1. Preview

Sorry, this story does not feature James T. Kirk's crew, not even Jean-Luc Picard's. Harry Potter Books 5 to 7 are disregarded, as I want Sirius Black to live long enough.

Here are the Star Trek characters I'm going to use:

NX - 01 Enterprise Senior officers: Captain Jonathan Archer; Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, Tactical Officer; Subcommander T'Pol, Science Officer; Ensign Travis Mayweather, Helmsman; Ensign Hoshi Sato, Comminications Officer; Commander Charles Tucker III, Chief Engineer; and Dr. Phlox, Chief Medical Officer

I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters and any of the Star Trek characters here. They belong to J.K Rowling and to Gene Roddenbery. I do not intend to cause distress or disrespect to all the HP fans and to the trekkies out there. I only meant to entertain myself and all the 20th-century Muggle-trekkies who would love to indulge in crossover stories. But I own the plot, so please, whenever you produce copies of this, please make the proper citations. And oh, do NOT reproduce this for any commercial reasons. You would not only commit plagiarism against me, but also to Ms. Rowling and to Mr. Roddenbery.

Sincerely,

Impaler Triumphant

* * *

><p>Judging by the view of the constellations in the sky, the time of day would most certainly be one thirty in the morning. Light blue faint light lighted the dim hall of the Hospital Wing, competing against the sable light from the lamp of one end table from the other side of the Wing. Nevertheless, these two lights never failed in lighting the peaceful faces of patients soundly asleep in their hospital beds.<p>

Only, not all patients are soundly asleep in their beds. Harry Potter was since tossing and turning, not because of the rasping pain from his casted arms and legs from that Quidditch accident, but because of that distinct memory he's only seen whenever a Dementor comes close at him-his mother's plea for mercy, then Voldemort's laugh. He could not make himself sleep snugly once again this night.

Therefore we can be certain that Harry is indeed awake at this time at night.

Only recently, the conversation in his head seemed to have transferred its source to both his ears. It only took a while before he was certain that the auditory nerve impulses indeed came from an outside source. It was a chatter, a rather worried one, from familiar voices; voices of Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, Snape, and the medwitch Pomfrey.

Harry pretended to be asleep.

"Gently with the _mobilicorpus_, Professor Flitwick, if you please." McGonagall's tone was the most worried-sounding of all.

"No wound and all bruises. No bruises on the head. How did he fall down unconscious?" Pomfrey gave her best observation of the diagnosis.

"I am certain that I heard him screaming before I saw him in that state. He must be attacked." Snape rumbled. "I heard wheezing, buzzing sounds."

Madam Pomfrey must be successful anyway when she soon had Filch revived again. The staff saw their school caretaker catch his breath.

"How do you feel?" Dumbledore calmly asked.

"Like lightning hit my chest," Filch gasped, "Wizards, shooting beams of light at me. They seemed to have used an_ Expelliarmus_ charm, since it was red light, but it was no _Expelliarmus_ charm. The beam didn't pop from their wands. It was a steady stream. Soon I felt a thousand lightning bolts prick all over me, then I blacked out."

"Did you see their faces?" Dumbedore enquired.

"No, professor."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Now the staff around Filch looked more worried than ever, as their glances to each other proved so.

"I could swear they're Death Eaters." Flitwick's voice buzzed across the room.

"But they couldn't have—Professor Dumbledore, the wards, they're still working, aren't they?" Minerva trembled, rubbing the tip of her wand with her fingers.

Dumbledore could only give a faraway, contemplative look across the window.


	2. Anomalous Xindi Allies

_Captain's Starlog, Supplemental. With the help of Crewman Daniels, we have managed to travel into the 20th century, where he claims that the Xindi went to eliminate the human race. The Chief Engineer managed to repair our impulse drive, so the travel to Earth from Jupiter took eight hours._

"How's our warp drive going?" Captain Archer walked with his Chief Engineer among the bustle and hustle of the crew welding and merging ship parts together in one of D-Deck's corridors.

"All our antimatter injectors are fried, sir." Trip walked by the captain in rather large strides. "Given that there isn't a Jupiter Station in this century, we will have to build the parts from scratch."

"How long will that take?"

"A week. Two, tops."

Archer winced a scowl, and then turned to Tucker, "Daniels said that we would encounter a few more bad guys in this century. You and Mr. Reed concentrate on weapons repair first."

"Aye sir."

Soon, the Captain is in his quarters, reviewing his log.

He heard a hail beep from the door, signifying that someone is standing outside his quarters.

"Come in."

The door retracted to the side as it gave way to T'Pol, with a padd on her hand. The door soon closed behind her as soon as she was arm's length from the Captain.

"Report."

T'Pol answered a moment later, "Captain, I've isolated the Xindi biosigns. They are located in two locations. It appears that they have taken location in two islands."

"It appears?"

"The tracking scanners are not accurately aligned yet."

The Vulcan Science Officer offered her padd to the Captain for him to see.

And Jonathan Archer was perplexed, a bit. One group of Xindi biosigns are in about the middle of the United Kingdom, the other group, much smaller, are in some small island deep within the Baltic Sea. Remembering Daniels mentioning a powerful group of new enemies, the Xindi must be near them. But why split? Why in Europe?

"What about their ships?" He gathered his breath to draw it little by little.

"There is one ship in each group."

The Captain then forgot his Science Officer's existence for a while. He turned back to face the window, contemplating the appearance of stars and of the Planet Earth glowing with light blue hue right below them. He searched for the United Kingdom from the window, but he couldn't see it because it was completely covered in clouds.

"Captain?"

Jonathan looked up to the rather quizzical expression of T'Pol—or so he thought she is.

He looked down to the padd; studying it one last time before handing it to her, "Organize three search parties, with three MACOs each. Inform Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, and Major Hayes. Have Travis prep Shuttlepods 1 and 2."

* * *

><p>A crewman drove Shuttlepod 1 for Major Hayes and his search party, while Archer drove Shuttlepod 2 for Reed and the others. A beep at the right of the control panel convinced them that they have entered Earth's atmosphere. Soon the former tweaked some buttons on the control panels around him as T'Pol and the senior officers behind him braced for turbulence.<p>

Fortunately for Archer and his crew, Shuttlepod 2 made a rather smooth landing: a feeling that they feel they're new to since they got so used to Enterprise shaking and wobbling around them.

The gull-winged side latch opened as soon as they landed. An arm shot out from the opening; tipped with a phase-pistol; fulfilling the scanning nature of the human eye. One may think that doing so may not really be necessary, because they have scanners to detect biosigns, anyway. But you see, Archer and his officers have never completely relied on their scanners. They have been fooled many times into thinking that nobody hostile is near them, inside Enterprise even.

It was Archer's arm. When it seemed done with scanning the background, the rest of his body followed. The rest of followed suit, following protocol of ranking order as it should. T'Pol started scanning as soon as she got out.

She noticed that two Xindi biosigns are inside a castle about seven, eight hills before their eyes, and the other two in the nearer town on the foot of the hill they're standing on. And so they decided to split. Archer had Tucker and Reed to go to the town with three of the MACOs. The others went with him to walk their way into the castle.

* * *

><p>Trip and Malcom sure thought that in their 20th-century clothing, they could blend in perfectly with the crowd. But sure, they don't. Everyone around them was wearing different clothing. Long, flowing robes and coats with seemingly ragged fur dragged along the bodies of the townspeople. Some had pointed top hats. And the roads, too, are strange. Aren't they supposed to expect asphalt-coated roads in the 20th-century? What they are walking on are dirt roads, if not roads of cobblestone. And there are no cars. No cars! Just big wheelbarrows and horse-driven wagons tread the streets as they leave lacerations upon the soil. The lighting is strange, too. None of them are operated electrically. They are fired up by candles, fireplaces, and gas. That and all that, along with the rickety hovels and banal, croaky conversation among the local folk, made Reed swear that he is so going to head straight back to Decon once he gets back on board.<p>

"Oh, we're closing on them. 500 meters." Trip announced what he saw from his scanner, which was well-hidden inside his leather jacket.

Malcolm forgot about the Decon for a while, and as he flicked his eyebrow to the MACOs behind him, he cocked his phaser to stun. The MACOs seem to understand him well. They charged their weapons, long SMGs that resemble M16s. Those weapons would have been difficult to hide from public view if it weren't for the dim sidewalks they're slithering on.

Now they're on the prowl now. Tucker headed to where his scanner is pointing, as he was half-aware that he's slowly sticking out his own phase-pistol despite the betraying lighting. Nobody seemed to have noticed him do that, though, since where they're headed is too dark for them, anyway. Soon, the blue light from Trip's scanner won the prize of lighting his face versus the sable glow of the nearby lamppost. Only when it was very dark (and four meters away from the Xindi biosigns) did the MACOs' flash light-tipped guns glowed in a blink. Now, assuming that the Xindi are armed, they concentrated flashing their lights on the direction Tucker is looking at when someone, maybe six meters away from them, cried in a cruel voice:

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green light pulsated from two o'clock, soon right across them, and a dead MACO body fell before Reed with a loud thud.

It was only hence automatic that they have to return fire upon the many shrouded figures that now appeared before them. The MACO's body, still glowing faint green, proved good a mark so that they wouldn't trip on her. Tucker's team felled plenty of these shrouded figures, but they explicitly knew that they are overrun, perhaps surrounded. Luckily, Reed found a good cover behind a couple of wagons filled with pumpkins.

He beckoned onto the others quick; covering fire as he was waiting on them. One figure shot a red light just a few inches amiss a MACO's gun; hitting a wagon wheel instead. Though many pumpkins rolled over to the hostile biosigns' direction, more served as a perfect blockade for all of them, including Corporal Ramirez, who was the one killed with the green pulse.

They had no choice but to kill the hostiles now, as they know that the Xindi-Reptilians they saw in Tucker's scanner have suicide glands on them and that kidnapping them for interrogation would do them no good. Tucker managed to kill one of them as soon as he saw a yellow beam graze just two inches away from his cheekbones. The place, which is actually one of the town's outskirts, was slightly lighted, thanks to the lampposts and to the brandish of colors from phasers and uh, fireworks?

Soon after, Trip flipped his communicator to have a word with the captain.

"Trip to Captain Archer," he found himself panting slightly.

_"Go ahead."_ The Captain's voice was slightly choppy via communicator.

"I've found them, Captain. And it looks like they've got powerful friends."

_"What's happening there?"_

"We're taking heavy fire here, Cap'n. I'm not sure if we can hold out for long."

_"Can you make it to the shuttlepod?"_

"We can, sir, but are you sure you want them to know where we last parked?"

_"Take the shuttlepod. You can come back for us later. We haven't encountered anyone hostile yet."_

Trip muttered with guilt as he gathered himself for a moment. "Aye, sir." And after another moment, much longer than the first, "Tucker out."

With the 'out', Trip flipped his communicator closed. He lead Malcolm and the others back to the pod, with increasing difficulty as these shrouded figures kept popping right before them. One even muttered "Crucio!" and then Reed was writhing in the dirt for a few moments. Fortunately, Tucker phasered that figure dead in time-moments only before he lost his phaser to someone who just shouted "Expelliarmus!"

Trip followed the bouncing phaser with his eyes before losing it in the hillside. Would losing a pistol get him into a heap of trouble? Well, maybe. Even if they are in the town's outskirts, losing any of the 22nd-century equipment like that would certainly contaminate the pre-warp culture of the 20th century AD. Especially the backward pre-warp culture of oil lamps and pumpkin wagons.

But with the Transporter online the morning after, he still could retrieve it, can he?

Just when he was assured by this thought, a red pulse of light struck his thigh. It gave him an instant rasping pain all across it, and the coffee-brown 20th-century denim pants turned red and smelly. He could not walk.

Reed recovered quickly from the dirt, and took Trip's arms to his shoulders. The uphill ground made it more difficult for two people in pain to walk, but getting there is worth more than their lives. Their bodies alone are enough to contaminate the culture they found right behind them.

A MACO slammed the pod door as soon as everyone got in. Tucker had difficulty piloting the pod because of a large gaping wound across his thigh. Another MACO had torn the fabric to clamp it down. They waited on another MACO, who was preparing the bandage.

And so Reed was flying.

The pod raced up, up, up the sky on full impulse, though, and with smoother flying pattern as soon as Reed got used to it. Trip, although oblivious to the environment around them, was certain that one MACO claimed to see "black smoke" through the window following them with exceptional, matching speed.

They have managed to make through the thermosphere in time, just when these smokes failed to "follow" them.

"Tucker to Enterprise!" He let out a strangled shout.

_"Enterprise,"_ That was Hoshi's voice.

With stifled breathing and labored heartbeat, Tucker went on. "Have Dr. Phlox meet us in Decon." He swallowed, "We have casualties."

* * *

><p>The castle, however, was quiet when Archer's party snuck in. At first they hesitated to enter it, as it is a ruin, with a warning that says that it is a dangerous building. But let's say that after all this near-death experiences with the Klingons and the Xindi, a ruined building could not stop them.<p>

They got near enough. It wasn't a ruin. It was a grand castle. They saw immediately that the torches were lighted, compounding the assertion that there are indeed plenty of human biosigns inside. So though they actually saw no one, they cocked their weapons to stun.

Naturally, T'Pol held out her scanner to search their way in.

"The Xindi are 20 meters north and 50 meters above us." She looked up to the Captain.

"Where's the shortest way?" he asked.

The Captain watched his Science Officer tap her touch-screen scanner daintily with her ring finger. "There is a staircase at the end of the corridor to the nearest left."

So they were supposed to move forward. But T'Pol backed down a bit with one foot, and pointed her phase pistol at that direction.

"I'm detecting a biosign, Captain. It's a cat."

Archer let out a disbelieving scowl.

"A cat won't hurt us, T'Pol."

T'Pol, convinced that a human would know more about a cat than a Vulcan would, lowered her pistol and had her captain lead the way. And so they walked on, even until they saw the cat itself. It had long, grey, tabby fur, bloodshot eyes, and pointy ears. Though Archer was slightly annoyed when the cat kept following them up the staircase, they went on; ignoring it as best as they could. Then the cat mewed. The cat mewed loudly, much to their alarm.

"Where you think you're going?" a raspy voice echoed through the corridors behind them, "Mrs. Norris already sniffed you out."

At an instant, Archer and the others pointed their pistols. Annoying, annoying cat gave away their position. At one instant, he was thinking about stunning the cat, but the _Homo sol_ in him let out the humanitarian, irrational conscience; something that any other race wouldn't understand.

"You can't hide."

Sure, they know that they are now being followed.

"Seven meters." T'Pol looked up to him. "Human."


	3. Xindi Castle Base

**Chapter II**

Archer's mission is to find the Xindi and kill them on sight, and keep hidden from the 20th-century humans as long as they're clutching their phase pistols. Half of Archer's mind thought of showing up to the biosign though. They could kidnap him, and interrogate him into finding the aliens. The other half told him to keep discreet as far as possible. After all, he carried strange devices, and the threatening introductions do not make him too friendly. He contemplated on this as he and his team kept hidden in the dark, even if Mrs. Norris is making it difficult for them.

They ran closer to the wide staircase; making sure that they are closing in on the Xindi. And since that the castle's staircase is far more illuminated than its corridors, they made sure that they find a dark hiding place.

What do they do now? They haven't had the time to think about it when a golden light suddenly shone above them. Before them was the biosign. He had ragged clothing, a crooked oil lamp, a staff just as crooked, long; scraggly hair, a wrinkled face, and a manic grin.

So instinct took over. Archer instantly stunned the man unconscious with his phaser.

The oil lamp fell first, before the man. Soon it was dark again. But they are not as discreet anymore. The biosign gave out a long, scary scream as it fell over the stone floor. And T'Pol's news would only make it worse. She is detecting three more biosigns closing in on them. Human.

Archer did not hesitate to run. Neither did the MACOs. He soon had them running further along the dark corridor; following the map on his Science Officer's scanner. He did not mind the portraits hanging against the walls, whom he could swear were either sleeping or complaining about the racket and the light of their now-on flashlights. But these biosigns were following them, with a slightly faster pace. He didn't care who they are. They don't intend to launch a surprise attack. Remembering what Trip recalled to him about "heavy fire," he had no choice but to assume that the same thing will happen to them if they confront the three, even if there is five of them. And since the Xindi biosigns themselves are surrounded by a flock of human biosigns; their vital signs stable; Archer will have to agree that these humans are allies of the Xindi and are hostile to Starfleet officers.

