Memory Loss Quiz
teanbooks66 won last week’s beautiful art quiz. She has requested and received “Memory Loss”
In our muggle world memory loss tends to be a gradual process which is normally brought on by aging. In the magical world memory loss is more commonly associated with curse, spell or hex injury. In Professor Snape’s case his memory loss in brought on by a great big snake ripping open his neck. Thankfully being the resilient guy he is Professor Snape is able to continue on in a new life. Well at least until Hermione finds him! Tee hee
Match the story to the quote:
Searching by lurkerfromoz
Engineered Collisions by Fandomme
Three Blooms in the Caudron by Melusin-79
Erased by severelysnaped
The End of Reckoning by stormyskize
A Benevolent Punishment by motheroftears (WIP)
The New Man by bethbethbeth
Blank Slate by Auror Borealis
While You Were Sleeping by missmiah
Half Life by sc010f
Into the Light by losille2000
Momento Amori by Olethros
1. Greer Hagan was a slightly overweight, matronly woman with gunmetal grey hair and an annoying tendency to mother him.
Hers had been the first face he’d seen when he’d awakened after his attack - an attack that had left him with no memory of who he was or how he had come to be living and working in Boston.
He sighed. He knew there was no point in trying to hide things from her.
“I’ve been having some very strange dreams,” he said. “They wake me up, and I can’t go back to sleep.”
“What are the dreams about?”
He told her about the old man on the parapet and about waking up with his heart pounding and with the almost irresistible urge to flee.
“How long have you been having this dream? Why haven’t you ever said anything about it?”
“I’ve had it since my attack, just once every few months at first. Now, it’s coming more often - four or five times a month. I never said anything because I didn’t think it had any significance. I thought it was just a dream until now.”
“And now what do you think?”
Sullivan Shaw looked at her through eyes filled with doubt and self-loathing. He swallowed hard before he spoke.
“I think it’s a memory, Greer. I think I may have actually killed a man.”
2. "And Molly is?"
Once again she abandoned her work. "Molly Weasley. She's Ron's mother. Married to Arthur Weasley. Both are in the Order. Am I forgetting anything?"
Weasley. That name meant something. Visions of a multitude of faces, all with red hair, assaulted him. Severus swallowed hard, chasing after the fleeting glimpses that were trying to elude him.
"There are a lot of them, aren't there? Weasleys."
"Oh yes. Ron has five brothers and a sister. Had, I mean. Fred died during the final battle."
Yet another death to add to the growing list. It shouldn't have bothered him, none of them should have, but it did. He suspected that once his memories were returned the dull sense of loss would be a thousand times worse.
"My mother was a quilter. She was very skilled. I would spend hours at her knee when I was young, carefully handing her the next piece of fabric or offering to thread the needle for her. She created pieces of art, thick enough to keep you warm in the heart of winter and beautiful enough to hang on the wall the remaining months of the year. I still have the one she sent to me during my first year at Hogwarts."
3. His reaction was everything that she had feared.
She saw when the dawning realization lit in his eyes, and the fury turned his face ugly.
“SNAPE?!”
Harry’s wand was drawn in a second.
“It’s not what you think, Harry-”
“What did he do, Camilla, bewitch you? Claim that he didn’t really kill Dumbledore, that it really was all an elaborate ruse to boost his position in Voldemort’s circle?”
Hermione gaped, astonished at how close to the truth he had come. Harry seemed to react to the look in her eyes. “I thought so,” he sneered. “I’m a stubborn arse, Cami, not a fool. I have thought of every possible excuse that git could prepare, and guess what? None of them satisfy me!”
“Harry, no! That’s not what happened. You must understand, Dumbledore wanted him to do it.”
“Dumbledore begged him-”
4. “Dreams usually come from somewhere. Maybe I could help?” At her eager nod, he moved to stand in front of her. “I will need to enter your mind. Legilimens.”
Her mind was a complete mess. It gave him a headache within the first few moments of trying to navigate through her memories. He had never seen anything like it. There were images of the shops, brewing potions and talking to customers overlaid with much darker impressions of red and green curse traces, the smell of scorched stone, pain, fear and blood. He withdrew from her mind with a muffled grunt and massaged his temples.
