Original Magical Device Quiz
Do you recall bambu345’s mishima box in Calling Card?? It is an original magical device that our ever so creative fan fiction authors have dreamed up. And there are lots more out there, so grab your wand and let's go!
Many thanks to morethansirius for thinking up the idea for this quiz & to Shug for her fixing up of my dismal intro paragraphs.
The Apprentice and the Necromancer by JunoMagic (WIP)
The Couch by machshefa
Pet Project by Caeria (WIP)
Little Book of Charms by Ramora (WIP)
Santuary by Warded_Portal
Soul Searching by Quilluison
Naked Journey by PlaidPooka
Room of Lost Dreams by mundungus42
At Any Moment by OzRatBag2
Scarborough Arithmancy by LillithJ
Morning Has Broken by Bambu345
Dances With Witches by Pearle9420 (WIP)
Courtesy of Your Fair God Jarvey by Dracontia
1. She’d given me an assessing once-over, and had asked in her rough voice, “You’re a Muggle-born, aren’t you?”
I’d stiffened at the question. I didn’t know her at all well, even if she was Professor Vector’s friend. But the war was over, and I had chosen to take the question at face value. “Yes. Does that matter?”
“Just verifying data.” Meg had opened a tall, black, corner cupboard revealing shelves upon shelves of books, spinning as if they were on a carousel. “Muggle-borns, Granger,” she’d demanded.
The shelves had ceased to spin, and a single, slender volume had obligingly thrust itself off the shelf and into her hands. I’d been entranced… I’d been in lust…
I’d wanted one of those cupboards fiercely.
I’d been too busy trying to read the titles on the shelves to notice when Meg had finished her fact-checking. Her harsh bark of laughter had grabbed my attention, though.
“If you decide to accept our offer, Miss Granger, and if the rest of the team agrees on your inclusion, then your office will have a book nook.” She’d patted the side of the cupboard and the books had begun to spin once again.
“Do I need to bring my books into the office then?”
“I don’t think you understand. These nooks are directly connected with the Ministry’s central library. We have access to a copy of every magical book printed since before Gutenberg decided to educate Muggles.”
Just the concept of having such a wealth of knowledge available to me had sweetened whatever offer the Unfathomables might have made. Invariably, it has become one of Meg’s standing jokes. “I’m not sure we ever needed to pay Hermione a salary. She’d have donated her time just to have access to the book nook.”
It took me a year before I realized every Unfathomable felt exactly the same way.
2. ‘Well, other than being a book of cross words, what are you?’
This is a journal containing research notes far beyond your comprehension.
Hermione was amused to note that her derisive snort had been transcribed as ‘Hmph.’ ‘Oh really?’
Unless I have the honour of addressing someone of Masters level or higher, you can sod off.
‘You’re technically addressing a Dictoquill. However, I could be convinced to give you my academic credentials in exchange for the subject of your research.’
No, and that ploy was utterly obvious. You must be a Gryffindor.
Hermione frowned. The book must have been made by a Ravenclaw or Slytherin to have embraced that particular stereotype. She thought fast. ’Well, if you’re content being lost in the mists of time, I’m happy to help by Transfiguring you into a rock and throwing you in the lake.’
3. That earned her a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Her curiosity knew no bounds. "On my honour, I did nothing. You, on the other hand, seem to have awakened a very old spell, one that my family was convinced was consigned to the pages of history."
"A betrothal spell." Her frantic motions ceased abruptly, and just as abruptly the bed relaxed around her, letting her sink deeper into its grasp.
"More than that, but yes. You were there for more than a shag, weren't you?"
"Severus, I never thought that you..."
He laid a single finger over her mouth. "You had larceny in your heart, Auror Granger."
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. What was it Tonks had told her? Never date a Legilimens? Her voice became a whisper. "I -- meant no disrespect."
