Author’s Note: If you wish to read of Miss Cam’s adventures with her Crossover Class, it can be found here: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=950294&chapter=10.

[Editor’s Note: The original URL text is preserved for posterity, but Once More Into the Urple Depths of OFUM no longer exists on Fanfiction.net, so this link goes to AO3 instead. Miss Cam’s chapter takes place before Meir Brin’s chapter.]

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Meir Brin glared menacingly at the twenty students who had been randomly “selected” to attend the Crossover Class, or rather, those who had been kidnapped by the Mini-Aragogs. Borimir the Mini-Baragog and Voldeymort the Mini-Pokégog seemed to have been behind this method of choice. Meir Brin was sure that there were other Crossover twits lurking about, but unfortunately the Fodfather had eaten the student fanfiction records, and refused to cough them up. Actually, Meir Brin was quite glad of his refusal.

“As you are well aware, we are attending OFUM this morning. Now, anyone who attempts to escape, or to glomp... shall meet with the wrath of our new security officer.”

Meir Brin gestured to where Dark One Shadowphyre was sitting on the mantel of the giant fireplace behind her. The security guard had recently been hired to HFA after Meir Brin had discovered Aranel and a few other Wantingmors trying to bribe Ludo Bagman into leading them to the staff section.

“All right. Are we all ready to begin?” asked Meir Brin, picking up what looked like a white box of Chinese take-out food.

Kellie Owens raised her hand tentatively. “How are we getting there?”

Meir Brin appeared to be ignoring her. She opened the box and tossed the contents into the fire, which turned a sick sort of brown color, then settled into an Urple hue. “Foo Powder. One of you idiots created it. We’ll be using the fire to get to OFUM.”

“I... I...” stuttered Selena Luna. “Must we?”

“Yes, we must,” said Meir Brin through gritted teeth. A half-finished Mary Sue had arrived the other day, by the name of Katharine Starlight. Klose, the newly hired Sue-Dispatcher, had made short work of the creature, but the sight of the Sue’s head, foot, and right hand floating around and crying “Write me! Write me!” had unhinged Selena Luna of Wantingmor.

“Are we late?” asked Harry Potter.

“No,” said Meir Brin looking up to see Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Remus Lupin arrive, surrounded by a phalanx of Mini-Aragogs. “Knightsky, please hold on to Catrin Pritchard so that we may avoid glomping this time.”

Knightsky nodded and grabbed the back of Catrin’s robes. The Wantingmor had been stalking Harry Potter for the past two weeks, and as this was her first day out of the hospital wing (Madam Pomfrey had removed the cuckoo clock from the back of her throat), Meir Brin did not want to deal with another “incident.”

“Are they coming with us?” asked Vee, pointing at the three Canon Characters.

“Yes. Consider it further education, fanwriter,” snapped Draco.

Meir Brin nodded. “Everyone ready?”

There was a general chorusing of “yes,” “no,” and “please don’t hurt me.”

The HFA coordinator grinned. “Very well. OFUM!” she cried to the Foo Powder fire. The group stepped into the grate, and Meir Brin felt the nauseating swirl of Urple and Wilver blend together around her. There was a cackle of laughter, and the world dissolved into a ’70s-movie drug sequence.

*********

Unforeseen consequences. What a term. Ally waited patiently with the rest of the fanwriters and tried to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand. Why hadn’t the Foo Powder been checked? Giving one antennae and an extra pair of insectoid arms didn’t sound like what Foo Powder was supposed to do. She would complain. She had a right to—Oh. That’s right. Never mind.

Anyway, OFUM. Ally was very glad that she had never written Lord of the Rings fanfiction. Yes, very glad indeed. It was much bigger than Hogwarts. Perhaps it was because there were more characters, or more students, or more “Mini-Balrogs” wandering around. The lecture hall that they had appeared in was much bigger than anything she had seen at Hogwarts, and the explosion marks and smoldering flames seemed to be unique to OFUM.

“Note to self: Never, ever, ever, travel by Foo Powder. Note to self: Kill fanwriter who created Foo Powder,” said Ally, stepping over Mirild Sket, who had passed out when an Elf had stepped into the room.

Ally had meant to tell her that she didn’t think it was Legolas (which in fact it wasn’t. It was someone called “Goilfingel.” Ally hadn’t recognized him. Must not have been important enough to be in the movie), but Mirild Sket had taken one look at the blond hair, and fainted.

Meir Brin was standing near one of the doors, talking with the blond Elf “Goilfingel.” Most of the fanwriters were sitting in a circle, bemoaning the fact that they had clicking claws, though Dimond said this might be an advantage when dealing with the Mini-Aragogs. Onyx was pacing in a circle, reciting the lines that Aragog had drilled into her head. Ally went over to speak to her.

“... ‘And nothing as fair, under the moon nor stars, as Lady Shelob, kin of great Ungoliant. Aragog humbles himself to say how lovely the fangirl steak did taste, from fair Lady Shelob, Mistress of Cith—Cirth—Cirith’—” Onyx threw up her hands. “Why does Aragog have to write love poetry?! Wouldn’t a simple valentine have worked?”

There was a loud voice, speaking a different language in what sounded like a mocking tone. Ally turned quickly. This must be Miss Cam. But... Why couldn’t she understand what she was saying?

Marina the Huntress had ducked under a table, mumbling something like “No! The course coordinator cometh!” A few of the others who had gone to OFUM were hiding themselves as well.

The rest of the group, however, clearly had not understood. They looked at each other confusedly as another Elf walked in. Ally recognized this one. It was Elrond from the movie.

