The Time of Change

Hog Warts

The Tenth and Eleventh Doctors whip around and aim their sonics at the surrounding army, and the Warrior groans, "Oh, the pointing again. They're screwdrivers! What are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?"

"That thing," the nobleman stutters, gesturing at the fissure, "what witchcraft is it?"

"Ah, yes!" says the Eleventh. "Now that you mention it, that is witchcraft. Yes. Witchy witchcraft." He takes a few strides toward the vortex and calls, "Hello? Hello in there! Excuse me! Am I talking to the Wicked Witch of the Well? It's... It's McGonagall, isn't it, milady?" The Tenth Doctor glances at him, wide-eyed but amused.

"He's talking about you," Kate's voice whispers.

"Wha—? Why do I have to be the witch?" grumbles the younger-sounding woman.

"Hello, madam McGonagall!" the Eleventh Doctor shouts, prompting a response.

The same girl's voice answers, "Yes, hi?"

"Aha, hi, hello," he calls happily. "Would you mind telling these prattling mortals to get themselves begone?"

"... What he said."

"Yeah, tiny bit more color," the Doctor breathes up into the vortex.

"Right," sighs the woman. He turns to examine the crowd as she says dramatically, "Prattling mortals! Off you pop, or I'll turn you all into... w-warts... on hogs!"

The Tenth Doctor makes a face of surprise, and the knights and nobleman take on looks of utter terror. The Eleventh smiles appreciatively, biting back a laugh. "Ooh, hog warts. Nice! You heard her," he adds to the congregation.

"Doctor, what is going on?" his wife inquires, part worried and part irritated.

"It's a, uh, timey-wimey thing," he calls up to her, knowing that will make her smile.

"Timey-what?" asks the Warrior, sickened. "Timey-wimey?"

The Tenth leans his head in, interjecting, "I-I've no idea where he picks that stuff up." The Eleventh gives him a look.

All the knights abruptly drop to one knee as the redheaded, fair-skinned Queen of England strolls casually on the scene. "The Queen!" the soldiers mutter one by one. "The Queen!" Her stride is confident and cool. The Tenth Doctor takes a small step forward, his gaze scrutinizing.

"You don't seem to be kneeling," she offhandedly observes of the three men. "How brave of you."

"Which one are you?" demands the Tenth. "What happened to the other one?"

Elizabeth smirks. "Indisposed," she replies simply, then adds, "Long live the Queen."

The knights echo her in unison, the sentence rumbling eerily around the oddly silent wood. "Arrest these men," she orders them without turning. "Take them to the Tower."

"That is not the Queen of England! That is an alien duplicate!" the Tenth shouts in a rush. His index is pointed accusingly at her face. All she does in response is raise her eyebrows.

"And you can take it from him," interjects the Eleventh, "because he's really checked." He jerks his thumb at his past self, who glares at him. "Oh, shut up," the other groans.

"Venom sacs on the tongue."

"Seriously, stop it!"

"No, hang on!" the Eleventh exclaims, abandoning his teasing as he is struck by an idea. "The Tower? Did you say the Tower?" The Queen gives a single, curt nod. "Ah, yes," he says, and he unconsciously punctuates his sentences by wringing his hands and gesturing at nothing. "Brilliant. Love the Tower. Breakfast at eight, please. Will there be Wi-Fi?"

"Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands about?" demands the Warrior, eyeing the Eleventh's gesticulations with irritation.

The Doctor glances at him, pulling his hands apart. "Yes," he says defensively, then shakes his head as he begins to rub his palms together once more. "No." As they move, the golden band on his left ring finger catches the dim forest light and glistens brightly. Its unexpected shine causes the Tenth Doctor to glance at it; his eyebrows furrow, hearts doing separate somersaults.

The Eleventh turns back to Elizabeth, saying boldly, "I demand to be incarcerated with my coconspirators, Sandshoes and Granddad."

"Granddad?" the Warrior repeats indignantly.

"They're not sandshoes!" argues the Tenth, exasperated.

"Yes they are," the eldest-looking of the three tells him.

Elizabeth orders all of them, "Silence! The Tower is not to be taken lightly. Very few emerge again." In spite of his new confidence in the situation, her cold voice sends a shiver down the Eleventh Doctor's spine.