He noticed though, from T'Pol's scanner, that the three biosigns stopped on the point where he stunned the first human biosign. "That shall stall them," he thought.

They moved on further inside the castle.

"Captain, the Xindi are moving away from the humans." She dictated her observations.

True enough, it seemed like good news to them. Less hostiles are better-handled hostiles. It'll be great to ambush them.

And so they followed, never mind noticing that they are slowly going outside the castle, through the winding stairs, stretchy corridors, and prowling human sentinels; as long as neither Xindi knew they were being followed. After the castle, they went around the wide grass field while the oblivious aliens walked through the middle. And why not around it? Castle walls still overlook the back of the landscape. They're still in the castle, after all.

They got past the castle arch, but they were still prowling. T'Pol and the MACOs aren't exactly sure why. They were just imitating Archer's movements. It wasn't far before the scent of black pine got into their noses. Ah, a forest. A good ambush place. Archer thought.

Reminded that he still had Trip to check on, the captain flipped his communicator to start, "Archer to Tucker."

_"Tucker here."_

"Did you make it to the shuttlepod?"

_"Yes, sir, we're now on Enterprise."_

"Anybody hurt?"

Archer noticed that little pause.

_"All of us, sir."_ Then Tucker interrupts, _"But good news, sir: Travis already got the Transporter online."_

"Stand by transporter." he flipped his communicator closed.

Now here's a menacing Archer. He set his pistol to kill as soon as he was sure that the Xindi stopped on their tracks on the clearing they're now in the middle of. He signaled to T'Pol and to the MACOs to scatter around; to surround them. They did as they're told. Thanks to the pale blue moonlight, they do not need to turn their flashlights on. And so Archer saw a MACO postion himself behind a bush. The others he knows not where, but he was certain that they're in the vicinity. He flipped his communicator to talk to all of them, to give his orders.

"Archer to landing party." he muttered, "Close on them."

Oh, yup, they took a few quiet crawls before they had no choice but to hold their position. Four more humanoids appeared right before them, in one pop. They couldn't see their faces.

"Human," He heard T'Pol mutter to him via communicator.

"Stand by weapons," he replied.

He scowled; with moonlight tracing his fine lines of welling hatred against those Xindi. He remembered receiving that transmission from Admiral Forrest. He remembered how the Klingon Duras made it difficult for them to cross the thermobaric clouds. He remembered how the spatial anomalies whacked many ways of hell against his ship and his crew. And still, he hasn't killed a single Xindi. Now is his chance, he thought.

"On my mark," he drawled with a now deeper and drawing voice, "Fire."

The clearing glowed as soon as they fired. Each ammo of energy hit each other at a point in the middle. The three blue blobs hit the two red beams and fused to a bright glow of white before finally giving way into one big mighty explosion. It was dark again. And there were no bodies. Not one.

Archer, appalled by that sight, quickly jumped from his hiding and ran into the clearing; kicking leaves and breaking twigs with his feet. He looked around him. He only saw T'Pol and the MACOs following him, and as equally perplexed as he is.

"Where did they go?" A MACO muttered under his breath.

No one answered him. Archer looked to his Science Officer, who would logically and automatically look for answers in her scanner.

"They're gone." she drawled.

Well, what happened? Did they just disintegrate? After all, didn't their particle weapons hit a same spot? But if they were really there, shouldn't they have hit different persons?

But they were really there. It was as clear as they see each other now.

Would it mean that the Xindi and the four humans Transported with Xindi technology? But Xindi transporter technology took a couple of seconds, not a fraction of a second. Anyway, who are these humans? And why they're allying with the race who wants them gone, anyway?

Maybe they don't know. Maybe they don't know that the Xindi wants them gone, too. Nobody in the 21st century knew what the Xindi were after, even if some already saw them. It should be certain that none of these "20th-century humans capable of doing great evil" have the slightest hint about the aliens' ulterior motives, either.

Anyway, the Captain could only flip his communicator. He could solve this. Eventually.

"Archer to Enterprise." he purred, "Energize."

* * *

><p>"I could swear I was in pain, Doctor."<p>

But Phlox would not believe him. He wasn't detecting any sign of injury in Reed, internal and external. For this, subconsciously, he was leaning slightly away from the Lieutenant; making holding of his medical tricorder away from him a little difficult. He cannot hide his skepticism.

Nevertheless, he had the still straining Reed lie on the bed he was sitting on. The bed happened to be the Sickbay bio-bed; attached to the bio-bed chamber. Above it is a large screen. It has helped Doctor Phlox to view his patient's body insides even in the molecular level for many instances now.

Reed did as he was told; a little more extra careful than usual.

The Doctor tweaked a few buttons by the chamber, and soon Reed, relaxed on the bed, was shut inside. He turned to Tucker's direction, who had the dead MACO by his side.

"Who are they?" Trip muttered in his usual Trip fashion: a perplexed scowl, tight grip, and blank stare right at Phlox's feet. He extended his legs across his bed: including the one whose thigh had been split open. Phlox had already shut the wound with one of his awesome Sickbay tools, but it still stung and throbbed to the bone.

"Excuse me?" The Denobulan walked to Trip's side, but turned to Corporal Ramirez and started scanning.

"Those people, Doc." Trip kept his gaze fixed at the spot left by the doctor, "How could they fire so many weapons? They're uh," he made gestures in the air that made no sense to the Doctor at all. "It's a fireworks display out there. So many colors. A blue one hit my leg. A green one struck her dead."

Phlox looked at him for a moment before continuing with examining Ramirez with his device.

"Commander Tucker, there were no fireworks. There were no indications of burns in any of your bodies." Phlox announced with mixed feelings of discovery and defeat, "In fact, there wasn't any indication of an injury on Corporal Ramirez's body."

"There isn't?" Trip looked up to Phlox quizzically this time.

"Oh, I'm quite surprised myself." Phlox was soon done scanning the corpse, though still unsatisfied. Trip watched him walk towards the bio-bed chamber and saw him rather stuffed with uncomfortable air. "No clots, no bruises, no indications of shock," He looked at Trip before looking up to the monitor above him, "No tissue damage of any kind at all."

"So you were saying that he just—died?" Trip, curious this time, was already leaning forward and able to bend his good knee.

Phlox pressed two buttons to let Reed out of the chamber. After letting off some steam from his confusion, he almost muttered, "It may very well seem so."

And then Reed's eyes were wide open as soon as the bed stopped moving. The Doctor helped him sit up. Then he was drawing deep, careful breaths.

"There's got to be a reason to it." Reed, of course, was overhearing their conversation legally, as he is part of it. "Hayes wouldn't be happy."

"Neither the Captain." The medical officer chided.

"Captain," Trip muttered, "We must contact him!"

Quickly, he jumped out of the bed; resisting the pain that still lingered, but the Doctor stopped him from leaving. "I still have to observe your leg, Commander Tucker."

Oh, yeah, right. Trip nodded, with worry, though. He soon ordered Reed to do it for him.

But there was really no need. The Sickbay doors made way for Captain before Reed could step out of the bed.

And the Captain looked at the occupants. "Any luck?"

Trip and Malcolm only let out distressed scowls.

Phlox proceeded to talk for them.

"Captain, I've already identified the cause of injuries for them except Corporal Ramirez. I shall put her in the bio-bed soon for a full post-mortem. Commander Tucker suffered a deep cut wound on his left thigh. Blood regeneration shall be administered later. Corporal Woods suffered boils all over his face. I shall administer a salve again ten minutes later." He turned to let the Captain see the black-skinned MACO peacefully-asleep in the bed; face ugly with oozing pus. "Now, look at Lieutenant Reed over here,"

The doctor showed the Captain to the screen over the bio-bed, and pointed him to the full body scan of what actually is Malcolm. "He claimed have felt physical injuries all over his body. But there was no scratch. I have detected, however, a degree of neuro-chemical disturbance in his pre-frontal cortex."

"Neuro-chemical disturbance? I was not imagining it in my head!" Malcolm could really swear that what he felt back there was the real thing.

"No, but it could imply that your attacker was using a neuro-biological weapon against you; something telepathic." Phlox shrugged, "It must have sent signals through your brain to your nerve endings to 'feel' pain. It's remarkable technology." That compliment on torturous technology could have set Malcolm off pissed. "But don't worry, Lieutenant. Any possible neurological damage done should be reversible."

"I could still feel it a bit." He stifled.

Phlox turned to Captain Archer again.

The latter, as usual, studied the scans and Phlox's words with determined attention. It took a long while before he was able to say something. "How long before I could have them back?"

"Two days, at minimum. Commander Tucker will have to stay in his quarters all day to rest. I will have to keep Lieutenant Reed here for 24 more hours."

A pause held the doctor in anticipating standby before Archer could turn around and held his head above his shoulder, "Keep me posted."

The latter left Sickbay with a rather cluttered mind.


	4. Attack on Hogsmeade

Harry maintained to remain lying down on his bed, especially when he heard the worried conversation among the faculty.

"No wound and all bruises. No bruises on the head. How did he fall down unconscious?" He heard Madam Pomfrey speak.

"I am certain that I heard him screaming before I saw him in that state. He must be attacked." Snape rumbled. "I heard wheezing, buzzing sounds."

The raspy gasping gave Harry the indication that Mr. Filch, the school caretaker, is also there. It was most surprising of all. Mr. Filch, attacked? Perhaps the caretaker had a run-in with the dementors. Harry clutched to the edge of the bed, right at the direction were the conversation was held.

"How do you feel?" He heard Dumbledore calmly ask.

"Like lightning hit my chest," Filch gasped, "Wizards, shooting beams of light at me. They seemed to have used an _Expelliarmus_ charm, since it was red light, but it was no _Expelliarmus_ charm. The beam didn't pop from their wands. It was a steady stream. Soon I felt a thousand lightning bolts prick all over me, then I blacked out."

"Did you see their faces?" Dumbedore enquired.

"No, professor."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I could swear they're Death Eaters." Flitwick's voice buzzed across the room.

"But they couldn't have—Professor Dumbledore, the wards, they're still working, aren't they?" Minerva's voice quavered.

The silence had kept Harry listening. He was careful not to rise up so much from the bed, lest he evoke a protest from at least Madam Pomfrey.

* * *

><p>Someone screamed across the Great Hall that breakfast, a Monday morning that gave Harry a relief from plenty of boring days spent in the hospital wing. The exclamation of Dean Thomas drew the attention of most Gryffindors. Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat across him; staring at him. The boy waved a copy of the Daily Prophet and slammed it so hard before the three that they jumped on their seats.<p>

"There has been an attack on Hogsmeade!" Dean managed to shout that loud despite panting himself.

He unfolded the paper, and then he read aloud.

"Several wizards found dead outside Hogsmeade." He did not seem to feel the other Gryffindors now flocking around him. Some stood as near from Harry and Hermione as possible. Seamus, however, only stood. He still couldn't get over that little spat with Harry.

"Burn marks all over their bodies. Apparently, they also have died of shock." Seamus peered to read and rephrased what he saw.

"You mean like electricity?" interjected Hermione.

Muggle term. The wizards looked at her quizzically.

"Like a lightning bolt, I mean." She added shyly.

The Gryffindors looked back to Dean as he read on. Ron, however, leaned to Harry and he whispered.

"It could be one of those Voldemort's supporters, couldn't it."

"Shush, Ron." Hermione asked him. She soon heard Dean continue, "The victims all have the infamous Dark Mark on their arms."

"Voldemort's people, what did I tell you." Ron gobbled more spoonfuls of his sweet porridge.

And the Ministry still refuses to believe that they are now back.

The crowd gathered around Dean seems to disperse by now. But no, they stared at him with affronted looks on their faces as Ron repeated the dreaded name Voldemort. Seamus, naturally, scowled at Harry.

"Well, that's strange." Hermione whispered to both Harry and Ron. "The Daily Prophet making news about dead suspected Death Eaters."

"I thought they were supposed to be at least silent about this." Ron added. "Look what they've done to you all summer, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry played his fork around. Ron continued, "I suppose they're going to believe you now, Harry. "

Harry took a dark glance at Malfoy strutting to the Slytherin table with his friends. He didn't think Malfoy even saw him. "Fat chance."

Harry had been right. The next days, the Daily Prophet made long editorials explaining the Hogsmeade incident and how that had nothing to do with the Dark Lord returning. Probably the old gang, Voldemort's supporters, thinking the same way as Harry. Probably some vigilante wizards in league with the crackpot Dumbledore went out to hunt for the Dark Lord's former supporters. The Prophet went as far as releasing the Ministry's official statement: "The victims, former supporters of the Dark Lord they may have been, have died an unjustifiable death. We do not condone the acts of their murderers, especially that there is no slightest evidence that He-Who-Must-Be-Named is back."

And people like Seamus and Lavender lap that load of crap eagerly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled together. They went into their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, not exactly a thing they've been looking forward to, especially not Harry, since they're copying notes, the shouting match between Harry and Professor Umbridge, and that horrible detention. Ron and Hermione had given him the nudge not to give Dolores another go. Harry clutched on his hand; the pain of that damned quill still vividly searing in his mind.

"Is you scar hurting again?" Ron whispered to him as they sat.

"My other scar." He muttered, trying to keep a dull face, now that Umbridge is there again.

* * *

><p>The delectable breakfast in the Great Hall did little comfort to the trio, if at all. Harry only twirled the fork with the lamb chops, as he scrawled sentences on his ever-growing pile of homework. Ron, who usually gobbles down his dinner, didn't seem to see it there, as his nose is buried on Professor Snape's newest homework. And these idle gossipers. They didn't bother to even lower their opinion<p>

on Harry, courtesy of the Daily Prophet. Speaking of the Daily Prophet, Hermione's reading it. If Hermione hadn't issued scoffs and scowls at the old crap like "The mass murderer, Sirius Black," she'd earn his scorn as well. Still, he can't concentrate on his homework.

He thought of excusing himself to the Gryffindor common room when he saw Filch walk into the Great Hall, recovering from considerable shock but still shocked. Then a surge of memories flew right through harry. An attack in the castle, the conversation in the hospital wing. His eyes popped wide.

He swiftly turned to his best friend. "Ron, about our last Quidditch practice," he interjected between his own pauses. It was his nice way of saying, 'Would you listen to me for a moment?'

Ron looked knowingly at him. "What, you also think I'm such a bummer, are you?" A reference to his apparent Keeper abilities. "I'd never thought that the whole Gryffindor team would agree with Malfoy."

Ron shot a venomous look on Angelina Johnson sitting at the far end of Gryffindor table.

That's not what Harry wanted to mean. "No! It's not that!" He said angrily, "We were attacked, remember?"

Harry, at this time, now has Ron's full attention.

"From the ground, I remember." Ron, despite realising how hungry he was, still gingerly ate his apple pie. "You had to stay the whole week in the hospital wing."

Ron's following silence indicated Harry to continue talking. "In my last night in the hospital wing, Filch was attacked, too." Harry struggled between words as he gathered words to string his memories. "He was Stupefied, but he claims that the spell looked like _Expelliarmus_ to him."

Harry described to him the incident he overheard.

"What's your point, Harry?" Ron's cheeks were stuffed with the apple pie.

"The weird magic, Ron." Harry continued. This time Hermione was now listening to them. "Remember what hit us, Ron? What hit Filch was red, and he was stunned. What hit us was yellow, and we got burned all over. It looked like laser beams."

"A what?" Ron scowled. Hermione cast Harry a what-the-hell look. Both raised in Muggle worlds, sometimes it's hard to get rid of the Muggle references.

"Could it be one of those vigilantes back in Hogsmeade?" Harry wondered.

"Then those vigilantes also wanted us dead." Ron looked incredulous. He chewed down some more apple pie. When he swallowed it, "I mean all of us. Madam Pomfrey thought we were all dying."

Yeah, and Malfoy too. Ron recollected how Malfoy had been hit with one of those yellow beams. It all happened so fast. The git obviously was unaware that Ron wasn't the only hearing their jeers. Only then his friends scampered down the high Quidditch benches.

"That's not all." Harry added, this time looking at Hermione too. "When I woke up there, my scar hurt again." He touched the lightning-bolt scar absently. "It happens all the time, but that night was terrible."

"When you saw Filch?" Hermione asked.

"No, when I woke up in the hospital wing one hour later after the practice. In fact, that's what woke me up."

Harry shouldn't have said that. He knew this would vex both Ron and Hermione.

"I felt very angry that time, felt like killing some reptile with an unforgivable curse."

