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:
Semantics by coffeeonthepatio
The Thing With Wings by bluewillow
Heart over Mind by Regann
Advanced Contemporary Potion Making by lariopefic
Sometimes the Best Things Come in Small Packages by ancientgirl
Looking for Magic by hypnobarb1 WIP
Round Midnight by Domina
A Matter of Honor by McAmy
A Time for Goodbyes by gersknightlady
Dances with Witches by pearle9240 WIP
Pen Pals by redfrog
No Music More Enchanting by karelia
1. When the first day of class arrived, Hermione was amused to note that she was actually nervous. It had been some time since she’d been in a classroom—even longer since she’d studied anything at which she wasn’t already an expert—and that old need to prove herself was beginning to assert itself. Of course, these days, she thought she could restrain the urge to wave her hand in the air at every question. In fact, she thought, as she walked into the laboratory, it might be better not to sit in the front row. She was a conspicuous persona even without her tendency to participate enthusiastically in class, and she wouldn’t want to create a distraction. And perhaps, she thought a bit ruefully, she could use the reminder to sit back and listen.
That classroom was nearly full, but she spotted a workstation with an open seat toward the rear and made her way toward the table and its only occupant, a stringy-looking wizard in shirtsleeves, with long black hair in a queue down his back. He had a sour, beaky face, and in a way, he reminded her of Snape, which she supposed was vaguely appropriate for a potions class. She’d already set her notebook on the table and begun to pull out the chair when she realized that it was Snape, and she froze.
She wasn’t at all sure what to say, and it was impossible to pretend she hadn’t seen him when she was standing less than three feet away¬¬—and equally impossible to retreat now that she’d begun to seat herself.
“Hello, sir,” she managed, sliding into her chair. She opened her notebook to the first page and began to root around in her bag for a quill. She wasn’t sure that she could look at him without staring, and she was already trying to brace herself for whatever he might say to her.
“Miss Granger. What a pleasant surprise,” he said in a tone that indicated it was anything but, barely cutting his eyes in her direction.
2. By the end of September, Hermione had settled into a new routine at Mywoods, and though she still found herself thinking about Hogwarts from time to time, she was happy. Her article was almost ready to be mailed to Martin Rochester, the managing editor of Ars Alchemica, and though she knew there was a good chance it wouldn't be accepted (the work was still very much in progress, and she was, after all, only a first-year university student; even though he was Snape's acquaintance, it was a long-shot), she was pleased with it. Her classes for the term were going well: she had Arithmancy, Potions, History of Magic (and without Professor Binns, it was actually interesting), Herbology, Charms, and an elective of Muggle Literature. She had looked forward to the literature class regardless of the particular subject matter, but was thrilled when she saw that the Professor--Anne Harwood--had chosen to focus on British Novels of the Nineteenth Century. Hermione's favorite authors came from that period, and though she had taken Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, fewer students here raised an eyebrow if you admitted to being truly interested in the topic.
Best of all, Hermione had made a close friend on the very first day of class. Almost late for their Herbology lesson, she and Greg had literally smashed into each other just outside the door. Books and parchment went flying, but instead of being angry, Hermione had found herself laughing with Greg and trying to sneak quietly in at the back of the greenhouse before Professor Thorne had come to their names on the roster.
From then on, she and Greg had been inseparable--to the point that Greg's partner, Bill, complained that he was jealous.
3. He had surprised her - that much was clear. She looked at him, eyes wide and puzzled. "Now I don't follow you, Professor. What do I have to do with Voldemort?"
"You have nothing to do with Voldemort personally, that's obvious," he answered. "No, it's your work that seems connected and it's because of that that I need your help. I found myself reading your doctorate thesis on quantum alchemy last week - and for the delay, you have my apologies. I'm well aware that the deadline for my response to the examining board is not far away and - before you ask - no, what I am about to ask of you will have no bearing on my report back to the university on the thesis."
Hermione sat back down on the sofa as he spoke, watching him intently and clutching the book, her arms hugging it protectively. He wondered idly whether she was protecting the book or herself, using it as a shield. "You're the external examiner? Yes, of course you would be. Stupid of me not to have thought of that," she said almost to herself. "Go on," she added quietly, "what do you need my help for?"
"Your work on quantum alchemy, and its relevance to synchronicity in particular, make me think that perhaps immortality is not what Voldemort seeks. It would be a useful byproduct but not the end in itself. It seemed to me that - if I am reading your work correctly - there would be the potential there for him, once he has achieved the transmutation required, to force anyone to do anything that he wants, using synchronicity as a form of Imperio. Manipulating matter at the quantum level."
4. Avalon's campus consisted of several converted office buildings in downtown Chicago, not too far from DePaul University. As such, there wasn't a campus that could be distinguished from the surrounding area. It fit in with Avalon College's "hide in plain sight" philosophy. The Muggle students attending DePaul and the wizarding students attending Avalon were indistinguishable as they mingled on the streets.
