DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Revlon Eye Twinkler is homage to Dave Barry's Revlon Eye Moistener jokes. It's not an actual product, and no money is being made off of that, either.

Author notes: This is (obviously) parody of Mary Sues. I don't necessarily hate OC-fics (some are quite shiny and nice), I just thought it would be amusing to explore the angle of a world where Mary Sues are the norm, and shove a random Hufflepuff in there. Not to say that Hannah's acompletely random choice—I've been very fond of her since the "Sirius Black can turn into a flowering shrub" thing.

Hannah Abbott was thrilled to return to Hogwarts for her sixth year, in part because of the fact that going back to school meant she was relatively safe from genocidal megalomaniacs for a few months. She was settled quite comfortably in a plush seat on the Hogwarts Express, trading Chocolate Frog cards and debating the merits of various antique brooms.

"I'm telling you, the Cleansweep One was easily the best broom in the world up to that point. Restore one and update it a little, and you'd be able to outstrip a Nimbus 1000, easy," said Susan Bones, popping a Chocolate Frog into her mouth.

Ernie Macmillan rolled his eyes. "Yes, and there are how many wizards qualified to do that? Three or four in the country, maybe. And that type of restoration is horribly complicated, anyway. The Comet 140 had style—and the braking charms were so much better; you're far less likely to break your neck."

"Yes, but it was never anywhere near as fast as the old Cleansweep—not much point in breaking quickly when you're practically already stopped, is there?" replied Susan, snickering. "Hannah, please tell Ernie how insane he is so that he may seek treatment for his little delusions."

"Wellllll…I do agree that Ernie is rather daft in general, but you both have a point," Hannah said, completely indecisive. She looked rather gleeful upon seeing the card that came with her frog. "Oooh, I've got Agrippa! Is Ron Weasley still offering all his doubles for that one?"

Susan rested her chin in her hand and stared at her for a moment. "Do tell me if you ever make a decision on any subject, all right, Hannah? It'll be one for the Prophet if you ever make the bold decision as to what to have for breakfast."

"I decided perfectly well this morning that I'd have waffles."

"And?" Ernie prompted. He knew this little argument far too well by now.

"Well, Mum was really busy and didn't feel like making waffles, but my piece of toast was really nice!"

"You're hopeless, my friend," Susan told her affectionately.

They continued on in relative peace for the rest of the journey.

When Hannah exited her horseless carriage, though, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Professor Dumbledore was standing at the entrance, wearing a grim expression. Literally—there was a grim expression silk-screened onto his robes, disturbingly enough.

"Lana? Lana Cabot? What in the name of Merlin's left shoe are you doing here?" asked Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he put his bottle of Revlon Eye Twinkler (not tested on animals; only 15 sickles at select stores) back in the pocket of his robes.

"Do you mean me, Professor? I'm Hannah Abbott, not Lana Cabot," replied Hannah, feeling very confused. Was Dumbledore going senile? (Answer: Probably, but didn't we already know that?) He usually remembered the names of every student in the school, which said something for his memory. It was also quite unusual that he called her by her first name—normally he would have called her Miss Abbott. What had happened to the beloved headmaster?

Dumbledore muttered something that sounded horribly like, "Darn Hufflepuffs! They're all alike anyway; why would you bother to name them?"

Hannah was mortified. "Why would Dumbledore say that? Just last June, he gave a speech at the Leaving Feast about how each house, and each student is important to Hogwarts, and that Hogwarts must stand united or crumble. Is this some sort of joke?" she wondered silently.

Regaining her composure, Hannah politely asked, "Pardon me, Professor, but I didn't catch that."

"Oh, I just said that you should be at the Salem Witches' Institute for your foreign exchange trip. Didn't you get your owl? The American girl is already here," he told her, gesturing across the lawn.

She glanced in the direction Dumbledore had pointed, hoping desperately to see Kirly McCormack, the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters standing there, waiting to propose, as that would at least indicate that this was merely a very odd dream. Alas, what she saw was an extraordinarily beautiful girl, with every boy in Hogwarts (and some of the girls) surrounding her, gawping at the girl as though she were the original Veela. At the center of the crowd, right next to the girl, were Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, each alternately staring at the girl and glaring murderously at the other. Pansy Parkinson was trying to drag Malfoy away, and seemed rather put out that he wasn't following her.