"Harry!"

"Sorry."

Pause. Breakfast's almost about to end. But that's not all. From the high table, Hermione saw eyes from the toadlike face dart unto her. Professor Umbridge seemed to hear what they're talking about.

"We can continue speaking in the common room." suggested Hermione, who folded her evening paper and started eating her food at last. "Let's eat fast."


	5. Mystery Energy Readings

Archer had been pacing back and forth his quarters since he got dressed while supplementing his Starlog when he heard a beep on his door. "Resume log. Come in."

T'Pol went up to him; handing him a PADD.

"Captain, since we've landed in the surface, I've taken my scans." She drawled softly in her unemotional Vulcan fashion. "I've detected various unknown energy signatures all throught the castle, especially around the humans and the Xindi before they…disintegrated." T'Pol stared down the ground and held her breath, indicating her scepticism. "If ...'disintegrated' is the proper word."

Archer stared at her from his side.

"The anomalies?" Archer made a guess; maybe it's one of those troublesome spatial anomalies in space that the Xindi are most well-known for.

"Entirely different, Captain." She added, walking to the side until she gets into a comfortable position. "I highly doubt that spatial anomalies can be generated within a planet. Besides, the energy readings are different from what we've encountered in the Delphic Expanse."

Archer paced across his Science Officer, as typical of him when he's in contemplation.

"It also appears that the energy is given off by these humans." T'Pol continued. Archer read on the PADD handed to him. He scowled in such an extended silence that is uncharacteristic of him to give.

The silence broke. "From their biosigns, I don't believe it." Archer muttered loud enough for her to hear.

"What do you mean?"

Pause. Archer pursed his lips and thumbed the screen of the PADD. His increasingly meeting brows meant that he wanted to believe that T'Pol's scanner was too haywire to have actually received these readings.

"20th-century technology relies heavily on, electro-magnetic waves, that pass through cables, aerial frequencies, satellite dishes, but," Archer stuffed air in his lungs for the long subtle exhale; collecting what he can remember from his history lessons. "But not through people."

"It appears that these electro-magnetic waves are also neurological in nature." T'Pol added in her taciturn Vulcan fashion, albeit one can sense concern in her voice.

Archer nodded heavily as he turned to his quarter's window. There was another pause, this time it is certain that the Captain seemed to have an idea what is now going on. He now turned to his Science Officer and stood tall. He handed her the PADD. "Have Dr. Phlox analyse your scans. Make it top priority. Dismissed."

* * *

><p>Archer on-duty swept through the Bridge, with Travis on the helm.<p>

"Have the Xindi ships detected us?" He turned to Malcolm in his station, who was now miles feeling better.

"No indication, sir." Reed dutifully answered.

"Adjust your orbit, keep us out of sight." Archer leaned to Travis.

"Aye sir," Travis tapped into the helm controls without taking a glance to the Captain. Archer stood before his chair, looking at the planet Earth onscreen. For a highly-polluted 20th-century planet, it was beautiful. Shades of blue, brown, and green appear beneath the swirling clouds that looked perfectly still. To Archer, it still looked good. There was no scar that cut through Florida and Venezuela. It appeared from orbit that the Earth really looked like it was a great and peaceful place to live in.

Archer didn't spare another moment to see the ship's view of the Earth move. He walked to Hoshi, who was tapping controls on her own.

"Any sign that we've been on the news?" He asked.

"No, sir. No broadcasts of any kind." Hoshi shook her head after briefly glancing him.

Archer winced. Just then he heard Dr. Phlox's voice through the intercom. "Dr. Phlox to Archer."

He pressed a tiny button on a nearby panel to answer. "Go ahead."

"I've finished analysing the neurological readings, please go to Sickbay immediately."

He headed to the turbolift.

* * *

><p>"So not all humans have it?" Archer walked around Sickbay, slightly disturbed at the sight of the covered body on the bio-bed. It was Corporal Ramirez.<p>

"It might be the case." Dr Phlox walked to the screen above the bio-bed and the body; in fact their heads, and clicked on the nearby control panel. A figure of the human body instantly appeared. It was a woman's body, and she glows facelessly in an apparently vibrant vivisection. "Suffice to say that until Subcommander T'Pol calibrated the my biomedical scans to detect these energy readings, my autopsy of Corporal Ramirez would remain inconclusive."

Archer turned his head a little to the side, a gesture that probably means that he's interested to listen.

"This neurological energy disabled all of her vital systems, similar to a sudden electrical outage without auxiliary power." There was a jump in Dr. Phlox's voice that sounds as if he's happy that a MACO died. But in all probability, it's just fascinating medical discovery. "I conclude that... Corporal Ramirez... just died."

Archer scowled. Dr. Phlox seemed to catch the notion that his explanation wasn't enough.

"I've also asked Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed to come back." Dr. Phlox continued, now tapping the control panel to show a scan of Trip's wounded leg and Malcolm's brain. "I've detected energy residue on Commander Tucker's wound and on Lieutenant Reed's nerve endings. All of these contain energy signatures similar to Subcommander T'Pol's scans."

Archer didn't like the sound of this energy residue sticking to his Chief Engineer and his Tactical Officer.

"Are they going to be fine?"

"I'm not so sure with Commander Tucker, but the residue in Lieutenant Reed's nervous system has dissipated in a remarkable rate. I've already asked him to visit me twice a day."

"Do what you can, Doctor. I'm afraid I'll be needing our Chief Engineer too many times." Jonathan said after a long silence. "Is there anything else?"

"Keep me posted." Archer swept off Sickbay with a cluttered mind again, back into the Bridge.

* * *

><p>Archer didn't like being taken anywhere, or any-when, in this case. He already has 83 crewmen-both the living and the dead-to worry about. It's not that he's not confident of his officers' abilities, it's the gnawing pang of guilt that comes from not being there-let alone be able to do anything, when their mission fails. Daniels better have something important to say to him.<p>

He is now standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were panelled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a robe-clad man or woman would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh of green. On the right-hand side, short queues of same robe-clad people were forming before each fireplace, waiting in line as they wait to disappear from this place.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. On top of it is a large shiny basalt sculpture, which looks very grand and forbidding. The stone is carved into an image of a very handsome robed man, backed with a very beautiful robed woman, a centaur, and two little creatures. The handsome man had a very contemptuous look plastered on his face. It seemed that on his face was righteous anger, though. On his feet was a very scraggly-looking young man with glasses, sprawled at the ground, pointing at the great man with a small stick and a gun. The young man wore the familiar 20th-century clothing in tatters, and behind him are two men and a woman, all lifelessly depicted in the scary piece of stone. One man wore a soldier's uniform, the other in robes; clutching a stick on his hands. The dead woman near him also held a stick on her hands.

"I've almost made the mistake of transporting you into 31st-century Earth." Archer turned to his back, right where that offhand voice came from, and he is right back here on Enterprise. It was Daniels.

"Daniels," Archer scowled.

"I haven't much time. Can we kindly go to my quarters?"

The door to Daniels' room was of course, restricted, but whether it was coincidence or some temporal manipulation Daniels did to see no one aboard Enterprise, it sure served them well to keep themselves inconspicuous.

As soon as Daniels' room door slipped closed, Archer accosted him in a too-many-words-per-minute rate. "Neuro-electromagnetic energy, passed from person-to-person. One of my crewmen already died receiving these. Who gave them that technology, the Xindi?"

Daniels quickly explained. "They did not. In fact, it's human technology. But it was supposed to remain secret all throught human history. Along with their society."

Jonathan paced heavily around the free space in the cramped quarters and gave Daniels a very incredulous look. "Secret society?"

"Yes. Unfortunately not all of them share their views to keep their society secret. I took you back into this century because they're about to engage in a great war. Captain, these terrorists actually never won in history, or else there would be no Federation, no Starfleet, not even warp drive."

"If this society is so secret, then how did you find it?" Archer raised his eyebrows.

"Because the technology in my century had entirely changed." Daniels continued as quickly as ever. "In fact, the whole society too. Humans everywhere oppressed by fellow humans, forced into manual labor, even me and my own family. There was no record of you even. Remember when we were in an alternate 31st century?"

The sight of the obliterated Planet Earth went back in Archer's mind's eye; monument-less, book-fulls, and centuries desolated. That seemed enough for a yes for his crewman.

"The last recorded resistance was back in 1998, which even lead me to travel back into 1995, in an obscure document, where a group of 'alien Muggles' helped their terrorist leader." Daniels looked as equally at loss and insulted at the term.

"I managed to infiltrate their government, and I used this to travel back here." He took something from his pockets. It was tiny, gold, much like a tiny pocket watch from the Victorian era. Daniels didn't seem to notice the increasing disbelief in Archer's face.

"I re-calibrated this device so that it could take me back by centuries, and then I jumped by myself into 1995, and then from here, get back into the correct timeline and fetch you and your crew back in here, 1995."

"Right where the Xindi were about to contact this…terrorist?" Archer had calmed down now despite his skepticism.

"They already have." Daniels rapidly interjected, "What must not happen is that this terrorist kills a certain important person, or else the entire timeline of human history will be contaminated."

Archer, already wanting to be in peace from Daniels, found himself interested once again. He took another sidelong glance at him. "What sort of person?"


	6. Vigilantes

I have taken snippets from Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. Not that I want to plagiarize, I just want to make sure that my story aligns with as much canon as possible, for the time being, while Archer and his crew had not mey him yet. So sorry. ^_^

* * *

><p>Harry, Ron, and Hermione had now walked all their way into the Gryffindor common room; agreeing that they'd continue talking about this curious matter as far away from prying ears and eyes as possible.<p>

As was canon, they spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in their books while the room around them filled up, then emptied. It was another clear, fine day and most of their fellow Gryffindors spent the day out in the grounds, enjoying what might well be some of the last sunshine that year. By the evening, Harry felt as though somebody had been beating his brain against the inside of his skull.

"You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week," Harry muttered to Ron, as they finally laid aside Professor McGonagall's long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell and turned miserably to Professor Sinistra's equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter's many moons.

"Yeah," said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside them. "Listen… shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she's done?"

Harry glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily to Ginny as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks.

"No," he said heavily, "you know she won't let us."

And so they worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker. Slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half past eleven, Hermione wandered over to them, yawning.

"Nearly done?"

"No," said Ron shortly.

"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto," she said, pointing over Ron's shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, "and it's Io that's got the volcanoes."

"Thanks," snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.

"Sorry, I only -"

"Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticize -"

"Ron -"

"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here -"

"No - look!"

Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. Harry and Ron both looked over. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron.

"Isn't that Hermes?" said Hermione, sounding amazed.

"Blimey, it is!" said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. "What's Percy writing to me for?"

He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed on Ron's essay and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took the letter off it and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Ron's drawing of the moon Io.

"That's definitely Percy's handwriting," said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the other two. "What d'you reckon?"

"Open it!" said Hermione eagerly, and Harry nodded.

Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further down the parchment his eyes traveled, the more pronounced became his scowl. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted. He thrust the letter at Harry and Hermione, who leaned towards each other to read it together:

_Dear Ron,_

_I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect. I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations._

_I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the 'Fred and George' route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility. But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions._

_From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this - no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favorite — but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different - and probably more accurate - view of Potter's behavior. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing — and see if you can spot yours truly!_

_Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt._

_It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter - I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent - but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you._

_This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week — again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this - a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!_

_I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people - the Minister really could not be more gracious to me — and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes._

_Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect._

_Your brother,_

_Percy_

Harry looked up at Ron.

"Well," he said, trying to sound as though he found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to - er - what is it?" - he checked Percy's letter - "Oh yeah - 'severe ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."

"Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. "He is -" Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half "the world's -" he tore it into quarters "biggest -" he tore it into eighths "git." He threw the pieces into the fire.

"Come on, we've got to get this finished sometime before dawn," he said briskly to Harry, pulling Professor Sinistra's essay back towards him.

Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face.

"Oh, give them here," she said abruptly.

"What?" said Ron.

"Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them," she said.

"Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a life-saver," said Ron, "what can I -?"

"What you can say is, promise we'll never leave our homework this late again," she said, holding out both hands for their essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same.

"Thanks a million, Hermione," said Harry weakly, passing over his essay and sinking back into his armchair, rubbing his eyes.

It was now past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the three of them and Crookshanks. The only sound was that of Hermione's quill scratching out sentences here and there on their essays and the ruffle of pages as she checked various facts in the reference books strewn across the table. Harry was exhausted. He also felt an odd, sick, empty feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with the letter now curling blackly in the heart of the fire.

He knew that half the people inside Hogwarts thought him strange, even mad; he knew that the Daily Prophet had been making snide allusions to him for months, but there was something about seeing it written down like that in Percys writing, about knowing that Percy was advising Ron to drop him and even to tell tales about him to Umbridge, that made his situation real to him as nothing else had. He had known Percy for four years, had stayed in his house during the summer holidays, shared a tent with him during the Quidditch World Cup, had even been awarded full marks by him in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament last year, yet now, Percy thought him unbalanced and possibly violent.

And with a surge of sympathy for his godfather, Harry thought Sirius was probably the only person he knew who could really understand how he felt at the moment, because Sirius was in the same situation. Nearly everyone in the wizarding world thought Sirius a dangerous murderer and a great Voldemort supporter and he had had to live with that knowledge for fourteen years…

* * *

><p>We all know the canon, Sirius had later appeared in the fire, conversing with the three about the Ministry meddling with Hogwarts education, how horrible Umbridge was to Harry and the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and how Sirius thought that Fudge was growing afraid of Dumbledore and the prospect that the Headmaster would form a private army of Hogwarts students, so that he'll take over the Ministry. Sirius had brushed off their questions about Hagrid, telling them that he's fine and that their investigation will make it more obvious that he's missing.<p>

"But what about the vigilantes back in Hogsmeade, does the Order have anything to do with them?" Hermione interjected.

"Them, no!" Sirius laughed, then suddenly dropping into a more serious tone. "But Fudge fears them all the same, thinking they're in league with Dumbledore."

"No way of telling which side they're on, really." Harry added, "Some of them tried to attack us in our Quidditch practice."

Sirius stared at him with those blazing coals for eyes.

"But suppose that those wizards in the Quidditch field are different from that in Hogsmeade," Hermione "We could try to contact the ones in Hogsmeade."

"Listen, don't go about asking too many questions wondering about the identity of these wizards, from the Quidditch field or otherwise. What you need to know is that Snape gathers that they cannot be trusted. And Hagrid will be okay." And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could —"

"NO!" said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.

"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue -"

"Yeah, but we think this time they have,' said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius - you know, Lucius Malfoy - so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognizes you again -"

"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."

"I would, I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry.

There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes.

"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James."

"Look -"

"Well, I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," said Sirius, but Harry was sure he was lying. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?" There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more.


	7. The Hogwarts High Inquisitor Revisited

"Has the Doctor cleared you?" Captain Archer asked Reed, who was checking a phase pistol.

"Yes, sir." Malcolm handed his Captain a phase pistol. The Armory Officer muttered under his breath, still beside himself. "A hostage-taking mission."

"We're going there at 2300 hours, when these mysterious energy readings are at its lowest." Obviously, Enterprise had been scanning the castle since their little visit there. True enough. Society of possibly technologically-advanced humans these inhabitants are, they too, sleep, and they rest with them their technology. "And yes, Lieutenant, this is a hostage-taking mission. We saw the Xindi last night. They are probably after kidnapping as well."

T'Pol watched them and three more MACOs put on their disguises. She stood tall on attention.

"Captain, I believe we can Transport you into the clearing 700 meters from the castle, approximately 500 meters into the forest." She declared. "We're also detecting the…mysterious energy signatures in the forest, albeit significantly weaker than that all over the castle. I suggest you proceed with caution."

"Right where we left off," Jonathan trailed; recalling the incident with the suddenly-disappearing Xindi. "That's close enough." The MACOs are done tuning their rifles. He turned to them. "We kill the Xindi, we stun the humans."

"You have the Bridge." He declared to Reed as he and his team sped off to the Transporter.

* * *

><p>Harry and Ron had expected to have to comb Hermione's Daily Prophet carefully next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.<p>

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED

FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

As it is later revealed during the day, Umbridge inspected Fred and George's Charms class, and then Professor Trelawney's class. Harry caught Ron's eye that class and knew that Ron was thinking exactly the same as he was: they both knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side. Later they had got into McGonagall's class and then Grubby-Plank's. And on the evening-detention with Umbridge. Nearly midnight, Harry trudged his way up Gryffindor Tower clutching his bleeding hand, which was so bad, that the scarf he wrapped it with was stained with red. He expected the common room to be empty when he returned, but Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for him. He was pleased to see them, especially as Hermione was disposed to be sympathetic rather than critical.