There were a multitude of shops and restaurants in the area, along with bars, coffee houses, movie theaters, comedy clubs and other forms of entertainment. The streets were crowded with traffic and pedestrians. Harry and Hermione had to give Ron quick training on the use of traffic lights in crossing streets. After spending seven years at Hogwarts completely isolated from the Muggle world, it was overwhelming to be around so many people. The buildings were enormous and packed close together. There was a park nearby, but in other areas there were only small patches of grass and trees. Harry called it the anti-Hogwarts, especially since there was no Quidditch pitch in sight.
By the time they found the library and the building where Hermione's computer class would be held, it was suppertime for Ron and Harry and lunchtime for Hermione. The six-hour time difference between England and Chicago already affected them. Hermione planned to stay up until 8 PM local time, which would be 2 AM in England. She hoped by Monday she would be sufficiently adjusted to the time difference to cope.
5. Severus sagged with relief into his chair. “I never thought you’d approve.”
“I can’t say it’s not a damn shock, Severus. But Hermione is an adult and much more mature than her fellow students ever were. She has always known what she wanted, and she works hard to get it. Why are you so frantic about this all?”
“The Ministry refused to let us connect our Floos. I have not seen her in three months. Contrary to your belief that I am the strongest man around, as you told me as I recovered from Nagini’s bite, I have fears that she will lose interest in me because of my age. She’s in college for God’s sake, Minerva, surrounded by virile young men.”
Minerva forced herself not to laugh or even smile, hiding the emotion behind a cough. Seeing a vulnerable Severus was quite a sight and a relief. The man was human after all.
“She’s in Cambridge, right? Severus, take the weekend off and go see her. Floo to the Ministry, and then go from there. I’ll find someone else for hall duty,” she told him.
“Seriously, Minerva?” He seemed to relax. He’d been strung as tight as a bow when he’d entered the room.
“Go now. Perhaps you can spend the entire weekend. Friday night included.” She stood.
Severus stood and did something Minerva never thought she’d ever see. He grabbed her up, swung her around, and kissed her soundly on the cheek before running from the room like a Love Potion drunk teenager.
“I’ll be,” Albus said quite merrily.
“Indeed,” she replied, grinning up at him.
6. Life at Trinity College was generally a pleasant one and her classes were the type for which she had always dreamed: challenging, engaging and deeply intellectual. As part of her general education requirements, she had to study a variety of subjects and her first term's classes consisted of Advanced Transfiguration, History of Magical Britain, Advanced Theoretical Arithomancy, Orientation to Mediwizardry and Medicinal Potions. With the exception of Arithomancy and her two mediwizardry periods, her classes were mostly to fulfill those general collegiate requirements.
The only drawback to the new campus was her dorm mate, a snotty Anglo-French witch named Giselle Boisvert, a sophomore at Trinity seeking a degree in Astronomy. Despite the fact that she was dark-haired and dark-eyed, her whole countenance put Hermione in mind of Draco Malfoy: sleek, studied and snobbish, with a tangible air of supposed superiority about her. Giselle had spent the first two days of classes squabbling over closet space and regaling everyone who would listen about her impressive international -- and completely magical -- lineage which spanned Britain, France, Germany and Northern Italy. Hermione, whose maternal grandmother's family hailed from Sicily and had roots which could be traced through Italian, Arab, Norman and Greek -- but Muggle -- families, was unimpressed. Her dorm mate had become swiftly disinterested in Hermione's own background once the word 'muggle' had been mentioned and she suspected Giselle of holding Malfoy's own prejudice against Muggleborns. Not that it actually mattered to Hermione, since anyone who held such antiquated and uninformed opinions were beneath her in very way which mattered.
Luckily, Giselle was in the minority at the internationally-oriented university and Hermione quickly found a kindred spirit in her HoMB study partner, an American who planned to pursue history degrees from both Trinity and a nearby Muggle college.
7. Thursday rolled around faster than Hermione would have thought possible. She had just moved back into her University flat the day before and would be starting her third and final year at Cambridge next week. The program was at an accelerated level. It encompassed intensive class work for three years and then a one-year hands-on internship. She was carrying a double major of potions and charms. Her advisor said she could complete the charms course by correspondence while satisfying her internship. Once a month she would be required to return to Cambridge for testing on her Charms skills. She had always excelled at Charms and did not think meeting these requirements would pose any difficulties for her. The young witch was busier than she would have liked tonight. She had a final dance lesson with an elderly wizard who wanted to surprise his witch with his dancing ability on their 90th anniversary. Professor Snape's third dance lesson was also tonight. To top it off, the dance exposition was Saturday and she started classes on Monday. She sighed heavily wishing she knew a charm to make the day thirty-six hours long.