“Did you see anything that might help?” She asked.
“Yes, and no.” He replied. “I think that your memory has been modified in some way, but I have never seen anything like it before. How long have you been in Australia?”
“Since just before my twelfth birthday. I remember receiving my Hogwarts letter, but we moved here soon after, and I attended the Australian Wizarding Academy.”
“Does this school have stone corridors?”
Her eyes widened as she realised the implication of his questions. “No, it’s an old brick building in Southport, on the Nerang River. There is certainly no stone about. You think I went to Hogwarts, but somebody altered my memories, don’t you?”
It certainly looked that way to Severus, but he couldn’t think of any reason why someone would have changed her memories to remove her time at Hogwarts from them.
5. The time it took for the final round of questions to be asked passed all too quickly as far as Hermione was concerned. She had always loved stretching the limits of her knowledge and memory in this way, even if some people had held a less flattering view of her eagerness to answer questions. She breezed through the questions directed at her, which luckily for her, didn't include any questions about football.
It was only with the final question that Hermione stumbled a bit. Barry asked what was the full, less commonly known name for Deadly Nightshade, and Hermione answered "Belladonna" without even pausing to think.
Barry looked down at his notes. "Sorry, I'm afraid I asked for the full name. Before we pass the question over to the other team, I'll throw it open to your teammates. Anybody want to take a try?"
Beryl and Ed both shook their heads in unison, Beryl looking rather apologetic.
"I never was much of a gardener," she said. "Except for runner beans. Ed always has liked his runner beans."
"That I have," said Ed. "Don't know a great deal about Deadly whatsit, though. How about you, Evan?"
There was a brief pause, certainly too brief for any of the crowd in the pub to start growing restive, then Evan said, "Deadly Nightshade is also known as Atropa Belladonna, from the family Solanaceae."
6. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Severus."
Hermione opened the door to find the dark man standing there in jeans and a pea coat. "Where were you? I've been across the countryside looking for you! I didn't think…"
Her thought drifted away as she caught the sight of pink against his dark colored shirt. It was a single rose, perfectly shaped.
"I wanted to thank you," he said.
"For what?" she questioned, her eyes still fixated on the bud as he held it out to her.
He smirked. "It's just a flower."
"Severus Snape doesn't give flowers, much less ones in that particular shade," she said.
"He does too," said he. "Well, at least, he is starting now."
"Please don't talk about yourself in the third person," she said.
Severus chuckled lowly.
7. A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. ‘You’re going to Obliviate me, aren’t you?’
‘I think it would be... less painful for you if you forget all about rescuing me,’ Severus replied gently.
‘No,’ she protested, trying to break away from him. ‘Please don’t.’
Severus held her closer. ‘You would only try to find me if I did not.’
Hermione had to admit that he was right there; he knew her only too well. For an instant, she considered begging him to reconsider but decided just as quickly that it would be futile. He had made his mind up; he obviously had no room for her in his life, so there was little point in trying to fight him.
Catching hold of the little cauldron around his neck, Hermione whispered, ‘Alter my memories if you must, but please don’t take these few days away from me completely.’ She kissed the talisman, silently blessing it. ‘Just promise me you’ll come back one day and return them to me. Please. It’s all I ask.’
‘All right. I promise.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘Live well for me, Hermione. Now, close your eyes...’
8. "If I want to have a drink with my husband's killer, I will." This she directed toward the ceiling, as though she expected Aberforth to hear.
"You've had several," Snape said. "It's late. Your family is waiting."
"Well they're waiting for the wrong person, then," she said.
Snape guided her to the coat-rack. It bent down and held out her coat, but her fingers slipped on the hook. Finally Snape plucked it away and draped it across her shoulders. "Be that as it may, you have an obligation to tell them so."
"No," she said, flinching away from the icy night air as he pushed her into the street. Hogsmeade was rather deserted this late -- everyone was somewhere else, it seemed. Flickering street lamps glowed on muddy roads already coating themselves thickly in dirty ice. Her breath fogged in the air. "You don't get it. It's not me they want. It's the other me. The me from before."
