Voldy Wins Part 2 Quiz
Welcome to dystopia, my friends. Welcome to a world where Lord Voldemort was successful in his battle against Harry Potter and the forces of Light. ((shivers)) The Quiz today is all about the struggle of Hermione and Severus when Voldemort is victorious.
Match the quote to the story:
Life and Death of Lord Voldemort by chivalric55
Mannequin by Oddity (pretend it’s a one shot & not abandoned)
Burden by Dementerschild
Splintered and Broken by A Plus
Garden of Eden by notsosaintly
Faithful by ordinary-magic
Lost and Found by kereia
Before the Fire by Mirrordjyn
The Devil You Know by melusin-79
In Dreams by savine-snape
When all That’s Left is This by snarkyroxy
In Hiding by selened
1. Her eyes, however, her eyes had told him a different story. Severus was sure of her two lies: Lucius most certainly had not won and Miss Granger was certainly not done.
He had waited, waited for her to return, to take the entire wizarding world by storm with the brilliance of her plan.
She had not come.
Ten years had passed and she had still not returned. Either her plan had failed or it was a much more long-term one than he had ever imagined.
He spent the ten years in misery. It had all started a little more than ten years ago when the Dark Lord had conquered the entire wizarding world. He had instituted Lucius Malfoy as Minister of Magic and Severus as the Headmaster of Hogwarts while keeping Bellatrix Lestrange by his side to lead the Death Eaters. Muggle-borns were given a month to hand over their wands and leave the wizarding world for good. Any that failed to comply would be exterminated.
He had been loyal to the Order, of course, but they had been defeated. Harry Potter was dead. For his first five years as headmaster, Severus had remained in his post as spy and kept detailed records of Voldemort’s activities.
2. Faces, previously strange to her, revealed their identities. Silent bodies, lifeless eyes now surrounded by torn masses of bloody tissue, made her reel as grief washed over her in waves. She fell to her knees beneath the man in the tree and wept for her friends, the pain wrenching her soul, tearing away at her composure, leaving her naked.
“How many times do I have to do this, Hermione?” His voice had softened at her display of emotion. “How many times will I have to show you the past, and how many times will you beg me to take away your pain?”
He jumped down from the tree and pulled her into his arms, hugging her against his sunken and scarred chest. She let him cradle her, buffeting the blows her memory dealt at every turn of thought.
“Take it away, Severus,” she sobbed. “I can’t stand it. Make life beautiful again. Make me beautiful again. Make me forget.”
3. Before he left her, he gave her a rough, invasive kiss and promised to return when he could.
The kiss had shocked her. She was still sixteen years old and had only received clumsy kisses from the lips of boys. How could this kiss from her professor be so different? The memory of his lips and tongue stayed with her for hours. Indeed she would have sworn that she could taste him still when he returned for her hours later.
She only had to take one look at him to know that all was lost. All questions died on her lips as she saw the haunted look on his face. He held out his arms to her and she stepped into them and held him tightly. He returned her embrace and seconds later she found herself standing in the living room of a strange house.
Neither of them loosened their embrace.
“Where are we?” asked Hermione, in a soft voice.
“My house. It’s on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. On the opposite side to where Hogwarts used to be.”
“Used to be?” she breathed, in shock.
4. 'Male and female energies, Hermione, bound together. Combined, they are more powerful than the sum of their individual parts. Severus held the bottle between his thumb and forefinger so Hermione could see it. 'I... have discovered a way of harnessing and enhancing that bound magic even further.'
'Enough to defeat V-Him?' she asked, feeling the first glimmer of hope stir inside.
Severus grinned. 'We are both of us powerful in our own right. Imagine what we could achieve together. We would be practically invincible.' He put the bottle down and hesitantly took Hermione's hands in his. She did not object.
5. This was always the most challenging part of my performance, for I had to admit that I had not been quite the know-it-all that everyone had seen me as while I was in school.
I sat myself down on the seat of a stool that was one of the few props I was allowed on stage. I clasped my hands and looked thoughtful before diving into a five minute speech on my thoughts of the war and what I wanted to do to contribute. In this time span, I was my old self. I was confident and sure of my abilities. I appeared hopeful - as if the war had not yet started. But then before the very eyes of the crowd, my appearance changed. My spotless robes turned tattered and worn, the smile on my face dropped into a frown, and the light in my eyes died. I spoke for one minute of the outcome of the war and how I had failed.
“Does anyone have questions?” I asked as I stood up abruptly from the stool and scraped the legs against the stage's floor. It was completely silent.
No one spoke.
