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.