The Bartimaeus Fanfiction Academy

It should be stated, here and forever, that if you mangle canon in fanfiction and thus anger all sane gods, it will eventually come back to bite you right in the butt, usually in the most painful and humiliating way possible. The laws of karma demand it.

Some people are unaware of this, usually the ones who do the actual mangling. They'll get theirs.

Contrarian repeated this to herself silently as she regarded the students before her. She consciously repressed a shudder as she studied them. Most were clad in pink. All wore vacant expressions. It didn't take a lot of brainpower to determine that all of them were attempting to find some way through the barrier surrounding the plot hole.

She glanced at the clock. It was time to speak.

"Welcome to 'Classic Clichés and How to Avoid Them'," she said. A sea of faces stared back at her, and not one of them held any indication that they knew what "cliché" meant. She noted with disgust that one girl had somehow managed to get her hands on a marker and had scrawled "I Lurve Barty" in bold letters on the front of her shirt. Making a mental note to burn this shirt as soon as possible, she continued, "I'll be handing out the syllabus in a moment, but first, who knows the definition of the word 'cliché'?"

She had hoped these people weren't as stupid as they looked, but no such luck. They continued to stare at her blankly. While Contrarian's expression remained pleasant, in her mind she was shredding the girl with the offensive shirt into little bits and stomping on the remains.

"All right," she said, clapping her hands together briskly to dispel the vivid and somewhat disturbing image. She walked along the front row, and stopped in front of a girl in a purple shirt that she thought she recognized. A glare with that particular level of hostility was hard to forget.

"You. Describe your story and characters to me, please."

The girl blinked, then sat up straighter, looking pleased.

"Well," she began, twisting a strand of light brown hair around her index finger, "It starts out in Nathaniel's house, and he's summoning Bartimaeus. At least, that's what he thinks, but he winds up making a mistake and summoning a girl instead."

She paused, looking at Contrarian expectantly. The older girl signaled wordlessly for her to continue.

"Okay, so the girl's name is Xiomara, and she's, like, super cool. She's actually half-demon, so she has all kinds of powers. She can read minds, do magic, and she's really, really pretty. So obviously Nathaniel falls in love with her. I mean, who wouldn't, right?"

She laughed to herself, looking around at her classmates for reactions. Some of them were nodding along, others were scribbling in their notebooks. Contrarian had moved to her desk and was rummaging around in one of the drawers, but she looked up and nodded, saying, "I'm listening, keep going."

"So, anyway, Xiomara really likes Nathaniel, too, but she has this huge, dark secret that could totally destroy them both if she caves in to her desires."

This last word was delivered with the utmost gravity. There were murmurings of approval and excitement from her peers. Contrarian straightened up, brushing her hair out of her face. In one hand she held a long, thin cylinder, and in the other, a match.

"Well, er…what's your name?"

"Kim," the girl said. "Kim Hayes."

"Well, Kim, you've been a big help. You posted this story, is that right?"

"I did, I mean, I tried to, but then I got my letter and I don't know if it was taken down or what."

"So you didn't get any reviews."

"No," Kim said, sounding resentful. "I don't know why not. I would have liked to know what people thought of it."

Contrarian struck a match, and as she brought the flame to the tip of the thin stick in her hand she said, very casually, "Don't despair. I can show you exactly what kind of reviews you would have received."

And she tossed the lit cylinder at Kim. The instant it landed on the startled girl's desk a miniature inferno engulfed her. There were several startled cries from the rest of the room's occupants, and those sitting nearest Kim hastily scooted out of range of the flames. A few seconds late the fire suddenly extinguished itself, revealing a very charred and surprised Kim. The scorched girl coughed violently and waved away the smoke that hung around her head in a foul-smelling cloud.

"What was that?" she cried hoarsely, spitting ash out of her mouth.

"That," Contrarian said enthusiastically, "Was a flame. A flame in a stick, if you want to be technical about it – isn't it great? Wasn't that really exciting?"

She looked around at the class with an exaggerated sense of enthusiasm. The students' wide-eyed stares moved from Contrarian to Kim. No one looked particularly thrilled or, for that matter, thoroughly convinced of their teacher's sanity.

"You didn't like it?" Contrarian asked, feigning puzzlement.