"Here," she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in… we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"No… I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defense from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that?" said Ron, yawning. "It's too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today…" she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, "I was thinking that - maybe the time's come when we should just - just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

"Well - learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

At that instant, Harry, Ron and Hermione heard screaming. It came from the direction of the portrait hole.

"Who in the world are you! And what are you sticking into my portrait! Remove these beeping, blinking things right this instant!"

The Fat Lady. They have never heard her voice so high and loud, not before. It wasn't long before she let out a bloodcurdling scream, and soon her voice was all over the ceiling. It appears that she has run off to the other paintings.

And then there's a loud explosion. The three of them stood up and pointed their wands right at the now ruined portrait hole. Two red beams went through the hole; knocking Ron and Hermione unconscious. "Expelliarmus!" Shouted Harry. A loud clank followed; it meant that someone from that portrait hole dropped something. Harry hit somebody.

But a third red beam hit him squarely in the chest. Harry felt Stupefied all over. Before everything went black, he fell down with a thud. Two blurry figures shot across his sight, one blue and the other gray.

"I'm detecting several human biosigns." T'Pol, gunless, looked expectantly at the two doors leading to the boys' and the girls' dormitories.

"The blast will wake them."Archer's eyes darted across the crimson and gold room, which was the most beautiful he had ever seen. He looked down on both Ron's and Harry's bodies. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead caught his eye. "Take him. Let's get out of here."

As the MACOs gingerly lifted Harry into a fireman's carry, Archer suddenly looked back at the girl he just stunned, and stared. The bushy hair that would have looked messy actually was tousled so beautifully across the crimson carpet, that it gave him the impression of the bedroom. On her hand she clutched a little stick, similar to the one he saw the handsome robed man point to the scraggly youth. Archer scowled with intrigue.

"Captain!" T'Pol called out to him, and he looked to her. Oh, yes, they have to go. As he took one last glance at Hermione, he grabbed her wand; touching her palms as he did so. He was the last to run off the Gryffindor common room.

A blue ball of light hit the wall as Archer and his team skived along the wall. Corporal Chang's accurate return fire felled a plump woman in nightclothes. T'Pol saw biosigns closing in around them in various corridors, but not all.

"Captain, the phase pistol!" Corporal Chang pointed to the one T'Pol lost. It is lying idly on a corridor. Everyone gave each other knowing looks that somebody has to pick it up. But T'Pol could pick up human biosigns going from that direction, not from the scanner-from her very own eyes. A tall figure in black robes swept toward it and knelt to pick it up. It is now too late to retrieve it-not without revealing their position at least.

Right now, what they have in mind is escaping into the forest clearing and then back on Enterprise. They crept away through the corridor that had nobody walking along it. It seemed like a maze to them, especially when one of the stairs the walked on suddenly swung into another direction. Another one of those energy surges appearing in T'Pol's scanner.

They walked down the stairs without incident, when they were approaching the last flight of stairs. "Wait," T'Pol said, "I'm detecting an energy signature in the third step from our position."

It could be a trap. Archer thought. Intuition told them to skip that third step, and nothing happened, fortunately.

They wove along the high corridors until they were finally outside the castle itself. The greenery welcomed them, and then they ran headlong into the dark forest where they came from.

They passed the forest without incident, and soon, as they have gone in the middle of the clearing, Archer flipped his communicator to have Trip beam him back on _Enterprise_.

* * *

><p>The Gryffindor common room was packed with equally-alarmed students; all staring down at the unconscious Hermione and Ron. Professors Snape and McGonagall were the first to step into the room.<p>

"At least they stayed put in the common room." McGonagall commented dreamily; knowing that the three are rather adventurous.

"The attack just happened, perhaps it's only a matter of time before they sneak off again." Snape commented icily, with a smirk on his face.

"Are you accusing my prefects?" McGonagall turned to Snape, incredulous. "I think they were doing their homework when this happened."

Snape did not say anything clever for the moment afterward. Some parchment scattered around Ron and Hermione, and there is a broken bowl nearby. Maybe Snape could see the bloodstained scarf resting on the living chair.

Just their luck, Professor Umbridge appeared through the blasted portrait hole. Both professors stiffened their stance at her, their best welcome.

"Students will return to their rooms at once." Dolores held her eyebrows up to the peering students. Minerva didn't like the tone of her voice telling her Gryffindors what and what not to do.

Fred and George looked affronted, especially with Ron Weasley right below them, not knowing whether he's alive or not. When they did not move a muscle, none of the other Gryffindors budged.

McGonagall would have loved this tension to simmer; she seemed to be delighted to have her students stand up to this pink toad. But to give the Ministry more excuse to pick Hogwart's nose like how Umbridge is picking hers right now didn't delight her at all.

"Students, back into your rooms, now. We have encountered this case before, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger will be alright." McGonagall thought that the reference to the attack on Filch would be enough assurance for the other Weasleys to give in. When this didn't work, she knelt down and felt for Ron's pulse. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Fred and George eyed Umbridge venomously. They took one last worried look on Ron and on Professor McGonagall, and then they were the first to leave. The other Gryffindors slowly peeled away, until it's just Ron, Hermione, McGonagall, Snape, and Umbridge.

"Professor Snape," Umbridge turned at her heel to face him, smiling evilly sweet. "You will hand that device to me immediately."

Snape stood still. Somehow Umbridge saw him pick up that phase pistol. He pursed his lips. It really appears that he is reluctant to grant her that wish.

"Professor Snape, you may go." a powerful voice sounded from behind. It was Albus Dumbledore. Snape bowed low, and swept off the common room without another word.

Umbridge looked incredulous. "Professor Dumbledore. May I remind you that as High Inquisitor, I have the right to inspect the faculty of this school-"

"As High Inquisitor, you have right to inspect my faculty. You do not, however have the right to confiscate things from them, even if the item in question does not belong to them."

From a little up, Dumbledore was certain that the Gryffindors were peering from their doors, notably the faces of Fred, George, and Ginny Weasley.

"For now." Dolores added, with the high eyebrows and the nose extra high.

Dumbledore, unlike McGonagall, did not pretend to not have seen the toad woman, and he made a graceful exit of conversation by bowing low. "Minerva, would you care to assist me?"

With a flick of their wands, Ron's and Hermione's bodies floated solemnly in midair in such a relaxed fashion, as if they were sleeping. Dumbledore caught the sight of Harry's wand on the floor. As if determined not to let the High Inquisitor get her hand on it, he quickly picked it up with a flick of his wand. Ron and Hermione drifted away from the common room; disappearing after Dumbledore and McGonagall, leaving Dolores Umbridge unceremoniously abandoned in there.


	8. The Human Secret Society

It is a bit embarrassing for Harry to note that he had woken up on his school robes in a very strange, well-lit place. The light that greeted his was offending, therefore he winced. Harry still knew right away that he had woken up in a wrong place. His legs shot out of the leathery stretcher that was his bed.

The bed is unlike that of his own back in the Gryffindor dormitory, or back in the Dursleys'. It had no blankets, no pillows, just plain black leather stretched across a metal frame served as its mattress. A boring white-yellow light glows above his, formed into some sort of plank embedded into the grey ceiling. The walls of the bed were as gray and as boring as the ceiling. And the door, Harry expected it to be locked. The make of the bed, the door, and the glass, which he thinks might be ballistic. Definitely Muggle-made.

Of course Harry decided that he must escape immediately. But overly genius he is, he contemplated. Who else would want to keep him prisoner other than Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters? And they-Muggle-haters, why would keep him in a Muggle prison?

What if it were Muggles who caught him? What is his crime, then? As if he were as armed and dangerous as Sirius Black is portrayed in the Muggle news. My God, what jail in Great Britain could this be!

If Muggles caught him, there could be only one explanation: the Ministry. The Ministry had been contacting the Muggle Prime Minister as of late; still running into the story of the mass murderer Sirius Black. How the hell did they find out that he's Harry Potter's godfather, he did not know. But that should give them more license to tighten their grip on him and Dumbledore. "The-Boy-Who-Lived and Albus Dumbledore: In League With Mass Murderer."

He still feels woozy all over.

"My wand, my wand." He thought. He quickly dug his hands through his pockets. He could not feel a thing. "Muggles took my wand?" Harry threw everything he could move, and still there was no wand at all.

"Perhaps I have dropped it back at Hogwarts." No, but he was clutching his wand as that red beam knocked his senses cold.

At the same moment when Harry was debating where his wand could have been, a stale, radio-like voice startled his into attention. Before him, through the glass, was a tall man with black-brown hair, that looked like in his forties. The man had a great build, muscular, like that of Goyle perhaps if the Slytherin lackey would hit a Muggle gym.

"I asked, whether you had a good sleep?"

Potter kept silent.

The big man paced before him back and forth. "Thought I might come undercover to seek people like you out, until I saw this."

He held out Hermione's wand from his blue jumpsuit pocket. Harry's stomach had never flinched so violently in his life.

"Seven of my men were attacked with weapons like these." Harry could hear the anger rising slowly from his voice. "One of them got wounded, one paralysed. Some of them suffered a neurological disturbance and the last one died."

Harry froze. Yes, the attack at Hogsmeade. But, neurological disturbance, what the hell is that specifically?

"Killed by people like you."

He got filled with courage to protest his innocence. But all the large man saw was his trying to look big and defiant. He wouldn't dare tell this big Muggle that it was Death Eaters who attacked them, whoever they are. No, somehow the Muggle figured out a little about the wizard world, but that doesn't mean you should reveal much.

The less he says, the better.

The fifth year Hogwarts student looked all over the man to say something clever-something that will not further reveal himself, his schooling, and the rest of the wizarding world, for that matter. The patch on his left shoulder, strange as it looks, is readable to him.

"Who are you?" Harry stared and growled at him in the most threatening manner he can muster.

The man, twirling his wand with his hands, gathered breath into his chest. He glared daggers at Harry though he was squinting.

"I am Captain Jonathan Archer on the Starship _Enterprise_."

* * *

><p>"A stick, for a weapon?" Tucker gingerly picked up the wand from Archer's hand. Archer met them in Sickbay, where Phlox was conducting some therapy upon Trip and Malcolm. Reed was recovering remarkably; any indication of the memory was considered post-traumatic, whereas Trip has to stay a little longer. Apparently, the residual energy kept his sliced leg from completely healing.<p>

"I want you and Malcolm to take it apart." Archer sped across them. "I want to know its range, its power output. I want to know what kind of things we're going up against."

"It doesn't look like we can take apart any of it." Trip felt the wood, twirled it, and looked all over it. "It doesn't open anywhere."

"Maybe it's perfectly sealed and thickly varnished." Reed picked the wand with his forefinger and his thumb.

"It doesn't look varnished." Trip contested.

T'Pol took one long look at the wand, and held her recalibrated scanner before it. "This device contains a lot of the residual energy."

Malcolm gave her an incredulous look; dropping the wand into Sickbay's floors. He picked it promptly, "Sorry."

Archer turned to Dr. Phlox, who added, "If I may assist Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed with studying the weapon."

The Captain found the idea to be quite delightful. "Work quickly." Then he sped to the Bridge.

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up to see Ron in a bed right beside hers in the hospital wing that morning.<p>

"I could not see Harry anywhere." Ron looked at her from his side.

Hermione's worried look is as terrible as Ron's.

They turned their heads quickly to the hospital wing door. It opened for Professor McGonagall, their Head of the House. Minerva swept across the wing until she reached them two.

"Madam Pomfrey has informed me that you will be able to resume your classes in the afternoon. You can join your fellow students in lunch later."

"Professor, where's Harry?" Hermione immediately asked.

McGonagall, pursing her lips and eyes downcast for a while, slowly put her hands into her robe pocket. She pulled out the phoenix-and-holly wand from her robes and slowly handed it to Hermione. Her two prefects gave her shocked looks.

"We did not see Mr. Potter in the common room, Miss Granger." She finally spoke. "We could not find your wand. Maybe you can use this while we look for Mr. Potter."

* * *

><p>The rubble in the Gryffindor common room had already been cleared. The china bowl had been repaired. Fortunately for the Fat Lady, she had found a temporary home with some of the other paintings. While the canvas had been repaired, McGonagall Transfigured some boulders into two armoured trolls. These trolls would not let anyone in without hearing the password, which had changed at Neville's behest. To keep the Gryffindor common room covered, McGonagall hung a carpet over it.<p>

The Daily Prophet kept gloating on the success of Dolores Umbridge as High Inquisitor, earning the scoff of Hermione Granger. The Ministry obviously has kept silent about the incident in Gryffindor Tower; if they have heard of it at all. She and Ron were curious for a while, when they observed that Professor Umbridge shot Professor Snape venomous glances. As for their own health, they have recovered remarkably.

"Maybe they have taken Harry Potter to Voldemort." Ron gobbled his soup.

"If these vigilantes are allied with Voldemort," She mused, "You and I could have died already, or maybe just me. I'm a Mudblood." She trailed off, hating that term.

"It's not in the news. The Order has to know. We have to tell Sirius." Ron whispered.

"I think they already know. Professor Snape-"

"Yeah, and what about Quidditch," Ron trailed, "We've lost our Seeker."

Pause. Hermione stroked her coffee cup. "Great, just when I was suggesting."

"Suggesting what? What were you saying about learning Defense Against the Dark Arts by ourselves?" Ron leaned to her, giving the faraway Professor Umbridge a wary look.

"She's not teaching us to defend ourselves, she's not helping us with our OWLs." Hermione, "And Harry, who has the best experience when it comes to this." She stroke her forehead, "He could have helped."

"You mean you want Harry to teach us just that." Ron declared.

"Well, now that's not going to happen with him gone, is it?" Hermione interjected, giving him a cool glance to the side.

Pause.

"What if we learn it on our own, while and then we look for Harry?" Ron leaned a little bit nearer to Hermione, and his voice is now down to a whisper.

"Ron-" Hermione did not like the idea.

"Of all people who wanted to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts-" He finished his soup bowl and started at the toasted bread. "Do you want to save Harry or not?"

Hermione shot him an angry look. Then it melted. Apparently, Ron had been right.

* * *

><p>In the Armory, Tucker and Reed ran almost every imaginable test with the Hermione's wand, apart from taking it apart. They could not see how it could be a weapon-it's a vine wood stick! But maybe the stick serves as a conduit for the transmission of this mysterious energy. So they scanned its interior. They could not make of the interior of the wand, which is organic and filled with a substantial amount of this energy.<p>

"If somehow we could tap the energy inside this weapon, perhaps we can generate some of this energy for ourselves." Tucker leaned to Reed with his working leg. He did not like putting too much weight on his wounded thigh. They looked to the screen showing the electronically-generated image of Hermione's wand in cross-section. The middle showed a thin line containing that energy that their computer could not image, but certainly is organic.

"But don't we have to have that kind of energy in our bodies ourselves?" Reed drawled in protest.

"What about that guy in the Brig?" Tucker suggested.

"Too risky." Reed shook it off. "But with the Captain's permission, we can use him as a last resort."

Pause. Tucker puckered his lips, the best indicator that he was actually thinking. Then he suddenly had an idea. He pressed his thumb against the nearest com he can find. "Tucker to Dr. Phlox."

_"Yes?"_ Dr. Phlox's voice answered.

"Could you come down here for a minute?"

_"On my way."_

Malcolm stared at Trip with anticipation.

* * *

><p>"So you're the vigilantes." Harry muttered under his breath.<p>

"The what?" Archer scowled.

"It was in our news." Harry continued. "Twelve people found dead outside the village."

Hoshi had not picked up any communication indicating that the incident brought these people's attention. Maybe the secret society has their means of broadcasting among themselves-something that _Enterprise_ cannot pick up.

And Jonathan did not recall Trip telling him that they killed twelve, not seven people.

He paced the Brig, then after a long silence it brought, he turned to face Harry through the window. "I'm taking you back to your castle."

Harry beamed, although something does not sit right. From the looks of it, Archer seemed the sort of person who would want to have as little catch from him as possible.

"What do you want?" Harry intoned, insinuating his awareness to Archer's terms.