"I know. I know. And neither did I." His long fingers pushed through the coils until he could rest his hands at her waist. He bent even closer, breathing her breath, brushing his cheek against hers. "I had no idea you were so -- intent."
"And I wasn't expecting an archaeological expedition into your attics after a trip to the pub! I thought we'd go back and sit on your sofa for a bit!"
"Is that all?" He whispered into her ear, sending a wave of heat skimming over her skin.
She wanted to reach for him, wanted to touch him, but her wrists were held fast. The bed felt her begin to relinquish control and slowly, her hands were extended away from her body. "Severus, the bed --"
"The bed thinks you are suitable breeding stock -- typical of you to exceed expectations -- and it believes you are well-suited to continuing the Prince line. The enchantments would never have awakened had you not had that very thought in your head." He smoothed his hands down her arms and the coils fell away from her wrists.
4. “What was all that about, Severus?” asked Hermione as they walked down the alleyway, the shopping basket bobbing merrily between them.
“It’s very rare,” he said, “but sometimes they get a rogue basket. The charm they use can start to deteriorate, and the basket will attach itself to a particular customer.”
“Can we do anything about it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You could try burning it, but you’d probably be followed everywhere by its ashes.”
“Poor thing!” said Hermione, looking down at it. “Well, we don’t want to do that, and I expect you’ll be very useful.”
Severus muttered something unintelligible; the basket took it as a threat and smartly slipped to the far side of Hermione.
“Well, it’s definitely yours,” he said sourly, watching it. “I think you’ve been adopted!”
“By a shopping basket?” said Hermione, laughing. “We’d better give you a name, hadn’t we?” she said to it.
“Oh, God,” groaned Severus. “Hermione, you are not to start a society for broken-down shop furniture!”
“I think I’ll call you - Basket!” she decided, ignoring him, and Basket skipped with joy.
“Another devoted follower,” muttered Severus, but Hermione did not hear.
5. I settle back on the cushions and draw the sheet up over me, the sudden hum of intense desire flickering under my skin like electricity. It's shockingly arousing to know for certain that he wants me, that he feels the same pull that I do. To know that it isn't just in the books, just part of a fantasy. It won't make it any easier to take the leap, for him or for me, but it might give me the courage to do it and not back down.
That's a question for later, though.
I draw my knees to my chest, wishing for my copy of The WIKTT Archives; I know he has one somewhere, but I don't know where, and I don't want to pry. I've pried enough into this man's life without his knowledge.
Then I see my bag at the foot of the sofa. The house elves must have brought it; I'd forgotten it as soon as my conversation with the Headmaster revealed that Severus was in danger.
I have it in my lap in an instant, and with only a few moments' rummage, I have it.
I've used a Shrinking Spell on it to store it, for it's larger than ever, and I don't want to risk leaving it in my apartment where my roommate might find it and start a rumor that would surely make life at SCAI hell for me- Hermione Granger took her name from a book of dirty stories! Either that or she's inspired one, and the stories are all true!!
6. Well, here goes nothing, he thought.
“Greetings, Endless Warm Towel Dispenser. I am Blueleaf, Fairy Godfather (Journeyman First-Class, Pixie Division). Due to your recent heroic actions and acquisition of sentience, I am here to grant your heart’s desire,” he recited dutifully.
The Towel Dispenser tingled with a sense of wonder and gratitude, as it wordlessly conveyed its request.
…
“Eeek! This sink is cold!” Hermione squealed.
Suddenly, they heard a soft click, almost like an apologetic cough of interruption. Severus turned, noticing (for the first time) the most unusual Towel Dispenser. A particularly thick, soft and warm-looking towel descended from the device’s aperture.
Hermione’s tongue on his earlobe brought him back to more important matters than the disquietingly bizarre yet familiar appearance of that bathroom fixture. With a flourish, he snatched the towel from the machine and lovingly tucked it under her bum with a bit rolled up behind her, so as to protect her from the cold porcelain and the protruding taps.