The quiet didn't faze me - I had long since grown used to the silence after a performance.
6. Ron spoke only when spoken to, or when another’s actions angered him enough to lash out. The ridged scars on his face were nothing compared to the scars he carried within… bitter wounds that would never heal, no matter how much time passed or how many lives he took in vengeance for his friends and family.
Severus was often withdrawn, but it seemed the aftermath a particularly bad day brought out in him a need for closeness he seldom expressed at any other time. Hermione remembered well the night he and Ron had returned from their first slaying; neither had spoken a word, and Hermione had no idea at that time where they’d been or what had happened. Both had been unharmed and yet covered in blood. It had been hours later, in the dead of night, that she’d finally drawn an explanation out of a numb, shocked Severus.
They’d come a long way since then, but it still affected them nonetheless.
7. They headed down Via del Moro towards the Piazza del Campo. The sun had set, painting the evening sky in shades of ever darkening blue. The air was warm and stifling; the light breeze they’d felt through the open window of their top floor room lost itself in the narrow streets. Tourist traffic was sparse as they strode along the grimy sidewalk - a blessing, Hermione thought, as it made it more difficult for their enemies to hide among the Muggles.
“You two really have no appreciation for the pleasures of life. That was a perfectly fine glass of red wine.”
“Lucius, there is a score of Death Eaters hunting us, Hermione and I drew the displeasure of the Siena Patrol Squad, and our meeting with Mr. Longbottom is not for another two hours. Finding another place to hide takes priority over enjoying a bottle of wine.”
“Even a 1998 Barbaresco Angelo Gaja?” Lucius asked with facetious scepticism, even as he whipped out his wand and sent the green streak of a curse into the shadows at the corner ahead. Hermione and Snape froze as a body toppled to the ground, a wand rolling out of his lifeless grasp. Within seconds, they’d retrieved their own wands and were running down the street, their expressions guarded in perfect counterpoint to Lucius’ excited grin.
8. “My Lord Snape.”
“I’ll be taking this one for the night. I’ll return it tomorrow morning.” The guard nodded sharply and turned to his fellow. Together they opened the heavy gate and approached the bedraggled figure in the corner.
The man who had spoken went to undo her chains while another lightly kicked her. A near groan escaped her lips. “Oi! Up, pig!” The other guard yanked on the chain, and she was forced to come to her feet. Having been dragged out of her mindless reverie, the look on her face was murderous; she yanked hard on the chains around her wrists and neck, almost toppling the man holding them. The second guard was on her in no time with a “Crucio!”
Snape cleared his throat. “That’s enough. I would like to have it unharmed, thank you.”
The second guard ended his assault, and the first approached Snape with chains in hand. “Excuse us, my lord; we only meant to keep the prisoner in line.”
Severus responded as he took the chains, “Be more careful. The next time you displease me, I will see to it that His Excellency is aware of your incompetence.”
9. That first night, when he had apparated in with her, he set her on her bed and left in a hurry, as if he could not stand the sight of her. House elves appeared immediately, handing her vial after vial of healing potions and tonics. She was ordered to rest, eat, and bathe, which she did listlessly. Sometimes they brought books for her to read, but her requests for a paper were always ignored.
He came to her again after a week, dressed in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt. It was the most undressed she had ever seen him.
When he stood before her, a pale hand reaching out and touching her shoulder, then moving up towards her cheek, her hair, she backed away instinctively, though somewhere in the back of her mind a calm voice was telling her to accept the inevitable.
His other hand reached out and grasped her upper arm, holding her still. Though his face was set in that familiar expressionless mask, his eyes were somehow softer, a pleading, perhaps. It struck her as funny. She might have laughed if she remembered how.
“Hermione,” he whispered, gathering her into his arms. He carried her bridal style towards the bed and sat her near the edge. He knelt down before her on the floor, and she did let out a startled laugh then, but it sounded hollow and distant to her ears.
10. A bell rang, signalling the start of her day's service to her Lord. Sighing, she carefully blotted the entry and then closed the leather-bound book. It would be daybreak soon, although it was hard to tell anymore with the ever-present mist covering the countryside. She rose to don her grey robes and returned the journal to its sanctuary under the mattress. She would be expected in the kitchens soon to help prepare the day's meagre meals.
There was no need to search out a mirror; they were all far past any sense of personal vanity. Just as before the battle, she learnt her lessons well. Her Lord's commandments were clear, and there was an inner beauty and peace in obedience, she told herself as she walked the halls of her former school. The classrooms were sealed, save one where the white-robed students of Purity House received their daily lessons on what it meant to be a witch or wizard in this new world. She no longer spared the open classroom doorway a glance. The faces never changed: pale, frightened, and hopeless.
