HBP Compliant Quiz
Remember back when the worst thing was Snape killed Dumbledore? Oh, we fangirls were in a lather about book six. Little did we know the torment that was to come. This week's quiz focuses on that happy time before Deathly Hallows, the HBP-compliant era. Well when I say "compliant" I mean that HG & SS are together and it follows book six. So fangirl compliant?
The fangirl who posts the highest score first will get to choose the next quiz.
This week's quiz was chosen by joycrux after acing our Picture Perfect. Congrats Miss Smarty Pants well done!
Match the story to the quote:
To Wise to Woo by Apythia
Forgive us our Debts by drmm
Tea and Sympathy by Jocemum
Survivors by eliDyce
Shades by orm irian
Renaissance by StormySkize
Judging Books By Their Covers byMelisande88
Bottled Truths by Sweetest-Apple
The Whole to Own by scatteredlogic
Reckoning by OdoGoddess
Mists of Time by Amr (WIP)
Strega Letteraria by NotSoSaintly (WIP)
In Every Deed by Elfarren
1. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dursley,” Hermione said, not really feeling very sorry. The man was ridiculously prejudiced. “I’ll wait in my room until it’s delivered tomorrow morning. Maybe you could give me some owl treats, then, Harry?” She turned to Harry as the owl finished the sausage and flew out the open window.
“Sure,” he said, absently, as he scanned the front page of her paper. “Hey, this is strange. You know they’ve had this box on the front page every day asking for information about Prince and Prince?” He paused, puzzled. “I mean Prince and Prince.... That’s weird-that’s not what I meant to say! Prince just keeps coming out of my mouth. You know, the Professor who killed Dumbledore and the student who tried to. Anyway it now says Severus Prince and Draco Prince.”
Dudley Dursley swallowed noisily. “Maybe the professor adopted his student?” he said, clearly trying to be helpful. “Maybe they both took a new name, trying to escape notice.”
“It would take more than a new name for those two gits to blend in,” Harry said coldly. “Besides, I don’t think there is adoption in the wizarding world. Everyone is far too concerned with bloodlines for that. But it’s really odd that I can’t seem to think of them and say their real names.”
2. That faint smile remained until Crilley had slammed the door shut, locked it, and stomped down the corridor, muttering about rules and regulations and high-handed Ministry officials.
The instant they were alone, Weasley's smile vanished. He removed his horn-rimmed spectacles and held them out to Severus. "Put these on, please."
"Why?" Severus affected a bored tone. "What do you want?"
"First look through the glasses." Weasley continued to hold out the spectacles.
"My vision is adequate," Severus said. One pale hand swept out to encompass the cold stone walls of his cell. "And if it wasn't, why would I want to see any of this -- or you -- more clearly?"
"Because things aren't always as they seem." Weasley's voice was suddenly sharp. "You're wasting time, and I'm on a very tight schedule."
Severus stood unmoving until Weasley sighed and tried again. "You have nothing to lose by looking through the glasses. In fact, you have everything to gain."
Severus snorted, but after a moment he reached for the spectacles. Without a wand, his examination was limited, but he still looked them over carefully. Finally, his curiosity overwhelmed his suspicion. He gingerly held them up to his eyes and blinked in surprise.
Instead of Percy Weasley, he saw Hermione Granger.
3. To complete her look, Hermione Transfigured an old pair of trainers in her closet to resemble black knee-high combat boots, steel toes and all. Then she began to rummage through her drawers, trying to find every piece of jewelry she owned. In the end, she came up with a silver cross necklace her mother had given her for Christmas one year, a few rings she bought while on holiday, and three bracelets of varying thickness. The only thing left to consider was make-up, but seeing as she couldn't walk around all day tomorrow looking gothic without attracting undue attention, Hermione decided to simply pick out the colors she would wear and leave them ready on top her vanity.
It was nearly four o'clock in the morning before Hermione fell into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were filled with images of her parents, angry at her for sneaking out of the house and saying she would never be allowed back to Hogwarts again. Professor Snape's face kept popping up intermittently as well, the only words he uttered being, ‘Believe in me,' over and over. Half-dreading and half-anxious about the day to come, Hermione woke the next morning and steeled herself for anything that might happen that night.
4. The owl, of course, refused his notes, but Severus had considered this.
He began to time the bird phasing in and out of his cell, and threw the
notes out the wall as it phased out, hoping for them to land outside
the magical wall. He fully expected to get called on his attempts to
communicate, although, to his surprise, nothing happened.