…
“Oh, love, that was exhilarating,” Hermione whispered, as she smoothed her robes carefully. “But I have to say, I found that iridescent purple, ruby and emerald encrusted Endless Warm Towel Dispenser just a little distracting.”
7. I feel honoured and privileged that you have chosen me a second time within this existence known as a lifetime. Once at the beginning of endless promises, and now towards the end with its unremitting grief and false praise.
I feel humbled, I feel wistful and I also feel very old.
I am aware, if you had not realised, that one of your recipients was worried about your intent. She was bemused and irritated by my reaction, but there is naught to worry about.
She is a splendid choice. I can only hope the other four, myself included, are worthy of such trust.
Twice in one hundred and thirty years to make an appearance is indeed unusual. Before I had the pleasure of your acquaintance in my youth, it had been over two hundred years since your last foray. It leaves me questioning why you would appear so soon after your last visit.
I am not so old to know that such a query is not worthy, but I am curious. You will no doubt let the others in on your secret in your own good time.
I am not so arrogant, as my clock slows, to question your presence as an idle curiosity. You were never idle, were you, Arcanus?
Silly of me to expect a reply when I already know the answer.
Yes.
So you have been listening.
8. Court ushers in grey robes and with grey wands directed the Chalice of Neith to the centre of the courtroom including the burgundy-coloured velvet that covered its pedestal in heavy folds and the wooden plinth itself.
The bailiff banged the gavel and Justice Andromeda Tonks-Black sat back down at the centre of the judges' balcony. Once again, Hermione was struck by how much she resembled her dead sister. Especially since the striking difference between the two women, namely Andromeda's benign and genuinely kind expression had faded with the bitterness of grief, leaving harsh lines and cold eyes behind.
After Harry and Ace had accepted Andromeda's proposition on behalf of their clients and the Probations Official also agreed to submit to the verdict of the Chalice of Neith, the presiding justice of the Court of Probations sat down to draft the question.
Between muted coughs and whispers from the audience, Hermione could hear the scratching of the quill's tip on the parchment. The strange, artificial tranquillity induced by another dose of Calming Draught was gripping her mind. She felt as if she was watching herself from above, looking down at both herself and Severus, as they sat unmoving, opposite each other, waiting for the judge to complete her work.
9. To say the Mapparium is a magical calculator isn't quite accurate; it is more than a calculator and more than a model. To those who can control it, it is magic itself -- a map that can be drawn and redrawn to form whatever the caster wants. Such an advanced level of control requires a balance of dark and light, usually requiring more than one witch or wizard. A couple can do it, but documents have speculated that a Trio is the ultimate in magical balance -- a fulcrum that balances two ends
"I say, my dear, Miss Granger isn't here? I would have thought she'd have fixed us a veritable feast," Barnabas repeated his question. He was used to Felicity's 'deafness.' She, like all the other residents, lived for her work, and it often took her a few moments to register conversations about subjects other than Newton's First Principle of Magical Energy.
"No, my dear," she replied. Her head didn't lift from the Arithmantic proof she was reading. "She is out for an evening with an old school chum, a Hufflepuff - dinner, and a moving afterward. I've owled Meg to come and assist us in resetting the Mapparium."
10. He felt, at turns, a bit sorry for each of them. Hermione was going to have her hands full with his sly friend; that was a fact. Severus on the other hand, was patently unused to love of any sort. He was reserved even with those professors he called friend. Having an exuberant young witch like Hermione in love with him was going to throw him right off his head. Albus allowed himself another chuckle.
Suddenly, both oft-watched clock hands began a slow and unstoppable movement. Albus’ expression grew wary. Perhaps they were only arriving home at last? His face fell as both hands stopped firmly in “Deadly Peril.”
“Oh my children…what have you done?”
******************************************
Severus saw the beast first. He halted immediately on the path, stopping Hermione as well with their still clasped hands.
“Hermione,” he said with quiet urgency, “my love, do not move.”