"Take your amateur psychology to a chat show and spare me, please," he said, and guided her away from the door. She clutched at his sleeve.
"No, you don't-" Her words dissolved into a yelp as she slipped. Snape turned -- his reflexes were still good -- and caught her by the shoulders. She smiled. "See, I'm just all sorts of imbalanced."
"I see no difference."
"Oh, fuck you," she said tiredly, and reached for his lapels as she straightened up. She sniffed. "I don't remember giving birth, you know?"
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
9. Talk about my first death, the moments and years before I awoke in hospital, still make me nervous. But tonight, I ask the question I have been avoiding since I awoke here.
"Hermione, who am... who was Severus Snape?"
A breakthrough.
"The Half-Blood Prince," Hermione answers, somewhat cryptically.
"Hermione." I frown at her. I am not in the mood for riddles.
Hermione rises from her desk. "It is a long story. Will you join me somewhere more comfortable? I'll let the wards down to admit you to my rooms."
I can hear the surprised snort from Albus. No portrait is allowed in the Head's chambers without express permission. I feel a surge of spiteful glee.
"Thank you, Hermione," I reply, rising from my chair. To my left, I can see the wall becoming more translucent.
"I'll meet you in the sitting room."
10. "So this one particular potion Riddle made while attending Hogwarts was responsible for whatever state of mind I seem to have---or lack thereof? Albus, don't lat mat me like that! It involves the girl, I know. The both of you have made that quite clear. What are the main effects of this potion?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know now or not. At first, his mind was flooded with the fear that he no longer could remember potions making in general, but that was quickly extinguished out once he began to mentally quiz himself.
But what of his powers? What if all of his magical resources had been tapped out? He remembered them forcing him to drink the vile substance, and he remembered growing very fatigued soon afterwards. He was now praying silently to every god and wizarding ancestor that he still had his magic ability. He was almost relieved when Albus told him of the potion's main cause.
"It erases a person from one's memory entirely." No light smile, no comforting gaze. Severus had never seen Albus look so grave.
So this girl was the subject of that potion, he thought calmly, before his face twisted in slight panic from a passing thought.
In our muggle world memory loss tends to be a gradual process which is normally brought on by aging. In the magical world memory loss is more commonly associated with curse, spell or hex injury. In Professor Snape’s case his memory loss in brought on by a great big snake ripping open his neck. Thankfully being the resilient guy he is Professor Snape is able to continue on in a new life. Well at least until Hermione finds him! Tee hee
Match the story to the quote:
Searching by lurkerfromoz
Engineered Collisions by Fandomme
Three Blooms in the Caudron by Melusin-79
Erased by severelysnaped
The End of Reckoning by stormyskize
A Benevolent Punishment by motheroftears (WIP)
The New Man by bethbethbeth
Blank Slate by Auror Borealis
While You Were Sleeping by missmiah
Half Life by sc010f
Into the Light by losille2000
Momento Amori by Olethros
1. Greer Hagan was a slightly overweight, matronly woman with gunmetal grey hair and an annoying tendency to mother him.
Hers had been the first face he’d seen when he’d awakened after his attack - an attack that had left him with no memory of who he was or how he had come to be living and working in Boston.
He sighed. He knew there was no point in trying to hide things from her.
“I’ve been having some very strange dreams,” he said. “They wake me up, and I can’t go back to sleep.”
“What are the dreams about?”
He told her about the old man on the parapet and about waking up with his heart pounding and with the almost irresistible urge to flee.
“How long have you been having this dream? Why haven’t you ever said anything about it?”
“I’ve had it since my attack, just once every few months at first. Now, it’s coming more often - four or five times a month. I never said anything because I didn’t think it had any significance. I thought it was just a dream until now.”
“And now what do you think?”
Sullivan Shaw looked at her through eyes filled with doubt and self-loathing. He swallowed hard before he spoke.
“I think it’s a memory, Greer. I think I may have actually killed a man.”
2. "And Molly is?"
Once again she abandoned her work. "Molly Weasley. She's Ron's mother. Married to Arthur Weasley. Both are in the Order. Am I forgetting anything?"