He did not get in trouble, but nothing ever came of the notes. Still,
he threw a new note out every week.
They all said the same thing: S. Snape held prisoner by L. Malfoy.
Hidden, possibly a sepulchre. Please find me.
They all were dated. They all were ignored.
5. You set this up!” Snape voiced Hermione’s thoughts, unabashedly pointing an accusing finger at Dumbledore, who merely shrugged. “This is why you specifically requested a meeting here, where anyone could overhear - where you knew someone would overhear -” Snape’s look of disbelief quickly morphed into a glare. “What on earth were you thinking, Headmaster? Are you trying to get me killed even faster?”
Dumbledore smiled faintly. “The opposite, Severus. Curiosity is not a sin; it is sometimes a blessing.”
“How -” The Potions master began in his sarcastic tones, but stopped himself. A light of understanding entered his eyes. Sparing another glare at Dumbledore, who only appeared amused at his display of annoyance, Snape reached into his robes and took out a vial.
It was a tiny vial, even smaller than the one Harry had of Slughorn’s Felix Felicis. And infinitely more beautiful, Hermione decided. Rimmed with intricate gold patterns, and with a silver stopper carved to form a snake, the vial was nothing like anything she had ever seen. Moonlight seemed to pour into the small bottle, projecting a rippling shadow on the ground beneath. It was an enticing sight.
“Do you know what this is, Miss Granger?”
Hermione’s gaze flew up at the Potions master, startled. She shakily got to her feet and examined the potion closely. Clear, smooth, liquidly… just like water. Only one name came to her mind.
“Veritaserum, sir,” she answered quietly.
6. There'd been so many more wizarding families in the Muggle world than any of them had ever dreamed. The charmed Hogwarts quill, the one registering magical births, had missed so many of the talented. Hermione Granger had puzzled and puzzled over that, until she put herself in the shoes of the likes of Dumbledore and the Wizengamot. How to limit the collateral damage of an all-out war in the wizarding world?
Why, hide the children. Subordinate their magic.
For entire generations.
It meant that Dumbledore and some members of the Order of the Phoenix knew much more than they were telling. The secret had been kept, and stunningly. So few wizards and witches knew the real Hogwarts quill had been hidden for nearly thirty years, since the time of Voldemort's first bid for domination. As a result, Voldemort's damage was limited. A copy of the book, one that registered only the births Dumbledore and his cronies chose to show, masqueraded for all to see.
7. He took a moment to observe her before speaking. She was pressed back into the wall as if she could will herself through it. Her chest was heaving with the force of her panicked breathing. Her eyes, wide and full of dread, were fixed on his face. Trembling, she was like a frantic bird cornered by a snake.
An apt description. He hesitated, unsure what to say, what would calm her. It was not in his nature to be soothing. Any attempt on his part to be so would no doubt send her into complete hysterics. He contemplated her again. She was getting paler by the second. He took a breath, schooling his features into impassivity, and spoke.
“Miss Granger.”
The effect was instantaneous. A look of stark terror appeared on her features as he raised his wand. Clearly she expected to die now...and at his hand.
Movement on the stove and kitchen counter distracted her. She hazarded a quick sideways glance before looking back at him. He observed the conflicting emotions play across her features. He made his request. “I would like a cup of tea,” and watched as her mouth fell open. Was she more or less frightened of him now that she thought him mad?
8. However shall womankind survive such a loss?” She sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should start a support group. How about W.U.S.S - Women Under Snape’s Spell?”
“Don’t you have some young man yet to bestow such affections on or am I to continue to be granted the privilege of being the sharpening stone for your dull wit?”
“My wit is as sharp as yours. And unlike some women here,” she glanced at Ginny who kept touching Harry as if needing reassurance he was there and then to Tonks, who was apparently trying to examine Remus’ tonsils with her tongue. “I would rather fly starkers over London on a Thestral than turn into that!”
“Then I think the men of the wizarding world can likewise rejoice for not having to face a hell cat like you. They’d not survive without a scratched face.”
“Oh, but scratches could only improve a face such as yours,” she said sweetly, batting her eyes.
9. There was silence for a few minutes while Snape stared into the fire. “I got your present,” he said finally. “I have to admit, I’ve never seen socks with pink and purple snakes on them before. They’re not quite as creative as the Gryffindor Quidditch socks from a few years ago but they are colorful.” There was a pause while Snape took another drink of firewhiskey. “I suppose you’re wondering where your present is. It’s not quite as creative as yours, I’m afraid. Muggle choices tend to be limited but these are rather amusing. They don’t even live on the same continent.”
