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Study hall was normally Hermione’s favorite class. A quiet room with a rotating pool of professors or assistants for questions was relaxing in a way the library was not. It was the lack of possibility of Harry or Ron disturbing her with whatever latest scheme the two found themselves involved in that made it so relaxing. The period gave her time to catch up on homework and studying.
Today was not going as well as Hermione wished. The transfiguration textbook felt more repetitive than usual and the notes she was taking seemed to be going in circles. Her brain felt like it was spinning its tires in the mud. The feel of the plastic cap on the back of her pen between her teeth brought the sudden awareness of the nervous energy in her body.
Hermione pulled her pen from her mouth, refusing to give into the urge to chew on it. She had worked hard to break that habit due to how many pens she chewed through. She glanced around and dropped her free hand down beside her. She slouched down briefly as if scratching her leg and pulled the butterfly knife from her boot.
She flicked the latch of the knife open with her pinkie, accompanied by a relieved sigh. That nervous energy filling her narrowed to her hand and wrist as she began twirling and flicking the knife, doing tricks. The soft sound of steel-on-steel soothed her. The textbook began making sense once more and she resumed taking notes, highlighting, and marking important parts with her usual diligent focus.
Professor McGonagall glanced up briefly. It was either the clicking of a knife, the glint of the sharpened edge in the light, or just some sense that brought the memories back. Those memories came with a reflexive reaction. She did not even look up from her papers as she called out with a soft but chilly tone. “Miss Black.”
When the sound did not stop, she lowered her quill and looked up to the source of the sound. “Miss Bla…” Her words trailed off into stunned silence as she recalled the intervening decades. The wild, barely tamed hair was brunette instead of black, and the knife the witch twirled skillfully was red and gold rather than green and silver, but she saw the same trance-like focus and dedication, and she wasn’t sure which upset her more, the similarity between the two witches, or how easily she confused them.