I do not own or claim to own any part of Harry Potter. All rights are reserved to those who own them.

Chapter one: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! -not.

Hunter was sitting back in his chair, with his feet propped up on his desk. His baseball cap covered his face, and it was shaking noticeably as he snored. The office door swung open, but he didn't wake up.

"Ready?" whispered a woman in a bright red suit. She and several other employees crept to his desk, and carefully placed a birthday cake on top of a pile of folder's labeled "Cases to put off for later".

One of the women put a party hat on his head, over the top of the baseball cap, made sure everything was ready, and counted to three on her fingers. Everyone screamed, "Surprise!"

"Jesus Christ! What the He..."

"Happy Birthday Hunter!" He blinked rapidly, and rubbed his forehead.

"Do you have to do this every year?"

"Well, you put your guard down!" He sat there and blinked for a second.

"I fell asleep in my contacts again too. I'll be back in a sec!" He was getting up when an annoying beep came over the intercom.

"Calling Agent Hunter, Calling Agent Hunter, report to the front office immediately!"

"What?" he shouted. "It's my birthday for crying out loud!"

"The party can wait," said the woman in a bright red suit.

He sighed, and walked out of his office. When he reach the front office, he was greeted by an over enthusiastic handshake. "Hi! I'm Ronda! Pleased to meet you! I'm so excited to be working with you Agent Hunter- you are Agent Hunter right? What a great name! I'm really good, I just graduated and I can hardly wait to kill a few Mary S-"

"Whoa, wait a sec. Can you talk any slower?"

Ronda nodded so fast it looked like her head was vibrating. He stared a second, and walked up to the office door. Ronda followed suit. Trying to ignore her, he leaned into the office and asked, "Did I forget to fill out the papers properly again?"

The secretary looked at him from behind her heavy glasses, sending a shiver up his spine. That look of hers gave him the creeps every time. "No," she said sternly. "You're being given a partner," she snapped.

"Oh. Who?" The secretary pointed behind him at the grinning Ronda, who looked like she could hardly keep still. "What? No, please, not her..."

"You have a difficult assignment ahead," she said, giving him the creepy glare again.

"What's the assignment?" he asked, brightening up right away. The secretary slid her chair back and pulled open the bottom most drawer. She flipped through the files until she found one that said, "Hunter, Jessi" on the top. She pulled out the manila folder, and handed it to him. He opened it up, and started to read through the folder and wander back to his office at the same time.

"Let me see! Let me see!" said Ronda, hopping up and down, trying to get a glimpse of the folder's contents.

"Don't you have your own folder?"

Ronda paused, and raced back to the office. Hunter jumped behind a corner and continued reading. Ronda broke his thoughts by calling, "Hunter sir! Where did you go?" but Hunter was trying to ignore her to the best of his abilities. He was reading through the lengthy legal garble, and trying to decipher what type of mission this was. Finally he got to the forth page, and did not like what he saw. No wonder they wanted him to work with someone else.

"It's my birthday for Christ's sake!" he shouted.

"So Happy Birthday!" shouted the secretary. His cover was blown, and Ronda found him.

"What's so bad about the mission? Aren't you excited to be on a mission?"

"Not exactly."

"Why?"

"Because we're stuck with the worst type of Mary Sue to fight," he said, trudging sadly back to his office door.

"Why's it so bad?"

"Because the Mary Sue has taken the form of one of the canon characters, and it's so bad I can't put it in my 'Cases to be put off till later' pile."

"Why?"

"Because it has a birthday cake on it."

"Oh. But couldn't you just move the Birthday cake?" Hunter groaned and opened his office door.

"Bad news buddies. Party canceled."

"Why? What happened?"

He threw the Manila folder onto the desk like it was an old banana peeling that had been sitting in someone's closet for several years.

"Oh, you have a case, what type?" asked the lady in the red suit.

"The worst. Rated GD."

A chorus of "Oh I'm so sorry Hunter," and "I guess I'll have to put the party hats away for later," came, and left Hunter alone in his office with a manila folder and someone not taller than his elbow asking, "Can we start now? And what does Rated GD mean?"

"Ginny/Draco."

"I thought that wasn't possible!"

"In the twisted mind of the Mary Sue writer, anything is possible."