Snape took a pair of socks out of a pocket and held them up. Squinting, Hermione could make out a pattern of polar bears and penguins on a blue background.
“Merry Christmas, Albus,” said Snape, raising his bottle in a toast and tossing the socks on the fire. “There’s only one more year until I win our bet. You’ve always had too much faith in people.”
In the silence that followed, Hermione walked away as quietly as she could. During Snape’s trial, Harry had admitted that Dumbledore was aware that Snape might be forced to kill him. That Snape was still receiving Christmas presents, nine years after Dumbledore’s death, meant that Dumbledore had seen it as a certainty rather than just a possibility.
Hermione was confused and she didn’t like it.
10. After what Voldemort had done to him... well, Voldemort, at least, had obviously believed that he'd been a traitor. A hearing had been held while he was in a coma, under constant supervision at St Mungo's. With Ron... gone... and Harry in the hospital himself, Hermione had provided most of the evidence, including quite a few bits she knew the boys wouldn't have wanted included, like Snape's dash to save them from a werewolf and a convicted murderer in their third year, and Professor Dumbledore's repeated references, to Harry, about Snape's skill in Occlumency and Legilimency. The court had ruled that, on the balance of all the evidence, Professor Dumbledore's death could be ruled a heroic sacrifice, rather than a murder. By the time he'd woken up and his body had finally started to heal, Snape had been cleared. He hadn't been especially pleased, about either the tacit approval or the waking up. As soon as it had been permitted, he'd left St Mungo's and disappeared.
Around then, Hermione had finally stopped holding it together and spent over a month crying. Ron was gone, and some days it had seemed that even Voldemort's defeat hadn't been worth it.
When she'd finally started coming out of it, she'd started looking for 'her' people, trying to get them sorted out again. Harry was... well, he was feeling kind of lost and scared, right now, but Ginny was with him, and they would be okay. He was adjusting pretty well to the magical arm replacing the one he'd lost, that was good. The rest of the Weasley family were doing okay. Her parents, thankfully, had missed most of it, safe in the Muggle world. Luna was okay. Neville was okay. The teachers - except poor Professor Flitwick, whose loss had hurt almost as much as Ron's - were okay.
And nobody knew where Professor Snape was. Nobody cared, either.
The fangirl who posts the highest score first will get to choose the next quiz.
This week's quiz was chosen by joycrux after acing our Picture Perfect. Congrats Miss Smarty Pants well done!
Match the story to the quote:
To Wise to Woo by Apythia
Forgive us our Debts by drmm
Tea and Sympathy by Jocemum
Survivors by eliDyce
Shades by orm irian
Renaissance by StormySkize
Judging Books By Their Covers byMelisande88
Bottled Truths by Sweetest-Apple
The Whole to Own by scatteredlogic
Reckoning by OdoGoddess
Mists of Time by Amr (WIP)
Strega Letteraria by NotSoSaintly (WIP)
In Every Deed by Elfarren
1. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dursley,” Hermione said, not really feeling very sorry. The man was ridiculously prejudiced. “I’ll wait in my room until it’s delivered tomorrow morning. Maybe you could give me some owl treats, then, Harry?” She turned to Harry as the owl finished the sausage and flew out the open window.
“Sure,” he said, absently, as he scanned the front page of her paper. “Hey, this is strange. You know they’ve had this box on the front page every day asking for information about Prince and Prince?” He paused, puzzled. “I mean Prince and Prince.... That’s weird-that’s not what I meant to say! Prince just keeps coming out of my mouth. You know, the Professor who killed Dumbledore and the student who tried to. Anyway it now says Severus Prince and Draco Prince.”
Dudley Dursley swallowed noisily. “Maybe the professor adopted his student?” he said, clearly trying to be helpful. “Maybe they both took a new name, trying to escape notice.”
“It would take more than a new name for those two gits to blend in,” Harry said coldly. “Besides, I don’t think there is adoption in the wizarding world. Everyone is far too concerned with bloodlines for that. But it’s really odd that I can’t seem to think of them and say their real names.”
2. That faint smile remained until Crilley had slammed the door shut, locked it, and stomped down the corridor, muttering about rules and regulations and high-handed Ministry officials.
The instant they were alone, Weasley's smile vanished. He removed his horn-rimmed spectacles and held them out to Severus. "Put these on, please."
