Ally was released from the hospital wing within the next hour (or, more precisely, kicked out on her bum), and fell to wandering about the castle, hoping that Peeves would have the decency to not try and steal her undergarments as he had before. The incident with James Potter was still fresh on her mind, and it fell to gnawing at her thoughts like a small, voracious rodent. Poor Lily.

At last she returned to her common room, only to find that there was a large crowd gathered around a table in the middle of the House.

“What is it?” asked Ally, elbowing her way through the masses of blue-cloaked fanwriters.

Penelope Ross giggled excitedly and pointed to a very large book propped up on the table. “The Planner Book of Planning said that we’re learning to duel this evening!”

“Planner Book of Planning?” asked Ally confusedly.

“Hermione insisted on putting one in every common room after the Lusterbuffs were late for ‘Wizarding the Lab Practical’. I heard that it shouts at you five hours before your scheduled appointment. Isn’t that spiffy? Now we’ll never be late for The Commitment of Evilness! Mmm... Tom Riddle...” Penelope then dragged her toaster up to the dorm, mumbling about yummy Dark Lords and the like.

Ally shook her head. Personally, being awakened five hours before her first class (eight o’clock in the morning every day) did not sound like much fun at all. But still... Dueling...

Ally hurried off into a secluded corner of the common room, clutching her book bag excitedly. Dueling! Ever since she had read about the Dueling Club in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, she had wanted to try it. There was something elegant and beautiful about the art. And also, in Ally’s premature fangirl brain, the only way to duel was in fancy dress costumes. And fancy dress costumes... those were a sure-fire way to attract one’s lust-object...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no! thought the Canonlaw fanwriter angrily. No lusting! I gave that up! I am above it!

Ally looked down at her skirt. She was drooling again.

Ah, well. I guess you can’t be strong all of the time.

*********

Meir Brin watched exhaustedly as Albus Dumbledore finished putting the last stabilizing spells on the walls of the Great Hall. The entire school was being forced to attend the Dueling Seminar, after some bogus spells by the name of “Haba Daba Wedger Fedger” and “Lecha Fecha Speecha Nomorea” had shown up last month claiming to be the Wedgie Curse and the Silencing Charm, respectively.

And then there had been the incident in which Asteria had found Ye Olde Book of Dueling in the library, and had attempted to curse Peter Pettigrew using her wand. And of course, abiding by the Inter-continuum Laws of Irony, the spell (which should have in all circumstances fizzled into oblivion) hit Wormtail in the form of a five-pound cattle prod. Madam Pomfrey was still trying to remove the “Lusterbuff 4eva” mark that it had left on his bum.

But it was not only the plight of Peter Pettigrew that had made up Meir Brin’s mind concerning the Dueling Class. Last week a truly dreadful Mary Sue had shown up on campus and done a little number called “Anything the Canon Characters can do SUCKS compared to my pristine abilities.” She was now dangling upside down above to the Abysmal Pit of Comedic Reversal. If the authors were to learn how to write, they would need some experience in the fields. Which had caused the dread proclamation: the fanwriters were getting a wand upgrade.

The bell rang, and Wantingmors, Lusterbuffs, Canonlaws, and Slasherings poured into the Hall, passing the spelled entrances that would enhance their wands. Standing on a stage at the far side of the room, Professors Flitwick, Snape, and Moody surveyed the crowd anxiously. Meir Brin patted Voldemart and Mavello, whispering the command of “Attack!—if they come within a five-foot radius.”

The students milled about, some chattering excitedly, others looking quite nauseated. That might have been the Essence of Tantaflaf that Fred and George had slipped into the evening stew, or the fact that Mad-Eye Moody looked ready to skin someone alive.

“Welcome to Dueling Seminar 101. If you little snots learn anything here, we might consider letting you have another lesson, but that’s only if the Mini-Aragogs bring back a good report,” snapped Meir Brin, walking to the center of the table.

Hanging from the ceiling, the Mini-Aragogs let out a collective hiss of “Fffff—click—keekeeeen.”

