Disclaimer: Everything from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling; the plot is based on the Stanley Kubrick film, "Dr. Strangelove: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb" (1964); all other characters are products of my deranged mind, that is to say my own creations.

Dr. GrapeNut: Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Wank

"For years now, ominous rumours have been privately circulating among big name fans on both sides of the Atlantic that somewhere an unknown fan was hard at work on what was darkly hinted to be the Ultimate Fanfic, a Doomsday fic if you will. Intelligence sources traced pennames associated with horrific fics, especially those featuring dubious consent in one form or another, to the perpetually fog-shrouded grammar wasteland stretching from sea to shining sea where purple mountain majesties above the fruited plains failed to deliver on the promise of a decent fic worth reading. Who was writing it or why it was being written in the first place, no one could say, although everyone had an opinion."

Hedwig's theme plays softly in the background as we see Quidditch players with large sturdy broomsticks proudly jutting out and soaring into the heavens under a dense cloud cover. In the distance, the castle shone like a beacon calling lost seamen to shore. "It looks like rain again. Why does it always rain when Quidditch is played?"

"It doesn't." Hermione knew her facts and could spout them all endlessly for days on end if anyone cared to let her. "There have been precisely three games played in severely inclement weather. Most games are played under a blue sky, although there is often quite the cloud cover. I'll grant you that." In truth, she disliked Quidditch and everything about it. She longed to be in the dungeons with the Potions Master debating the pros and cons of imported versus domestic Bubotuber Pus.

Meanwhile, in a room lit only by a large-screen computer with a printer spewing out endless sheets of meaningless transcripts of long-forgotten arguments, a lone critic sat and pondered the greatness of her intellect. On the desk stood a marble plaque with a gold inscription "Wank: It's What I Do Best." The forum reader, Mrs. Mandrake, known online as Mandragora, received an urgent instant message from an agitated fellow reader who had spotted something deeply ominous.

DING: CoqTease is online!

Instantly, she took the message while finishing off a dark chocolate stick of an unlikely flavouring. Her fingers began pounding the keyboard even as her tongue worked the last bit of hard chocolate into a soft mass and indecent thoughts about fictional characters swirled through her mind. She savoured moments like these for they came all too infrequently. Good chocolate, really good chocolate was as hard to come by as a really good fic. Both needed to be guarded zealously against penetration by inferior brands. She marvelled at her own absolute and utter perfection, yet readily deferred to the better judgment of her F-List buddies. She had eyes all over the world, for the sun never set on the SS/HG readership and she knew another Wank War was a wink away.

Looking at her computer screen, she sees a message from CoqTease: Red Alert! 'This is my lucky day' she thinks. 'Another bad fic…only a Wank War can save us now!'

CoqTease hurriedly types, "I want the whole fandom put on Red Alert. Post this message on all forums immediately and don't forget to put links!"

"Splendid," Mandragora mumbles as she types each word. "Let's keep the fandom all warm and snugly. It will give the ladies something to do. No one has updated all week and Oh-Oh-Oh-It's-Magic now has a wait time estimate of three years for new fics to be validated."

"I hate to disappoint you, Mandragora, but this is deadly serious. This is not an exercise."

"No? Really? Not an exercise, you say?"

"I repeat. This is not an exercise. There is a horrible fic posted on a major archive. I wanted to poke my own eyes out with pixie sticks when I saw it. It was that painful. Yeah, we're definitely on the verge of another Wank War."

"Good Lord, is it bad grammar, American usage, poor characterisation or controversial taboo material?"

"It may be all of the above, for all I know. I didn't actually read the whole thing."

"What was that last bit? Yahoo jumbled the text, as always."

"Not important, Mandy baby, what I need you to do, however, is to get this message out immediately. Post it everywhere, send instant messages, and use land-line telephone connections if you must. Send smoke signals, pound the war drums and make sure that within the hour we have this ship secure against all unwelcome penetration. Is that understood?"

