The effects of Vambiolaria had set in. The dreaded Mary Sue disease, a fan-created spell that had the worst possible effect. It sought out the dominant character at the time, and... Well, I think you’ll understand in a moment.

Meir Brin’s deep grey eyes flickered open. Her dark tresses of raven black hair appeared streaked with white, just as it did in the light of the morning sun. “Where—Where am I?”

All of the male Canon Characters within a half-mile radius swooned. Mary Sues were deadly like that. The only known resistance to their evil was the Kuswort herb, which was kept by the HFA Sue-tracker. And at that moment, the HFA Sue-tracker was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, relieving himself against a tree.

“Oh yes, I am at the beloved Academy of Hogwarts Fanfiction. Beauteous school, yet I must suffer torment to remember the torment that I must suffer. Alas, my underprivileged upbringing does not allow me to enjoy such delights. Woe is me!” Meir Brin said, drawing one delicate hand across her brow and using incorrect grammar. She stood, causing the green waves of her dress to swish gently. It did not seem to matter that Meir Brin did not even own a green dress, or that Meir Brin found dresses to be extremely unpractical and annoying. Vambiolaria was known to be illogical.

The fanwriters glanced at one another. Why, they had to help this delicate creature, for what terrible hardship could be cruel enough to harm one so fair? Surely one of great evil.

“I must be leaving that you will not be suffering my presence, woe is I, for I fear that the evil shadow upon me must not be released into this place, farewell...” Meir Brin glided with ethereal grace from the classroom, her dark black hair billowing out behind her. Why must she be saddened by the grief of this world? If they had but known what horrors she had done in the past!

Bang!

Meir Brin drew her wand in surprise (it also did not seem to matter that Meir Brin did not even have a wand or possess magical powers of any sort) when a loud noise echoed throughout the corridors.

The HFA Sue-tracker had arrived. Sirius Black was running forward, clutching a foul-smelling handkerchief to his mouth. He was carrying something long and shining in his hand, and had a glint of both determination and disgust in his eyes.

Meir Brin’s features turned to mirror innocence and confusion, which was soon replaced by an expression of pain as Sirius Black contacted her head with a cricket bat made of solid bronze celery.

*********

“Why do we have to grind this? It’s disgusting! And whatever that stuff is, it has been dead for way too long...” Ally complained, dropping a handful of powder into a cauldron.

Severus Snape unstoppered a black vial. “Detainment is not yet over. Service in the hospital wing mandates you do as you’re told,” he replied softly, dropping the dark liquid into the potion. “And if I am to create a cure for Vambiolaria, this must be brewed tonight.”

They both looked over at the cot where Meir Brin had been stowed. Sirius Black had magically placed her in a straight jacket. Sirius Black did not tolerate Mary Sues. Ever since the Remus-glomping incidents, he had been five times more vindictive towards Original Characters that appeared at HFA.

Ally grumbled sourly and dropped a lump of frog bowels into the pot. The Dursely Jelly-Monster incident had earned her nightly detainment in the hospital wing. And that meant helping in the hospital wing, which in tonight’s case meant brewing up the Vambiolaria cure. Snape recoiled slightly as the potion splashed onto his robes. His free hand twitched, and Ally gulped. How many times had she been told not to mess with Snape?

“’Ere ’ee go. Las’ one of th’ season, put ter good use, I ’spect,” came the cheery voice of Hagrid from the doorway. Snape rolled his eyes. “Fresh Kuswort. Jus’ sprouted this morning,” said the half-giant, dropping a bundle of yellow plants onto the table. Ally held a hand to her mouth. The plants smelled like vomit.

“Fitting that a fan-created plant would defeat a fan-created disease,” remarked Snape, pulling a large kitchen knife from his belt. Ally had noticed that most of the staff members carried something sharp around with them in addition to their wands. The most inventive by far seemed to be Dobby, who carried a sharpened knitting needle in a scabbard around his waist wherever he went. Snape raised the knife high above his head and chopped the weed in half. Again. And again. And again. Ally thought this might be Professor Snape’s personal form of stress therapy.

Hagrid edged out of the wing just as Snape began to mumble names along with his knife strokes. The Potions master was on to “Harry Potter” for the eleventh time when Ally knocked a bottle of red liquid over, causing the Potions master to stop in mid-swing. “Erm... Is it time to put it in?” asked the fangirl.

“No,” said Snape coldly. He paused for two and a half seconds. “Now it is.” And the head of Slytherin House dumped the spliced herbs into the cauldron.

Ally looked at him angrily. Just because she was a stupid ignorant fangirl didn’t mean the Canon Characters had to condescend to her level all of the time. “Slimy—”

“You could at least have the creativity to invent your own adjective,” interjected Snape, his voice slightly raised. “‘Slimy-haired git’ is very much overused.”

Ally muttered curses and stuck her hand into a jar of pickled crow bladders. She slapped a handful down onto Snape’s cutting board, taking extra measures to make sure that the oozing substance dripped onto his shoes.

“It is finished,” said Snape suddenly.

As if out of thin air—or a plothole—Madam Pomfrey suddenly appeared. “Goodness, I hope there is enough.” The medi-witch ladled potion into a goblet, and strode over to Meir Brin.

Ally felt sick. She knew what was in that potion. To have to drink it... Ewww...

But apparently Kuswort potion did not have to be drunk. Madam Pomfrey raised the goblet as soon as she was within two meters of Meir Brin’s cot, then dropped the globby liquid into her hand, wound up like a baseball pitcher, and lobbed the Kuswort solution at the HFA coordinator.

A horrible squelching noise, and Meir Brin was back to normal. Two seconds to register where she was, two more seconds to register what had happened, and one nanosecond to register that there were crow bladders all over her face.

“AAAARRRGGGGHHHHHHH!”