Only three miles from home and safety, fate stopped them in their tracks. On the path before them stood a minotaur.
Many thanks to morethansirius for thinking up the idea for this quiz & to Shug for her fixing up of my dismal intro paragraphs.
The Apprentice and the Necromancer by JunoMagic (WIP)
The Couch by machshefa
Pet Project by Caeria (WIP)
Little Book of Charms by Ramora (WIP)
Santuary by Warded_Portal
Soul Searching by Quilluison
Naked Journey by PlaidPooka
Room of Lost Dreams by mundungus42
At Any Moment by OzRatBag2
Scarborough Arithmancy by LillithJ
Morning Has Broken by Bambu345
Dances With Witches by Pearle9420 (WIP)
Courtesy of Your Fair God Jarvey by Dracontia
1. She’d given me an assessing once-over, and had asked in her rough voice, “You’re a Muggle-born, aren’t you?”
I’d stiffened at the question. I didn’t know her at all well, even if she was Professor Vector’s friend. But the war was over, and I had chosen to take the question at face value. “Yes. Does that matter?”
“Just verifying data.” Meg had opened a tall, black, corner cupboard revealing shelves upon shelves of books, spinning as if they were on a carousel. “Muggle-borns, Granger,” she’d demanded.
The shelves had ceased to spin, and a single, slender volume had obligingly thrust itself off the shelf and into her hands. I’d been entranced… I’d been in lust…
I’d wanted one of those cupboards fiercely.
I’d been too busy trying to read the titles on the shelves to notice when Meg had finished her fact-checking. Her harsh bark of laughter had grabbed my attention, though.
“If you decide to accept our offer, Miss Granger, and if the rest of the team agrees on your inclusion, then your office will have a book nook.” She’d patted the side of the cupboard and the books had begun to spin once again.
“Do I need to bring my books into the office then?”
“I don’t think you understand. These nooks are directly connected with the Ministry’s central library. We have access to a copy of every magical book printed since before Gutenberg decided to educate Muggles.”
Just the concept of having such a wealth of knowledge available to me had sweetened whatever offer the Unfathomables might have made. Invariably, it has become one of Meg’s standing jokes. “I’m not sure we ever needed to pay Hermione a salary. She’d have donated her time just to have access to the book nook.”
It took me a year before I realized every Unfathomable felt exactly the same way.
2. ‘Well, other than being a book of cross words, what are you?’
This is a journal containing research notes far beyond your comprehension.
Hermione was amused to note that her derisive snort had been transcribed as ‘Hmph.’ ‘Oh really?’
Unless I have the honour of addressing someone of Masters level or higher, you can sod off.
‘You’re technically addressing a Dictoquill. However, I could be convinced to give you my academic credentials in exchange for the subject of your research.’
No, and that ploy was utterly obvious. You must be a Gryffindor.
Hermione frowned. The book must have been made by a Ravenclaw or Slytherin to have embraced that particular stereotype. She thought fast. ’Well, if you’re content being lost in the mists of time, I’m happy to help by Transfiguring you into a rock and throwing you in the lake.’
3. That earned her a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Her curiosity knew no bounds. "On my honour, I did nothing. You, on the other hand, seem to have awakened a very old spell, one that my family was convinced was consigned to the pages of history."
"A betrothal spell." Her frantic motions ceased abruptly, and just as abruptly the bed relaxed around her, letting her sink deeper into its grasp.
"More than that, but yes. You were there for more than a shag, weren't you?"
"Severus, I never thought that you..."
He laid a single finger over her mouth. "You had larceny in your heart, Auror Granger."
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. What was it Tonks had told her? Never date a Legilimens? Her voice became a whisper. "I -- meant no disrespect."
"I know. I know. And neither did I." His long fingers pushed through the coils until he could rest his hands at her waist. He bent even closer, breathing her breath, brushing his cheek against hers. "I had no idea you were so -- intent."
