Disclaimer: The PPC, SO, Department of Mary Sues and all other aspects of the original series belongs to Jay (who gave me permission to write this) and Acacia; the Harry Potter books to J.K. Rowling; and the fic (Deceived by the Beauty of a Rose) featured belongs to somebody called Morpheusthedreamer on Quizilla. Don't let the Sandman reference fool you: the fic is pure Quizilla. Thanks to Indemaat for beta-ing both the original and the rewrite: I couldn't have done it alone.

Edit: This and other missions were previously published under the username EyeslikeAbsinthe on Fanfictiondotnet.

The Head of Personnel's office is hardly ever a pleasant place to visit in any part of the multi-verse and the one in the PPC Headquarters is no exception. It lies at the end of a labyrinth of corridors painted a shade of grey that combines the maximum sense of hopelessness with the minimum ability to see where anything is. Taylor had spent what seemed like hours wandering the corridors looking for it; although by the irritated reception she got it may well have been days.

Once inside, the office was unwelcoming: there were no chairs and the walls were painted the same eye-wateringly dull shade of grey. Had Taylor not been feeling too nervous and inadequate to pay attention, she might have noticed that, although the room had no windows or light fittings of any kind, she could see perfectly. As it was, the irregularity seeped into her subconscious like a winter mist; where it worried at her and added a vague sense of paranoia to her already troubled psyche.

And then there was the…the person in front of her. Taylor did not want to call it a thing, although in all her fifteen years no one had ever taken the trouble to teach her the right pronoun to use for a sentient plant. An oversized sentient daisy in fact. In a suit.

Part of Taylor's mind started to hum hysterically to itself; Daisy, Daisy, give your answer do. A more dominant part, which had already taken in the pretty green skinned secretary, the glittery body bags being ferried through the corridors and the centaur who had given her directions, focussed on the most disturbing thing about her new boss.

"But I signed up for The Department of Bad Slash," she protested, dry mouthed. Her voice sounded weak, even to her ears. "I never thought I'd have to… I can't be an assassin."

"I'm sorry," the daisy – the nameplate on his desk claimed he was the Marquis de Sod- said, not even trying to sound it. "We don't send teenagers into Bad Slash; not unless we're feeling vindictive and have staff to spare. Unfortunately, we need every pair of hands we can get, so we're placing you where you're least likely to go insane, screw up Canon or get killed. Not necessarily in that order."

"But I'd have to kill people." Despite –or perhaps because of- the Marquis' lack of eyes, Taylor felt pinned into place.

"That is the usual job requirement for assassins, yes," the Marquis replied, sounding irritated. "We've assigned you a partner to train you; she should be on her way as we speak."

Taylor gave up. Perhaps her partner could be persuaded to sort things out somehow.

At that moment there was a sharp knocking at the door. There are certain laws that govern fictional universes and Taylor had just unknowingly appealed to the most powerful of them all: irony.

The knocker turned out to be a woman. She was nowhere near middle aged but not what Taylor, at fifteen, would exactly call young either: perhaps in her mid-to-late thirties. This was where Taylor's relief ended. The woman wasn't especially tall, but seemed to tower over Taylor and the Marquis from sheer presence. There was mud on her boots and uniform and what looked horribly like dried blood on her hands. Least promisingly of all, she did not seem pleased to see Taylor there.

"I'm sorry," she said flatly. "I'll come back when my partner's here."

"Ah Dianne," the Marquis said as though she hadn't spoken. It is incredibly difficult for a daisy to look nervous, especially a giant one in a suit, but the Marquis managed it. "This is Taylor."

"Oh," the woman –Dianne- didn't seem to care that Taylor could hear her. "I thought she was maybe a new admission for the crèche."

"She'll be your partner until such a time as one or both of you are reassigned. It's your responsibility to make sure she's trained in combat and mission protocol. Naturally you'll be moved to a two person Response Centre."

"I like working alone," Dianne's voice was calm but her eyes were murderous.

"We need your Response Centre," the Marquis replied, regaining his control. "The only other one person suite available is in the Twilight division."

"She'll slow me down," Dianne didn't dignify the threat with an answer, but Taylor could tell her resolve was breaking.