"No!" Kim snapped, her voice less raspy now that she had either swallowed or coughed out the ash and smoke in her throat. "That was totally evil! What is wrong with you?"

"It isn't what's wrong with me, it's what's wrong with your story," Contrarian answered, her tone suddenly reasonable. "Again, this class deals with clichés, which, since none of you were able to define them, are ideas used so often they become nauseating. Your story, Kim, consisted of bad clichés stacked one on top of another a mile high. The most common response to stories like yours is a flame. Can anyone tell me what a flame is?"

There was a pause, during which Contrarian muttered "Dear God" under her breath, and then a girl in the back of the room raised her hand tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Um, isn't that like when some other person tells you your story is horrible because they're, you know, really jealous of you and stuff?"

Contrarian sighed. "Not exactly. A flame is negative, yes, often to the point of rudeness, but in almost every case they aren't given because the person is jealous of you. Rather, an author gets a flame because their story is likely so god-awful that the reviewer loses control and winds up pointing out every fault they can spot. Usually a flame will include phrases such as 'You suck', or 'This is the worst story I've ever read; take it down NOW', or comments more colorful than these.

"The point of the flame is to discourage the author from writing. So if you write well, that is, make an effort to proofread and keep your characters realistic, chances are you won't find yourself on the receiving end of a wholly negative review. What you want to do is avoid clichés like the ones found in Kim's story."

Contrarian moved along the rows, passing out copies of the syllabus.

"Class is almost over, so read this tonight and I'll discuss it in more detail tomorrow. For bonus points, you can write a paragraph or two telling me what was wrong with Kim's story. This will also help me determine how adept you are at recognizing clichés."

At this point the bell rang, and the students began to gather their things. Kim stormed out of the room first, her hair singed and clothing covered in soot. Faint wisps of smoke trailed behind her. Contrarian patted the drawer she kept her Inferno sticks in fondly. She had always been a bigger fan of constructive criticism, of course, but some people forced you to take extreme measures.

-

Kim stood in front of a bathroom mirror, scrubbing feverishly at her soot-blackened skin. It was proving difficult to rub off – in fact, the soapy water had only caused it to smudge, so now her face was a particularly nasty grey color. She growled at her reflection and spun around, grabbed a handful of dry paper towels from the dispenser on the wall, and resumed wiping her face with even greater intensity.

Ooh! I can't believe she did that! Just you wait – once Nathaniel and I are together we'll team up on her and…and she'll be sorry!

Seething, Kim pulled the towels away from her face and checked the mirror. She cried out in exasperation – her face was now a slightly lighter shade of grey. And dinner was in less than ten minutes – what was she going to do? She couldn't fall gracefully into Nathaniel's arms like this – she looked like a gargoyle! And it was all Contrarian's fault!

"I HATE that jumped-up, stupid, four-eyed witch!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, and stood breathing heavily for a moment, listening to her words echo off the tile. Feeling only marginally better, she cast a final, gloomy look at her mirrored self and headed for the door. She would just have to skip dinner, then, and keep trying to scrub the ash off in the privacy of the dormitory bathroom. Until she got there, she'd have to hide her face somehow….

Why was there never a paper bag in sight when you needed one? She settled for pulling the collar of her shirt up over her nose and brushing her hair in front of her face. She couldn't really see, but it wasn't far to her room. She groped her way along the hall, going as quickly as possible without stumbling. She turned the corner that led to the staircase and bumped into someone. With a squeal, she darted back, but the person caught her wrist. Shaking her head to get the hair out of her eyes, she looked fearfully at her assailant.

It was a boy – boorish-looking with features that reminded Kim of a caveman. She shrieked.

"Let me go, you pervert!"

The boy looked dimly surprised and released her wrist.

"Your face is grey," he grunted, and moved away down the hall, dragging a cart loaded with mops, brooms, and other cleaning supplies behind him. Kim scowled after him – whoever he was. A janitor? She dismissed him from her mind and darted up the stairs to the fourth floor.

Twenty minutes later her face was almost back to normal, though very pink and chafed from vigorous scrubbing. There were still grey spots near her ears and eyebrows, but they weren't that noticeable. At least, Kim hoped they weren't, since they refused to come off no matter how much she rubbed at them and would probably be there for a while.

