The Horror of Mary-Sue

Marisu Muggleborne at Hogwarts

Marisu Muggleborne strode confidently into the Great Hall at Hogwarts.  Even though she was a tender fourteen years of age, she was already a Prefect, Head Girl and at the Top of her class.  She even did a bit of student teaching on the side, though everyone agreed that she was a shoe-in for the Minister of Magic position if Cornelius Fudge ever tired of the post.  The Sorting Hat had, naturally, been so impressed with her innate Magick that it did the completely unexpected and never-before-seen by placing her in all four houses at once!  Naturally, everyone agreed this was the correct course of action as she had all best features of the four founders:  courage and daring, steadfast loyalty, superior intelligence and sly cunning.

She was a dainty girl, who was, nonetheless, tall for her age with a confident, poised, yet devastatingly feminine, gait that riveted the attention of students and professors alike.  Her perfect curls were as golden as a newly minted Galleon, and her eyes were the blue of forget-me-nots.  Her creamy, unblemished skin was aglow with youthful vigour, and the roses in her cheeks would have put the Royal Gardens at Vauxhall to shame.  Her figure was the zenith of nubile perfection, kept in shape by rigorous gymnastic routines, ballet and modern dance.

She looked around the room with a sunny smile.  Professor Flitwick toppled from his perch at her gaze and had to be revived by Professor McGonagall, who mused that the dear clever girl had certainly taught her a thing or two about Transfiguration.  The Head of Slytherin, Professor Severus Snape, smoothed his black, oily mane while wearing a debonair expression.  He favoured Flitwick with a pitying smirk.  Everyone knew Marisu liked him best and it was simply a matter of waiting for her to reach the age of majority before he whisked her away to a life of unbridled passion.

As she made her way across the room, the other students either waved cheerfully or followed behind her at a respectful distance.  Even the famous Harry Potter was enraptured by the beautiful blonde enchantress.  They had, when they first met, discussed marriage, but alas, it was out of the question as Marisu had turned out to be Harry's very own first cousin twice removed, but they agreed to remain good friends.

Marisu smiled and waved at Hermione Granger, her very best friend.  Poor Hermione!  She had been SO worried about that last transfiguration exam until Marisu had assisted her through the rough parts.  Hermione had even told her that if it hadn't been for Marisu's help, she would never have made a passing mark.  "I wish I were as smart as YOU," Hermione had declared, misty-eyed with gratitude.

A magnificent white owl glided into the Great Hall and headed straight for Marisu on an unerring course.  With a graceful swoop, it landed on her outstretched arm and delivered a letter.  Marisu took the letter and opened it while the owl waited patiently to see if she had a reply.  As she opened the missive, a chill slid down her back.  "I feel a tremour in the Force," she intoned solemnly before realizing this was a different dimension from the one in which she had valiantly helped save the Alliance from certain destruction.  "Never mind," she said to her nearest admirer.

Draco Malfoy, delighted at being addressed by his idol, stopped plotting the humiliation of Harry Potter and company long enough to genuflect at Marisu's feet and kiss the hem of her robe.  "Flirt," she declared in a teasing, yet sophisticated tone.

She quickly scanned the letter then headed directly for the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, who gave her a welcoming smile.  "Why yes, my dear what can I do for you?"

"I received this," the teenage witch declared.  She handed Dumbledore the letter, which was written on black-edged parchment scented with Eau D'Eville.  "It-it's from…Voldemort," she declared, unafraid to speak the Dark Lord's name.  "He-he says that if I do not elope with him immediately, he'll perform an Avada Kedavra Humongous Maximus Curse that will kill 95.9 percent of the entire world's population.  Oh…Headmaster, whatever shall I do?  Reforming Lord Voldemort with my pure and maidenly Kiss is just not on my schedule for this week.  I was planning to win the Quidditch Cup for England…that is, after I rewrite the Divinations Syllabus, go out with Sirius Black to see a movie (I just happen to look just like his long-lost girlfriend, you know, and I just couldn't refuse the poor dear), not to mention tame a dragon for poor, dear Hagrid and teach Professor Snape a new potion I invented."

Dumbledore smiled gently at his favourite student.  He and the Hogwarts staff had already relied upon her preternatural wisdom on so many occasions.  He stroked his long white beard gently and pondered her dilemma.  Finally, he reached into a pocket of his robe and withdrew a Time-turner.  "You might find this little device useful, my dear.  Please, use it wisely and give my regards to Tom.  I am certain when you are finished with him, he will revert to being a model citizen."

She kissed Dumbledore on the cheek before leaving the Great Hall.  "Oh, thank you, Sir," she chirped.  A few minutes later, Marisu Muggleborne had mounted her broom (a prototype Nimbus Firebolt 3001, the only broom of its kind in the entire world) and was aloft and headed for Voldemort's squalid lair.  She had a mind to fix that, though and was already cheerfully selecting her trousseau.  Yes, indeed, He-Who-Is-Not-To-Be-Named would surely settle down once he had experienced wedded bliss.

The end…

(Really, you should never have let me begin…)