"Message received and understood."

"Oh, and don't forget to friends-lock your LJ. It could possibly be used to slip information to the enemy."

"I'm way ahead of you there, CoqTease. My LJ is as secure as gold in Gringott's."

"Gringott's was broken into, you know…"

"So it was a poor analogy, the point stands."

"Just do as I say, all right. We can nip this fic before anyone else feels the need to burn their eyes out with hot pokers…or worse, contacts the author and requests a sequel!"

In order to safeguard the fandom against surprise attacks by horrifically bad fics, the SS/HG Strategic Hit Alarm Group maintains a large force of fanatical fic critics. Each fanatical fic critic maintains an F-List with hundreds of names and contacts listed alphabetically as part of an online database listing every fic ever written in the fandom, even those featuring Ron Weasley as the romantic lead. Separate lists highlight in excruciating detail each and every instance of a Mary Sue, taking pains to cross-reference which fics suffer from Mary Sue-ism and/or the misrepresentation of British sense and sensibilities. These lists are updated daily, manned by volunteers around the globe, and far surpass the sum total of anything ever attempted in earlier fandoms. The only downside is that occasionally the lists are shut down due to technical difficulties.

Meanwhile, at the Viper Pit a new thread has been started discussing what colour underwear Snape wears and under what circumstances Hermione might wear a thong. Within minutes, someone posts an award-winning published study including footnotes from an esteemed academic journal spelling out the exact percentage of British schoolgirls in the latter half of the 1990s that did and did not wear thongs, broken down by both region and relative financial status. This leads to the inevitable arguments about how much dentists earn and whether or not there is any hint in canon about whether Parvati might have had some influence on Hermione's taste in knickers over the years. Once the ensuing brouhaha over edible knickers and how the house elves deal with that sticky situation begins to wear thin, talk once again turns to more important issues…namely, does anyone know a bag boy or pizza delivery man who looks exactly like canon Snape? Somewhere between Snape sightings at Burger King and Nine Inch Nails song lyrics, a link to a new fic is posted and all hell breaks loose.

Greatly annoyed by this not entirely unexpected turn of events, which forced her to close a window with a not work safe bit of fan art involving Snape and Granger, a particularly vociferous member, code-named Buzzkill, takes matters into her own hands. She fires off a terse and to-the-point missive, "How many times have I told you ladies? I don't want any wank on this list!" This is followed by several other relevant posts. "I've read some fics at all kind of archives…read at Fictopia, Fic This and even read one on a dare at Lil Fic'uns. Those were some unbelievably bad fics, let me tell you. I've seen it all! This new fic may be some kind of fandom joke. We need more information." Buzzkill sends an urgent instant message to a trusted buddy and they discuss the situation at hand. Neither has read the offending fic, though one claims to have seen the title mentioned already on several forums. Quickly, they reach an agreement. The situation is indeed dire. The Grim has been spotted.

Buzzkill posts an important and solemn message to everyone on her F-List. In the background, we hear the soft dulcet tones of Evanescence. "Ladies and Gentleman, this is it. The Big One we've all heard about. It's time to go head to head with the biggest Squee Seeker this fandom has ever encountered. Now, I know I haven't been updating this list as often as I probably should have been. But, I'm quite certain that something big is going down in this fandom even as we speak. The DDM warning would never have been issued if The Fic hadn't actually been posted to a public forum where innocent readers may encounter its mind-numbing depravity. I have a pretty good idea of what kind of emotions this fic will stir up in you and that fills me with pride. Why? Because in my opinion, any decent person would be filled with absolute and total revulsion at the type of scenario depicted in this fic. You wouldn't be a decent human being if it didn't disgust you to no end. The last thing this fandom needs is any depiction of a deeply upsetting reality and how fictional characters may or may not deal with it. Readers everywhere are counting on you to decide for them, to protect all that is holy within this great Ship. And I'll tell you all something else; too…if this turns out to be half as important as I think it will be, many of you will be in line for some serious pimping of yourself or others. Heck, a couple of you might even warrant nifty new icons or even internet banners for display on your own LJs to forever mark the role you played in this latest Wank War. Now get out there and put a stop to this heinous assault on our glorious Ship!"