"Perhaps by the time she's ready for reassignment there'll be a different one person response centre free," the Marquis said carelessly. "You may even be able to choose the continuum."

"I can kill more Sues without her."

"Call it an investment in time," the Marquis replied. "It'd be a plus if she survives training without giving up or dieing. Don't forget I have the authority to assign you leave."

"I'm going to need it," Dianne said sourly. "So which response centre are we in?"

-o0o-

Response centre K was almost as forbidding as the Marquis' office. It was the same dark eye-aching shade of grey, the bedrooms were like cells and the bathroom combined all the soullessness of minimalism with all the inconvenience of Victorian plumbing. It was, in a word, utterly depressing.

Of course, Dianne wasn't helping matters.

"This is your Character Analysis Device," she explained with bad grace, holding up a device with a small screen and intimidating amount of buttons. "This is your Canon Analysis Device, this is your portable Portal-Generator and this is your portable Disguise Generator. Try not to break them. You also have a standard issue gun, dagger, sword, crossbow, rope, pepper spray, pen and notepad although I strongly advise you pick up something a bit more effective: you look like you need all the help you can get. Anything belonging to the non-canons is fair game; just make sure you kill them before the 'Sue. You can only take weapons appropriate to the Continuum you're visiting: no modern guns in historical continuums, no wands in non magical ones. Any questions?"

"Are you suggesting I take stuff off the bodies?" Taylor asked, wide eyed.

"They tend to protest less when they're dead." Dianne rolled her eyes.

(beep)

A light was flashing on the huge console that took up an entire wall of the admittedly small main room. Battered and oddly scuffed, as though it had been attacked multiple times by the previous residents, it seemed to be a hybrid of a Sixties computer and something from the TARDIS, full of interesting buttons and colourful blinking lights. It was the one thing about the room that Taylor liked.

She would learn.

"Finally. We have a mission." Dianne, cheered by the thought of imminent bloodshed, lent over to read the console screen. "It's a Mary Sue and a Gary Stu in the Harry Potter Continuum. She's in love with him, but she's stringing along both Harry and Draco and he's the son of Voldermort! First son of Voldermort I've ever come across. I only wish I could say the same for daughters." She pressed some buttons distractedly and an oblong, door-shaped portal flickered into view.

Dianne reached for her bag, remembered she was not alone and scowled.

"Just try not wander off or touch anything," she said. "We're going disguised as fifth years. I'll have to make you look a bit older, that way we can pass for fiftteen."

"I am fifteen!" Taylor protested.

"Sure you are."

-o0o-

"Stay out of sight!" Dianne hissed, yanking Taylor down before she slipped off the edge of the roof. "The non-canons can see you!"

"Where are we?" Taylor gasped as much from the scene around her as from the sudden pain in her head. Her first impression was that they must have come to the wrong place: J.K. Rowling had never mentioned anywhere like this.

They were stood on the roof of a beautiful mansion –Taylor assumed it was a mansion on the basis that they didn't make wedding cakes out of stone and mortar-. The house was surrounded by water: not a moat, but smooth unbroken water, stretching from horizon to horizon. Strangest of all, a localised version of the Northern lights was gliding leisurely over the still water. For some reason Taylor didn't want to think about it all seemed strangely…familiar.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, wide eyed.

Dianne glanced irritably down at the pinkish light. "Bad writing."

"What?" Taylor asked, even more confused. Her head was pounding and oddly constricted: just her luck to get a migraine on her first day.

"Don't you know anything?" Dianne demanded, then sighed. "Obviously not. This world's made of words right?" She explained, obviously exasperated. "So metaphors –even bad ones- override the laws of physics. The number of times I've seen someone's hair turn to spun gold."

"But what sort of metaphor is that?" Taylor pointed to the orb of light.

There you stood upon your balcony of your beautifully designed mansion, watching the sunset glide over the waters that surrounded your home in England.

"See," Dianne clarified, after reciting the Words. "I don't like the England part: we may have a transatlantic Sue on our hands. Either that or an American who believes that their nationality is the default setting for humankind."

The two agents peered over the edge of the roof, Taylor clinging on with all her strength. Directly below them a radiant young woman was standing on the balcony. Dianne narrowed her eyes with pure hatred.