"And I wasn't expecting an archaeological expedition into your attics after a trip to the pub! I thought we'd go back and sit on your sofa for a bit!"
"Is that all?" He whispered into her ear, sending a wave of heat skimming over her skin.
She wanted to reach for him, wanted to touch him, but her wrists were held fast. The bed felt her begin to relinquish control and slowly, her hands were extended away from her body. "Severus, the bed --"
"The bed thinks you are suitable breeding stock -- typical of you to exceed expectations -- and it believes you are well-suited to continuing the Prince line. The enchantments would never have awakened had you not had that very thought in your head." He smoothed his hands down her arms and the coils fell away from her wrists.
4. “What was all that about, Severus?” asked Hermione as they walked down the alleyway, the shopping basket bobbing merrily between them.
“It’s very rare,” he said, “but sometimes they get a rogue basket. The charm they use can start to deteriorate, and the basket will attach itself to a particular customer.”
“Can we do anything about it?” she asked.
He shrugged. “You could try burning it, but you’d probably be followed everywhere by its ashes.”
“Poor thing!” said Hermione, looking down at it. “Well, we don’t want to do that, and I expect you’ll be very useful.”
Severus muttered something unintelligible; the basket took it as a threat and smartly slipped to the far side of Hermione.
“Well, it’s definitely yours,” he said sourly, watching it. “I think you’ve been adopted!”
“By a shopping basket?” said Hermione, laughing. “We’d better give you a name, hadn’t we?” she said to it.
“Oh, God,” groaned Severus. “Hermione, you are not to start a society for broken-down shop furniture!”
“I think I’ll call you - Basket!” she decided, ignoring him, and Basket skipped with joy.
“Another devoted follower,” muttered Severus, but Hermione did not hear.
5. I settle back on the cushions and draw the sheet up over me, the sudden hum of intense desire flickering under my skin like electricity. It's shockingly arousing to know for certain that he wants me, that he feels the same pull that I do. To know that it isn't just in the books, just part of a fantasy. It won't make it any easier to take the leap, for him or for me, but it might give me the courage to do it and not back down.
That's a question for later, though.
I draw my knees to my chest, wishing for my copy of The WIKTT Archives; I know he has one somewhere, but I don't know where, and I don't want to pry. I've pried enough into this man's life without his knowledge.
Then I see my bag at the foot of the sofa. The house elves must have brought it; I'd forgotten it as soon as my conversation with the Headmaster revealed that Severus was in danger.
I have it in my lap in an instant, and with only a few moments' rummage, I have it.
I've used a Shrinking Spell on it to store it, for it's larger than ever, and I don't want to risk leaving it in my apartment where my roommate might find it and start a rumor that would surely make life at SCAI hell for me- Hermione Granger took her name from a book of dirty stories! Either that or she's inspired one, and the stories are all true!!
6. Well, here goes nothing, he thought.
“Greetings, Endless Warm Towel Dispenser. I am Blueleaf, Fairy Godfather (Journeyman First-Class, Pixie Division). Due to your recent heroic actions and acquisition of sentience, I am here to grant your heart’s desire,” he recited dutifully.
The Towel Dispenser tingled with a sense of wonder and gratitude, as it wordlessly conveyed its request.
…
“Eeek! This sink is cold!” Hermione squealed.
Suddenly, they heard a soft click, almost like an apologetic cough of interruption. Severus turned, noticing (for the first time) the most unusual Towel Dispenser. A particularly thick, soft and warm-looking towel descended from the device’s aperture.
Hermione’s tongue on his earlobe brought him back to more important matters than the disquietingly bizarre yet familiar appearance of that bathroom fixture. With a flourish, he snatched the towel from the machine and lovingly tucked it under her bum with a bit rolled up behind her, so as to protect her from the cold porcelain and the protruding taps.
…
“Oh, love, that was exhilarating,” Hermione whispered, as she smoothed her robes carefully. “But I have to say, I found that iridescent purple, ruby and emerald encrusted Endless Warm Towel Dispenser just a little distracting.”