At another location, LoveBug logs into a chat session and is pleased to see that Streaker is already there. She is immediately informed of the dire situation as reported by the Strategic Hit Alarm Group. "Are you sure, Streaker? Those are some pretty heavy accusations being bandied about there. There have been no reports on the Bulletin Shorts board and the BS board is always on the ball."

"I'm just repeating what I was told." Streaker seemed a little indignant that her word wasn't being taken at face value and included a little frown emoticon with the message. "I heard it's serious but before I could press for details I got splinched from the chat session and can't get back in, and yes, I tried using another name. Nothing works, not even my usual sock puppet alias and that was always fool-proof!"

"Why do I have to do everything?" LoveBug wondered. The duty to track down specifics about a fic posted Merlin only knew where would preclude any thoughts of spending the evening catching up on back issues of Playwitch. LoveBug was most interested in tracking down a particular issue featuring Quidditch players, though she'd heard the most wonderful things about the spread of Lucius Malfoy, who had provided ample evidence of why the Malfoys always walked around as if they were the biggest dicks in the world.

At that very moment, CoqTease was preaching to the converted. "This Squee Seeker has no regard for fanfics, not even her own. This is why I am asking, no, begging for extreme watchfulness on all your parts. Oh, this fic may be a one-shot or a multi-chaptered monstrosity. It may be written under a name we don't recognise or Merlin forbid, one we know and love. How ever it seeks to worm its insidious way into our collective consciousness, we must resist its evil lure and stamp it out now and forever. The future of the ship depends on us. We must not permit its entrance into Fanon-Canon. I have known you wonderful ladies for years and you have never disappointed me. I expect no less this time."

CoqTease's words illustrated three simple principles of the distressed dungeon damsels. First and foremost, read no authors regardless of how many fics s/he has written and where they are archived unless they are on your trusted F-List. Second, any author who dares to mention certain specific words in their fic should be flamed mercilessly no matter the context. Finally, if you're not sure what to think flame first and let someone else ask questions later. CoqTease then advised her buddies to set their message status to invisible to everyone and block all the offending addresses, thereby eliminating any possibility of contact or further dialogue. The mission was set in stone.

Mandragora catches the tail-end of CoqTease's stirring missive, scrolls back and reads the rest of it, then leans back in her comfy chair. A steaming cup of tea, properly prepared according to the helpful step-by-step instructions she downloaded from the 'How to be British E-Guide', rests smoothly in her hands near her face. She finds the aromatic scent to be both stimulating and relaxing. In her mind, Professor Snape would most certainly prefer this particular type of tea over all others. It suited his acerbic wit and prickly personality while remaining smoothly and understatedly British. At least, that was the result of an online poll in CoqTease's LJ. Though she had initially voted for something else, she's been drinking this kind ever since. She takes a look at the BS Board, expecting to see a notice or two of warning, but is stunned to see nothing of the sort. In fact, the fic in question is actually listed on the BS Board as worthy of reading. This fills her with confusion. If this were The Fic, surely the BS Board would not have posted it. She tried to get through to her good pal, Buzzkill, to question this shocking turn of events.

By this time, Buzzkill has found and uploaded the top secret attack file. She orders that all upstanding members read only those fics designated on the master list with the correct secret code. No one should be groping blindly or innocently trusting the random fic function on many archives. Heaven only knows what horrors could befall the SS/HG fandom. We can't afford to lose any members. No, only fics bearing the official seal of approval will be recced here.