"That's the 'Sue," she hissed. Moments later the girl's mother came out onto the balcony and the two had a brief and clunky conversation. Dianne passed Taylor a small pad of paper and a pencil. "Make yourself useful and write down the charges. One, causing England to be underwater for no apparent reason; two, causing a meteorological phenomenon for no apparent reason; three, writing in second person; four, not using proper paragraphs and spacing and consequently giving me a headache."

"Is that what that is?" Taylor asked. Her head felt as though it was caught in a vice.

"Yeah. Second person screws with your head too; gives you a weird sense of involvement." Dianne's face clouded. "I once had a partner go mad; convinced himself he was a sixteen-year-old pirate called Serena Rose Hawk: he needed extensive counselling. Not as much as Jack Sparrow but still. Five, poor dialogue."

"Is that common?" Taylor gulped, hypochondria setting in.

"Hell yeah," Dianne answered distractedly. Taylor really hoped she meant the dialogue.

The girl turned and phased straight through the tall glass doors leading into her bedroom, leaving her mother to fade away as though she had never been there.

"Oh great," Dianne snarled. "Not only has she got a sickeningly self indulgent description coming up she thinks she's Shadow Cat. Six; lazy writing; seven; impersonating a member of the X-men."

"Uh, what did you say the charges were again?" Taylor asked, totally lost.

"Where are you?" Dianne sighed. Only Dianne could have made a sigh sound threatening.

"The first one."

"Give it here." Dianne snatched the pad from Taylor and started scrawling the charges down, muttering about standards and incompetent new recruits.

You walked through your tall glass doors and into your bathroom. You had the most beautiful bedroom and bathroom in the entire mansion, even more stunning than your parents'. You were treated like a queen, you never got punished for anything and had anything anyone could ever dream of.

"Masquerading a daydream as fiction." Dianne continued.

You had it all, not only were you one of the most excellent witches at Hogwarts, but your beauty was indescribable.

"It always is, but does it stop them trying?" Dianne growled.

You had soft, dark brown, curls that reached down to an inch below your shoulders. You had golden skin that was as soft as baby's skin with the most beautiful Caribbean blue eyes. You were absolutely gorgeous and had the slim, in-shape body to go with it. Beyond the dreams of any guy that you knew(so you've been told).

"Being a Mary Sue and not even bothering to hide it." Dianne gave up counting. "Testing my already severely limited patience with repeated use of the phrase "You had". False modesty."

He made you laugh, and gave you a feeling no one else could give you, but he was all part of a secret. A secret no one was supposed to ever know at Hogwarts or at home. It was your dark secret that must be kept for an unknown time.

"Being melodramatic. Being sappy." Dianne snarled as the 'Sue got ready for bed. "Clogging up the texts with needless descriptions of your bed-sheets, clothes and pyjamas; needlessly mentioning your favourite band in an attempt to make your character sound cool; listening to a bad that is probably still in high school in the time the story was set."

The room shook as though struck by an earthquake: outside day came in a blinding flash of light. Taylor stumbled: reeling doubly from shock and from the tremor.

"Putting a time skip in the middle of a paragraph," Dianne muttered, scribbling furiously and opening up a portal. "Right, that's everything covered up to the start of term feast. We'll portal: the sooner this is over the better."

Taylor smiled despite herself. "I always wanted to go to Hogwarts," she admitted wistfully.

"You never know," Dianne said dryly "you might get a letter when you turn eleven."

-o0o-

"Try the Canon Analysis Device on Draco. He looks the most critical," Dianne ordered, then turned as the sounds of technology in pain failed to assault her ear drums.

Taylor was standing a few metres behind her, her gaze fixed squarely on the enchanted ceiling above them. It was an impressive sight – all clear navy sky and bright stars- even with all the movie-verse candles in the way; but Dianne was in no mood to make allowances. Her already bad mood had been soured when the Sue, Lara, had appointed herself the fourth member of the Golden Trio.

"I said, try the CAD on Draco," she snapped in Taylor's ear, making her jump. The girl hadn't noticed her approach anymore than she had seen her leave. Not a good survival trait in an occupation that demanded stealth.

