One fine day, the sun was shining to highlight the fact that we were in a good mood. At least, that's what I thought it was doing, but Harry didn't agree.
"This is an example of the pathetic fallacy," said Harry. "The pathetic fallacy is when the environment is believed to reflect the characters' moods or is –"
"Yes, dear, I know all about that," Spike broke in. "What you didn't realise is that this proves beyond a doubt that we are in a work of fiction designed in such a way that you can tell us all about what's really going on to prove how much smarter you are. Well, guess what, I can out-jargon you if I try hard enough."
"For the six hundred and sixty-sixth time, this is reality," I said. "Where do you guys get the idea that this is fiction?"
"If this isn't fiction, why am I an example of Genetic Engineering Is the New Nuke?" asked Sally.
Our conversation was soon forgotten, however, as we found ourselves in a vague, nondescript room that had four walls on either side, but somehow no floor or ceiling. Just looking at it made me feel stupid. The walls were numbered (in order) 0, 3, 4 and 11. The sun was no longer shining. No one was quite sure what to make of this, but then we were never quite sure what to make of our surroundings because they were completely random.
The wall labelled "4" suddenly vanished in a stylised way that was reminiscent of the fadeouts often used in video clips. Behind it was a vague, nondescript stretch of empty space, as well as a floor with pink bunny shapes printed all over it. In the middle of the floor stood a young woman who looked like she'd had way too much plastic surgery, or like she was actually made of plastic. She was some kind of anthropomorphic personification of Western feminine beauty ideals taken up to eleven. She had long purple hair that ended in black snake heads where it reached her feet. Her eyes seemed to be multiple colours at once. She was wearing a sparkly dress that was the same "colour" as her eyes and was, shall we say, not very modest.
Next to her stood Draco Malfoy. He was wearing leather pants and a shirt made of Scotch tape.
"Hello, everyone," said the young woman in a whiny, sing-song voice. "I have many names, and to list them all would take too much of my precious time. You may call me Mary-Sue. Please don't comment on my appearance; I'm so beautiful it's a curse."
"Just cut your hair," said Megalapteryx, whom we called Meg for short. "It did wonders for me – otherwise everyone would assume I had an astonishingly appropriate appearance." Meg had red hair that she kept in a pixie cut.
"Cut my hair?!" exclaimed Mary-Sue. "But then no one would know I'm a Slytherin. I can't do that."
"In case you haven't noticed," said Harry, "we're not actually in Hogwarts, and Hogwarts may not even exist, so the point about Slytherin is moot. This is obvious because, in canon, Lily and I were never in Hogwarts at the same time."
"We weren't?" I was confused.
"Of course not – you were dead by the time I was enrolled."
"I was dead? Oh, dear. Does that mean I'm supposed to be dead right now? What do I do?"
Spike decided to butt in. "Bah! Harry's just found an excuse to get on his high horse again. Ignore him, Lily."
"How come I never get to say anything?" asked Beanbag.
"I was wondering the same thing," said Draco. "Am I supposed to stand here in this ridiculous getup until the cows come home? That would be terribly unbecoming of a Malfoy."
"Ah, we've just encountered a trope called 'Talking Is a Free Action'," said Mary-Sue. "At least, I think we have; I haven't been paying attention myself. Anyhow, that means that, when characters are talking, all other action is suspended so they can talk in peace. In this case it was due to the author's poor writing skills and lack of imagination."
"I thought I was Mr. Exposition," said Harry.
"You are." Mary-Sue smiled a sickeningly sweet smile. "I can be Mrs. Exposition. Would you like to marry me?"
Draco was incredulous. "But you're already in a relationship with me! Does this mean you're going to have a love triangle with me and Potter? I hate him."
"This turn of non-events is surpassingly stupid," said Meg. "It's making me angry, and that could kill me. Don't you lot have any respect?"
"My head hurts," said Sally. "This Mary-Sue person did something to make the static worse. Where's my tin foil hat?"
"I think it's in hyperspace somewhere," said Beanbag.
"You know how everyone has one special power?" said Mary-Sue. "Well, I have the power to emit stupid rays, thus turning everyone within sixty feet into a blithering idiot. This is normally extremely effective for convincing people that I'm wonderful and intelligent, since I have an IQ of about 60, but it seems to be malfunctioning today. I'll have to cook up an evil plan to make you all stupid. Maybe I can get my daddy Satan to help."
"Um, guys? Am I the only one who's noticed that we're floating in space?" Spike wondered.
"I never notice anything," I said. "Besides, we're almost always floating in space."
"Beep, beep, beep!" said Hewlett. According to him, it was exactly 88:88 AM.
Mouse let out a mighty yowl, and a cloud of mice surged forth out of nowhere, turned into iridescent bubbles, made a hideous squeaking, and began to munch on Mary-Sue's hair. "Ow!" she yelled. "That hurts! I was all set to explain to you about how I broke the fourth wall because I'm an author avatar, but then you inflicted these horrid things on me! Also, I broke a nail and my shoes fell off!"
"That's impossible," said Harry. "There's no gravity, so your shoes can't fall off."
"But they did! They were such beautiful, expensive shoes. They were my favourites out of my 666 pairs of shoes, and I didn't even get them from Walmart! How dare you do such things to me? Now I'll be ugly for the rest of my life! Waaaaah!"
Then Draco cast Avada Kedavra on Mary-Sue, but she dodged it and it hit me instead.
"See, that's what happened to you in canon," said Harry. "Wait, you're still alive?"
"That's weird," I said. "How the heck am I still alive? I thought that was supposed to kill people?"
"You're so stupid that it didn't work on you," said Draco.
"Are you sure?" said Harry. "I think the problem is that she's protected by plot armor."
"What's plot armor?"
"It's when you can't be killed off because you're vital to the plot. It's not normally this stupid, though."
"See, I told you she was too stupid to kill," said Draco.