Match the quote to the story:
Life and Death of Lord Voldemort by chivalric55
Mannequin by Oddity (pretend it’s a one shot & not abandoned)
Burden by Dementerschild
Splintered and Broken by A Plus
Garden of Eden by notsosaintly
Faithful by ordinary-magic
Lost and Found by kereia
Before the Fire by Mirrordjyn
The Devil You Know by melusin-79
In Dreams by savine-snape
When all That’s Left is This by snarkyroxy
In Hiding by selened
1. Her eyes, however, her eyes had told him a different story. Severus was sure of her two lies: Lucius most certainly had not won and Miss Granger was certainly not done.
He had waited, waited for her to return, to take the entire wizarding world by storm with the brilliance of her plan.
She had not come.
Ten years had passed and she had still not returned. Either her plan had failed or it was a much more long-term one than he had ever imagined.
He spent the ten years in misery. It had all started a little more than ten years ago when the Dark Lord had conquered the entire wizarding world. He had instituted Lucius Malfoy as Minister of Magic and Severus as the Headmaster of Hogwarts while keeping Bellatrix Lestrange by his side to lead the Death Eaters. Muggle-borns were given a month to hand over their wands and leave the wizarding world for good. Any that failed to comply would be exterminated.
He had been loyal to the Order, of course, but they had been defeated. Harry Potter was dead. For his first five years as headmaster, Severus had remained in his post as spy and kept detailed records of Voldemort’s activities.
2. Faces, previously strange to her, revealed their identities. Silent bodies, lifeless eyes now surrounded by torn masses of bloody tissue, made her reel as grief washed over her in waves. She fell to her knees beneath the man in the tree and wept for her friends, the pain wrenching her soul, tearing away at her composure, leaving her naked.
“How many times do I have to do this, Hermione?” His voice had softened at her display of emotion. “How many times will I have to show you the past, and how many times will you beg me to take away your pain?”
He jumped down from the tree and pulled her into his arms, hugging her against his sunken and scarred chest. She let him cradle her, buffeting the blows her memory dealt at every turn of thought.
“Take it away, Severus,” she sobbed. “I can’t stand it. Make life beautiful again. Make me beautiful again. Make me forget.”
3. Before he left her, he gave her a rough, invasive kiss and promised to return when he could.
The kiss had shocked her. She was still sixteen years old and had only received clumsy kisses from the lips of boys. How could this kiss from her professor be so different? The memory of his lips and tongue stayed with her for hours. Indeed she would have sworn that she could taste him still when he returned for her hours later.
She only had to take one look at him to know that all was lost. All questions died on her lips as she saw the haunted look on his face. He held out his arms to her and she stepped into them and held him tightly. He returned her embrace and seconds later she found herself standing in the living room of a strange house.
Neither of them loosened their embrace.
“Where are we?” asked Hermione, in a soft voice.
“My house. It’s on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. On the opposite side to where Hogwarts used to be.”
“Used to be?” she breathed, in shock.
4. 'Male and female energies, Hermione, bound together. Combined, they are more powerful than the sum of their individual parts. Severus held the bottle between his thumb and forefinger so Hermione could see it. 'I... have discovered a way of harnessing and enhancing that bound magic even further.'
'Enough to defeat V-Him?' she asked, feeling the first glimmer of hope stir inside.
Severus grinned. 'We are both of us powerful in our own right. Imagine what we could achieve together. We would be practically invincible.' He put the bottle down and hesitantly took Hermione's hands in his. She did not object.
5. This was always the most challenging part of my performance, for I had to admit that I had not been quite the know-it-all that everyone had seen me as while I was in school.
I sat myself down on the seat of a stool that was one of the few props I was allowed on stage. I clasped my hands and looked thoughtful before diving into a five minute speech on my thoughts of the war and what I wanted to do to contribute. In this time span, I was my old self. I was confident and sure of my abilities. I appeared hopeful - as if the war had not yet started. But then before the very eyes of the crowd, my appearance changed. My spotless robes turned tattered and worn, the smile on my face dropped into a frown, and the light in my eyes died. I spoke for one minute of the outcome of the war and how I had failed.
“Does anyone have questions?” I asked as I stood up abruptly from the stool and scraped the legs against the stage's floor. It was completely silent.
No one spoke.
The quiet didn't faze me - I had long since grown used to the silence after a performance.