“Now, I doubt any of you have given a thought to how this seminar will run, as your wands are somewhat—” Meir Brin grinned evilly, “debilitated. However, we of the staff of HFA, feeling strangely benevolent, have decided that, instead of hexing you around the castle as we had before intended, we will upgrade your wands to accommodate five simple, Canonical dueling spells. I will now step down and let the more than competent Professors Flitwick, Snape, and Moody take over.”

Severus Snape walked to the front of the stage wearing his usual nasty expression. “Five spells. They are the Fanon Flipendo jinx, Expelliarmus, Incendio, Stupefy, and Serpensortia. Nothing too difficult for you to handle, I hope? Because I wanted to string you up by your hamstrings and use Unforgivables on you. That would have taught you not to turn me into an angsty weakling, wouldn’t it?! You—you—”

“That’s enough, Severus,” wheezed Professor Flitwick, stepping forward and elbowing Snape sharply in the groin.

Snape (and the entire Sevvie’s Angels brigade) winced sharply, and the Potions master retreated into the shadows. “That wasn’t—very professional,” muttered Snape angrily.

Flitwick chuckled to himself. “He had that coming for a while,” said the tiny Charms professor. “Moving on, I would now like you all to attempt your spells. Grasp your wand firmly—”

A tidal wave of giggles swept through the crowd of fanwriters.

“What is so funny?” barked Mad-Eye Moody angrily.

“You—you said... wand!” exclaimed a Slashering student from the middle of the room.

Professor Flitwick appeared utterly confused. “Yes, this is a wand. And in order to cast a dueling spell you must hold it in front of you and wave it—”

There was another roar of laughter. Meir Brin made a sound of frustration and jumped to her feet, brandishing the Switch of Character Banishment menacingly. “Do we have to go over the Innuendo Phrase again? Repeat after me: ‘There are some times when a wand is just a wand. It is not always a code word for a certain appendage. If I decide to construe it as such, Meir Brin will use my intestines for jumping rope’.”

A hush fell over the crowd, and then the Lusterbuffs and Slasherings hesitantly repeated the phrase. Mad-Eye Moody had meanwhile taken Professor Flitwick aside, and was explaining the situation to him. From what Meir Brin could see of the Charms professor, he was blushing more furiously every passing second.

With a final glare at the fanwriters, Meir Brin returned to her watchful post, keeping an eye on the Snape fangirls, lest they take advantage of him in his... ah... wounded state.

A very red Professor Flitwick resumed his speech. “As I was saying, you hold your... spell-caster, and move it thus, saying the word of your spell. Try it out on your own.”

Apparently, “Try it out on your own” were the keywords to chaos and student torture.

A couple shouts of “Incendio!” were heard, as well as some random bursts of flame. Meir Brin watched amusedly as Leo Haven and Lyssie St. Cloud of Canonlaw hit each other with the Stunning Spell, knocking each other out. Claudia Beth King was running about like a maniac, her skirt having been set on fire by C-Chan, who was trying to disengage Voldermolt the Mini-Aragog from the back of her head (she had hit the spider with an Expelliarmus by accident).

On the opposite side of the room, Molly Morgan and Neshomeh were attempting to ward off a giant snake that had just been produced by Rhiannon. Red sparks were flying from Kristin’s corner of the room, where she was frantically throwing Stunners at the Mini-Aragogs.

In yet another area of the Great Hall, Dethryl had been captured by Lochhardt and Gileroy, and was now being dangled several feet above the ground by their sticky web. Meir Brin would have felt less malicious hate toward him if not for the fact that he had put her name down for “object of my affection” on his HFA form. At her Fanfiction Academy, an act such as that was the equivalent of walking out in a thunderstorm wearing a suit of tin foil and waving metal golf clubs over your head on the highest mountain in the area.

Surveying the general chaos surrounding the Dueling Class, Meir Brin chortled quietly to herself. They would have to do this more often.