"Why?" Severus affected a bored tone. "What do you want?"
"First look through the glasses." Weasley continued to hold out the spectacles.
"My vision is adequate," Severus said. One pale hand swept out to encompass the cold stone walls of his cell. "And if it wasn't, why would I want to see any of this -- or you -- more clearly?"
"Because things aren't always as they seem." Weasley's voice was suddenly sharp. "You're wasting time, and I'm on a very tight schedule."
Severus stood unmoving until Weasley sighed and tried again. "You have nothing to lose by looking through the glasses. In fact, you have everything to gain."
Severus snorted, but after a moment he reached for the spectacles. Without a wand, his examination was limited, but he still looked them over carefully. Finally, his curiosity overwhelmed his suspicion. He gingerly held them up to his eyes and blinked in surprise.
Instead of Percy Weasley, he saw Hermione Granger.
3. To complete her look, Hermione Transfigured an old pair of trainers in her closet to resemble black knee-high combat boots, steel toes and all. Then she began to rummage through her drawers, trying to find every piece of jewelry she owned. In the end, she came up with a silver cross necklace her mother had given her for Christmas one year, a few rings she bought while on holiday, and three bracelets of varying thickness. The only thing left to consider was make-up, but seeing as she couldn't walk around all day tomorrow looking gothic without attracting undue attention, Hermione decided to simply pick out the colors she would wear and leave them ready on top her vanity.
It was nearly four o'clock in the morning before Hermione fell into a fitful sleep. Her dreams were filled with images of her parents, angry at her for sneaking out of the house and saying she would never be allowed back to Hogwarts again. Professor Snape's face kept popping up intermittently as well, the only words he uttered being, ‘Believe in me,' over and over. Half-dreading and half-anxious about the day to come, Hermione woke the next morning and steeled herself for anything that might happen that night.
4. The owl, of course, refused his notes, but Severus had considered this.
He began to time the bird phasing in and out of his cell, and threw the
notes out the wall as it phased out, hoping for them to land outside
the magical wall. He fully expected to get called on his attempts to
communicate, although, to his surprise, nothing happened.
He did not get in trouble, but nothing ever came of the notes. Still,
he threw a new note out every week.
They all said the same thing: S. Snape held prisoner by L. Malfoy.
Hidden, possibly a sepulchre. Please find me.
They all were dated. They all were ignored.
5. You set this up!” Snape voiced Hermione’s thoughts, unabashedly pointing an accusing finger at Dumbledore, who merely shrugged. “This is why you specifically requested a meeting here, where anyone could overhear - where you knew someone would overhear -” Snape’s look of disbelief quickly morphed into a glare. “What on earth were you thinking, Headmaster? Are you trying to get me killed even faster?”
Dumbledore smiled faintly. “The opposite, Severus. Curiosity is not a sin; it is sometimes a blessing.”
“How -” The Potions master began in his sarcastic tones, but stopped himself. A light of understanding entered his eyes. Sparing another glare at Dumbledore, who only appeared amused at his display of annoyance, Snape reached into his robes and took out a vial.
It was a tiny vial, even smaller than the one Harry had of Slughorn’s Felix Felicis. And infinitely more beautiful, Hermione decided. Rimmed with intricate gold patterns, and with a silver stopper carved to form a snake, the vial was nothing like anything she had ever seen. Moonlight seemed to pour into the small bottle, projecting a rippling shadow on the ground beneath. It was an enticing sight.
“Do you know what this is, Miss Granger?”
Hermione’s gaze flew up at the Potions master, startled. She shakily got to her feet and examined the potion closely. Clear, smooth, liquidly… just like water. Only one name came to her mind.
“Veritaserum, sir,” she answered quietly.
6. There'd been so many more wizarding families in the Muggle world than any of them had ever dreamed. The charmed Hogwarts quill, the one registering magical births, had missed so many of the talented. Hermione Granger had puzzled and puzzled over that, until she put herself in the shoes of the likes of Dumbledore and the Wizengamot. How to limit the collateral damage of an all-out war in the wizarding world?
Why, hide the children. Subordinate their magic.
For entire generations.
It meant that Dumbledore and some members of the Order of the Phoenix knew much more than they were telling. The secret had been kept, and stunningly. So few wizards and witches knew the real Hogwarts quill had been hidden for nearly thirty years, since the time of Voldemort's first bid for domination. As a result, Voldemort's damage was limited. A copy of the book, one that registered only the births Dumbledore and his cronies chose to show, masqueraded for all to see.