But on the bright side, there was a chance that she would be able to eat, since dinner was only just halfway over. She headed down two flights of stairs, but came to a halt halfway down one of the second-floor hallways.

The plot hole! In her desperation to get the soot off her face she had completely forgotten about it! The day could still improve. She hurried towards the staircase, going slower as she approached the top of the stairs. The plot hole was still there, rotating lazily and distorting the objects nearest its edges. Kim put her hands out and moved forward, expecting to feel the Shield at any moment. Instead, she nearly fell down the stairs. Confused, Kim stood on the first stair and looked around, as if expecting to see a sign explaining the situation. She moved cautiously closer to the plot hole, still anticipating the sudden presence of the rock-hard Shield. But no – she was on the stair above the plot hole and was feeling its enticing pull. Was the barrier actually gone? She hardly dared hope. How could it have happened?

-

In the cafeteria, at a designated staff table, Bartimaeus and Queezle sat on one end. Bartimaeus was regaling his longtime friend with the story of the second-floor stairwell, his tone becoming increasingly sour as he recounted the part with Faquarl. Queezle, in the guise of the beautiful girl with pointed teeth, held up a hand to stop him.

"Wait a minute – I just thought of something. What floor did you say this stairwell was on?"

"The second," Bartimaeus told her warily. "Why?"

"Uh oh…" Queezle muttered.

"What'd you do?" he asked, trying to suppress rising alarm.

"I didn't know about the plot hole," she said hastily. "I saw the Shield and thought that someone had pulled a prank, so I took it down. I wasn't about to use the stairs, so I didn't realize that it was there to block anything off."

"You removed it!" Bartimaeus exclaimed. All along the staff table, heads began to turn in their direction. Queezle grinned at him sheepishly, and he jumped up, heading quickly for the door amidst the excited murmurs of the students.

-

Kim stretched out a hand towards the plot hole and nearly tipped off balance. The pull was stronger than ever. If she could actually be sucked in, then it had to be true. The Shield was gone.

She stood there for a moment longer while realization sank in.

And then she leaped for the swirling vortex with a wild cry of triumph that echoed through the halls long after she had disappeared.

-

Seized with a sudden feeling of foreboding, Nathaniel turned casually to Faquarl and said, "Do you mind switching seats with me? I need to speak with Kitty for a moment."

-

Kim was falling pleasantly slowly. The air around was a nice temperature and oddly cushy – like the essence of a feathery pillow all around. Colors and fragmented images like movie clips, all almost painfully romantic, swirled around her, but she was hardly taking them in. The longer she fell, the stronger a hold one thought had over her mind: Nathaniel…

-

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Kitty asked Nathaniel as he slid into the seat next to her, Faquarl giving him a last odd look before scrutinizing the students in the cafeteria.

"Oh, well…how were your classes?"

"You care? Nathaniel, I'm shocked," she remarked dryly, spearing a few vegetables with her fork. As she chewed, Nathaniel searched uselessly for a brilliant retort.

"This is really good, Faquarl," Kitty commented over Nathaniel's head to the djinni on his other side. The entity favored her with a cool glance.

"After so many centuries taking on the guise of a cook, food is my specialty," he said, holding his hands out in indication of the spread before them.

-

Nathaniel.

Kim was perfectly content to let him occupy her thoughts. His face, his voice…and she would be falling right into his lap.

Ignorance, nothing – this is bliss.

She closed her eyes and sighed. A sudden shift in motion jolted her out of her peaceful daydream. She opened her eyes quickly and gasped in surprise as she ceased to float lazily downwards, instead plummeting into the arms of someone who, upon immediate inspection, was definitely not Nathaniel.


A/N: I was in a horrible mood when I began to write this (I made the mistake of venturing into the Harry Potter category), so Contrarian's character was a little sharper than I had originally intended. Still, it fits in with the philosophy of the OFUs, so it's not that bad. And it helped me work out a little frustration, so it was a win-win situation…for me, at least. I bet you all can guess who actually caught Kim.

Staff positions are all filled, but I'm still accepting student applications. If you've sent me a form and I haven't responded, I'm sorry – I've been really busy as of late and haven't checked my email in a long, long time. I'll try to catch up this weekend at the very latest.