6. Ron spoke only when spoken to, or when another’s actions angered him enough to lash out. The ridged scars on his face were nothing compared to the scars he carried within… bitter wounds that would never heal, no matter how much time passed or how many lives he took in vengeance for his friends and family.
Severus was often withdrawn, but it seemed the aftermath a particularly bad day brought out in him a need for closeness he seldom expressed at any other time. Hermione remembered well the night he and Ron had returned from their first slaying; neither had spoken a word, and Hermione had no idea at that time where they’d been or what had happened. Both had been unharmed and yet covered in blood. It had been hours later, in the dead of night, that she’d finally drawn an explanation out of a numb, shocked Severus.
They’d come a long way since then, but it still affected them nonetheless.
7. They headed down Via del Moro towards the Piazza del Campo. The sun had set, painting the evening sky in shades of ever darkening blue. The air was warm and stifling; the light breeze they’d felt through the open window of their top floor room lost itself in the narrow streets. Tourist traffic was sparse as they strode along the grimy sidewalk - a blessing, Hermione thought, as it made it more difficult for their enemies to hide among the Muggles.
“You two really have no appreciation for the pleasures of life. That was a perfectly fine glass of red wine.”
“Lucius, there is a score of Death Eaters hunting us, Hermione and I drew the displeasure of the Siena Patrol Squad, and our meeting with Mr. Longbottom is not for another two hours. Finding another place to hide takes priority over enjoying a bottle of wine.”
“Even a 1998 Barbaresco Angelo Gaja?” Lucius asked with facetious scepticism, even as he whipped out his wand and sent the green streak of a curse into the shadows at the corner ahead. Hermione and Snape froze as a body toppled to the ground, a wand rolling out of his lifeless grasp. Within seconds, they’d retrieved their own wands and were running down the street, their expressions guarded in perfect counterpoint to Lucius’ excited grin.
8. “My Lord Snape.”
“I’ll be taking this one for the night. I’ll return it tomorrow morning.” The guard nodded sharply and turned to his fellow. Together they opened the heavy gate and approached the bedraggled figure in the corner.
The man who had spoken went to undo her chains while another lightly kicked her. A near groan escaped her lips. “Oi! Up, pig!” The other guard yanked on the chain, and she was forced to come to her feet. Having been dragged out of her mindless reverie, the look on her face was murderous; she yanked hard on the chains around her wrists and neck, almost toppling the man holding them. The second guard was on her in no time with a “Crucio!”
Snape cleared his throat. “That’s enough. I would like to have it unharmed, thank you.”
The second guard ended his assault, and the first approached Snape with chains in hand. “Excuse us, my lord; we only meant to keep the prisoner in line.”
Severus responded as he took the chains, “Be more careful. The next time you displease me, I will see to it that His Excellency is aware of your incompetence.”
9. That first night, when he had apparated in with her, he set her on her bed and left in a hurry, as if he could not stand the sight of her. House elves appeared immediately, handing her vial after vial of healing potions and tonics. She was ordered to rest, eat, and bathe, which she did listlessly. Sometimes they brought books for her to read, but her requests for a paper were always ignored.
He came to her again after a week, dressed in black trousers and a crisp, white shirt. It was the most undressed she had ever seen him.
When he stood before her, a pale hand reaching out and touching her shoulder, then moving up towards her cheek, her hair, she backed away instinctively, though somewhere in the back of her mind a calm voice was telling her to accept the inevitable.
His other hand reached out and grasped her upper arm, holding her still. Though his face was set in that familiar expressionless mask, his eyes were somehow softer, a pleading, perhaps. It struck her as funny. She might have laughed if she remembered how.
“Hermione,” he whispered, gathering her into his arms. He carried her bridal style towards the bed and sat her near the edge. He knelt down before her on the floor, and she did let out a startled laugh then, but it sounded hollow and distant to her ears.
10. A bell rang, signalling the start of her day's service to her Lord. Sighing, she carefully blotted the entry and then closed the leather-bound book. It would be daybreak soon, although it was hard to tell anymore with the ever-present mist covering the countryside. She rose to don her grey robes and returned the journal to its sanctuary under the mattress. She would be expected in the kitchens soon to help prepare the day's meagre meals.
There was no need to search out a mirror; they were all far past any sense of personal vanity. Just as before the battle, she learnt her lessons well. Her Lord's commandments were clear, and there was an inner beauty and peace in obedience, she told herself as she walked the halls of her former school. The classrooms were sealed, save one where the white-robed students of Purity House received their daily lessons on what it meant to be a witch or wizard in this new world. She no longer spared the open classroom doorway a glance. The faces never changed: pale, frightened, and hopeless.