7. He took a moment to observe her before speaking. She was pressed back into the wall as if she could will herself through it. Her chest was heaving with the force of her panicked breathing. Her eyes, wide and full of dread, were fixed on his face. Trembling, she was like a frantic bird cornered by a snake.
An apt description. He hesitated, unsure what to say, what would calm her. It was not in his nature to be soothing. Any attempt on his part to be so would no doubt send her into complete hysterics. He contemplated her again. She was getting paler by the second. He took a breath, schooling his features into impassivity, and spoke.
“Miss Granger.”
The effect was instantaneous. A look of stark terror appeared on her features as he raised his wand. Clearly she expected to die now...and at his hand.
Movement on the stove and kitchen counter distracted her. She hazarded a quick sideways glance before looking back at him. He observed the conflicting emotions play across her features. He made his request. “I would like a cup of tea,” and watched as her mouth fell open. Was she more or less frightened of him now that she thought him mad?
8. However shall womankind survive such a loss?” She sighed dramatically. “Maybe I should start a support group. How about W.U.S.S - Women Under Snape’s Spell?”
“Don’t you have some young man yet to bestow such affections on or am I to continue to be granted the privilege of being the sharpening stone for your dull wit?”
“My wit is as sharp as yours. And unlike some women here,” she glanced at Ginny who kept touching Harry as if needing reassurance he was there and then to Tonks, who was apparently trying to examine Remus’ tonsils with her tongue. “I would rather fly starkers over London on a Thestral than turn into that!”
“Then I think the men of the wizarding world can likewise rejoice for not having to face a hell cat like you. They’d not survive without a scratched face.”
“Oh, but scratches could only improve a face such as yours,” she said sweetly, batting her eyes.
9. There was silence for a few minutes while Snape stared into the fire. “I got your present,” he said finally. “I have to admit, I’ve never seen socks with pink and purple snakes on them before. They’re not quite as creative as the Gryffindor Quidditch socks from a few years ago but they are colorful.” There was a pause while Snape took another drink of firewhiskey. “I suppose you’re wondering where your present is. It’s not quite as creative as yours, I’m afraid. Muggle choices tend to be limited but these are rather amusing. They don’t even live on the same continent.”
Snape took a pair of socks out of a pocket and held them up. Squinting, Hermione could make out a pattern of polar bears and penguins on a blue background.
“Merry Christmas, Albus,” said Snape, raising his bottle in a toast and tossing the socks on the fire. “There’s only one more year until I win our bet. You’ve always had too much faith in people.”
In the silence that followed, Hermione walked away as quietly as she could. During Snape’s trial, Harry had admitted that Dumbledore was aware that Snape might be forced to kill him. That Snape was still receiving Christmas presents, nine years after Dumbledore’s death, meant that Dumbledore had seen it as a certainty rather than just a possibility.
Hermione was confused and she didn’t like it.
10. After what Voldemort had done to him... well, Voldemort, at least, had obviously believed that he'd been a traitor. A hearing had been held while he was in a coma, under constant supervision at St Mungo's. With Ron... gone... and Harry in the hospital himself, Hermione had provided most of the evidence, including quite a few bits she knew the boys wouldn't have wanted included, like Snape's dash to save them from a werewolf and a convicted murderer in their third year, and Professor Dumbledore's repeated references, to Harry, about Snape's skill in Occlumency and Legilimency. The court had ruled that, on the balance of all the evidence, Professor Dumbledore's death could be ruled a heroic sacrifice, rather than a murder. By the time he'd woken up and his body had finally started to heal, Snape had been cleared. He hadn't been especially pleased, about either the tacit approval or the waking up. As soon as it had been permitted, he'd left St Mungo's and disappeared.
Around then, Hermione had finally stopped holding it together and spent over a month crying. Ron was gone, and some days it had seemed that even Voldemort's defeat hadn't been worth it.
When she'd finally started coming out of it, she'd started looking for 'her' people, trying to get them sorted out again. Harry was... well, he was feeling kind of lost and scared, right now, but Ginny was with him, and they would be okay. He was adjusting pretty well to the magical arm replacing the one he'd lost, that was good. The rest of the Weasley family were doing okay. Her parents, thankfully, had missed most of it, safe in the Muggle world. Luna was okay. Neville was okay. The teachers - except poor Professor Flitwick, whose loss had hurt almost as much as Ron's - were okay.
And nobody knew where Professor Snape was. Nobody cared, either.