Weasley. That name meant something. Visions of a multitude of faces, all with red hair, assaulted him. Severus swallowed hard, chasing after the fleeting glimpses that were trying to elude him.
"There are a lot of them, aren't there? Weasleys."
"Oh yes. Ron has five brothers and a sister. Had, I mean. Fred died during the final battle."
Yet another death to add to the growing list. It shouldn't have bothered him, none of them should have, but it did. He suspected that once his memories were returned the dull sense of loss would be a thousand times worse.
"My mother was a quilter. She was very skilled. I would spend hours at her knee when I was young, carefully handing her the next piece of fabric or offering to thread the needle for her. She created pieces of art, thick enough to keep you warm in the heart of winter and beautiful enough to hang on the wall the remaining months of the year. I still have the one she sent to me during my first year at Hogwarts."
3. His reaction was everything that she had feared.
She saw when the dawning realization lit in his eyes, and the fury turned his face ugly.
“SNAPE?!”
Harry’s wand was drawn in a second.
“It’s not what you think, Harry-”
“What did he do, Camilla, bewitch you? Claim that he didn’t really kill Dumbledore, that it really was all an elaborate ruse to boost his position in Voldemort’s circle?”
Hermione gaped, astonished at how close to the truth he had come. Harry seemed to react to the look in her eyes. “I thought so,” he sneered. “I’m a stubborn arse, Cami, not a fool. I have thought of every possible excuse that git could prepare, and guess what? None of them satisfy me!”
“Harry, no! That’s not what happened. You must understand, Dumbledore wanted him to do it.”
“Dumbledore begged him-”
4. “Dreams usually come from somewhere. Maybe I could help?” At her eager nod, he moved to stand in front of her. “I will need to enter your mind. Legilimens.”
Her mind was a complete mess. It gave him a headache within the first few moments of trying to navigate through her memories. He had never seen anything like it. There were images of the shops, brewing potions and talking to customers overlaid with much darker impressions of red and green curse traces, the smell of scorched stone, pain, fear and blood. He withdrew from her mind with a muffled grunt and massaged his temples.
“Did you see anything that might help?” She asked.
“Yes, and no.” He replied. “I think that your memory has been modified in some way, but I have never seen anything like it before. How long have you been in Australia?”
“Since just before my twelfth birthday. I remember receiving my Hogwarts letter, but we moved here soon after, and I attended the Australian Wizarding Academy.”
“Does this school have stone corridors?”
Her eyes widened as she realised the implication of his questions. “No, it’s an old brick building in Southport, on the Nerang River. There is certainly no stone about. You think I went to Hogwarts, but somebody altered my memories, don’t you?”
It certainly looked that way to Severus, but he couldn’t think of any reason why someone would have changed her memories to remove her time at Hogwarts from them.
5. The time it took for the final round of questions to be asked passed all too quickly as far as Hermione was concerned. She had always loved stretching the limits of her knowledge and memory in this way, even if some people had held a less flattering view of her eagerness to answer questions. She breezed through the questions directed at her, which luckily for her, didn't include any questions about football.
It was only with the final question that Hermione stumbled a bit. Barry asked what was the full, less commonly known name for Deadly Nightshade, and Hermione answered "Belladonna" without even pausing to think.
Barry looked down at his notes. "Sorry, I'm afraid I asked for the full name. Before we pass the question over to the other team, I'll throw it open to your teammates. Anybody want to take a try?"
Beryl and Ed both shook their heads in unison, Beryl looking rather apologetic.
"I never was much of a gardener," she said. "Except for runner beans. Ed always has liked his runner beans."
"That I have," said Ed. "Don't know a great deal about Deadly whatsit, though. How about you, Evan?"
There was a brief pause, certainly too brief for any of the crowd in the pub to start growing restive, then Evan said, "Deadly Nightshade is also known as Atropa Belladonna, from the family Solanaceae."
6. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Severus."
Hermione opened the door to find the dark man standing there in jeans and a pea coat. "Where were you? I've been across the countryside looking for you! I didn't think…"
Her thought drifted away as she caught the sight of pink against his dark colored shirt. It was a single rose, perfectly shaped.
"I wanted to thank you," he said.
