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:
Snow Queen by ourglasslake
The Blameless Vestal's Lot by mundungus42
This Time by subversa
If the Shoe Fits by ginny_weasley31
Masquerade Ball by CalleighRox
The Tale of the Fairy Queen and the Ordinary Man by madeleone
Lady of the Masque by chivalric55
I Swear It's Not What It Looks Like by joshua_glass
Masquerade by Windblown.child
Paper Faces on Parade by SS Lupin
A Masked Beginning by Saturn (A Round Robin group of authors)
Logical Love by PinkBunny
1. Ron glanced at the illuminated manuscript from which she'd created the deceptively simple wool overdress. "It's supposed to go below the waist."
She threw up her arms in frustration. "What waist? I haven't got one now!"
"Well, try it like this." Ron wrapped the cord around her lower back and tied it beneath her swollen belly. He stood back to admire his handiwork.
"There, you look…" he trailed off, looking for an appropriate adjective.
"Like a diseased gourd."
"Well, what about if you tie it here, above Hugo?"
"The bliaud's design is all wrong for that," she explained impatiently. "See, it'd look way too modern tied below the bust, plus the front would gap open."
"Then just leave it off. You look fine without it"
Hermione gave her husband a look. "We're going to a masked ball tonight, and thanks to the Malfoys' perfect timing, there's no way in any circle of hell that I can look pretty. I can't look sexy or mysterious- none of the things a girl is supposed to be able to do at a masked ball. And if I can't have any of that, then I'm going to damn well be historically accurate!"
2. “Who might you be tonight?”
“I am Titania, the Queen of the fairies. And who might you be, good sir.”
“Just an ordinary man, your grace. Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Dancing across the crowded ballroom, Hermione wondered who her partner actually was. That was the nice thing about masquerade balls; no one would ever guess that the vibrant, beautiful, sexy, scantily clad fairy queen was actually Plain-Jane Hermione Granger. For one night she could live the fantasy.
The unfortunate part was that if she met someone really interesting she might never figure out who he was.
3. But…but… He was so… black! Hair black, eyes black, clothes black, shoes black. "Lack of imagination," Snape grumbled. "A bit of red here and there would certainly do much to break the ice."
Hang on – which ice? He wasn't going anywhere, and he would be rather found dead than wearing anything red. Not even under his robes. Especially not under his robes!
Never. Absolutely not.
Still, he had to attend the ball. And if he went there as himself, Albus would scold him. And twinkle as well.
He hated to be scolded. And he loathed the twinkle in the headmaster's eyes when he oh, so friendlily told him, Severus Snape, Potions master at Hogwarts, that usually at Halloween everyone made an effort not only to dress up, but to dress up as someone else.
Bastard. Dumbledore knew unerringly that everyone under any circumstances would always recognise the great bat of the dungeons, whatever his costume. He was too tall. Too pale. Too grumbly. And too black, of course.
Maybe, if he took a shower…
4. Determined to not stand alone for the entire dance for the 10th time running, Hermione approached the solitary figure, taking in what she could see about him. His face was covered by a black feather mask with a comically long nose, and he wore long black robes. His hair was black and long, down to his shoulders, probably a wig, part of the masquerade. Even his hands were clad in black, soft leather gloves.
The dark eyes shining out from the mask followed her progress across the hall until she stopped next to him. They both watched the revolving mass of colors before them.
"Don't you have a dance partner?" He asked, his voice reaching her despite the music.
"I haven't found one that keeps me interested." She answered.
"And what does it take to keep you interested?"
"Intelligent conversation, an attention span longer than three minutes, and no horrid stalker fans." Hermione huffed thinking of the other two parts of the Golden Trio.
When the music changed the stranger held out his hand. "Allow me to try to keep you interested."
5. Dean leant towards them, away from Parvati, who was whispering and giggling with Lavender. 'But how will we know which girl is which?' he whispered. 'What if you mean to talk to one girl, and by mistake you spend the night talking to the wrong one?'
Neville turned a concerned face to his roommate. 'I hadn't thought of that,' he admitted. 'I guess the blokes with girlfriends will have it even worse than the blokes without—think of the trouble you'd be in for dancing with the wrong girl all night …'
Dean looked horrified at the notion, but Severus snorted in disgust. 'It would serve them all right if we stay in and play Knut-ante Wizard's Sweat,' he said.
Neville brightened. 'I'll do it if you do, Adin,' he said determinedly.
Severus slanted a glance at the round-faced Longbottom, of whom he had become rather protectively fond in the last two months. 'But you want a girlfriend,' he pointed out. 'This would be the perfect time for you to chat up a girl without worrying that you'll say the wrong thing. She won't know who you are—you can be anyone you want to be for a few hours.'
Neville's eyes grew contemplative as Severus spoke, and Severus couldn't help but be drawn by his own words. It was just one night … for just one night, he could be just any other seventeen-year-old boy out for an adventure with a willing girl. That wouldn't be interference, would it? A bit of snogging never hurt anyone—and he could leave before the unmasking—then neither he nor the girl would ever know who the other was.
'What's the harm in that?' he said to Neville, but his eyes had wandered again to Hermione.
6. Hermione donned her mask before Apparating to the Ministry. Tonight was a very special night. After ten years in office, Kingsley Shacklebolt had decided to step down as Minister. In the ensuing campaign, Arthur Weasley had come out the winner by a landslide victory. Arthur had been sworn in earlier that day and had declared that his celebratory ball was to be a masquerade.
