A/N: Review, s'il vous plait! I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. I'll try and get the rest of the requests done today but I'll need more after that. And. That's your job, readers!

For everyone, asked by Cat of Flames: #10: "42" is not the answer to every question on the O.W.L.'s.

-PJatOgirl

Satisfied with my answers, I turn in my papers and leave the testing hall. My last O.W.L. is finally over. I head back to my dormitory to eat a bit of my secret chocolate stache to congratulate myself on completing the assessments.

After a while I hear the twins and Lee barge through the Fat Lady's door, laughing, and I grab some more chocolate and rush down to the commons.

"Ello, boys!" I sing-song. "How do you think you did?"

They groan and grumble a bit before deciding they did alright. "You?"

"I think I did fine. Chocolate Frog, anyone?" we eat my chocolate and discuss pranks, of the past and the future. One of the cards is rather rare and we laugh maniacally and feign throwing it into the fireplace, but don't, and almost religiously, carefully, place it on the table for some little first year…or perhaps Ronniekins…to find. Then we away to the Great Hall for supper, and enjoy the lovely meal. Honestly, the four of us eat like elephants and between us I wonder how Hogwarts can afford food all year. After we dine, we sleep.

The next morning, at the end of Transfiguration, McGonagall reviews our O.W.L. scores. "The majority of you did quite well. The remainder did not, Emma."

"Sorry, Professor?" I ask. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You answered every question on your written O.W.L.'s with 'fourty-two'. You failed miserably." She sighed. "Here're your parchments."

"Oh dear." I look over my papers pretending to be disappointed. "I don't see why. 42 is the answer to everything."

"No. No it is not. No, 42 is not the answer to everything." She is exasperated and works herself up. I cut her off before she can get extremely angry.

I wave my wand across the page. The numbers grow and stretch out to show that I actually did write unique answers to each question. McGonagall just stares in disbelief. She wordlessly takes my test back, scans over my answers, and returns to her desk, checking them again. The class waits for a good quarter hour for her to finish regarding all my O.W.L.'s. Then she stands back up and passes out the rest of the papers to the students, leaving mine for last.

"Decent job, Jones. Just…never do that again. Please."

"Aww yiss." I say, pumping my fist in the air.

"What did you get, Emma?" Someone asks.

"O's." I say simply, putting my papers in my bag. The roar of mixed approval and surprise makes McGonagall wince and rub her temples and sigh when the hour is up and everyone rushes out of the room, whispering to their friends Emma Jones, yeah, her, she got O's on all he O.W.L.'s. and their friends whispering back, No! or Really?! and the reply, Yeah, can you believe it?

I just grin. I'm craving some chocolate.