Guiltily, Taylor dug a device out of one of her unfamiliar pockets, pointed it at Draco, who was staring openly at Lara, turned it on and shook it when it failed to do anything.

"That's the Character Analysis Device," Dianne said. "You need the Canon one."

"But Draco's a character," Taylor protested, confused.

"Draco's a canon character," Dianne snapped. "The Character Analysis Device is for original characters only. But please; if you think you know better…"

"Sorry," Taylor said meekly, swapping the CAD's around and pointing the appropriate one at Draco.

[Draco Malfoy. Student. Canon. Out of Character 43.9 percent]

It screeched with a sound like tearing metal. Taylor nearly dropped it in surprise.

"Like I said, try not to break it on your first assignment." Dianne told her nastily, shutting it off. "And don't let the non-canons notice us before we have enough on the charge sheet to kill them."

After another time skip Lara left the hall, the two agents following at a safe distance, and bumped into a tall, handsome boy.

"That's the Stu," Dianne explained in an undertone. "Check out the description in the Words."

"The what?"

"The Words," Dianne almost snarled. "Don't you know anything? Just look up: the whole world's made of them."

Taylor looked up at the ceiling and squinted. At first she just saw stone and plaster blackened by centuries of candle smoke, but then she began to make out and underlying mass of Words.

Damien had the nicest smile, to you at least. It was one of those charming smiles that made you want to melt into. He had one of the best bodies you had ever seen with his hard abs, and muscular figure. His skin was lighter than yours, but had a touch of gold that glowed whenever he was in the sun. He had blue eyes as well, but his were much different than any others you had seen. They were a mix between bright blue and deep water blue. The colors looked like they were swirled into one another, making a brighter blue glow from the center. They were gorgeous. He had dark brown hair that was short. He had an unending personality that could never be mastered by anyone else. He was the perfect person, except for the fact that he was born to be evil. He never wanted to be evil, and he still doesn't.

"That's…" Taylor stood, speechless, staring up at the ceiling. "This is incredible."

"Would be if the fic wasn't such complete tripe," Dianne said. "Now hurry up; we don't want to miss any charges."

The two non-canons headed to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. The agents followed.

"Won't they notice us?" Taylor asked, eyeing the door nervously.

"Doubt it." Dianne nodded to the Words:

He responded back to you by opening his mouth and letting your tongue slide in. Your mouths worked together gracefully in motion.

"Can mouths do that?" Taylor asked, unimpressed.

Dianne smirked. "One day you'll meet the right boy and then you'll find out."

As you pulled away out of the kiss, you put your hand on the side of his face, and said, "I've been wanting to do that all summer. I missed you. I missed the way your soft lips felt against mine... Look, I can't...I can't keep this a secret anymore. It's killing me! I want to be with you always. I want to be able to kiss you in the hallways, and sit on your lap by the fire in the common room."

"Where'd the other half of the conversation go?" Taylor blinked.

Dianne smirked. "I don't think she loves him for his mind."

Tears of frustration and started to run down your cheeks. Damien walked over to you and gently wiped a tear off of your face with one hand. "Hey, look I want to be with you too, it's just for your protection, that's all. You know that" he said with compassion. You turned away from him in anger and yelled, "My protection? MY PROTECTION!I DON'T CARE IF YOUR VOLDEMORT'S SON!

"Well that's the sort of thing I'd shout in possible earshot of Dumbledore." Dianne commented dryly. "And what does she mean "your" Voldermort's? How many Voldermorts are there?"

I think I can have my own freedom to do whatever I please with you in public!

"Does Damien get a say?" Taylor asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hell no." Dianne was grinning. It was not an altogether pleasant grin, but Taylor was encouraged by the fact that Dianne's aggression had found another object to vent itself upon. "Lara's gone from Sparklypoo to self imposed goddess."

"Sparkly what?" Taylor asked, perplexed.

"Never mind." Dianne's mood sank like a blow from an ice pick as she remembered just who she was talking to. "Come on; we're pretty much done for the day and it's well past your bedtime."

-o0o-

Taylor did not sleep well that night. Quite apart from being nervous about letting her guard down in the presence of a trained killer with a personal grudge against her, the prospect of the actual assassination lay heavy on her mind. She could see that Lara was shallow and horribly self absorbed, but did that actually warrant killing her?