Hermione was truly excited for Arthur. He had worked hard to gain respect, and this was the culmination of all his hard work. The masquerade affair, however, was something she wasn't sure about. She was uneasy about mingling with people who could turn out to be anyone. She shrugged. That was the fun of it, she supposed.
One thing she was very impressed with was the masks that had been supplied with the invitations. They had been furnished by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Hers was silver and covered her upper face, but left her mouth exposed. The amazing thing about the seemingly innocuous mask was that it was charmed to place a glamour over the wearer. The mask changed the wearer's hair, eye color and voice so no one would guess who the partygoer was. Hermione had laughed when she'd tried out her mask and her voice had sunk to a low, sultry timbre. Then there was her glamoured hair and blue eyes. She ran her fingers through the long, blonde, straight locks as she readied herself to leave. What she wouldn't give to have straight hair like that!
Might as well enjoy it while I can, she thought.
7. “A Masquerade Ball Albus?” Hermione finally spoke; she was the first person to recover from her shock.
“Yes. Everyone will be masked until midnight. Then all masks must be removed. You may wear concealing robes or cloaks until midnight as well to help keep you identities a secret.” His eyes twinkled, as he looked at all the Professors.
“Do we have to go Sir?” Severus spoke silkily, a frown causing his black eyebrows to curve together and the corners of his thin lips to move downwards.
Harry answered before Dumbledore could, “Well, its not like you have anything better to do right?”
Severus bit back a barely concealed growl at The-Boy-Who-Was-Going-To-Bite-The-Dust-V
Hermione tried to keep a straight face as she stared down at the tabletop. Actually, they had made plans. Plans that had involved copious amounts of whipped topping, chocolate, and a silver and green satin teddy that Severus had bought her for her birthday last year. They would just have to attend the Ball early and leave before midnight.
“Oh yes.” Dumbledore as they all stood with relief to leave at the end of the meeting. “Anyone who thinks they can skip out before midnight will be magically unmasked before they leave. So, don’t try.” He smiled benignly at Hermione as if he knew what she had been thinking.
8. 'Well if it's full costume he wants then it shall be full costume' he muttered to himself as he altered his costume here and there, he wanted to be absolutely sure no one would be able to recognise him, he couldn't have his students whispering about him willingly attending such an event even though he was accustomed to them growing up, as a child his mother held many balls and dinners at their manor home.
Once he was finally happy he would not be recognised he quietly left his rooms in the dungeons and walked along the dark deserted corridors quickly and silently so as not to be noticed until he got into the great hall.
He slipped inconspicuously into the great hall and over to a dark corner so as not to be noticed for as long as possible, it was not long however before Dumbledore wandered over and coaxed him out of the shadows and to have a glass of wine.
Snape accepted the drink and decided he'd drink it slowly from the side lines and check for any attempts to take points from students, that is, until Dumbledore told him he was not allowed to tonight. Severus stood to the side with his drink and muttered about the old fool going senile and taking away his one pleasure of torturing students.
9. "Well, why don't you go as a me?!" the mermaid squealed, flipping her fins from within the painting on the Prefects' bathroom wall. Hermione rolled her eyes as she hung the damp towel up to dry and reached into her bag for her clothes.
She pulled a thick jumper over her head, fighting to keep the untamed curls out of her face. "Honestly, who in their right mind would go as a mermaid to a masquerade?"
She looked utterly offended.
"I'll have you know that mermaids are thought to be the most seductive, beautiful, alluring..."
Hermione was dressed and halfway out the door before the mermaid could finish her long list of amazing attributes.
Seductive, beautiful, alluring, she thought with a snort. I'm not any of those things. She followed the familiar trek to Gryffindor Tower, words echoing through her mind. Maybe Ron and Harry were right... I need to go as something that represents who I am.
This thought alone saddened her, for Hermione Granger was not a confident girl. She had many insecurities despite her intellect, so it was difficult for her to come up with a positive, beautiful creation that she alone could embody perfectly.
As she passed by the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw dormitories, a familiar statue caught her eye. Hermione had assumed since the day she'd arrived at Hogwarts that it was of Rowena Ravenclaw, until one day upon further inspection she found it to have no significance of any kind. It was merely a lovely statue that happened to represent the founder of that particular house very well.
The woman was elegant in her own way, without being unbelievably beautiful or delicate. She held a fox in her right hand, which Hermione knew from Ancient Runes was a long standing symbol of wisdom. Her eyes stared blankly ahead, empty yet full of the secrets she'd seen in the halls of Hogwarts.
"A statue," Hermione muttered.
With a triumphant smile, she bounded the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower.
10. And so Severus found himself, half an hour later, standing in front of the same mirror, with feathery wings and a large beak. He had run through all the major wizarding figures he could remember that weren't too obviously Dark, but without Polyjuice to disguise his distinctive features, his efforts came across as more like overly-gaudy outfits than costumes appropriate for a party. In frustration, Severus had then moved toward the ridiculous, transforming his lean frame into a broomstick, a wand (he dismissed those two as far too phallic for his tastes), and a bat. He laughed aloud at the sight of himself with the thin-skinned bat wings, knowing full well some of the nicknames his students had for him. He decided to take it another step, feathering the wings (and transfiguring the dark hair on his chest and belly into more feathers) and lengthening his already-large nose into a true beak. His black trousers, he decided, would be perfect. He transfigured a quill into a black, feathered mask, pulled his hair back, and swept toward the door.
It felt very odd to Severus, walking through the dungeons essentially half-naked and robe-less. The feathers covering the upper half of his body did a good job of keeping him warm, but the knowledge that his customary buttons and layers were no longer protecting him was disconcerting.