8. The day before lectures started was spent with working out the easiest and least time-consuming strategy of getting to and from the university. Taking the U-Bahn was out of the question—neither witch was used to any length of commutes nor the crowds commuting involved during rush hours. Finding a sufficiently deserted area nearby to Apparate into proved impossible. Eventually, Luna made out a large oak tree with a wide canopy at the far back of the university grounds.
“I guess it’ll have to do for now.” Hermione sighed. They would have to find another place once the tree lost its leaves, but at least it was an adequate solution for now.
The following morning, Hermione and Luna Apparated from the Blutenburg garden to the grass patch underneath the oak tree. A tall man, wearing a long black coat, his shoulder-length black hair waving in the light breeze, hurried towards the building just as the girls arrived. “I wonder if he’s a wizard, too,” Luna whispered. “It looks as if he came from right here, and the car park is on the other side, so he can’t have come by car!”
“Oh, I don’t know, Luna... There is a gate over there, maybe he walked through that.” Hermione pointed to the gate, but her friend shook her head as if certain he had Apparated. He reminded her of someone, but she could not quite place him.
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough if there are other wizards or witches here,” Hermione said, and they started walking to the building, then concentrated on finding the Department of Organic Chemistry and Multicomponent Reactions, which was the first lecture of the day and in fact the only one for the two witches on Tuesdays. Hermione was thankful it was a rather relaxing timetable with just one main subject. She’d be able to concentrate on it and have time for other pursuits.
Having found the classroom with mere seconds to spare before the lecture was due to start, Hermione and Luna sat down at the last desk available in the first row.
Luna wrinkled her nose. “It looks like we’ll have to pay attention in this one, so close to the front,” she whispered.
9. "Oooh, Professor look at these, they are gorgeous." Hermione said reverently running her hands over the polished wood of two beautiful boxes. They were beautiful mahogany boxes with hinged lids. Even Severus appreciated their aesthetic qualities. "These would make wonderful letter boxes." She told him, wondering if he would consent to write to her as well.
"What type of letter boxes do you mean?" He asked her realizing she meant something more than just to store old letters in.
"Albus has made letter boxes for me and a few friends that are linked so that we can keep in touch with me being so far away. They were smaller than these but I would love to be able to have a larger one that could transport small items as well." She explained that she most likely would not be back to visit the entire length of her schooling.
"4 years must seem like a very long time to be away from home," he told her wondering if he should ask Albus for a charmed box as well. The young woman was fascinating and he always enjoyed intelligent discourse.
"Actually I am pursuing two masteries so it will take between 5 and 7 years, depending on how involved I want to become." She told him with a small smile at his shocked look. She knew there were very few who had the fortitude to pursue multiple masteries as one was difficult enough. "I am planning on sitting for both Transfiguration and Potions."
Severus was shocked that she was going into his field. He had been hearing Minerva brag for weeks about how her star pupil was following in her footsteps and that she was giving her private tutoring. "If you are pursuing potions perhaps you would not mind if Albus charmed a letter box for me as well. It may help you to have an outside expert to consult on some of your work." He wondered if she would even wish to keep in touch.
"I would greatly appreciate that sir," she told him with a huge smile. "I had been hoping to ask you but was unsure how to broach the topic. Let's take these wonderful boxes to Albus and have him charm them.
10. Hermione sat on the Low Library steps at Columbia University, hugging her knees. The sky was post-card blue on this absurdly beautiful, brisk September day. She was surrounded by groups of other students – some were sitting nearby, joking back and forth, whilst others ran to classes, drinking coffee out of paper cups, or lounged on the grass and chatted each other up. It's almost like the war never happened, she reflected. Well, at least, for them it hadn't. Not here, not these people. Everyone here has somewhere to go, somewhere to be.
Somehow, she felt even more alone now than she had her first term at Hogwarts. She hadn't thought that would be possible. Maybe there's some club I can join for first years, or international students . . . Maybe the Department of Magical Co-operation has a list of places where wizards meet in this area. But, even so . . . She looked wistfully after a group of students she recognised from her dormitory as they laughed and talked excitedly . . . and walked right by her without a glance. How do people make friends, anyway?
Her mind took a rueful turn; even if she could find someone Magical her age, she had just left the whole British Isles full of them and hadn't been terribly impressed. The ones who had been through the war with her and understood . . . but that chapter was closed. Ah well, better get a move on or I'll be late. She walked along in a distracted manner until she reached the building for her next lecture. She had just reached the door, when a gust of wind blew her lecture timetable from the top book in her stack. It drifted lazily to the ground.
My schedule! She quickly stooped down to salvage the errant paper and was just closing her fingers around it when someone bumped rather forcefully into her, nearly causing her to lose her balance.
She heard an aggrieved voice. "I beg your pardon!" The voice was posh, English, and dripping with the exaggerated politeness used to highlight a gaucherie.
Something familiar in the tone made her head snap up, and it wasn't just hearing a fellow Brit. Her eyes widened in shock.
Bloody hell! It's Professor Snape!