Want to give Hermione a run for her money in the know-it-all field? Simply play the quiz by commenting on this post with your answers at any time over the weekend. All comments with answers will be screened until the answer sheet is posted on Monday morning EDT. On Monday, all quizzlings with the correct answers will receive a pretty banner to prove their quiz prowess. Ready? Set? Play!
Match the quotes to the story titles without picking the red herring titles:
Memoirs of a Lady - What Really Happened in the Shrieking Shack. by sunnythirty3
Emissary by labrt2004
Bumbledore’s Diary by shiv5468
Phoenix Meddling by karelia
I'm Waiting by claraminutes
Serpensortia by Olethros
I, Macnair by death_ofme
Didn't Expect That by Two Methyloctane
With Love, Your Little Princess Girl by snitchette
Best Laid Plans by odogoddess
Snape’s Bed by chivalric55 (It's SSHG if you want it to be. We want it to be.)
An Audience To Desperation by Twilexis
1. Back to the man though. Like I told you, there was nothing too odd about him. With Jeanie, we saw lame kittens rescued from the river rise like Lazarus from the dead, moss she had somehow dug from under a rock weighing ten times as much as she did, leaf piles on the lawn every morning spelling out the weather forecast. At first we were worried that she'd fallen in with a bad crowd or something, but her grades were still top of her form, she certainly didn't listen to any horrid rock music, and she wasn't even interested in make-up. After a bit, we shrugged it off. Lots of strange things happened around Jeanie. I suppose she got it from her mother. So a man in a black cape standing on the doorstep on a Sunday afternoon? I'd definitely seen worse.
He spoke with a strange accent, in clipped, economical tones.
I narrowed my eyes. Well, now I was slightly concerned. I'd originally had him pegged as some poor feeble-minded bloke who'd taken a wrong turn at the intersection, but this man was no village idiot.
"Yes, how can I help you?"
He inclined his head slightly and said, "I am here to deliver a missive to Miss Hermione Granger."
2. I've always had a soft spot for the Glaring Bat; the poor chap's life was being played like a mandolin by my old familiar for decades, all in the name of the Light. Seeing him injured in the battle field, just when even I was almost convinced the battle was won by the right kind of humans, well... I couldn't let the Ministry pea-brains put him away; my old familiar would have come out of the grave to expedite my next burning day. Of course, I ended up not just adopting him. No, there was Miss Savvy as well, she who stuck to him like dog hair. Still does, come to think of it. But he likes it, so all is well.
It was funny to watch them at the beginning. Two of the most brainy people in the wizarding world, each with more magical power than an entire pure-blood family, and both severely challenged in the show-your-feelings-department. It's not every day that the Glaring Bat blushes or is lost for words. But they spent months beating about the bush, and it became painful, so I felt obliged to take a leaf out of my old familiar's book and helped them a bit along. In the end, I just grabbed her and dropped her in the Bat's lap. Can you imagine my relief when they finally started snogging?
3. Dear god, how I hate them all. I’ve had an arsenic laden sherbert lemon sitting in the dish on my desk for years now; little do they know that they only way I can get through another sodding week at this hell-hole they laughingly refer to as a school is be getting them to play a complex game of Russian Roulette.
There was a nasty moment during the course of the sixth book when Harry started choking on one and I thought the jig was up. Fortunately a bit of sherbert had caught on the back of his throat. I always said it was a mistake to name the books Harry Potter and…… I was very disappointed when that JKR person said that for marketing reasons they couldn’t be called Dumbledore and the whatever foolish title she fancied.
Surely everyone knows the books are about me.
4. The thin red lines trailing on her cheek cause her to flinch, but she bites back yelps. I commend her for it, but I'm not terribly impressed. They're as shallow as paper cuts, they must only sting.
The slap across her face surprises her, as I had meant it too. All the breath is knocked out of her in a stunned 'whoosh' and those paper-thin lines on her face should burn white hot now. I used the flat of my palm; it should have opened them wider.
You bastard, you sick bastard! - I've never seen him so worked up in all my life. It surprises a laugh from me, but a disappointed one. That's what I had always admired about Snape; he was as steady as a rock. We were the two quiet shadows that flanked the doorway, watching everyone else in their pathetic giddy excitability. I thought we had that in common, comrade. Obviously not.
Well, you'll just have to relearn what you used to know. The hard way.
5. Oh, and there poor Severus is now. Almost lost him in the shadow. He does tend to blend in wearing all that black. Severus, you’d look so much younger if you stopped scowling all the time. There you go, doesn’t it feel nice to just relax for once. Oh, Severus, you deserve some happiness in this life. Ah, Severus, doesn’t Miss Granger look lovely today? Surprisingly black is a good colour on her. She’s twenty-seven years old, Severus. She’s not dating anyone. I don’t think she’s ever had a successful relationship. She’s looking for something, Severus. And you’re not taking the hint. You always were stubborn. I know you care for her.