Meir Brin looked up from her discussion with “Goilfingel.” She walked over to stand in front of the group. “Crossover obstacle one. Here at OFUM, the language of Tolkien is spoken. Westron, not English. You there, under the table, probably never realized that your speech was not English. But in comparison to Potterverse, Westron is foreign.”

“How will we understand?” asked Penelope Ross, trying to peel Gilmi the Mini-Balrog off of her without getting burnt.

Miss Cam said something that sounded like “blah blah blah blah translator coming on-line soon.”

There was a whirring noise, and the fanwriters looked to where Remus Lupin was holding up a small box. “Good. The translator’s been adjusted. Mr. Crouch did a good job with it. We’re all speaking the same now,” said Remus Lupin from inside his fortress of Mini-Aragogs. Remuse and Emus chortled happily in their whispery voices.

“Now we begin,” said Meir Brin, stepping up to the platform and pointing to a wad of cotton. “The One Ring is in there. Harry, have you ever found anything like that?”

Harry Potter walked over to the podium and peered into the ball of cotton. “No. I, err, don’t carry gold jewelry around with me.”

“But why not? You could be evil? Evil is good... Wait a minute! You’re just a little kid! Come on, at least give me an adult to work on!” hissed the One Ring. “I have so much potential! But it’s all wasted! Wasted I tell you! I am evil! And they could at least paint this cotton black; I look like a lamb! I’m evil; fear me! Fear me!”

“Yes, of course you are,” said Miss Cam, nodding to Frodo. The Hobbit picked up the Ring and tucked it into his shirt.

“Next order of business. Let us establish once and for all that Draco Malfoy does not have Elvish blood,” said Meir Brin.

Lord Elrond strode over to where Draco was sprawled on a bench with Malory and Drikko. The Elf-lord raised an eyebrow. “Of course this is not an Elf. How could such a mistake be made?”

“They think,” said Meir Brin, chuckling lightly, “that because he is blond—”

“I am not blond, and I am an Elf. Éowyn is blonde, and she is not an Elf. Clearly, hair color is not the way to classify two peoples,” stated Elrond.

“Well put,” commented Meir Brin. “Oh, yes. We managed to get these back from Dobby.” She pulled a pair of blue silken socks from her pocket and gave them to the Elf-lord.

“Little thief,” grumbled Elrond.

Ally gripped the table as a sudden explosion shattered several window panes.

“SAURON!” came a loud call. “You’ve enlisted the aid of a deformed orc! Could you sink any LOWER, you lembas-brained upstart Maia?!”

“MORGOTH! You put water balloons above my doorway, you putrid maggot-encrusted worm!”

“Optically inept black polka-dotted lizard brain!”

“Arachnophobic Vala’s boy!”

“Dark Lords. Next on our agenda,” commented Meir Brin as two large figures in black crashed through a wall. “Do either of them look like He Who Must Not Be Named?”

Ally looked at the two grappling figures. The one with fragments of red water balloons sticking to the top of its helmet was probably Sauron, and the other, with its hands around the other’s throat, that could be Morgoth. She shook her head. No, not Lord Voldemort.

Wait a minute—did Sauron say water balloons?

Water balloons. Peeves’ calling card. Ally suddenly remembered the cackle of laughter she had heard when they had stepped into the fireplace. Oh no.

A shriek of laughter, and Peeves the Poltergeist floated into the room to survey his handiwork. Meir Brin was preparing the Switch of Character Banishment, but Peeves grinned and floated higher above their heads. He launched into song:

The Elf-lord there, with long, dark hair,
Who could it be? It’s Elrond! It’s Elrond!
He’s bundles of fun, he’s Elrond!

Ally groaned. The Slinky jingle. Of all melodies to pick, it had to be the Slinky jingle.

Lord Elrond, meanwhile, did not seem to like being referred to as “bundles of fun.” Ally did not blame him.

The Dark Lords had rolled back out through the hole they had created. Fortunately for the patience and sanity of everyone, Peeves followed as well, making up some rude limericks as he went.

“Well...” continued Meir Brin. “Next we have Gandalf the White.”

Ally jerked her head to look at the blindingly white figure. Gandalf was balancing a plate of biscuits on his hand. “See? They’re little Hogwarts!” he said proudly.

“Ooo! Dumbledore!” cried Stephanie Brown happily.

“Give her a cookie,” said Meir Brin through clenched teeth.

The next minute Stephanie Brown was bouncing up and down singing the theme from The Lord of the Rings with lasagna pouring from her ears. Gandalf bit his lip. “Now why did that happen...”

“A lesson to be learned from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,” said Miss Cam, who was holding Leagolas the Mini-Balrog with a look of satisfaction on her face.

The Elf “Goilfingel” smiled. “Does anyone else think that Mithrandir is your ‘Dumbledore’?”

“No, Mister Goilfingel, sir!” said Ally vehemently.

“Goilfingel?” asked Meir Brin. “This is Glorfindel. Get their names right, idiot.”

Ally twitched, and looked nervously at Miss Cam, who was getting into attack mode at the misnomer. Her Paddle of Canon Accuracy looked a lot more brutal than the Switch of Character Banishment. Ally now realized why Onyx spoke of OFUM as such a frightful place.

“Next, we move on to Crossover pairings. Here to show why Remus/Galadriel is not only implausible, but stupid, is Galadriel of Lothlórien.” announced Meir Brin, not taking her eyes off Ally.

“But creative pairings are fun,” said Catherine Dark Wolf. “It’s imaginative, and—”

Catherine Dark Wolf was cut off by a snarl of rage. Galadriel, who was halfway through the entrance arch, put a hand to her forehead. Miss Cam jumped to her feet, and Meir Brin turned pale. Silver strands of moonlight were falling through the hole left by Sauron and Morgoth. And Remus Lupin was turning into a werewolf.