With growing confusion and a nagging doubt, Mandragora sends an instant message to CoqTease to inform her that it may be a false alarm or merely a test since none of the various BS boards have issued any warnings; in fact they are recommending the fic in question. "Surely, they wouldn't do that with a piece of heinously horrific hooey, would they? I think the gals at the Viper Pit are testing our mettle with this one." Mandragora stares at the screen for a few moments, and when no message comes through from CoqTease, she continued, "I just don't think we need to take desperate measures here. Our gals will be all over the net with this in no time at all and when they do it will unleash a wicked wank, I can tell you."

For a few moments, there was only a blank screen and Mandragora stared at her own words before CoqTease responded in all caps. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANY DISSENT!" Within moments, another message came through. "Recent converts to this ship have no business questioning my judgment."

"But I've been reading this ship for years!" Mandragora tried to protest. "Almost as long as you!"

"You always were and always will be first and foremost a Legolas-Aragorn shipper. Don't deny it!"

"My LOTR fixation has no bearing on my dedication to the SS/HG world. You know that. I jumped on this ship as soon as I heard it was sailing and have been faithful to it ever since."

"I know what you do in your dungeon paradise," began CoqTease. "Don't try and pull any wool over my eyes. I repeat there will be no dissent in the ranks. I will not tolerate fics like this one falling further in, I swore an unbreakable vow to protect this ship. That's what I am doing here, no more no less."

In a stunning burst of insight, Mandragora suddenly saw beyond the silver rainbow and realised that CoqTease had orchestrated the whole episode. 'If a full-blown Wank War were to erupt, it could ruin a site for good. There'd be no letter from exile one merciful morning to save the fandom masses', she thought to herself. She made every effort to rein in the already volatile situation. "Do we really want to start a Wank War?"

CoqTease stood firm. "I will not delete the flames already posted nor tell others to stop voicing concerns on every forum known to the ship, perhaps even launching a few new ones. Who knows? There is something dreadfully wrong with anyone who would not only write a fic like this one, but actually post it to the internet. They knew what they were doing when they posted it. Now, how about you settle yourself down and snuggle up with a good fic and a steaming cup of tea?"

Mandragora finished the last of her tea, then typed a message she never thought she'd type. "I hate to do this, Coq, after all, you've always been there for me, but I think you've gone too far this time. It is my duty to alert the fandom to this false alarm and call the faithful home." She switched to another window, typed a terse message and hit 'send'. She waited, but nothing happened. Only then did she notice the new message at the top of her screen… "All your messages must be moderated." In a flash, she switched back to the IM window. "What is this? You put me on moderation?"

"It's for your own good." CoqTease taunted. She reached into a desk drawer and pulled out her wand, stroking it lovingly as she did so. She set it on her desk where she could see it. It reminded her of Severus. "A decision has been made in consultation with all the mods and well it is completely justified. Once everyone realises that we've passed the point of no return, there will be only one thing left, namely total commitment. The forward thrust of our actions cannot be stopped. There will be no early withdrawal. Do you recall what I said when I launched my LJ Fic List? I said that fic writing was too important to be left to amateurs and I still believe that now, all these years later. The proliferation of poorly managed fic sites with no oversight whatsoever has only served to prove my point several times over. Fic sites need a strong and damning oversight. You can't breed lilacs out of dead land and we want quality fics, right? Sure, there are sites that claim to have oversight. Hell, I've even encountered a few where the mods all claim to be British and to have lived next door to the real-life inspiration for Snape. Does that mean we should blindly follow like lost sheep? Now more than ever, my brand of wank is necessary to safeguard this ship against this kind of criminal ravishment and that is why we fight."

"But you alone can't make these decisions for the whole fandom!"

"It is up to me and big name fans like me to show these dunderheads the door. Enough of your endless whinging. No, they may go into hiding for a brief while, but not this time. Oh no! They're not getting away from me. They can try to hide beneath a rock, but I will force them into the light." CoqTease signed off abruptly. She reached for her wand and smiled as her fingers ran softly over its length before she grasped it firmly at its base. She could feel the creative juices beginning to flow within her. She loved the feel of the hardwood wand in her hand. It reminded her of Severus.