The Harry Potter division of the Fandom Police headquarters was in chaos. Papers were flying everywhere and owls swooped overhead, dropping mountains of letters on the poor, overworked employees. Albus Dumbledore's neat, looping script was covered by Hagrid's panicked scrawl, which in turn was hidden by Hermione Granger's precise writing. Each letter held a similar plea: "Help!"
Roonil Wazlib, head of the division, was frantically trying to sort the notes into sensible piles with the help of two assistants, who were almost crying in the rush. It was obvious something had to be done.
Wazlib gave up sorting as a bad job when three owl droppings landed on the Dramione and Drarry piles, which he had so painstakingly put to order. He Vanished the poop with a wave of his wand (one of the perks of the Harry Potter division - you could earn the powers of the characters) and, with another flick, put the room into Deadlock mode.
The doors and windows slammed shut, and metal casings appeared and shut the room in with a satisfying clang. Nothing could get in or out. A few owls squawked in fury as their tails were caught under the doors. Wazlib who, despite what Some People said, was not a cruel man, decided to let them in. He might as well take their letters.
Most of the assistants had not noticed the deadlock. Most of the owls were still dropping notes and some had even decided to rest in the room. Wazlib watched in self-satisfied amusement for a few moments, regretting once more that Muggle technology went haywire in the HP HQ. He could have videotaped this and maybe even have gotten famous on YouTube, or whatever that Muggle website was called.
His fantasies were interrupted when three owls, who were evidently carrying a joint package, dropped a bag of letters on his head. For pieces of paper, he reflected, rubbing the throbbing ache, they certainly were able to cause pain.
Deciding enough was enough, he pointed his wand to his throat, murmured, "Sonorus," and, in a magnified voice (he seriously loved magic) he yelled, "Everyone, freeze!"
Thankfully, he was gifted with obedient employees who were more than a little scared of him. They all stopped and stared. Even the owls stopped fluttering about and perched on books or piles of paper.
"Thank you. Now can someone describe the exact problem to me" - several people opened their mouths in unison - "in three sentences."
There was a brief silence. Then - "Sir, since this is a serious issue, I don't believe that three sentences is enough to fully explain the entire problem at hand…"
There was a whispered, "shut up."
Wazlib slowly turned to face the speaker. His swivel was very dramatic and calculated to be nerve-wracking. He had grown to be very proud of it over the years.
The voice belonged to Lina Song. Of course. She was noob, and had not yet let go of disrespect of authority. She glared defiantly back at him, but said no more. Wazlib was grudgingly impressed. However, she still needed to be taught a lesson.
"Thank you, Ms. Song, for your input. It seems you have grasped well the seriousness of the situation. Because of this, you may explain it to me, in two sentences."
She looked outraged, opening her mouth to shout at him. Bring it on, he thought, he had had a boring day and it was fun to devise punishments for errant youngsters. However, her right-hand neighbor nudged her nervously.
She took a deep breath and seemed to deflate a little. Her voice still held a vestige of scorn when she said, "The Harry Potter fandom is being overrun by an army of obsessed fangirls who are taking over through the use of Mary Sues, self-inserts, and horribly overused tropes. The characters are now trapped in a limbo and are powerless to stop the writers."
Wazlib grinned triumphantly. "See, that wasn't so hard now, was it? Well then, now that we have the problem, we must solve it. To do that, we must first identify the most pressing problems. Suggestions?"
Forty hands immediately shot up. A few people in the back even jumped on the tables and started flailing their arms. Wazlib didn't like desperation. He decided to ignore them.
"You, green shirt and glasses!" he called, pointing to a meek boy with timid eyes and floppy black hair.
He started in surprise, evidently expecting to be ignored. "I - well, possibly the Mary Sue problem first? My partners and I received a lot of panicked letters from Sirius and Draco. They're being turned into Edward Cullens and are forced into kissing fantastically beautiful Bella Swans."