She awoke the next morning in a corner of the Great Hall, stiff from sleeping on the cold stone floor and with a horrendous headache from the prose. Sleeping under magical stars had seemed like such a nice idea last night, but in the cold light of day, Taylor suspected it was Dianne's way of disillusioning her about the enchanted ceiling.

She half heartedly rolled her shoulders as she ate one of the rolls Dianne had scavenged (Dianne had a peculiar talent for making seemingly nice gestures into an accusation of incompetence). Visions of her bed taunted her as she tried to stretch the ache from her muscles. It would be so nice to climb in and…

Taylor frowned. The bed in her mind's eye was not her bed at all. Her bed sheets were blue and green, whereas the ones in her mind's eye were vivid red. They seemed oddly familiar though; Taylor almost felt there was a band poster that should go with them. She shook the vision out of her head as though brushing aside an errant piece of hair. It was strange that her muscles were so stiff; she was hurting in places she hadn't felt since her first Quidditch practice.

Taylor stood up unsteadily. She had never seen a broom, let alone flown one, in her life. Somehow someone else's thoughts were intruding into her own. Vaguely she remembered legilimency. Was this what it felt like? She should go and ask Dianne.

Dianne? Taylor couldn't remember anyone of that name. It was a funny sort of name come to think of it: almost a waste when you could be called something exotic like Raven or Selena instead. She must have meant Hermione. Hermione would know what to do.

Taylor felt a wave of panic when she realised she could no longer remember her own name. She felt it should be Lara, but that name belonged to the Sue. Her thoughts were slowing down like cooling treacle, but before she could do anything about it the world turned oddly dark. Dark and glittery.

The next thing she knew she was on the floor, with her arm twisted painfully behind her back and the urge to go to the Gryffindor table slowly fading.

"What happened?" She groaned, not really wanting to know the answer.

"That Taylor speaking?" Dianne demanded from above her.

"Of course it's me." Taylor replied as irritably as she dared. A horrible thought struck her. "Who else would it be?"

"You got Sue'd," Dianne told her briskly, letting go of her arm and getting up. "If you can't hack it here portal back to base and I'll get the 'Sue.

"I'll be fine." Taylor heard herself say and realising with some surprise that she meant them. The thought of Lara somehow getting inside her head made her blood run cold and her jaw grow tight with fury. "I want to be there when she dies."

Dianne looked unimpressed. "Just try not to be a liability."

Taylor scowled. "Did you need to twist my arm quite so hard?"

"Probably not."

-o0o-

"You sure you're okay?" Dianne asked. "Only Upstairs'll dock my wages if I bring you back unfit for duty."

"I'm fine," Taylor pulled her knees tighter into her chest, the better to fit into their hiding place perched on a wide windowsill behind long velvet curtains. They were in the Gryffindor Common Room, spying on Lara and Damien. "It just feels like the inside of my head's been stuffed with cotton wool."

"And how many years have you had to get used to it? Eleven? Twelve?" Dianne snarked. Lara had used up half a page of Dianne's notebook in a single Quidditch match: both her and Damien were not only playing, but the best on their respective teams as well as being joint best academically; Draco had been forced to leer over Lara; and to add a touch of sociopathy, Damien had broken his arm with a stray bludger. Obviously there had been no consequences.

Right now Lara and Damien were making out after hours in on of the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. The fact that Damien was a Slytherin wasn't allowed to hinder them: the author had given him an invisibility cloak for the purpose.

You two started to make-out in passionate, lust-filled kisses. After five minutes, you both got off the chair and he sat back down. You sat on his lap, like you'd been wanting to all day, and he covered you both up with a blanket.

"You can always tell when the author's never been kissed." Dianne commented. "If they were so 'lust-filled' then why did they stop after five minutes? Let alone count them! And why would he get up?"

"Can we portal ahead?" Taylor asked. The windowsill was getting cold, and the story predictable.

"Good idea." Dianne replied then, presumably realising she had inadvertently praised Taylor, added "You're way too young to see this anyway."