"For what?" she questioned, her eyes still fixated on the bud as he held it out to her.
He smirked. "It's just a flower."
"Severus Snape doesn't give flowers, much less ones in that particular shade," she said.
"He does too," said he. "Well, at least, he is starting now."
"Please don't talk about yourself in the third person," she said.
Severus chuckled lowly.
7. A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. ‘You’re going to Obliviate me, aren’t you?’
‘I think it would be... less painful for you if you forget all about rescuing me,’ Severus replied gently.
‘No,’ she protested, trying to break away from him. ‘Please don’t.’
Severus held her closer. ‘You would only try to find me if I did not.’
Hermione had to admit that he was right there; he knew her only too well. For an instant, she considered begging him to reconsider but decided just as quickly that it would be futile. He had made his mind up; he obviously had no room for her in his life, so there was little point in trying to fight him.
Catching hold of the little cauldron around his neck, Hermione whispered, ‘Alter my memories if you must, but please don’t take these few days away from me completely.’ She kissed the talisman, silently blessing it. ‘Just promise me you’ll come back one day and return them to me. Please. It’s all I ask.’
‘All right. I promise.’ He kissed her tenderly. ‘Live well for me, Hermione. Now, close your eyes...’
8. "If I want to have a drink with my husband's killer, I will." This she directed toward the ceiling, as though she expected Aberforth to hear.
"You've had several," Snape said. "It's late. Your family is waiting."
"Well they're waiting for the wrong person, then," she said.
Snape guided her to the coat-rack. It bent down and held out her coat, but her fingers slipped on the hook. Finally Snape plucked it away and draped it across her shoulders. "Be that as it may, you have an obligation to tell them so."
"No," she said, flinching away from the icy night air as he pushed her into the street. Hogsmeade was rather deserted this late -- everyone was somewhere else, it seemed. Flickering street lamps glowed on muddy roads already coating themselves thickly in dirty ice. Her breath fogged in the air. "You don't get it. It's not me they want. It's the other me. The me from before."
"Take your amateur psychology to a chat show and spare me, please," he said, and guided her away from the door. She clutched at his sleeve.
"No, you don't-" Her words dissolved into a yelp as she slipped. Snape turned -- his reflexes were still good -- and caught her by the shoulders. She smiled. "See, I'm just all sorts of imbalanced."
"I see no difference."
"Oh, fuck you," she said tiredly, and reached for his lapels as she straightened up. She sniffed. "I don't remember giving birth, you know?"
He blinked. "Excuse me?"
9. Talk about my first death, the moments and years before I awoke in hospital, still make me nervous. But tonight, I ask the question I have been avoiding since I awoke here.
"Hermione, who am... who was Severus Snape?"
A breakthrough.
"The Half-Blood Prince," Hermione answers, somewhat cryptically.
"Hermione." I frown at her. I am not in the mood for riddles.
Hermione rises from her desk. "It is a long story. Will you join me somewhere more comfortable? I'll let the wards down to admit you to my rooms."
I can hear the surprised snort from Albus. No portrait is allowed in the Head's chambers without express permission. I feel a surge of spiteful glee.
"Thank you, Hermione," I reply, rising from my chair. To my left, I can see the wall becoming more translucent.
"I'll meet you in the sitting room."
10. "So this one particular potion Riddle made while attending Hogwarts was responsible for whatever state of mind I seem to have---or lack thereof? Albus, don't lat mat me like that! It involves the girl, I know. The both of you have made that quite clear. What are the main effects of this potion?" he asked, not sure if he really wanted to know now or not. At first, his mind was flooded with the fear that he no longer could remember potions making in general, but that was quickly extinguished out once he began to mentally quiz himself.
But what of his powers? What if all of his magical resources had been tapped out? He remembered them forcing him to drink the vile substance, and he remembered growing very fatigued soon afterwards. He was now praying silently to every god and wizarding ancestor that he still had his magic ability. He was almost relieved when Albus told him of the potion's main cause.
"It erases a person from one's memory entirely." No light smile, no comforting gaze. Severus had never seen Albus look so grave.
So this girl was the subject of that potion, he thought calmly, before his face twisted in slight panic from a passing thought.