There was a simultaneous gasp of horror. Wazlib conjured a board and wrote very high up, Twilight Mary Sue Problem - URGENT.
"Anything else?"
This time, everyone started to talk at once. Wazlib gave up keeping order and wrote down everything as fast as he could.
"Self-Inserts!"
"Golden Quartet!"
"Fem!Harry!"
"Pregnant Draco!"
"Slut!Hermione!"
The list continued on until it filled the board. At that point, Wazlib pulled out his emergency bullhorn and blew into it as loudly as he could. Everyone stopped talking as they covered their ears to try to silence that nerve-tearing noise.
"Obviously," Wazlib said, looking dismally at the list, "We can't wriggle out of a field mission. Before everyone volunteers, however, I would like to warn you that this won't be the Hogwarts you love. This will be a twisted and warped reality conjured by badfic. The characters will be caricatures of their actual selves, if not completely OOC zombies. The place will be a minefield of trouble."
Almost everyone now looked terrified. Wazlib was enjoying himself hugely. Of course, there was no way he was going.
"I will need a team of four people, one to infiltrate each house. Houses, get together and nominate your tribute (sorry wrong fandom) candidate."
Four groups of people wandered to different edges of the room. Wazlib sat back down at his desk and impressively took a sip of Firewhiskey, almost gagging. He managed to turn it into a half-choked cough, which wasn't nearly as undignified as spitting out alcohol. In a fury of embarrassment, he took out an essay on the Ins and Outs of Harry Potter: A Definitive Guide to OC's and pretended to read.
Meanwhile…
Gryffindor House:
Everyone was arguing furiously over who should go. Pottermore hadn't put them in Gryffindor for chickening out, after all. Instead of fearing Wazlib's words, they had all become more determined to go and save the world. They had been born for glory and all were ready to achieve it.
Bernie Sniggleworth, who had lived down his name by gaining ten times the normal amount of muscles and beating the crap out of everyone who sniggered at him, was yelling the loudest.
"Oh come on, it's obvious I'm the strongest out of all of you. You would be murdered before you even started crying!"
"Brains before brawn, loser," muttered the ever-unquenchable Lina Song. "You'd probably be tricked into trading your wand for Dungbombs."
Bernie's furious glare quickly stopped the laughter. The argument broke out again.
"Size has nothing to do with bravery!"
"A Ravenclaw is going. We need to show them that Gryffindor still has Hermiones."
"So that rules you out, eh?"
"The Sorting Hat specifically told me that I embody daring and nerve."
"Never mentioned chivalry or smarts, did it?"
"EVERYONE, SHUT UP!"
It was Lina. "Look, everyone has the qualities needed for this quest," she said bracingly. "So, therefore, the only fair and Gryffindor-approved way to settle this is through a good game of rock-paper-scissors."
No one had any better ideas, so the tournament was approved and began. By the middle, when only four teams were left, the competition became fierce. A few had even started chanting for a favorite.
In the end, it all came down to Lina and Sniggleworth, who turned out to have an unprecedented talent for rock-paper-scissors. Lina, despite all her talk of fairness, was desperate to win. She needed to go on this quest. In fact, the truth was that she had only picked rock-paper-scissors was because of all the hard-line research she had done on the subject and because she had won the International Rock-Paper-Scissors championship when she was eleven.
Now, she did try to be fair, but if Bernie managed to somehow win a game, she promised herself that a little Legilimancy was okay.
Lina easily won the first game. Bernie, predictably, put down scissors and was satisfyingly crushed by rock. Lina felt some of the pressure melt from her shoulders. He was playing like an amateur! She wouldn't have to cheat after all.
But then, Bernie miraculously defied explanations. Instead of putting down rock, which was the statistical choice, he put down scissors again. Every snip he made through her paper cut across Lina's soul.
The tension was as thick as frozen butter. She knew that almost everyone was on her side, but, unfortunately, popular support was not going to help in rock-paper-scissors. Her stomach scrunching with guilt, she lightly probed at Bernie's mind. It was so easy that another pang ran through her.