-o0o-

The agents were waiting outside the castle when the young lovebirds emerged the next morning. Lara was yelling and Damien was trying unsuccessfully to placate her.

"But I thought she knew that his dad was… you know…" Taylor looked around fearfully, as though she fully expected Lord Voldermort to jump out from behind a bush. "You Know Who."

"She does," Dianne said shortly.

"So why is she surprised that she has to become a Death Eater to marry his son?"

"The real question," Dianne said, making a show of massaging her temples, "is why are you surprised that she's being stupid?"

Abashed, Taylor turned to the Words.

Damien looked at you as tears welled in your eyes. He started to hold your hand, but you jerked away. You got up, and left, leaving a single tear on Damien's hand. "Become a death eater? You're kidding! God! I hate his father. He wants everyone to be just like him, and for anyone that stands in his way he kills them! Bloody dictator, that's what he is"

Taylor opened her mouth to remark on this then realised she was too disgusted to speak.

Dianne, who had presumably seen it all, said it for her. "Well, what does she bloody expect from He Who Must Not Be Named Especially Not By Sues No Matter How Special They Think They Are?" She snarled. "Maybe she wants him to start a petting zoo for Cute Animal Friends, or… or make her Queen of the Wizarding World so she can be all big and important and wear big long dresses…"

Taylor tried desperately to focus on the rant but the story was so bad that it drew her attention like a particularly horrendous car crash. Lara was storming away, leaving Damien standing stunned and forgotten.

As you passed the corner of the castle, Harry bumped right into you. "Oh, sorry Harry. I didn't see where I was going" you explained trying to conceal the fallen tear stains.

"How can tear stains fall?" Dianne asked venomously. "And what would she conceal them with? A paper bag over her head?"

"With any hope it'll be a plastic one." Taylor replied grimly.

"You're learning," Dianne told her. "Finally."

"Oh, no, it's my fault. You know, it's these bloody glasses! I really need to get them fixed." "Well, I'm sure Hermione will fix them for you. She tends to have that skill to fix everything" you said with a happier expression. "Yea,

"Yea?" Taylor asked. "Where does she think she is, the Old Testament?"

"Verily."

she does. Are you feeling alright, Lara? I mean you seem really down lately" Harry asked in worry. You shook your head, "No! I'm fine, really! It's just that my...my cat died." "Oh...I see, well OK I'll see you later then" said Harry in disbelief. You smiled and nodded. You always had a talent for lying, which you weren't very proud of, but were always happy when it came in handy.

Dianne snorted. "Some talent. She was obviously lying and if she had a cat Harry would have seen it since they're friends and share a common room."

As you walked away, you felt Harry's eyes glued to you. You turned to see if he was looking, and surely enough he was staring at you. "What's up with that kid lately? He's been staring at me so awkwardly, and so has Draco. Maybe they know about Damien!" you thought pondering a bit.

"Hell's Bells!" Taylor swore. "If 'Sues are so perfect then why are they so god dam dense!"

"Characters can't be more intelligent than their author," Dianne answered. "Sometimes I'm surprised they can think without moving their lips."

"Where do you think you're going?"

You gave him a sarcastic look, and said "And why exactly do you care Malfoy?" "Well, I was just wondering when I would be seeing my little bosoms again" he said smiling at your chest.

"Changing Malfoy's anatomy." Dianne said in a bored voice as Taylor clamped her hands over her mouth in a vain attempt to stop herself laughing. "Let's just be thankful he said 'little'."

"Oh, God. Please, get out of my face, you low life piece of crap!" you thought to yourself.

"If I was her I'd think that to myself too." Dianne growled.

You sighed and started to walk past Draco. He stepped to the side, blocking your way, "Ah, ah, ah" he said said in the lightest little voice. You cocked an eyebrow at him, looking him deep into his distant blue eyes.

"Causing Draco's eyes to separate from his body." Dianne continued as Taylor abruptly stopped laughing and turned the colour of traumatised porridge.

