Author's notes: All my apologies to JKR for what I am about to write. Some of the readers wanted a follow-up on Glory's not so excellent adventures. Too bad for you if you wished she had been committed for life.

Summary:

Glory O'Fe D'Day uses blackmail to get another chance at finding a keeper.

Long but not useless interlude that will help you understand the madness coming your way in the next chapter

"Aloha!"

A young woman lifted her eyes from the - cough - serious book she was reading and apprehensively looked at the door. She then heard something that sounded like a curse word, then a brief silence and finally, a firm but delicate "knock knock".

She sighed, as she understood who was the intruder. "First of all, it's Alohomora. Secondly, you could repeat that incantation until your tongue falls off. This is the real world so it won't work. What do you want, Glory?"

An irritated cherubic voice answered her, "Open this darn door, MysticScribe! I need to talk to you."

The aforementioned MysticScribe whispered to herself with a wince, "Why did they let her go? I thought I got her committed forever."

The young woman reluctantly lifted herself from the couch and opened the door to the infamous Glory O'Fe D'Day, the Unforgettable-Woman-Who-Had-Attempted-to-Seduce-Snape-But-Had-Failed-Miserably, in all of her radiant beauty.

"By the bleepin' Golden Elbows of the Sweet Goddess," MysticScribe muttered under her breath as the ravishing young woman entered her living room with her (stunning) head held high.

The young elfish princess threw her cloak on the couch with a grand gesture, brandishing a few pieces of computer printed paper in her silky hand. "The readers thought I was funny, you know? In English and French! They thought I had a future. They wanted me to go at him and charm his robes off! Why did you do this to me?"

The other woman crossed her arms and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. The pretty young thing was on a roll, " Do you know how terrible that hospital was? I was the only sane character there, with all those characters that could not even remember their past. And all those drafts of OC characters you have created… brrr, verrrrry frightening," she shivered, her delicate shoulders undulating like a trembling wave.

MysticScribe lifted an eyebrow and pensively remarked, "You're starting to sound Fleur Delacour-ish, and that was certainly not my purpose. And what may be the problem today?"

Glory O'Fe D'Day pointed a carefully groomed finger at her creator. " That man, this Snack, was a nasty, nasty man. I really did think we had a good thing going on: we had so much in common. A terrible past, mysteries surrounding us…everyone could see we were made for each other in the first paragraph."

MysticScribe snickered, "Everyone but the poor man. Pity."

Glory scratched one pointy ear with clear disgust, "Well, I read the book you threw at me and I realized, like, he's a murderer, isn't he? I want you to write me a relationship with a good one, you know. A chivalrous one, with whom it may be easier to bound with. "

She stopped speaking and a maniacal glimpse loomed in her purple eyes as she handed a magazine to the other woman. "I want someone simpler. This one."

MysticScribe was dazed as she incredulously studied the picture. She coughed, "You want…Daniel Radcliffe?"

Glory O'Fe D'Day loudly sighed, visibly thinking that the other one was a certified idiot, "No, PatheticScribe. I'm talking about Darcy Potter."

MysticScribe opened her mouth and took a beat: it would not be easy to sort this one out. How could she find the words that may reach Glory's small but cute brain? "Sweetheart, this is not Harry Potter. This is an actor playing a version of Harry Potter."

The young beauty threw her hands in the air, "Whatever. Actor, character, it's all the same to me. Teenage boys are way much simpler to deal with than horrible dark men."

MysticScribe erupted into laughter, obviously thinking that Glory was throwing a joke at her, but when she faced the scrunched expression of the character, she understood she had created a humourless monster.

The fanfic writer shook her head, "No way. I'm not pairing an elf princess with an underage boy. Perhaps you did not understand a thing about those books: Harry Potter is the epitome of the troubled hero. There is nothing simple about him. He lost his parents, his father figures died one after the other, and now he has only his friendships to support him and tons of Horcruxes to destroy. I wouldn't dream inflicting you upon him, from all things. He has his plate full with Voldemort. And Ginny Weasley. "

Glory pursed her lips in a malicious expression, "Tipitome? Don't use fancy words with me, missy. You seem to be forgetting that 125 elf years is equivalent to 16 in the wizarding world. Alas, I don't believe you have the choice."

The challenging Mary Sue had a smug look on her face. After a painful silence, MysticScribe frowned, "Maybe I'm mistaking here, but you seem to be threatening me."

Glories purred back, looking at her nails, "Well, don't forget I'm a vicious Slythebin, darling. I'm sure your readers would love to hear about your crush on Snarlie Weasley, do they? That piece of smut you produced a few days ago was an homage, wasn't it?"

As MysticScribe blushed in embarrassment, Glory laughed, " He's written in the books, like, five times. You're such a looser. Did you have a problem with the pretty one? What's his name...Will? Now, that's a stud."

"Enough," snapped MysticScribe as she pushed the obnoxious character out of her living room.

Before shutting the door, she grumbled to the triumphant princess, "Charlie's a dragon tamer. And a bloody good one too."

Glory will attempt to conquer Harry in the next chapter.

The previously mentioned piece of smut is Archive no.11 of my fic "Hogwarts' Unofficial Archives".

To be (painfully) continued…