The Captain smiled and chuckled. Just then Harry heard an offhand Southerner voice. _"Tucker to Captain Archer."_

"Go ahead."

_"Sir, would you come to the Armory immediately? it's the weapon."_

"On my way."

Archer shot Harry a look that made them feel like Harry had a lot to do with it. Jonathan made a step towards him. "We'll see."

Jonathan pressed something that is out of view from Harry, and he quickly got out of sight.


	9. The Energy Weapon

Archer entered the Armory with welcoming looks from Trip, Malcolm, and Dr. Phlox.

"You wouldn't believe this, Cap'n." Trip stared at him, looking obviously uncomfortable. He pointed to Malcolm Reed, who is now holding the young girl's wand on his firearm hand. "Show him, Malcolm."

Malcolm, who was looking at the Captain, breathed, swallowed. He slowly raised his phaser arm, and then pointed the wand in midair.

The ship's lights were dimming and brightening, an indication of a power malfunction. Archer looked around him in surprise. T'Pol called out to the Captain through the com. "Go ahead." "I'm detecting the energy readings in the Armory. The systems in there are fluctuating."

"It's alright, T'Pol, stand by. " Archer ended the transmission.

A loud clang caught their ears. The weapons locker suddenly swung open; flinging the rifles at their direction. Reed immediately lowered the wand. And then the rifles dropped on their feet. The systems went back to normal.

"It only happens with Lieutenant Reed." Tucker added. "I thought it would work on me because I've got residue on my bum leg."

Phlox stepped up to Reed. He held his medical tricorder on the Tactical Officer's neck.

"I'm detecting a steady energy stream all over his nervous system." Phlox observed, "It only happens when he holds the weapon."

Archer stepped nearer, eager to hear more.

"Do you suppose it has something to do with the incident at the village?" Trip quipped, glancing at the Captain and then gazing at Reed.

"What incident?"

"When one of the bad guys pointed one of those things and then you were suddenly in pain." Trip said.

"I would not recommend exposure to that neuro-electromagnetic transmission to anyone, Commander Tucker." Phlox closed his tricorder. "It could have inflicted permanent damage to their nervous system."

Tucker stared at everyone. Just a theory, he thought.

"Captain, this weapon feels comfortably warm." Reed commented, hinting some amusement. "Though I feel a little dizzy."

"It must be just your body temperature, Malcolm." Trip hinted, his arms folded.

"It could be the energy." Archer paced around; thinking. "Have Dr. Phlox give you a full examination in Sickbay while holding that thing." He turned to Reed. "Resume repairs on weapons."

"Aye, sir." All said as he disappeared from the Armory door.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Ron spent their afternoon in the library, after their classes. Piles of tomes seemed to create a wall around them; isolating them from the chatter of Ravenclaws who seemed to be huddled into apparently, a combined effort to finish their homework. They eyed Ron and Hermione cautiously, and then as they went on with their research work, they inched from the edge of their long table to the other, away from the two Gryffindors' direction. It seemed that they could feel the Harry Potter rubbed into the two like some sort of contamination.<p>

Ron glanced at the Ravenclaws and then turned to his companion, "Weren't they at the nearer edge of the table thirty minutes ago?"

"It's as if they never heard what happened last two days ago." Hermione continued reading her copy of her fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts book.

"So we teach each other Defense Against the Dark Arts, then we look for Harry, is that the plan?" Ron asked.

Hermione pulled a book about jinxes and hexes and buried herself in it. "Not just the two of us, Ron. We'll teach more people. This would be more difficult without Harry, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people, Ron. Yes, Ron, as long as Harry's gone, we're on our own. But after the rescue, we get him to teach them. He's the only one who can produce a Patronus, he's the only one who can throw off the Imperius Curse, and he can do loads of stuff that most grown wizards can't."

Hermione leaned to Ron; closing her book, and putting her finger through it to act as bookmark, "Listen, you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying; folding the book's page to indicate where she left off. "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

"Hey, is it true that Harry was kidnapped?"

It is Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker. Ron and Hermione looked at her expectantly. From behind her, the Ravenclaws stared at her, giving her the "Don't get near them!" look.

"It's true," Hermione stared at her.

Cho's eyes went downcast.

"Can we help you?" Ron asked Cho.

"Oh, no, that's fine, thank you." Cho smiled between stutters, then she pranced off. Hermione and Ron exchanged equally-surprised looks.

* * *

><p>Dr. Phlox's examination on Lieutenant Reed had been completed. Malcolm emerged from the bio-bed, and sat up as soon as it stopped moving, wand still on his hands. Just in time, Archer had arrived to Sickbay with two from security. Before them is their prisoner, the boy from the castle.<p>

Harry remained rooted to his spot as soon as they have stopped moving. Around him are an assortment of herbs, canisters, bottles, terrariums, and aquariums stored neatly in shelves and desks. Everything looks so clean. Most animals themselves look strange. For a moment, he thought whether the Muggles who work here have as much prodigious knowledge in potion-making as Severus Snape. He figured immediately, since he saw the Snake of Aescipulus drawn on both doors, that he had been escorted into the hospital wing of this Muggle starship.

"You're just in time, Captain." A strange man greeted the Captain with warm enthusiasm akin to that of Albus Dumbledore. The man is plump; his curly brown hair receding, though copious from the high forehead until just behind his ears. Strange growths and ridges bulge from his forehead, all of which are tanned at the tips. He looked like another magical creature, but sentient, like the goblins and the house-elves. Harry had never seen anyone like him.

Archer peered to the screen above the bio-bed, which showed a physiometric profile of Lieutenant Reed's nervous system. Normally, neural tissue would be depicted in green. This time it was blazing white nerves rested on the physiometric outline of Malcolm's body. The doctor and T'Pol, apparently, had not the time to program the computer how to display these energy readings.

"Captain, my analysis of this energy on Lieutenant Reed is complete. When he does not hold the weapon, all of this neuro-electromagnetic energy disappears from Lieutenant Reed's nervous system. But when he does, it reappears. Apparently, this weapon serves not only as an energy conduit, but an energy amplifier as well."

Harry listened, suppressing an offended look on his face. It's funny to think that these Muggles had come up with a very mouthy word for 'magic.'

"I have also examined Commander Tucker, Subcommander T'Pol, and the MACOs who have participated in all the landing parties. So far, only Lieutenant Reed displays such a phenomenon."

Pause. Archer pursed his lips and paced around Malcolm and the doctor.

"I believe there is someone who could deliver an explanation." Archer stared at the screen above the bio-bed, and then turned to Harry.

There was a loud silence. The Captain raised his chin to Harry in a Jonathan-ish fashion. And then he finally spoke. "I know that you and your people are a secret society, that you strive to keep this... technology a secret from the rest of the world."

Harry did not speak. He merely watched the Captain pace around them slowly and heavily. He may be a Muggle, but this Muggle isn't the sort that you could keep secrets from once he starts asking questions. Not for long anyway. Malcolm handed Jonathan the wand, and then he stood before him.

"There is another secret hidden from the rest of the world." Jonathan gave Harry a determined look so strong that it rivalled Severus Snape's penetrating gaze. The subtle twirling he does on Hermione's wand with his fingers was so disbelieving that Harry almost thought that Archer is also a wizard. "We also do not exist. Me and my crew."

Another secret society? Harry regarded all of them with unparalleled scepticism. At least Harry knows at last that the Order has nothing to do with them either.

"We're from the future. We will not exist until two centuries later, thanks to you." Archer drew up the proudest look on his face. He continued walking and talking in such a slow fashion. "And we're fighting a war that transcends many timelines at the expense of our enthusiasm. To win, we've been sent here to help you stop a certain terrorist who is capable of harnessing this... technology in say, terrible applications."

Archer held the wand before Harry, emphasising "this… technology." To Reed and Dr. Phlox, if all this talk about secret societies and this terrorist is not one of Daniels' revelations to their Captain, maybe they would share Ambassador Soval's poor opinion of him. Harry, however, could only think of one name: Lord Voldemort. How the Muggle Captain came so close to knowing the existence of a powerful Dark wizard, it is still up to speculation.

Harry finally broke his silence.

"He," he pointed to Malcolm, suppressing his disbelief, "He's a wizard."

Archer gave him a sidelong gaze, interested to hear more, but the scowl on his face indicated that he is definitely not satisfied with the answer. The two MACOs exchanged sceptical looks. Phlox raised his eyebrows. These are some un-Dursleyish reactions to witchcraft and wizardry. Malcolm, however, gave him a dark scowl that is definitely Dursleyish.

"How did that happen?" Archer asked.

Harry, "It doesn't happen. Sometimes a person is born with magical abilities-"

"So it's genetic?" Phlox supposed.

"Yeah, it sort of, runs in the family."

"Fascinating." Phlox commented.

"But none in my family are witches and wizards." Malcolm protested.

"Then you're Muggleborn."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Muggleborn, a wizard born from a two Muggle parents." Harry explained. "People who can't do magic."

Archer scowled, looking thoroughly offended at the term, Muggle. There was an awkward tension rising with the silence in Sickbay.

Reed cocked his head to his side. "Do you feel the same warmth on your hands when you hold a-?"

"Wand."

"Right. Wand." Reed's eyes kept narrowed.

"Yes,"

"Are you experiencing nausea, headaches, dizziness, or general uneasiness when you hold this kind of device?" Dr. Phlox added.

"Not with my own wand, no." Harry shook his head only slightly. "And that's not my wand. That's Hermione's, my friend." Spilling beans about the overview of the wizarding world before Muggles still does not give Harry the enthusiasm to explain wand-lore to them.

"I'm aware of that." Archer added, remembering picking Hermione's wand from her hands.

Harry stared at him.

"Your friends are fine." Archer continued. "Look, we know the role you're going to play in this…society. It is strange, though, that you and your friends are hiding aliens in your castle."

"Aliens?" Harry, "But that's impossible."

"We scanned your castle, and it says that you're hiding aliens in your castle." Archer interjected, raising his voice. "Those aliens are our enemies. They were not supposed to interfere with your society's history, not with ours, not with any history at all. And so I have no reason to believe that they're not allied with this terrorist. You should thank us. We got you before they did."

The attack on the Quidditch field, where all of the Gryffindors almost died. Are those people shooting laser beams at them the aliens Archer was talking about?


	10. Cultural Contamination

Canon Alert: On their meeting in Hog's Head, I have copied some lines from the HP canon to keep it as aligned as possible, sans Harry, who was of course, still aboard NX-01 Enterprise.

* * *

><p>On their way to Hogsmeade, Hermione and Ron trailed along the long line of students, ready to be inspected by Mr. Filch, the school caretaker, whether their names are in the list.<p>

They walked briskly down the slope on their way to Hogsmeade after inspection.

"D'you reckon that they've roped off the section where the Death Eaters were killed?" Ron asked Hermione.

"Only way to find out." Hermione replied, not bothering to correct the error that they might be just former Death Eaters.

They circled the village outskirts, which had nothing to show at all. Ron and Hermione were losing some hope in this case. If anything, the Ministry did quite a great job of cleaning the mess.

"Hermione, look!" Ron called out to her. Hermione ran to him.

Ron touched what appeared to be a scorch mark on the tree he's standing beside right now.

"You were burned back in the Quidditch practice." Hermione recollected.

"Looks like they've got a the hang of fire spells." Ron touched the scorch marks with the tip of his fingers.

"Look, there's another one." Hermione pointed to the other tree. It also had scorch marks. They ran to it.

"It looks too thin for a fire spell." Hermione declared, eyes glued to the tree trunk. The trunk sported long, black lines across it on one side. Then contemplative silence. "Laser beams."

"Laser beams?" Ron scowled.

"Muggle stuff." Hermione interjected. "Light drawn into thin lines. But I won't be surprised if the Ministry's discovered new spells."

"Hermione, these are vigilantes. We can't be certain that they're working for the Ministry."

"Ron, just because someone's in the Ministry, it doesn't mean they're allied to it." Hermione interjected, still scanning the clearing. Ron walked along, looking for more clues. They leafed through the bushes, brambles, and grasses. They seemed to have found nothing, for they have kept their bloodhound look on the ground around them.

"Look." Ron picked something up from a thicket. Hermione's eyes darted to the thing on Ron's hands.

They eyed it closely. The thing in question looked like a dreadfully-shrunken shark body hardened into smooth armor. Its appendage looks even weirder. It was black, a bit hooked, and grooved to the sides. Ron eyed it with curious interest. Hermione, however, looked at it as if she had seen something like it before.

"Firelegs." Ron muttered.

"No, firearms." Hermione gently picked it up from his hands. She aimed it at the nearby tree trunk and squeezed what looks like the trigger. The firearm glowed from the tip; releasing a jet of red light. Both Ron and Hermione cringed, but her finger on the trigger squeezed steadily, until the trunk grew red hot and that it suddenly exploded. They ducked to avoid the jumping flames.

They gave each other knowing looks. It's a surprise that the Ministry has not found this device.

"We better keep it." suggested Ron.

Hermione gave him an affirmative look. She immediately fitted it inside her jacket pocket with Harry's wand.

* * *

><p>It wasn't long before all the senior staff found out all about Harry. Harry is The Boy Who Lived, the only survivor to the terrorist Lord Voldemort's attack. None of them, not even Archer, had the slightest understanding on how Harry, as a baby, was able to repel the fatal attack (which they imagine as a fatal dose of particle radiation coming from Hermione's wand) when his parents, both fully-grown wizards, aren't able to. What they understand is that Harry is the only person who had survived this curse.<p>

Only Dr. Phlox seemed to show a lot of fascination on him, his scar in particular. Dr. Phlox has discovered that Harry's scar contains plenty of magical residue (they gave it a new term), similar to the one found on Commander Tucker's wounded thigh.

What frustrated Dr. Phlox is that he had no means of extracting this residue, neither from Commander Tucker or from Harry Potter, and so he asked Harry how it could be done.

"I don't have any idea." Harry shrugged as he sat up on the bio-bed one day in Sickbay. Hermione could have given the Denobulan a more intelligent reply.

"Perhaps I can give you a slight analgesic. I have no medical background on treating magical injuries, but perhaps this could relieve your headache for a few hours." Phlox smiled, his hands on a hypospray. "Hold your chin up, please."

Dr. Phlox seemed to have forgiven him. The Denobulan imagined that such an advanced branch of…magic requires degrees and marks that are up to Starfleet specifications.

At least Harry isn't confined to the Brig anymore. Archer felt, that as long as Harry has no wand in his hands, he can roam around the ship as often as he like, sans the restricted sections. A crewman led him to his guest quarters on E-Deck, which is a slight improvement to the blanket-less Brig. Though dully gray and blue all over, it had books, a shower, a lavatory, a red bed, and some spare clothes. The best part about it must be the window, where Harry has a great look on the planet Earth.

Harry could not help but feel trapped, though-a feeling reminiscent with his stay with the Dursleys'. The starship is in high orbit; no owls could possibly reach him here. He had not once heard from Hermione, Ron, or Sirius one summer. While the absence of the bad guys like Voldemort, Snape, and Umbridge pleased him, the delightful things like Quidditch, Ron, Hermione, and Hogwarts in general offset all of it.

Then Harry's scar started to sear again. He did not feel the headache that usually came along with it-thanks perhaps to Dr. Phlox's analgesic. But the burning sensation was head-splitting all the same. While it burned, he saw flashes of black doors and black tiles appearing before him. His eyes travelled everywhere along that black corridor, corridor, and another black corridor. Then the scenery changed. Everything has suddenly turned green and yellow. Harry found himself surrounded with decks and decks of what appeared like giant glowing keyboards. The high ceiling was metal and green and forbidding. The lighting is strange to him; the lamps are spiky and oddly-shaped. This is no Muggle or wizard architecture.

"You fool," Harry said in a high voice. "You do not bother with the boy! The boy will come to me!"

He is facing a tall creature, the most terrifying creature he has ever seen. Spikes sprout from his horrid green, red, and yellow scales. Yet he had a head, two legs, and two hands. Horridly reptile-looking this creature is, he made no mistake in believing that this is as sentient as a human.

"My Lord, we should proceed in both fronts. We kidnap the boy, while we continue our search."

"You dare raise your voice to the Dark Lord!" Harry interjected, hissing. At the instant he muttered "Crucio," and the alien was soon on the ground, writhing in pain. "You dare tell the Dark Lord what to do!"

Harry blinked and gasped. And he's back in his guest quarters again.