"You have to kiss me first" he said smirking. You merely smiled at gave him a quick peck. As soon as you started to pull away from the kiss, Draco grabbed a bundle of your hair with his unbroken arm, and pulled you in for another. He responded to your first kiss roughly, slamming you up against the wall."You know, Lara, even though you're a Gryffindor, I still like you. There's something about you that makes me curious. You know, I thought you were going to be like all the other Gryffindors; brave and goody goody-like." "Well, maybe I'm really evil at heart, Draco." you said pulling away. You started walking away, and Draco called after you. "Lara!" "What?" "Nice butt!" You smirked and as soon as you turned your head away, you rolled your eyes.

"She's English; English people don't say 'butt'! Stupid fangirls with their stupid Americanisation!"

"I particularly liked the phrase 'goody goody-like'," Taylor said, leaning on the castle wall. The cliché, together with the block paragraph had increased her headache twofold.

Dianne took a good look at her new partner.

"You look like hell," she said bluntly. "And as much as I'd love to stick around, my wages are already so low that if Upstairs docks them then I'll be paying them money. We can portal to the party: it's not far."

"Is that near the end?" Taylor asked, making an effort to stand up straight.

"The author never reached the end," Dianne said, opening a portal. "The party's where we get to kill them."

"Oh," Taylor said. "Good."

-o0o-

The portal opened outside a large mansion that the words claimed belonged to Voldermort.

"We better change." Dianne said in a low voice, pulling out the disguise generator. She pressed a few buttons and Taylor looked down, to see her school robes had been replaced by dress robes of forest green. Next to her Dianne had been replaced by a male version of herself in green so dark it was nearly black. "Can't let the 'Sue see us in school robes."

Taylor spun experimentally, her skirts flying around her. "Awesome! Hey I'm taller."

"You look about twenty-five." Dianne told her, offering an arm. "Kids aren't allowed in these things."

Inside the mansion about two hundred people were gathered around the bottom of the stairs, frozen solid as though playing musical statues.

"Damien and Lara aren't down yet." Dianne said in a low voice, as they made their way to the guests and froze on the fringes of the gathering. "Try to look like you belong here."

About 200 or so people gathered at the foot of the stairs, and looked up at us as though we were King and Queen of this world. I linked arms with Damien, and we begun walking slowly down the stairs, smiling away our spirits.

Multiple transparent versions of Damien and Lara appeared on the staircase along side the real thing holding their arms above their heads and going 'wooooooo' rather unconvincingly. They melted from view under the real couple's radiant smiles.

Dianne snorted with laughter at this but Taylor could see a hard, set look in her eyes as the people around them gazed adoringly at Damien and Lara. This only intensified in the ten minutes it took them to reach the bottom.

"Let's mingle," she hissed, gliding off to spy on the couple. Her grip on Taylor's arm was by now so tight that if she had tried to do anything else she might well have dislocated it.

"Ahh, my dear, Lara. Or shall I call you My Lady?" Mr. Malfoy asked. "Good evening Mr. Malfoy, Draco" I said nodding my head toward the numb Draco. "Draco! That is no way to greet your future Master's wife!" Mr. Malfoy spat. "And please, My Lady, call me Luscious"

"Is he coming onto Lara?" Taylor asked incredulously.

"Looks like a typo but I wouldn't be surprised," Dianne smirked. "Everyone else seems to be."

"He does it again." Taylor scanned the Words. "And again."

"I didn't know Draco had an uncle," Dianne commented. "That's going on the charge sheet for sure."

"When did the tense change?" Taylor asked as Draco declared his love for Lara and yelled at her a lot. "It's gone first person."

"I've been blocking it out," Dianne replied. "We portalled past some horrendous PoV changes on the way here."

It was as if I was stuck in some alternate dimension where my whole world and all the people in it were somehow the opposite of themselves, trying purposely to make me insane.

"That's almost spooky: she's summed up exactly how the canon characters must feel." Dianne snorted. "And you'd think all the kissing would have been a clue that he liked her."

Taylor shrugged. "'Sue's are dense. Even I know that." Put downs, apparently, were catching.

"Is it just me," Dianne asked as Draco found out about Harry and called her a slut "or does he have a point?"

"He wouldn't say that if she was a man."

"Whatever. If we fast forward to after the party we can get them then."

"Okay." Taylor said nervously, twisting her skirt in her hands as they portalled to Lara and Damien's bedroom.