There you go, good. Oh, I didn’t expect you to put your arm around her so soon, but you never were predictable. Ah, good, at least it didn’t startle her. No, indeed she seems quite receptive to it. A hug? Severus, I’ve never seen you hug anyone. Curious. Seems like something to investigate.
Apparating? Damn you, Severus. Do you know how difficult it is to follow someone when they Apparate? We spirits can’t do it that easily. Well, not us recently deceased. Here we go. You don’t mind a little detour, do you? Good. Just follow me. Be careful, I haven’t had much practice.
6. When I was five, Daddy, on Mum’s insistence and to my greatest pleasure, agreed to put on a Santa’s costume. There was some silly tradition instated by Headmistress McGonagall after the end of the Second War. Every year, a professor must play Santa, as it was a figure of both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Mum was having a hard time convincing him, but as soon as I overheard one of their conversations on the subject (or argument if you prefer), I jumped on his knees and begged him to “Please do Santa, Daddykins."
Even at that age, I knew there was not a thing he could refuse me when I was smiling like I did. So he just sighed and surrendered. Can you imagine it? With the long, white beard and the red robes. He even charmed a sleigh with reindeers to land in front of the Great Hall. I can still clearly remember the picture. He looked a bit embarrassed at first in front of all those people, delivering gifts in Santa’s outfit. Some were close family, and that was okay with him. Others were friends, and he could deal with that too. But the worst of all were the students. He couldn’t bear being laughed at by anyone. Except by me, maybe.
7. Mother's clock was an heirloom. It showed her our family. I had learnt when I was nine that it only showed the clock face to those who were on it and no one else. Anyone else viewing it would see a boring old clock.
My father looked worried and troubled on it, his hand was trapped in a new designation the clock had created: Imprisoned.
I was on it, looking about ten years old. Did she truly think I was so young? My hand was set to: Home.
I found it interesting that Aunt Bella wasn't on the clock, but Aunt Andromeda was. Aunt Andromeda's hand was also set to: Home. My cousin, a clumsy Half-blood named Nymphadora, was on there, too. Her hand was set to: Ministry.
The last hand was the one I was interested in, however. My godfather's face, stern and sour-looking, glared back at me. I smiled and his scowl increased. His hand was set to: Hogwarts.
I turned away from the clock as my mother stepped in, followed by Cappy, her personal Elf, floating a tea tray with my favourite jam tarts.
"Please sit, son."
I did, carefully taking the seat facing the clock, back to the window.
8. “I’m sorry about this,” Green Eyes had said on more than one occasion. And he actually sounded sorry. I suspected it was because I could no longer attempt to kill him. “But he insists that you’re not getting anything until he has a word with you. Beats me as to how he’s going to do it, as he refuses to go through me. You’d think that coming back from the dead would have made him a little less bitter over stupid grudges, but no…”
The he in question was the other constant presence in my basement room, and he was a familiar one. I always liked it when Tom had spoken his name over the many years that he and Dark Man had been acquaintances. The pretty name had been replete with nearly as many hissing sounds as genuine Parseltongue.
Dark Man sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room, just far enough away that I would have forgotten that he was there were it not for the regular waves of hatred that emanated from his body.
9. The only window in this nice, warm room faced east, and on the windowsill the old man had placed a wooden tractor. He loved my master from the first moment on. Maybe he loved him even before.
And my master felt safe in his bright and sunny room. The sunbeams tickled his nose, and he always woke with a sneeze. My master loved the sun. He always tried to catch the light, and I had to prevent him from falling to the ground more than once. I am intelligent; I know that little babies must not fall to the floor.
He was such a cute little boy. Whenever his grandfather entered the room, my master smiled all over his face and raised his little arms to be lifted up and thrown high into the air. His grandfather never dropped him, luckily – I would have bumped his shins if he hadn't been careful!
Beautiful times. I know my master sometimes dreams of this happy past – he sleeps deep and peaceful then, doesn't toss and turn like he normally does. I can feel the smile on his face when he dreams of his granddad. But it happens so very rarely. I fear he is about to forget the old man.
Well, his grandfather died when my master was five years old, and from then on, things went downhill.
10. I was young once. Young and naïve. Who would have thought the simple act of answering an advertisement in the Daily Scale would have changed my life? And not for the better. Before I knew it, I was locked into a ten-year contract with the lousiest job description I had ever seen. The pay was pants, and the hours were crap. I suspect Imperio was involved somewhere along the line. I mean, eating people, for fuck’s sake! I am a vegetarian!