Yesterday is Tomorrow (Everything is Connected)

Eleven: Throw Yourself In

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected)

XI

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The Doctor: The thing is, Adam, time travel is like visiting Paris. You can't just read the guidebook, you've got to throw yourself in! Eat the food, use the wrong verbs, get charged double and end up kissing complete strangers! [beat] Or is that just me?

- "The Long Game" (1x07), Doctor Who (2009)

*

There was a lull of exactly twenty-two days before Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn struck. Hermione had been on tenterhooks since the beginning of her fifth year, along with Barty, whose newly lupine-like traits functioned much like a spidey-sense, leaving him with his nervous twitch more pronounced than usual.

On the other hand, from what Hermione observed with the Marauders, they all seemed to be sure that the professors had forgotten their threats to revisit their detentions when the school year resumed, or that Dumbledore's given points negated the ill will the professors had toward the Shrieking Shack incident.

For her, it was no surprise to receive the owl summoning her and Barty to Flitwick's office that Monday evening. Regulus, by virtue of not being involved and under an unbreakable vow, was exempt but wished them luck regardless. There was a grim visage on his face that made Hermione wonder what kind of punishment he was thinking they would be receiving (Hermione thought he was thinking of the past summer, when he admitted that his parents had done... something... to Sirius, causing the Potters to come and remove his elder brother from Grimmauld Place.).

"This will be fun," muttered Barty, grabbing one last dessert from the table, swiping the chocolate biscuit just as the magic from the kitchens cleared the tables. He began chewing on it as they walked away from the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione's stomach was heavy and low. She had spent so much time at Hogwarts avoiding attention, avoiding being seen. Having detention - everything that happened the past year - it made her uncomfortable. Professor Janulus and Professor Pythas didn't seem to care; even though she was done her NEWTs in Runes and Arithmancy, both had her attend their advanced seventh year classes where she was often used as a guinea pig or teaching assistant, or worse, an example for the Seventh years - many who did not appreciate seeing a tiny fifteen-year-old upstaging them.

Professor Flitwick, as her head of house, had a strange dubious position of being her advocate while also maintaining order. He could be kind, but also harsh; he was disciplined, but forgiving. As it was, he had mentioned something about her doing her Charms NEWT that year, but Hermione was sure that was being held over her for good behaviour. The old duelling master wasn't without manipulative tactics. And Hermione doubted he would be the kindly Head of House tonight.

Stopping by Flitwick's closed door, she knocked twice.

"Enter."

Barty and Hermione shared one last look, and then Hermione twisted the doorknob and stepped into the cluttered Ravenclaw Heads' office. Flitwick was at his desk, surrounded by numerous books (some open, others closed with feather bookmarks at various spots, sticking out from the pages), while two scrolls floated and a quill was diligently taking notes. It stopped as they entered.

"Professor," greeted Hermione carefully. Barty stood straight at her side, in an almost military bearing with his shoulders thrown back and his hands clasped behind him.

"Miss Evans, Mister Crouch," greeted Flitwick. His tone wasn't jovial or excited, but it wasn't disappointed, either. It was neutral. "Earlier than expected, good, good."