We kissed our own goodnight, and his tongue became a lullaby in my mouth. "I love you so much" he whispered smiling into my lips. "I love you too" I answered back stroking his hair.

Dianne stepped out of the shadows.

"Lara Newberry, you are charged with being a Mary Sue and not even trying to hide it; using a ridiculous title that has no connection with the story whatsoever; causing England to be underwater for no apparent reason; causing a meteorological phenomenon for no apparent reason; writing in second person; not using proper paragraphs and spacing and consequently giving me a headache; poor dialogue; lazy writing; impersonating a member of the X-men; masquerading a daydream as fiction; testing my already severely limited patience by repeatedly using the phrase "You had".

"False modesty; being melodramatic; being sappy; clogging up the texts with needless descriptions of your bed-sheets, clothes and pyjamas; needlessly mentioning your favourite band to make your character sound cool; putting a time skip in the middle of a paragraph; being too pretty to need make up; calling Voldermort by his name; bad grammar; being the best player on the Gryffindor Quiditch team, especially when Harry Potter is on it; being on the Gryfindor Quidditch team at all; causing Draco Malfoy to behave like an ass and then breaking his arm for it; being the best witch in your year, especially when you are in the same year as Hermione.

"Annoying a PPC agent; changing PoV several times in a way totally inconsistent with the previous text halfway through the story; changing from second to first person halfway through the story; messing with several canonical characters, most severely but not limited to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter; cringe-making kissing scenes; changing Draco Malfoy's anatomy by giving him breasts and detachable eyes; making people look at you like you were a queen, even though witches and wizards don't have royalty; calling Lucius Malfoy 'Luscious' not once but several times; polluting the internet with your pitiful attempts at writing and a whole bunch of other stuff. For these crimes against fanfiction, the Harry Potter continuum and fiction in general you are sentenced to die in the most painful way I can think of," Dianne recited, without stopping for breath. Taylor was impressed.

"You can't kill me!" Lara sobbed. "I never did anything to hurt anyone."

"That," Dianne told her sending a throwing star spinning into her throat, "is the problem. You're too damn perfect."

Damien tried to protest but since his tongue had turned into a lullaby it came out as the lyrics to 'Rockabye Baby'

"Damien Riddle, you are charged with being a Marty Sam; being the relative of a canonical character; having a name that is both predictable and stupid; being the best player on the Slytherin Quidditch team; being on the Slytherin Quidditch team at all; being the best wizard in your year; participating in badly written kissing scenes; owning an invisibility cloak with no justification other than so you can make out with your girlfriend; making people look at you like a king when the magical community doesn't have them; annoying a PPC agent and some other stuff I was too busy staying sane to write down." Dianne rattled off the charges and sent another throwing star spinning into Damien's throat.

A few minutes later a witch and wizard in blood stained dress robes appeared on the moonlit Hogwarts grounds staggering slightly under the weight of the teenage corpses in their arms and tossed them in the lake. A tentacle snaked out of the water and dragged the bodies down into the depths of the lake.

"I thought the Giant Squid was friendly," the witch remarked.

"Not to original characters he isn't," the wizard replied with a nasty smile. "That and he's probably in a bad mood from the last 'Sue I left him: Adrianna Magnolia Malfetti."

"Magnolia?"

"The tip of the iceberg, believe me," the wizard spat. "Right. I need a shower and it's probably past your bedtime. Let's get back to Headquarters."

The witch tilted her head back, breathing in the sweet, cool air and enjoying the serenity of the moonlit grounds. They were even more wonderful than she had imagined. The stars stretched out above them like a vast map.

"The canon's healed," the wizard said, in a soft voice. "That's why it's so peaceful. Everything's right with the world."

The witch smiled. "It's beautiful."

"For now," the wizard said gruffly, seemingly embarrassed to have been caught out. "Come on, it's late and there'll be more 'Sues to kill tomorrow. Hurry up," he added when the witch didn't move. "It's not like you don't need you're beauty sleep."

The witch just smiled even wider, had one last look at the sky, and followed her companion through a portal. It closed, leaving Hogwarts still and untainted by fangirlism. At least until the next story was published.

A.N. Well that took almost as long to write as it did to rewrite. Next up a canon crossing Marauders' Era Sue.