* * *

><p>Ron and Hermione hurried to the Hog's Head.<p>

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as they stepped on to it they realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

The two looked around them, eyeing the shrouded figures that might have been dementors if they have not spoke.

"I don't know about this, Hermione," Ron muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking articularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Ron, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Ron dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to the two of them.

"What?" he grunted.

"Two Butterbeers, please," said Hermione.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"Four Sickles," he said.

"I'll get them," said Ron quickly, passing over the silver. Then the barman turned away and deposited Ron's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"You know what?" Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky -"

"You - are - a -prefect," snarled Hermione.

"Oh," said Ron, the smile fading from his face.

"Where are they now?" muttered Ron.

Hermione checked her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people. First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Harry might not have known; three Ravenclaw boys Ron was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Ron recognized vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, his brothers Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.

Hermione turned to Ron happily, "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have… twenty-five Butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…"

When they have settled down on their Butterbeers and paid up, Hermione finally spoke.

"Well, er, hi." She smiled nervously.

The rest eyed her for a long while.

"You all know why we were here." She continued, "You see, Harry had an idea. I mean, I had an idea, that we study Defense Against the Dark Arts. And I mean, to really study it, you know, not the rubbish Umbridge is giving us, because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hear, hear," Anthony Goldstein commented. Hermione looked heartened, and her voice became stronger.

"I think it would be better for us if we would take matters into our own hands." Pause, "And by learning it, we won't simply study it in theory, but actually do real spells."

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because… because…" she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Ron and Hermione.

"Well… that's the plan, anyway" said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to -"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it -" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes Harry," said the blond boy.

"Who are you?" said Ron, rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes Harry say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about -"

Ron pulled Hermione's ears near his mouth, "We could say that Harry was kidnapped by Lord Voldemort's supporters."

"Yeah, but I haven't said that we're recruiting them into the rescue mission." Hermione whispered back; feeling the pistol on her chest.

"Well, look now, Harry's not exactly right here with us right now, is he." Ron finally spoke. "You've got to save that cross-examination for another time."

"So it's true that he's kidnapped, then?" quipped Luna Lovegood.

"True," Hermione nodded.

"So what?" Ernie Macmillan interrupted, "Are you going to tell us that You-Know-Who did it?"

It turns out that some of these people - maybe even most of them - had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to -"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Hermione "that Harry can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Hermione slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Yes," added Fred.

"Blimey!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Lee and Ron. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did he kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"I still want to hear it from Harry himself." Zacharias Smith drawled.

"You can go now if you're not interested to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts." Hermione challenged him.

Smith went silent.

"Well, can you produce a Patronus?" Lavender pointed to Hermione. "I've figured that you're the sort who can teach Harry so many advanced spells."

Tense silence.

"Listen," Hermione stuttered, "I don't think we're going to encounter Dementors anytime soon-"

"But _can_ you?" Lavender demanded.

"I can try." Hermione scowled. "And it's Professor Lupin who taught him. Look, you think I've already got a lot in my head the moment I was born, but actually, I started out where all of you began. D'you really want to pass your OWLs or not?"

Everyone looked at each other, muttering in agreement.

* * *

><p>Archer made no mention when Harry can return to Hogwarts, and Harry did not dare ask. Not yet.<p>

And that has kept him silent while eating dinner with the Captain and four of his senior officers. Subcommander T'Pol, Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, and Dr. Phlox. But not exactly wordlessly silent. He answered the questions about his school as casually as Muggles talk about their jobs. It made him a little uncomfortable that none of the senior officers mentioned the details of their mission to him, not even their careers. He thought he has as much right to know, now that these aliens are allied to Lord Voldemort. But Harry wasn't complaining. Especially that Archer declared Lord Voldemort to be their enemy as well, Harry figured that the quickest way back into Hogwarts was to be nice while aboard _Enterprise_.

"But Malcolm did not receive owl mail when he was eleven years old, did you, Malcolm?" Trip observed as he munched on his pan-fried catfish.

Lieutenant Reed remained silent. Apparently he did not like being a wizard.

"Malcolm?" Archer asked.

Malcolm, with downcast eyes, shook his head. Harry gave him an apologetic look. The awkward silence gave the senior officers the indication that they should not press on his…newfound talent, not during mealtime anyway.


	11. The Human Minority

Harry need not ask the senior officers about their mission and their background after all. He had been talking to Crewman Cutler, Dr. Phlox's assistant in Sickbay. He had discovered that they have come from the year 2154, to be exact. There has been an attack on Earth, by the species called the Xindi, among other revelations.

"How fast can Warp 5 go? How big is Starfleet? Really, with all the ships Starfleet has, it only sent one into this Delphic Expanse?" Harry asked excitedly as he helped Crewman Cutler feed the animals in Sickbay. Somehow this activity reminded him of Hagrid, whom he missed so much.

"Not everyone in Starfleet believed the Captain, Harry." Cutler dropped some meat into a cage that soon shook violently. She turned to him and smiled.

"Well, how did you guys come back here, in 1995?" Harry sprinkled some powder into a little aquarium that contained a number of brown leeches.

"We've had help. The Captain says that we've been caught in the middle of a…Temporal Cold War."

"Is that the war where many…aliens are messing with history?" Harry asked.

Crewman Cutler nodded. "You must be missing your parents."

"Yeah," Harry muttered. Evidently, the story of his miraculous survival reached the entire crew of _Enterprise_, all of whom he'd reckon are all Muggles, both human and alien. All but one. Lieutenant Reed's face popped in his mind.

"It must also be hard for people not to believe who you are, is it too?" Cutler added.

"What do you mean?"

"Most people here don't believe in magic, Harry." Cutler revealed. "We never saw magic. All we knew about are warp drives and making contact with alien species. In fact, I'm quite surprised that Subcommander T'Pol believed in magic herself before the rest of us did."

"But that's because she saw it." Harry explained.

"Yeah, she might not have if she didn't go down there." Cutler shrugged, and turned to feed the Edosian slugs. "I'm just saying I'm surprised that she believes in it because she's Vulcan." She gave Harry a sidelong look and smiled, "Another alien."

Harry remembered T'Pol's pointed ears distinctly. "What's with being Vulcan got to do with believing in magic while Mugg-, while most humans don't?"

"Vulcans are a logical species, Harry." Cutler explained. "I thought that they'd be the last people to believe in magic spells and magic potions, because magic, it's not even logical to us humans."

* * *

><p>A loud beep ringed on the Captain's quarters. Jonathan was sitting, petting Porthos. "Come in."<p>

T'Pol appeared. She stood before the Captain. Porthos retreated to his little bed in the corner.

"All tactical systems have already been repaired. We shall have weapons within thirty minutes."

Good news. "Bring them online."

"If I may make a suggestion," T'Pol added, "We should start repairs on the hull plating."

Archer nodded. "Make it a priority." He could only wonder what kind of effect hexes and jinxes and curses would have on the hull plating. That, with the Xindi Reptilian ships firing at them too.

"Captain, if I may also make an observation."

"Go ahead."

"You seem troubled."

Pause. Archer faced his Science Officer.

"We have lost two phase-pistols on the surface."

"Lieutenant Reed is currently working on retrieving them." T'Pol assured.

Pause. Archer sat down. The stare T'Pol gave him meant that there was something more.

"What happened to them?" Archer muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" T'Pol asked.

"The magical community." Archer continued. "They're so secret, even from Starfleet."

"Are you implying that if Starfleet had known of their existence, they could have made good use of their technology, particularly in combat?" T'Pol sounded careful. It may seem that the Vulcan High Command would also find the technology of Harry Potter's people very…useful.

"Yes," Archer paced, "But it's more than that. I think I'm starting to understand more about the cultural contamination this society might have inflicted if they aren't so secret."

"That if the human society started to rely on this technology, there would be no warp drive?" T'Pol asked.

"No warp drive, no Starfleet, no _Enterprise_." Archer added, with a hint of worry in his voice. "But what if we'd discover warp drive anyway? I wonder how fast humanity would have progressed if these magic people started to cooperate with the rest of society."

"If I may recall, you have also observed the same phenomenon among us Vulcans back in the medical exchange."

"What do you mean?" Archer looked at her.

"You have observed the High Command's persecution of Vulcan minority participating in mind-melds. It may well appear that you and the crew are subjecting Mr. Potter and his people to a similar unfair treatment."

Archer looked at her incredulously.

"Maybe." He growled, "Maybe not. In any case, assuming that this society exists until our time, where were they when the Xindi attacked? Why didn't they use some magic spell? Where were their magic tricks? I'm starting to think that they really deserved to be persecuted."

"The Xindi attack was a surprise. It may have been too late for them, as it had been too late for us." T'Pol offered.

"Their…magic might have improved dramatically by then." Archer contested, "Maybe they have seen it coming. But did they do anything? It's just another 'Muggle' problem to them, is it?" He spat, hating that term. "They're humans too. They've the responsibility to help preserve humanity."

"We can't be certain that they think that the Xindi attack is entirely a...Muggle concern." T'Pol offered. "In any case, Mr. Potter and his people belong to another time, and therefore they do not deserve you and your crew's persecution, if it exists."

Archer glowered. As he tried to cool himself, he did not want to add that the Vulcans did the same to humanity-holding back their technology-letting them stumble.

"Perhaps…persecution, not cultural contamination, is the reason why they have kept their society secret in the first place." T'Pol finally said.

_"Phlox to Captain Archer."_

Archer reached to the com by the door. "Go ahead."

_"There has been a medical emergency. Mr. Potter has fainted. Please go here to Sickbay immediately."_

The Captain sped off, T'Pol after him.

* * *

><p>The Captain ran to Sickbay to find Mr. Potter (who had changed into Muggle clothes since his night in the guest quarters) lying peacefully in the bio-bed. "Report."<p>

"Mr. Potter has received a massive neurolytic shock." Dr. Phlox pointed to the overhead screen showing the cross-section of Harry's nervous system. "It's the magic."

Archer scowled, the mind still afresh from his debate with T'Pol. Phlox immediately continued.

"The magical residue on Mr. Potter's scar has often been giving his central nervous system extra stimulation, particularly in the hypothalamus. Just recently, I've detected an energy surge around his scar while he was assisting Crewman Cutler with feeding my animals." Phlox smiled at this, then continued. "Cutler said he had been complaining of an increasingly burning sensation around the scar tissue before falling down unconscious."

Archer's face was filled with worry, "Is it safe to wake him?"

Potter's eyes suddenly opened, face obviously filled with shock. He made to sit up.

"Don't hurry sitting up, you're alright now." Phlox touched Harry's chest with his hypospray. Harry sat up gently, still wincing with the scar burning on his forehead.

"What happened?" Jonathan immediately asked.

"It's Voldemort, he was very happy. The aliens…I think they're aliens, they said they've found your ship." Harry said between gasps.

_"Bridge to Captain Archer."_ The com sounded, it was Ensign Mayweather's voice.

The Captain pressed the com, "Go ahead."

_"One of the Xindi ships just went into orbit. They're on intercept course."_

"Go to Tactical Alert." Archer barked to the com. "I'm on my way."

* * *

><p>Immediately after reaching the Bridge, Ensign Sato told Archer that they're being hailed. He nodded to put it up.<p>

A pale man appeared onscreen. This must be the terrorist. Although Harry told him that he is definitely human, he did not look like one. The man had no nose, instead it only had slits. The eyes are a terrible blood red, the skin looked slippery, pale, and sick; and no hair was seen anywhere. No hair, no brow, no beard. Nothing.

The terrorist smiled, giving Archer and the Bridge personnel the disgusted creeps.

"You have the honor of addressing Lord Voldemort, Captain Jonathan Archer."

Archer stood before his chair, staring at the terrorist. Three Xindi Reptilians stood behind the Dark Lord, along with a brown-haired, heavy-lidded woman and a man with white-blond hair. Both humans are clad in black and had the ugliest pallor on their skins, despite the beauty of the woman's sharp features and the elegance of the man's clothes.

"You and your crew need not bear pain, Captain." Lord Voldemort spoke in a high, airy voice, "Give us your warmest welcome aboard your ship, and then give the boy to me."

The heavy-lidded woman laughed a derisive, crazy cackle.

"I don't think so." Archer glowered at Lord Voldemort.

"You dare talk to the Dark Lord, you filthy Muggle!" The woman screamed, thoroughly more insulted than the Dark Lord himself. Voldemort only smiled.

"Very well." The Dark Lord chuckled. Then the com shut down.

"They're charging weapons." Reed reported from this station. The ship shook. "Port hull plating's down to 87%"

"Evasive manoeuvres." Archer commanded. "Fire their weapons ports. Then their engines."

_Enterprise_ moved around the heavens as it took particle weapons fire from the Xindi ship. It shot out its phase cannons, its antimatter warheads, its photon torpedoes. The entire ship shook. Back in Sickbay, Phlox and Harry grabbed hold unto something.

"Ventral plating's down." Reed lamented. "They're targeting our engines." The ship shook again.

"Travis!" Archer hollered to Ensign Mayweather.

"Yes sir."

"Sir, I'm detecting bio-signs on Engineering." Hoshi announced.

"Alert the Security. Send some on Sickbay."

* * *

><p>Engineering was the nearest place where the enemies can Transport to. A couple of the Xindi bio-signs and the terrorists appeared all over Engineering, shooting spells and particle weapons on Trip and his men. The MACOs have arrived on time. It was a shootout. Their weapons are set to stun.<p>

The Enterprise veered around, doing its best to evade the Xindi ship.

"Get out of their Transporter range!" bellowed Archer. "Archer to Engineering!"

_"Tucker here."_

"Are you alright."

_"We're taking heavy fire, Cap'n!"_ Tucker shouted. Archer could hear cruel incantations in the background. _"They're killing us, Cap'n! We should kill them!"_

"No, keep our weapons on stun." Archer replied, and cut the com.

The ship kept shaking. Reed successfully disabled the Xindi ship's forward weapons ports, though they've lost their aft cannons. Archer turned around and was surprised to see Harry running towards him.

"Captain, may I borrow the wand? I can stop them too." Harry asked hurriedly.

"Save your heroics for another time, Mr. Potter, they're after you." Archer denied him. The ship shook again.

"Hull breach on E-Deck, we're venting atmosphere." T'Pol reported.

"Emergency bulkheads!" Jonathan replied.

Harry froze on his feet, feeling stupid. He clung to the T'Pol's station when the ship shook again.

After a lot more tremors and shouts from Engineering and the Bridge, everything went calm again. _Enterprise_ took quite a beating. The ship's aft section had a lot of burning in it. The forward phase cannons have been nicked out. But as the _Enterprise_'s engines were disabled, the Xindi ship was able to escape back into Earth before they could pursue it. Evidently, it retreated because it is no match for _Enterprise_'s remaining weapons. The Captain soon gave orders such as prioritising weapons repairs and hull plating repairs. "And get into higher orbit. I want us to be away from their scanners for the meantime."

"Aye sir." said Travis.

Jonathan and Harry went into Engineering Deck, which was a mess. Tucker scrambled around; putting out fires. Some crew members started welding together some melted pieces of metal. The MACOs put the unconscious Xindi and the unconscious human terrorists on restraints. They took the terrorists' wands. Archer gave the go to put them to the Brig.

It wasn't long before Tucker exclaimed to Harry. "Are you okay?"

Harry, once again, had collapsed, his scar giving him a head-splitting sensation. Everything around him went blurry, and the last thing he remembered before he blacked out was Archer shouting, "Archer to Sickbay!"

* * *

><p>"Come in." Archer looked up from his study in his quarters, still tired from the recent attack. The door opened. It was Harry. The wizard boy apparently had recovered from his collapse.<p>

Archer cast him an appraising look.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, sir, thank you." Harry looked shyly, "It's just…Lord Voldemort. He's very angry, sir."

Archer chuckled, a reaction Harry has never seen before. "I'm sure he is."

"Can I help you?" He looked at him.

"Yes, sir, please." Harry replied. "I need to go back to Hogwarts."

Archer gave him a look that told him that it's not going to happen.

"My friends are down there." Harry continued, "And if you let me, I could contact them. We're members of the Order of the Phoenix, a secret resistance against Voldemort."

Jonathan's look went from determined denial to interest.

"They could help you, Captain. I-I could take you to them."


	12. Muggles of the 22nd Century

Hermione and Ron were the last to leave the Hog's Head, which was nearly three hours after they've made everyone they've invited sign in the parchment she just let out. It was nearly night fall. The Hog's Head seemed to be a great place for them to discuss in detail about Harry's disappearance, and how'd they balance the homework, the OWLs reviews, these Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching sessions, and their personal reviews too.