"She's soooooooo cool! She said she'd give me a makeover; isn't that awesome?" said a girl walking past. It took Hannah a few minutes to realize that this person was actually Hermione Granger. It appeared as though she'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with this strange girl who was chatting animatedly about purple hair dye to…Loony Luna Lovegood? Hannah stared, completely bewildered. Luna was wearing a black tank top that bared her midriff, and her wavy, straggly blond hair had been straightened, cut, and streaked with blue. She wore far too much eyeliner and looked rather frightening. Though Hannah only knew her through the DA, she felt sure that Luna would never dress like that normally. Although, those weirdo hats of hers were almost this odd…almost.

"Yeah, isn't she great? She did my makeover on the train," said the girl who appeared to be Luna.

"And she's from the Salem Witches' Institute! According to An Appraisal Of Magical Education Worldwide, it's the best magical institution in the Americas. They do quite a bit of work with other types of magics, too—stuff from all over the world. Isn't that awesome?" asked the girl who appeared to be Hermione, apparently rhetorically.

"Everyone's acting so crazy," Hannah thought. "Maybe it's best to just go along with this, at least for now. What's the worst that can happen?"

"By the way, do you like what she suggested to update my look? She says that it makes me look 'totally punk', which I'm fairly certain is a good thing," said the headmaster, tearing Hannah out of her reverie. "That'll teach Rita Skeeter to call me an obsolete dingbat!" said Dumbledore, pointing at the grim expression on his robes.

"Er, Professor? I didn't hear anything over the summer about this foreign exchange thing…what, exactly, am I supposed to do?" asked Hannah, stating the obvious. "Also, why was I picked for this foreign exchange program? It's new, isn't it?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled sagely, and he replied, "You shall have to search deep inside yourself to realize your destiny."

"Yes, of course, but what does that have to do with anything?"

My eyes twinkled sagely, didn't they? What more do you want?" griped Dumbledore indignantly. "And we need to get rid of a prefect so we can give the other girl a spot."

"A means of transportation might be useful, I suppose." Hannah was beginning to think that the sooner she got out of here, the better. It was getting rather frightening. "I worked so hard to be a prefect, and she just waltzes in and takes my spot?" she thought angrily. It was as though this girl had pranced in and taken over! She would have liked dearly to say that out loud, but, despite the whole world going crazy, she couldn't bring herself to say something that impolite to Dumbledore, who was a bit of a hero to her.

Dumbledore took out the bottle of Revlon Eye Twinkler and pointed his wand at it. "Portus. Don't worry; I know what you're thinking. It's empty, so it's not like I'm wasting it," he told her, seeing the look of surprise on her face.

"But, sir, that not what I was thinking. Isn't it illegal to set up an unauthorized Portkey?"

"Laws, shmaws! I'm Albus Freaking Dumbledore! I can do whatever I bloody well want!" Actually, that wasn't quite true. His middle name was Percival Wulfric Brian, not Freaking. But, yeah, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted, mostly because to others he could either do no wrong, or they were terrified of him, or both. In any case, he was Albus "Freaking" Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and he could pretty much do whatever he bloody well wanted.

"Well…all right, Professor," she said, wondering if she should write to Madam Pomfrey while she was in America and ask her to check and see if the headmaster had been skipping his medication. That would certainly explain a lot: his fixation with revolting candies like Cockroach Clusters and sherbet lemons, for instance.

Hannah wasn't at all sure about this, but she had always wanted to visit America; this seemed an ideal situation. Death Eater activity across the pond was mercifully minimal—even in the first war, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named hadn't managed to get much of a hold in North America. And, if Hermione Granger was right, and she usually was, the Salem Witches' Institute was quite an advanced school, so she would be well-prepared for her N.E.W.T.s next year. With any luck, that would help her prevent another Flamingo Incident. This in mind, she dragged her trunk a few inches closer to her, and placed a finger on the Portkey.

Chapter 2 will be up shortly, and that's where things start to get pink and sparkly. And alliterative!

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