowth, wands raised high and looking ridiculously sure of themselves.

"This is the Ministry of Magic!" A voice boomed needlessly. "You are under arrest for suspicious magical activity, come out with your wands raised!"

Snape rolled his eyes. He had seen this coming, of course, but the Ministry's way of dealing with things was still undeniably stupid. He quickly shoved his mask over his face, not having had the time to do so until now, and raised his wand, ducking several stunning spells.

Death Eaters fell or fled around him, dropping like flies, and Snape could practically feel the anger radiating of the Dark Lord as he raised his borrowed wand, pointing it fearlessly at the onslaught of Aurors and knocking the entire first row off their feet, sending them flying over the heads of their fellows.

Snape followed his Master's lead and took aim at a few others, knocking them unconscious and seriously wounding some, but not actually killing them. He left that 'privilege' to the Dark Lord, who appeared to be in the mood for it at that moment.

The barrage of Aurors promptly began to flee, shrieking about the Dark Lord's return, and Snape smirked. The Lord in question continued to pick them off one by one as they apparated in a panic, some with Death Eater captives and some alone, until a small crowd of bodies littered the forest floor.

oOo

Fudge paced his office nervously. Today was his day, that was for sure, he thought with a grin on his face as he contemplated the news he had just received. A large surge of magic had been found in an obscure forest and he had immediately sent out a squad of Aurors, intending to arrest the people responsible and publicise the victory. At the moment, the Ministry needed to hold onto every positive story they had, especially after the Azkaban breakout.

It was not enough that they had strengthened security accordingly – the public was still worrying about the escaped Death Eaters – former Death Eaters, he corrected himself hastily – and would hear none of it. It certainly did not help that those three frauds had escaped prison recently, before they could even have a trial, leaving both he and Dolores Umbridge in a very sticky situation indeed as they fended off the press.

The three had disappeared from the country and Fudge could only assume that they had gone abroad to work in collaboration with Dumbledore – wherever the annoying old man was. To be honest, Fudge was fed up. Actually, fed up might have been an understatement, he mused as he glared at an image of Dumbledore's face on the front page of the Prophet before flinging the offending article in the bin.

Dumbledore had just fled Hogwarts, was rumoured to have started a conspiracy against the government and was blatantly trying to usurp Fudge's position, but he still carried more support than the Minister himself. It was as though the public had gone blind, Fudge thought in annoyance as he set fire to the article detailing the Headmaster's fleeing Hogwarts.

He watched it turn to ash with something akin to savage glee. If only Dumbledore himself could have seen that. Even he couldn't joke his way out of a situation like that, Fudge scoffed.

But now it was Fudge's turn in the limelight. Now it was his chance to prove that he was doing something productive to keep the wizarding community safe. With this newest arrest – he was sure that it was a very large gang of troublemakers, going by the conspicuous flow of magic, maybe even Dumbledore's Army itself – he would be exalted as defender of British streets. The public would not dare to try to contradict him anymore, and his position would be more secure than it had ever been.

Oh yes, he was definitely looking forward to this arrest.

As if on cue the Auror in charge of the team he had sent barged through his door, and Fudge did not even care that the man had failed to knock. He took in the man's singed robes and frazzled appearance with rising anticipation – the harder the fight, the more successful the government had been.

He could practically see the headings now – "Fudge Foils Fugitives", "Dumbledore's Dastardly Deeds Undone". Well, the specifics didn't quite matter yet, he reminded himself as he returned his attention to the man before him.

"Well?" He demanded, barely restraining the excitement he felt bubbling up within him. Alright, he admitted, he sounded euphoric, but who wouldn't?

"It's him, sir," the man stuttered, and Fudge noticed for the first time that his skin was completely white and streaked with blood in places.

He didn't have a good feeling about this. "Who?"

"H-H-H-"

Now he was definitely worried. Standing before him was a man he could trust not to crumble, a man who could stay together even if his own property was burning down with all his worldly possessions inside. Here was a man who was fearless, who rose to every occasion and who never failed.

And he was stuttering like a lost schoolboy.

"Well?" Fudge repeated, trying not to sound scared. "Spit it out, man!"

"It's him," the Auror repeated unhelpfully.

"I'll need a little more information than that," Fudge snapped. "Did you get him?"

The man gaped at Fudge as if he'd gone mad. "G-get him, sir?"

Fudge sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me what happened," he said wearily.

"We apparated to the source, sir," the man said shakily, collapsing into a chair without invitation, smearing it with dirt, "and went through the normal process, 'wands out' and all that..."

"Yes, yes, yes," Fudge said impatiently, "I'm familiar with the idea. Go on."

"Well, sir, we er – hit a problem."

Fudge began to turn cold. This man never euphemised anything. "A problem?" He echoed, now well and truly unsettled. It couldn't be...

"He was there, sir," the man gulped. "With all his followers. H-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...he's..."

"Don't tell me he's back," Fudge snapped, staggering backwards and sitting on top of his desk, not noticing that he had sat on top of his pot of ink which was now happily soaking through his robes.

The man nodded furiously, looking shaken. "He is, sir. I swear on Merlin's grave – it was him. He was just standing there – he knocked down almost half my team."

Fudge took a moment to absorb this. He could not be back. He couldn't be, not after all of Fudge's assurances to the public that Dumbledore and Potter were spouting more rubbish. It would make him look like a fool. An incompetent idiot. No, he would not allow him to be back.

"Did you capture any of his Death Eaters?"

The man frowned in confusion, clearly not seeing the importance of this in relation to the bigger issue. "Yes, sir, we captured seven."

"Good," Fudge muttered absently, staring into the bin where the charred remains of the paper he had burnt earlier stared up at him mockingly. "In that case, he is not back."

"Sir?"

"You heard me!" Fudge shouted, in his panic not realising that he had raised his voice. "He is not back! This was a hair brained ritual of former Death Eaters, and we captured them all! If any of them were involved in the Azkaban breakout, then we can also use that information to our advantage, but under no circumstances are you to tell the public that he's back!"

"But sir," the Auror protested, "the public needs to kno-"

"We don't know anything for sure," Fudge snapped angrily. "For all we know this could be another of Dumbledore's stupid ruses to try to take my position. None of this gets out, do you hear me? None of it!"

"I..." The man cut himself off at Fudge's furious expression. "Yes, sir," he said eventually. "I'll get the survivors from my team to sign papers attesting to their secrecy, sir."

"See that you do," Fudge commanded, dismissing the man from his office with a wave of his hand and moving around to sit behind his desk.

This was not his day, he decided as he plopped his head down onto the table, right back into the puddle of spilled ink.