"Let's go, Ron." Hermione downed the last of her Butterbeer. And off they went.

They passed the hovels, the shops. When they passed _The Three Broomsticks_ they all gasped in awe.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. They hugged him, welcoming him back. Harry was as happy to see them as they are.

"Thought I'd have to walk all the way to Hogwarts." Harry giggled. "Listen, we haven't much time. Let's get inside."

_We?_ Ron and Hermione exchanged clueless looks. Harry led them to _The Three Broomsticks_. They walked to the farthest end of the room, to a rather secluded table. It turned out that Harry brought two grown-up wizards and one witch with him, all holding cups of Butterbeer.

Archer stared at Hermione. She turned out to be more beautiful awake than asleep.

Harry introduced the three Muggles (apparently) to Ron and Hermione, and back. The three Starfleet officers are in Muggle clothes-something that kind of puts them out of place in a Hogsmeade bar. Everyone else is in robes. But no wizard tried to bother. The pretext that "they have come a long way, having to disguise as Muggles" seemed to work well. T'Pol had done well covering her pointy ears with a bonnet, which amused Harry.

"You did WHAT?" Harry stared at Ron, in reference to the meeting they had in the Hog's Head.

"They are WHAT?" Ron looked at Archer, Reed, and T'Pol.

"You TOLD them?" Hermione looked incredulous. She gave the three Muggles a very apprehending look.

"Listen, Voldemort just attacked us." Harry interrupted. "We-I mean, they need to see Professor Dumbledore right now, tonight."

"But Dumbledore could be anywhere." Ron reminded Harry on how aloof their Headmaster had become recently.

"Alright, then Professor Snape." Harry suggested.

"I don't trust Snape, Harry, and you hate him, right?" Hermione added.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore trusts him, and he's the only one in the Order in Hogwarts." Harry contested. "Okay, we go to Dumbledore's office first, and if he's not there, we go to Professor Snape, all right?"

Ron and Hermione reluctantly agreed. Still eyeing Reed, Archer, and T'Pol suspiciously, they slipped out of _The Three Broomsticks_ and walked into Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione had swapped their wands on the way. Ron could not take his eyes off T'Pol's activity; tapping a rounded thing that glowed purple. What sort of magic is in that?

"She always does that." Harry told Ron.

"Miss Granger. Could we have our phase-pistol back, please?" T'Pol spoke. The six people stopped walking. Ron and Harry looked at Hermione with the Muggles. Hermione looked back.

At first, she wasn't so sure on what they meant. It was a tense moment. Then Ron's eyes flashed. Hermione got the clue. ("Oh") She picked the shark-shaped gun and held it out to Lieutenant Reed. Malcolm took it and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. Malcolm gave the Captain a curt nod. Ron shrugged at Harry. They continued walking.

It was already 2000 hours when they've reached the castle.

"You're past curfew." Filch said to Harry, Ron and Hermione derisively. "How about a nice detention with Professor Umbridge?"

"Hey, I don't remember having a curfew on Hogsmeade weekends." Ron protested.

"Well, we do now." Filch chuckled.

Archer felt authorized to declare his business. "We're here to see Professor Dumbledore."

"Who the hell are you?" Filch affronted.

Archer paused. He had known from Harry (he looked at him) the "educational reforms" going on in Hogwarts. Now is not as good time to be a Muggle as any. He pulled out a wand (one of those he took from the terrorists back in Engineering), in a fashion as he would a phase pistol. Then he pointed it at Filch. "We've come a long way. You should not inconvenience us. Take us to Professor Dumbledore."

"What the hell for?" Filch stood rooted to his spot. Archer was quite surprised that Filch did not pull out a wand himself.

"That is between us and Professor Dumbledore." Archer teased.

"Uh, Captain, We'll take you there. We know the way." Harry interrupted.

"It's past your bedtime, boy!" Filch called out to him warningly.

Harry did not like being told off like he's a kid. They ignored him. Meanwhile, Archer suppressed a chuckle; looking knowingly at his Tactical Officer and his Science Officer. Malcolm looked at him apologetically. T'Pol merely stared at him. Apparently, he's the only one who enjoyed the joke.

They swept across the corridors. Harry figured that they must be familiar with some of them, as they have been here before. But they have guided them along. It's amply a long way from the Hogsmeade gate to the Headmaster's office.

At the beginning of the term, Harry was not so sure about approaching Dumbledore at first. On his own accord, he would not think of talking to him, let alone asking for his assistance. But now here's Captain Archer and his top lieutenants-recently attacked by the Death Eaters-wanting to see the only person Lord Voldemort is afraid of-Albus Dumbledore.

But after a turn or two, they found themselves in Professor McGonagall's office.

"I thought you'd take us to Dumbledore." Ron complained.

Harry only looked at Ron briefly before turning to a delightfully-surprised Professor McGonagall. "Professor, they want to see Professor Dumbledore. It's highly important. Please."

McGonagall gave the three strangers a thoroughly shocked look. "Explain yourself, Mr. Potter. Have you been gone for the whole week to meet them?"

"Actually, yes, Professor." Harry smiled weakly. "Professor, they haven't much time. Would you take us to Dumbledore's office right now?"

McGonagall, sensing the urgency on Captain Archer, gave a stiff nod. She lead them along, back halfway where they came from. Taking Archer, Reed, and T'Pol to McGonagall first might have been a great idea after all, because not only did they not know the password, also because they have met the nasty Professor Umbridge along their way.

"Good evening, Professor." Umbridge greeted McGonagall in a sarcastic sing-song voice. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Ah, it seems that you have brought guests. Where are you taking them?"

"They have a very important business with Professor Dumbledore right now, so if you'll excuse me."

"I wasn't informed."

"They have just arrived." McGonagall struggled to keep stepping forward. Archer, Reed, and T'Pol gave each other knowing looks. It seems that this toad woman would stall them a great deal. "Perhaps you can talk to them after their business with Professor Dumbledore is finished for tonight." Archer scowled.

"Very well. I will take Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger from here, professor." Umbridge declared. "Tonight they will serve detention with me." She issued a wicked smile.

"I'm afraid not." contested McGonagall curtly, "I believe our guests would want their continued presence. Leastways, as head of their House, I shall issue the necessary punishments on them for violating the curfew you just issued this afternoon."

Then McGonagall swept off again, the rest following her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione felt a great deal protected and happy, so happy that they could not suppress their chuckles. Then at the moment, Hermione, still smiling, caught Captain Archer's eyes. Both their eyes glowed with some strange emotion. Hermione kept smiling, and she blushed. Not that she can help it. When she finally realized what was going on, she looked away shyly.

They have reached the end of the long corridor. A stone falcon stood over the archway, stiff and piercing.

"Chocolate Frog." McGonagall declared.

The falcon, acknowledging the password, leapt to the side, revealing the Headmaster's office. Many delicate silver instruments stood on the spindle-legged tables, puffing and whirring serenely. Above their heads were the portraits of what might be the former headmasters and headmistresses. Archer took a second look at all of them. They were moving! The portraits were snoozing in their frames, heads lolling back in armchairs or against the edge of the picture.

No one could make of the Captain's shocked face, which may have been fascination or terror, for all they know. Reed was evidently fascinated. He looked everywhere to find more and more peculiar objects sitting on all corners and shelves. T'Pol, despite being better in hiding her emotions, seemed to be fascinated herself. She scanned the office with her widened eyes and with her scanner, which is now reading massive amounts of magical energy from everywhere.

"Professor Dumbledore?" McGonagall called. The Headmaster appeared from behind all of them.

He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a sky blue cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. He appeared to have just travelled-or else he would already be in his nightclothes already.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. You and the students could go."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stiffened in indignation. Harry looked at Jonathan, which gave him a nod. As they did not want to irritate Professor McGonagall. They walked away until they were gone.

Albus Dumbledore eyed the Starship Captain and his officers with delighted fascination, which had earlier been somber at the presence of Harry. "For most people, this would be an unwelcome hour for a visit, but given the circumstances," he conjured three comfortable chintz chairs for them to sit on.

Archer, not wanting to insult Dumbledore's hospitality, resisted his hesitation sat down. Reed and T'Pol sat down on their chairs almost immediately. He waited for Professor Dumbledore to speak.

"You wanted to see me, is that right?" Albus smiled; his eyes twinkling.

"That's correct." Archer replied politely.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Please."

With a flick of his wand, four tiny glasses floated in midair, which filled with bronze liquid almost immediately. Archer looked around, and he saw a large bottle containing the same liquid. The liquid in it ebbed a little bit. No doubt that by magic, that the headmaster is filling these glasses without opening the bottle. Good. At least he knows where it came from.

Three glasses floated before them. The Captain gingerly took the one floating before him. He smelled it before he drank it down. Then he felt steam issue from his ears, nose, and exhale. Malcolm gave out a look of someone who drank hard liquor and did his best not to retch it out. T'Pol doesn't seem affected at the least, though steam also came out from her ears and her nose.

"I have always figured that sailors would be fond of hard spirits." Dumbledore smiled again as he finished his drink; his eyes twinkling and penetrating Archer's. "It is called Firewhisky. Would you care for another glass?"

Archer smiled, an expression Albus seemed to have been waiting for. Evidently, he and Lieutenant Reed enjoyed the sensation of Firewhisky. "No, please. No thank you."

Dumbledore chuckled, and he settled down on the Headmaster's chair. "I assume you meant business?"

The old wizard bent down, appearing to draw something out from probably the desk drawers. He picked up a familiar object, still carefully examining it. It was T'Pol's phase-pistol.

He smiled. In turn, he stood up to approach Archer, and handed him the weapon. The three looked very, very gratified. They all sat back down.

Archer fitted the phase pistol into his jacket pocket.

"You must be Professor Dumbledore." Archer finally spoke. "I am Captain Jonathan Archer of the Starship _Enterprise_. This is T'Pol, my Science Officer, and this is Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, my Tactical Officer. This may come as a shock to you, but we come from the future, in the year 2154."

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with interest.

Archer continued, "I believe we have a lot in common."

Pause. Dumbledore looked at him straight in the eye. Jonathan had a feeling that the wizard was somehow reading his mind. He finally added, "That people from the future have to remain hidden from the rest of the human society, is that correct?"

"So should witches and wizards." Archer supplemented, smiling. "Not if they can help it."

"And let alone interfere with it." Dumbledore finished, smiling too. "Not if they can help it." He paced slowly to Fawkes, stroking it gently. The fiery bird crooned on the touch of the wizard's thin gentle fingers. "I have been aware of your existence, Captain."

Archer continued speaking as the Headmaster turned to face him. "Mr. Potter tells me that you are the head of a movement against a certain terrorist."

"Lord Voldemort, yes." said Dumbledore calmly. "You have picked a wise name for the Dark Lord. Most of our people would not dare speak his name."

Archer chuckled. "His terrorist organisation has allied with a certain alien species also coming from the future."

Dumbledore nodded, an indication that he already knew. He went back to sit on his chair as Archer went on. "I also apologise for the kidnapping of Mr. Potter and the damages me and my crew have caused this building."

The headmaster nodded again and smiled. "No need to worry about it, Captain. I have faith that you have taken great care of Mr. Potter aboard your ship, and the damages have already been repaired."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Pause.

"My informant also reports that Lord Voldemort has attacked your starship?"

Archer nodded. "We have taken prisoners those who boarded our ship."

"I hope we can cooperate on how to deal with them accordingly." Dumbledore, "I also take it that you've come here to stop the alien species?"

"That is correct."

Dumbledore looked at him carefully, and then from his warm smile he suddenly looked grave. "I am not aware that there were aliens right here in this school, Captain."

Archer did not intend to mention that his ship has found some Xindi biosigns in Hogwarts. He got a little bit uncomfortable. "They must have slipped into the castle."

"Right." Pause. "What immediate business have you with me and the resistance tonight, Captain?"

Archer thought for a second, "We have also located a Xindi ship in a small island found in the middle of the Baltic Sea. The trouble is, we have trouble pinpointing the exact coordinates. It seems that the... magic has been deflecting our sensors. If your organisation has any information regarding the premises, it would help."

"Xindi, is that how the aliens are properly called?"

"Yes, sir."

Dumbledore nodded happily, "Greatly. Is there anything else?"

Archer looked at Reed, who in turn looked back awkwardly. "There is another thing."

Dumbledore gave him a knowing look. "I see. I'm afraid that we cannot accommodate Lieutenant Reed here in Hogwarts, especially with "educational reforms" going on. (chuckles) But I shall contact my Order; find the necessary accommodations for possible training, with your permission."

The night had been well. Dumbledore had the pleasure of escorting them into past the school premises, which had been dark and scary. But as all of them knew their way into the clearing, they weren't so scared anymore. Archer would have preferred inviting Dumbledore to the Shuttlepod, but the Headmaster lamented that they were busy. And so it's just the three of them climbing aboard, and then as the thrusters lit up and then as the Shuttlepod raced up to the heavens, Dumbledore got smaller and smaller from view.


	13. Catching Up

Captain Archer had doubted whether he should supplement his Starlog, given all the things he had just discovered and experienced. For a while, he thought that maybe, he could leave out his experience in Hogwarts. Despite Dumbledore's kindness, he still has trouble trusting his…people. But here he is, petting Porthos and dictating to the computer everything that just happened.

He heard the door ring. "Computer, pause. Come in."

Lieutenant Reed entered the Captain's quarters, looking positively dejected.

"Captain, the Xindi biosigns in Hogwarts are gone." Reed reported, looking dutiful for a while, "At least since we brought Mr. Potter aboard."

"Why haven't I been told before?" Archer scowled.

"We've been busy." Malcolm explained. He gave the Captain an appraising look.

"Right." nodded Archer. He cast Malcolm an appraising look. "Is there something else? You look disturbed."

"Actually, yes." Malcolm swallowed.

Silence. Jonathan stared at his Tactical Officer, waiting for his next words.

"I was hoping that this would be between just the two of us, Captain." Malcolm muttered, still standing in attention. He gathered his breath and exhaled slowly. "I thought you'd be the only one I can trust, at least since our talk back in the Romulan minefield."

Archer could remember that vividly, their conversation back in the minefield, where he had learned a great deal about Malcolm-his fear of water, his heritage, about all that.

"Go ahead," muttered Archer, who expressed curiosity and concern.

There was a great deal of silence before Malcolm finally spoke again. "About Mr. Potter's school, I, I actually have received owl mail when I was eleven."

Archer kept his curiosity, "So you really went to Hogwarts? It's no surprise Starfleet showed no record of it."

"No, sir, I did not go to Hogwarts."

Pause. "Go on,"

More silence, "My folks would not believe that such a school exists, Captain. But since I really wanted to go, they gave me a chance. We went to the Ministry of Education, to check whether this school was in the database. There was none.

"Perhaps the school was abroad. And so we went all over Europe, and soon all over the world. Still no Hogwarts. I wanted to believe that there is such a school, Captain. I really did. Until one day, my folks went to me, and told me, 'Malcolm, you've got to accept the chance that this Hogwarts doesn't exist.' I remember that day-the day before my birthday. I've never been so angry and sad in my life."

Malcolm failed suppressing a teardrop, which he immediately wiped. He stood on attention again. Jonathan could not take his eyes off him.

"For seven years, I believed that Hogwarts existed." Malcolm swallowed. "Until I joined Starfleet. All the training I got there, I suppose, was enough (chuckles) 'witchcraft and wizardry' for me to last a lifetime."

Silence enveloped the Captain's quarters for a long, long moment. Archer stared long and hard at Malcolm, who felt a great deal relieved after pouring out this revelation.

"That is all, sir." Malcolm blinked, determined not to shed another tear.

Archer walked across his Tactical Officer. "So you're…telling me that if you have studied in Hogwarts," The Captain spoke slowly and carefully, "You would have learned a great deal? You would have been a wizard?"

"If I have received my education in Hogwarts," Malcolm shook out the sorrow and then stood proudly, smiling at the Captain, "Then I would not have gone to Starfleet, let alone aboard _Enterprise_. If I had become a wizard, then I would not be among the ones fighting the Xindi alongside you, Captain."

Archer chuckled.

"So I have been wondering if…" Malcolm stuttered, "If I am the only one aboard _Enterprise_, Captain, if you catch my drift."