7. I feel honoured and privileged that you have chosen me a second time within this existence known as a lifetime. Once at the beginning of endless promises, and now towards the end with its unremitting grief and false praise.
I feel humbled, I feel wistful and I also feel very old.
I am aware, if you had not realised, that one of your recipients was worried about your intent. She was bemused and irritated by my reaction, but there is naught to worry about.
She is a splendid choice. I can only hope the other four, myself included, are worthy of such trust.
Twice in one hundred and thirty years to make an appearance is indeed unusual. Before I had the pleasure of your acquaintance in my youth, it had been over two hundred years since your last foray. It leaves me questioning why you would appear so soon after your last visit.
I am not so old to know that such a query is not worthy, but I am curious. You will no doubt let the others in on your secret in your own good time.
I am not so arrogant, as my clock slows, to question your presence as an idle curiosity. You were never idle, were you, Arcanus?
Silly of me to expect a reply when I already know the answer.
Yes.
So you have been listening.
8. Court ushers in grey robes and with grey wands directed the Chalice of Neith to the centre of the courtroom including the burgundy-coloured velvet that covered its pedestal in heavy folds and the wooden plinth itself.
The bailiff banged the gavel and Justice Andromeda Tonks-Black sat back down at the centre of the judges' balcony. Once again, Hermione was struck by how much she resembled her dead sister. Especially since the striking difference between the two women, namely Andromeda's benign and genuinely kind expression had faded with the bitterness of grief, leaving harsh lines and cold eyes behind.
After Harry and Ace had accepted Andromeda's proposition on behalf of their clients and the Probations Official also agreed to submit to the verdict of the Chalice of Neith, the presiding justice of the Court of Probations sat down to draft the question.
Between muted coughs and whispers from the audience, Hermione could hear the scratching of the quill's tip on the parchment. The strange, artificial tranquillity induced by another dose of Calming Draught was gripping her mind. She felt as if she was watching herself from above, looking down at both herself and Severus, as they sat unmoving, opposite each other, waiting for the judge to complete her work.
9. To say the Mapparium is a magical calculator isn't quite accurate; it is more than a calculator and more than a model. To those who can control it, it is magic itself -- a map that can be drawn and redrawn to form whatever the caster wants. Such an advanced level of control requires a balance of dark and light, usually requiring more than one witch or wizard. A couple can do it, but documents have speculated that a Trio is the ultimate in magical balance -- a fulcrum that balances two ends
"I say, my dear, Miss Granger isn't here? I would have thought she'd have fixed us a veritable feast," Barnabas repeated his question. He was used to Felicity's 'deafness.' She, like all the other residents, lived for her work, and it often took her a few moments to register conversations about subjects other than Newton's First Principle of Magical Energy.
"No, my dear," she replied. Her head didn't lift from the Arithmantic proof she was reading. "She is out for an evening with an old school chum, a Hufflepuff - dinner, and a moving afterward. I've owled Meg to come and assist us in resetting the Mapparium."
10. He felt, at turns, a bit sorry for each of them. Hermione was going to have her hands full with his sly friend; that was a fact. Severus on the other hand, was patently unused to love of any sort. He was reserved even with those professors he called friend. Having an exuberant young witch like Hermione in love with him was going to throw him right off his head. Albus allowed himself another chuckle.
Suddenly, both oft-watched clock hands began a slow and unstoppable movement. Albus’ expression grew wary. Perhaps they were only arriving home at last? His face fell as both hands stopped firmly in “Deadly Peril.”
“Oh my children…what have you done?”
******************************************
Severus saw the beast first. He halted immediately on the path, stopping Hermione as well with their still clasped hands.
“Hermione,” he said with quiet urgency, “my love, do not move.”
Only three miles from home and safety, fate stopped them in their tracks. On the path before them stood a minotaur.