He meant to put down scissors again. With another frisson of wrongness running through her, she slowly clenched her fist to display rock.
She won. In her elation at finally bagging a quest, she forgot her guilt.
Slytherin:
The entire house stood in a neat circle, sizing each other up. None of them especially wanted to go (glory is worth nothing if you are dead), but no one wanted to admit it.
Finally, very casually, a thin olive-skinned boy with sly black eyes said, "Say Diane, you're pretty new here. You need experience. I believe that it is in your best interest to go."
Diane's eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed a light pink. To her credit, however, she said smoothly, "That is true, but for a quest like this, would an amateur like me be able to fully take control of the issue?"
The boy beside her nodded thoughtfully, "She's got a point, Jasper," he said to the black-eyed boy. "In that case then, you should go. You've been here the longest and doubtless, you will be successful."
There were murmurs of approval all around. Trapped, Jasper nodded, his eyes flashing with murderous rage.
Ravenclaw:
"The Twilight HQ have quests almost every week," said Liam Hale, a new recruit who had actually managed to read through the archives. There had only been one Ravenclaw before who had managed this. "Like in September 2009, there was the advent of Succubus Bella with the ability to entrap all men with a single glance of her eyes. All the questers fell under her power and the girls turned into Junior succubuses, which sounds even more wrong when saying."
There was a slight pause. "Liam, that isn't helping," said Rebecca Lan, a tall, long-limbed girl who was the acknowledged leader of their group.
"And besides, this is the Harry Potter fandom," said a boy, rather snootily. "We don't do things like that."
"Yeah, just imagine Succubus Hermione," Lynn Wright tittered. She was known to be the House airhead. Unfortunately, she could also do Calculus at twelve.
"Or Luna!" another girl giggled.
Rebecca spared them a glance of disdain before saying, "We do have to acknowledge all the facts before considering going. It is true that the Harry Potter fandom is not nearly so dangerous as say, the Twilight one. However, everything must be thought of. Therefore, I propose a ballot as the only sensible way to choose a suitable candidate."
Rebecca's hands trembled slightly as she counted the votes. She really did want to go. Her mother had been a renowned quester in the old days of Star Trek fanfics. Rebecca needed to make her proud.
She felt a bubble of elation swelling inside her stomach as she counted each vote in her support. She had actually won by majority. She just barely managed to keep herself from grinning.
"So, our quester is, well, me. I won't deny that I am surprised, but I will do my best. If anyone wants to recount the votes, be my guest."
Hufflepuff:
"Who do you think would be able to both be the greatest help and also benefit the most from this quest?" asked Jon Nguyen, a lanky boy who was constantly pushing up his glasses.
Everyone looked at each other thoughtfully.
"I nominate Jay," said Cynthia Howard finally.
Jay Raj, the meek, floppy-haired boy, was astonished for once into speech. "What? No way-"
"Actually," said Jon thoughtfully. "Cynthia has a point. You're definitely the smartest among us and this might help you with your shyness problem. Come on, you'll have fun."
Jay, who looked liked a scared squirrel, nodded in defeat.
In the end…
Wazlib jerked out his doze and gave up the essay as a bad job. Deciding that an hour was more than enough time to pick a candidate. He called over the chosen ones and looked them over (approvingly at Rebecca Lan and Jasper Everett, disapprovingly at Lina Song, and skeptically at Jay Raj) before saying, "You have been chosen to represent the Fandom Police and offer respite to the poor, abused characters of Harry Potter. Please show yourselves tomorrow morning to learn the rules. You have tonight to pack and get ready."
Author's Note: I've been reading a lot of (let's say) poorly written fanfiction recently and decided to write this as a fun way to correct some of the more mind-numbing flaws. Now, I warn you that some of the situations the characters find themselves in exaggerated to better illustrate the mangled trope's disastrous effects. I was thinking of around ten situations/fanfics (that will be fictional) and it would be awesome if you, my lovely readers, could give me suggestions :)