The Captain gave him a scowl. "You're the only one revealed so far. "Malcolm sighed. "Aren't you…happy that you're finally getting a chance to learn some magic spells?"

"I am not happy, Captain, to be honest. My place is here, on _Enterprise_, in our mission. I cannot bear to think that I'm missing all the action while I am simply down there, learning…magic. Perhaps if you just send someone else. You need a Tactical Officer, Captain."

Archer shook his head heavily, "Malcolm, you're my Tactical Officer, of course I need you right here on _Enterprise_. But right now," Archer held Malcolm's shoulders and looked at him in the eyes. "I need you down there, learn as much as you can. Can you do that for me?"

Malcolm hung his head, briefly. Finally he replied weakly. "Understood." Then he headed for the door.

"There's a bright side to all of this." Archer smiled. Malcolm looked back at him.

"What is it, sir?"

"Just imagine that it's like meeting new species, Malcolm." Jonathan mused. "And who knows, when this mission is over, when we get home, you could use a little catching up."

Malcolm only gave a shy smile as he left the room.

* * *

><p>Though Harry had missed a great deal of schoolwork, he was not in the least remorseful. Last night, the three of them served detention with Professor McGonagall for being past curfew-a minor offense, at least with her. Harry had also been given one week's detention for skiving classes, also by Professor McGonagall, but all she made him do is catch up with his lessons inside her office. McGonagall thought, happy she may have been to see him back, that if she would "punish" them herself, Professor Umbridge would not touch them.<p>

Ron and Hermione had been filling him in with everything that has happened back in Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade, including the plan that they'd do some Defense Against the Dark Arts classes on their own.

"And since you've already been "rescued," Ron and I reckoned that you'd be teaching us, along with a couple of people." Hermione finally concluded in a singsong voice.

"A couple of people?" Harry stared at the list Hermione handed to him incredulously, "A couple of people?"

Ron continued eating his Yorkshire pudding.

Hermione untied the Daily Prophet from an owl and paid him a Knut, and chuckled. "Well, let's say the idea's quite popular, you know."

Harry scowled at Hermione. There was a silence for a long moment, because Hermione buried herself in the Daily Prophet's pages.

"So, mate, how's _Enterprise_?" Ron leaned to Harry after swallowing some of the pudding. "You looked like you were happy to be kidnapped by those big guys."

Harry continued scribbling his Arithmacy essay. "Well, they're Muggles." At the instant, he remembered Lieutenant Reed, whom he felt so much concern.

"We know that." Ron said instinctively, in whispers. "But how did they find out about our world?"

"They kind of have figured it out." Harry answered minimally, avoiding Ron's gaze.

"So they kidnapped you, so you can take them to Professor Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"No, it was my idea." Harry whispered back.

At the instant Ron and Harry heard Hermione gasp. "This is bad, Harry, very bad!"

Hermione shoved the newspaper to Harry and Ron, turned to the page with the column Hermione kept pointing at them with her finger.

_POTTER, WEASLEY, GRANGER_

_SEEN WITH SUSPECTED VIGILANTES._

"What makes them think Captain's a vigilante?" Harry protested.

"Aren't they?" Hermione asked.

"No, they-" Harry stammered, "Look, they're looking for some people, people who've made friends with Voldemort, and they've been attacked by Voldemort as well."

"Wait, let's read it." Ron pointed out.

_"Fifth-year Hogwarts students namely Harry Potter aka The-Boy-Who-Lived, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger were reportedly seen with three suspected vigilantes in The Three Broomsticks, a popular pub in Hogsmeade village, last three nights ago, October 23rd._

_" 'I've never seen these folks before, and they say they've never been to Hogsmeade before.' said Madam Rosemerta, owner of the Three Broomsticks, 'They've been traveling, they says, but I ain't seen no broomstick. Must be Muggle transport they takin', because they're all in Muggle clothes.'_

_"According to Madam Rosemerta, they have introduced themselves as Jonathan Archer, Malcolm Reed, and Tanya Peters. The Three Broomsticks' owner also recounted that Mr. Archer and Ms. Peters have a strong American accent._

_"Over the last two months, there has been an attack in Hogsmeade village involving former Death Eaters and the vigilantes. The Ministry has counted twelve dead bodies, all belonging to the former group. One witness (who do not wish to reveal their name), however, contest the account of Madam Rosemerta, on account that they have seen Mr. Reed before._

_" 'The little man's been here before, only, he was with someone else. They were many, and three of them seems to hide big bulky things under their jackets. They've slipped into the dark, then they started firing hexes and jinxes at the hillside.'_

"Lieutenant Reed!" Harry gasped.

_"The Ministry insider gathers that these vigilantes might be in league with Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot._

_"The Department of Magic in the United States, however, denies their existence of the Mr. Archer and the Ms. Peters. They have, however, agreed to cooperate with the Ministry of Magic in identifying and locating them._

_"The account as to the purpose of Mr. Archer, Mr. Reed, and Ms. Peters' visit in Hogsmeade village is still up to speculation."_

"So it really was them." Hermione concluded.

"Twelve less Death Eaters, at least." Harry added.

"But Voldemort's recruiting more." Hermione protested.

"Great." Ron complained. They've placed the Daily Prophet before them. "They did not even interview us."

Harry and Hermione looked around them. Somehow they're going to have a feeling that some students might have already read the same article in question.

* * *

><p>As was canon, Harry felt happier for the rest of the weekend than he had done all term. He and Ron spent much of Sunday catching up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room they took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.<p>

He and the people whose names are in the paper, they have been approaching him everywhere in Hogwarts, asking him loads of questions. "When's the next meeting? When can we get started?" Angelina Johnson came up to him once, telling him and Hermione that whatever they're planning, she would greatly appreciate it if it wouldn't conflict with their Quidditch practice.

Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry, and that he was a key part of the rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept reliving Saturdays meeting in his mind: all those people, coming to him to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts… and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things he had done… and Cho praising his performance in the Triwizard Tournament – The knowledge that all those people did not think him a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed him up so much that he was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of all his least favorite classes.

* * *

><p>Now one Monday morning, he and Ron went down their dormitory, discussing Angelina Johnson's idea of them working on the Sloth Grip Roll for tonight's Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.<p>

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor noticeboard; so large it covered everything else on it - the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys' latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

_BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS_

_All student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded._

_An organization, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students._

_Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge)._

_No student organization, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor._

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

_The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor_

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second-years.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked his friend.

"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," Ron said darkly, making the second-year jump. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" he asked Harry as the second-years hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice through again. The happiness that had filled him since he came back from_ Enterprise_ was gone. His insides were pulsing with rage.

"This isn't a coincidence." Harry clenched his teeth, and looked at his fist. "She knows."

"She can't have." Ron looked darkly.

Something inside Harry's coat chirped that made Ron look right at it. Harry immediately pulled it out. It was small, rectangular, and grey, and on it embossed NX-01 Enterprise.

"Captain!" Harry opened the communicator and whispered. He gave Ron an inviting look. Ron leaned to him and listened.

_"How are you guys holding up?"_ Archer's voice creaked through the communicator.

"We're okay." Harry

_"You seem in a hurry."_

"Captain, there is something." Harry said in a nervous voice; still looking at the new notice. He and Ron stepped off the bulletin board and into a corner. "We can't meet in Hogsmeade anymore."

_"Is there a problem?"_

"Yes, Captain." Harry continued, "The Ministry of Magic, our government, they're, they're looking for you."

* * *

><p>There is a pause. Archer, in his Captain's chair, spoke again. "Understood. Can you contact Professor Dumbledore?"<p>

_"We can try, but why?"_

"He promised that he'd contact us as soon as possible." Archer scowled. "Perhaps you could help us remind him."

"Oh, I'm not sure, Captain. He's been very scarce." Harry lamented. "He's not getting out of his office. He's even changed the password this morning. And Umbridge, she's-"

Harry trailed off. Terrible Umbridge may be, he didn't want to inconvenience the Captain of their petty school problems.

_"Listen,"_ Harry quickly changed the topic. _"We'd been looking forward to see someone named Sirius Black-he's also someone from the Order, and he really misses us. If we can't reach Dumbledore, then we'll reach him."_

"When can this Sirius Black contact you?"

_"I don't know."_ Harry replied._ "The Ministry might've been reading our letters."_

"I see." Archer muttered, still frowning. "You mentioned someone named Umbridge. Is she-"

_"Yes, Captain. The Professor Umbridge."_ Harry said darkly. _"Anyway, we'll tell Sirius. We know how much this means to you, sir."_

"Thanks. Hang on tight, all right?"

_"Yeah."_

"Archer out."


	14. The Communications Standoff

Since his last contact with Harry Potter, Captain Archer was not so sure whether to trust Professor Dumbledore. Though their conversation had been very warm and cordial, he felt that he revealed more than he found out anything new. Perhaps it was the Firewhisky. It had made him a little more chatty, even getting as far as asking the headmaster to accommodate his Tactical Officer. He had actually not intended to ask this, at least not in the first meeting.

Most disturbing of all-he thought that that headmaster read his mind. Knowing that they're dealing with a group of humans capable of doing magic, such a possibility cannot be ignored. But he wasn't hiding anything. And still, it isn't polite to simply intrude into one's thoughts. So Albus could have just asked.

But Harry trusts him.

Anyway, just because he hasn't heard from Dumbledore or from Harry (Archer thought that he might've better catch up with his schoolwork and his weird sport Quidditch), it doesn't mean he'd sit on his hands. They've been busy. The repairs on his ship have been going well, Lieutenant Reed has found a way to upgrade the phase-cannons, and is now working on it. Hoshi kept monitoring the telecommunications for any weird news, but so far, they have picked up nothing. T'Pol's been looking for ways to pinpoint the location of the Xindi ships in the Baltic Sea, but they're detecting too much magical interference. The reparation of the engines made Commander Tucker very happy. Travis will be able to do some more difficult maneuvers later on.

So far, only Dr. Phlox's research had been the most interesting. Before, he had discovered the increased neuro-chemical activity in Harry's brain when he experiences discomfort with his lightning-bolt scar. He discovery had only been a verification of Mr. Potter's account that thanks to his scar, his brain maintains an emotional connection with the terrorist Lord Voldemort. This time his research had sounded a whole lot more interesting. Perhaps his happiest report was when he told the Captain that he has found ways to identify various magical signatures, all of which are have varied decay rates, at least according to him.

"But I do hope Lieutenant Reed learns to harness the energy to a necessary extent." Phlox expressed to the Captain, filled with anticipation.

Archer himself interrogated the captured Death Eaters, one of whom wished had one of those suicide glands the Xindi reptilians had. The rest were more or less interested in preserving their own lives. At first, they have tried Transporting to Engineering (T'Pol, "I'm detecting a magical energy fluctuation in Engineering Deck."), but being unarmed, were phasered down by Security. Clearly, they've realised how powerless they actually are when they are wandless. Being defeated by Muggles, most have taken this as an insult.

Only Dr. Phlox seemed to be the only optimistic one regarding the terrorists' Transporting abilities-he had gathered another sample of magical energy signature. The terrorists, eventually, admitted that they would not want to try that again, as sometimes they get _splinched_. Nobody from the crew understood what it meant, until Commander Tucker discovered a foot left behind on Engineering. The Death Eater who owned it bled to death before he was taken to Sickbay. "I did my best. But the magical residue prevents me from operating on the patient."

Archer was not at all pleased. He confessed as he paced the Command Center before his senior officers. "More of them out there might be good at Transporting their molecules. In all probability, these people would have popped out of my ship and then return here with their Dark Lord."

"We can at least not let them get out of this ship." Malcolm suggested, with haughtiness in his voice.

"Maybe not even past the Brig. Looks like Engineering's the only place they know aboard _Enterprise_." Tucker commented, arms folded.

Archer pondered, then he finally spoke to Malcolm. "Post security details all over Engineering Deck, 24/7."

"Aye, sir."

What also frustrated Archer is that how is he supposed to ask for coordinates from these people, as they're witches and wizards-what the hell do they know about coordinates.

"There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust… any of them could have run off and told Umbridge…"

And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him…

"Zacharias Smith!" said Ron at once, slapping his forehead. "Or - I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too -"

"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry pocketed the communicator, and then looked round at the door to the girls' dormitories.

"Let's go and tell her," said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slid. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

"Er - I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogled Harry and Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. " I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed -?"

"It's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in Hogwarts A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"

"To see you - look at this!" said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily.

Hermione merely scoffed in amusement.

"You're so naive," said Ron, "you think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy -"

"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well, put it this way" said Hermione, grinning "it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think… I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

"We're going to do it anyway of course," he said quietly.

"Knew you'd say that"' said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course," said Hermione coolly.

"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith… and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione looked alarmed.

"The idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious - sit down!" she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table.

"Later! We'll - talk - to - you - later!"

Ginny hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

"Harry! Ron!"

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.

"It's okay," said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. "We're still going to -"

"You realize she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"

"What?" said Harry.

"No way," said Ron, appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry… I am saying this for the last time… please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!"

"Okay, okay," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself…"

Tucker had never been so uneasy to see a lot of people in Engineering. Of all the places to get attacked, he did not fancy anyone shooting their phase-pistols or their wands near the warp reactor. Even he and his boys are armed. Captain Archer also thought it fondly that Tucker and his team that they take marksmanship lessons in their free time.

Trip decided to stay in the Armory after his marksmanship lesson. Maybe he could give Malcolm a hand in the weapons modifications.

"Can't sleep?" Malcolm guessed.

"Didn't feel like going to get Vulcan neuro-pressure with a bleeding thigh." Trip smiled, and tapped into the controls. "Looks like we're not running out of torpedoes anytime soon. Thinking we should just blast Voldemort and his guys into Oblivion when we get there. I don't think they can do better than flip their sticks and do their tricks."

Malcolm gave him a reproachful look. "Have you seen his face?"

"Who, Voldemort? What does he look like?" Trip looked back at him.

Malcolm could not contain his horror and disgust. "Very…alien."

"I thought the Captain said he was human." Trip looked quizzical.

"Wait till we scan what kind of biosign he is." Malcolm scoffed.

Pause.

"I can't wait to see you blasting their asses." added Trip, smiling.

"What?"

"Just because they think they're better than anyone in this crew, Malcolm."

"Of course we are." Malcolm smiled, rather haughtily, "We're in the 20th century, in a Warp-5 starship, state-of-the-art technology, and the best crew." He imitated the Captain's San Francisco accent.

"That's not what I meant, Malcolm."

Malcolm glared at him.

"You've been talking to that boy, have you?"

"Of course I have." admitted Trip, "When we get home, I wonder what kind of medal they'll give you."

"Of course we'll be heroes back in Starfleet, Commander." Malcolm tried to laugh it off and change the topic.

"Maybe they'll give you a... Merlin's Cross or something."

"Just when did you start familiarising yourself with their military decorations?" Malcolm retorted, then softened his voice into a low whisper, still flecked with disdain. "I must be the only one on _Enterprise_ who doesn't like being a wizard."

Trip chuckled. Then his eyes went downcast. Then he muttered. "Maybe when we get back home, you could find a way to uh, bring those people back to life again."

Silence. Malcolm looked at Trip from his side, who now turned to the Armory controls and resumed working. Obviously, Trip had thought that perhaps magic could bring his sister back to life.

"I don't think that's possible, Commander." Reed muttered back.

"What do you mean?" Trip replied immediately, looking back animatedly at him.

"That Potter bloke," Malcolm continued. "If magic could bring people back to life, then his parents would still be alive, would it?"

Harry showed Hermione and Ron the letter he had received from Hedwig that morning in the History of Magic class.

_Today, same time, same place._

"Is Hedwig okay?" asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot.

"Where did you take her?" asked Ron.

"To Grubbly-Plank," said Harry. "And I met McGonagall… listen…"

And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, neither of the others looked shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.

"What?" said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again.

"Well, I was just saying to Ron… what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"

"Who's the letter from, anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles"' said Harry quietly.

"'Same time, same place?' Does he mean the fire in the common room?"

"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this…"

"But it was still sealed and everything," said Harry, trying to convince himself as much as her.

"And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"

"I don't know," said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, "it wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic… and if anyone's watching the Floo Network… but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!"

"I've got to tell Captain."

"Harry, can't that wait?"

"Come on, Voldemort might be attacking them again."

"We'll be late for Potions!"

"Right." They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all three of them lost in thought, though Hermione wondered how could such a Muggle device work in Hogwarts when the rest doesn't seem to.


End file.
