Disclaimer: I'm not JKR. I am, however, grateful that she lets us muck about in her Potterverse as long as we're not trying to cash in.
A/N: Thank you to Moaning Myrtle, the alpha beta!
Chapter 2In two years and change at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione had seen the Potions master irritated -- usually when she raised her hand in his class; angry -- generally at Neville; and smug about someone else's discomfort -- Harry's, most often. She had never seen him shocked into silence.
His mouth fell open as he took in a classful of identical Gryffindors. He walked in, shut the door, and strode to the front of the room, stopping in front of Professor Flitwick's desk. He stared at the group for a moment longer -- probably trying to decide whether detention for the rest of the year is sufficient punishment, Hermione thought hollowly.
"Well, Miss Grangers," he said finally, raising one coal-black eyebrow. "Would you care to explain the meaning of this?"
"I'm so sorry, professor!" Thursday exclaimed.
"It's just that we had--" Monday cut in.
"--so much homework," Tuesday continued, "and we thought--"
"--it wouldn't harm anyone if we took a little more time to do it," Saturday said glumly.
"Silence!" Professor Snape roared. He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All your teachers are aware of your highly restricted . . . piece of jewelry. I argued against it but was overruled."
He opened his eyes and grimaced. "Clearly," he added unnecessarily. "But even I, willing to believe the worst of you, would never have conceived that you would so cavalierly toy with the continuum of time" -- a pause, a deep breath -- "for HOMEWORK!"
Hermione, and all the older versions of her, cringed.
"When are you from?" he asked icily.
"I'm real-time," Hermione answered, eyes downcast. "They're from Monday through Sunday. I only got the idea this evening, and they all appeared before I had a chance to think about it. In fact," she added with a start, "I have no idea how I collected so many of me if our study time was bound to end with you finding us. You'd think I would have stopped after the first attempt."
"This never happened before," Saturday said.
This piqued Hermione's curiosity, deep in trouble though she was. "Why did you come here?" she asked Professor Snape. "Sir," she amended quickly.
"I hardly think you are in a position to question me," he snarled, "any of you. But if you must know, I could feel the power of the locking spell from an adjacent hallway. It seemed reasonable that Black" -- a pause for a sneer -- "was behind the door, as no mere student could have managed that."
"I suppose the combined effort of eight students might have done the trick, sir," Hermione muttered, realizing that Sunday must have put them over the top.
"Eight of you, perhaps," he said waspishly.
Hermione, too upset with herselves to notice the compliment clothed in wolf's clothing, replied: "Shall I go down to the dungeons immediately for detention? Or perhaps you want us all to go?"
Professor Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh yes, I can't wait to explain this to any students we might pass by. You" -- he gestured toward Hermione -- "will go to your room immediately. Your doubles will go to their rooms immediately. I think I've had quite enough of your company for the evening."
Stunned to have escaped so easily, Hermione stuttered out a "yes sir" and rushed to gather up her things.
"Oh, and Miss Grangers?" he added, turning his head back toward them as he put his hand on the doorknob. "That will be -- let's see -- one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight hundred points from Gryffindor."
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Losing more points in a single evening than she had earned in her entire career at Hogwarts thus far meant Hermione did not sleep well after all. Her earlier homework troubles paled to this. How could she face her classmates tomorrow? Gryffindor had only 830 points when she left the Great Hall after dinner. Sometime after midnight it occurred to her that the other miscreants would be tossing and turning as well, one to seven days in the future, which made her feel momentarily better for reasons she didn't care to closely examine. Then the worst thought of all hit her.
She would have to relive this evening seven times.
"I wish that stupid Time-Turner could take me back to the beginning of the school year," she mumbled into her pillow, "so I could tell myself off for even thinking that 10 classes in one year was a good idea."