After a twenty-four-hour reading binge, Meir Brin was happily digesting the next lump of Canon in Aerobics Lair, surrounded by a nest of Mini-Aragogs. Flipping through the last page, she got to her feet reluctantly and proceeded to the hospital wing.

“The spirit of Rowling compels thee!” cried Agent Claudia Beth King as Meir Brin walked into the impeccably clean room.

Mad-Eye Moody screamed, and was exorcised. “First that Death Eater, Crouch, now some ‘Lisa’ girl who wants me with Dumbledore... I’ve had enough of this blubbering, quiver-gutted...” he muttered furiously, his clawed foot thumping loudly as he strode out of the infirmary.

“How are they all doing?” asked Meir Brin, eyeing the twenty-five fanwriters who were still suffering spell damage. Mystikalolo rolled over in her sleep, displaying the Blello fur that a Vambiolato’s jinx had left her with. Madam Pomfrey hurried to cover her with a blanket before they were blinded.

“Oh, as well as can be expected, I think. Agent Achren still has the lettuce growths, but I think that once the Flobberworms do their magic she’ll be all right,” said Madam Pomfrey. She lowered her voice. “It’s actually Mr. Black that I’m most worried about. I don’t think he’s taking death too well.”

Down at the far end of the hospital wing, Sirius Black was sitting up in his bed, gazing fixedly out the window. A pile of magazines were scattered around the foot of his bed, including Nearly-Headless Nick’s personal favorite, “Dead But Not Forgotten: How to Keep Your Memory Alive and Kicking,” along with Peeves’ “Mayhem and Merry-Making for the Vengeful Spirit.”

“Mr. Black? Would you like anything to eat?” asked Madam Pomfrey. “Mr. Crouch was most hungry after his resurrection; I’m surprised that you don’t want anything...”

Sirius Black shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“The support group’s meeting later tonight; you remember the Character Deaths Anonymous help line? They’re really looking forward to meeting with you...” coaxed the Hogwarts nurse.

“I already know most of them,” said Sirius quietly. “I’d just rather... stay here.”

“Oh, do come out of it, Mr. Black! There’s no reason that you can’t enjoy HFA if you’re deceased! It’s not like you won’t be able to see Harry anymore!” exclaimed Madam Pomfrey. “A Canonical death isn’t the worst thing that can happen!”

“Then what is?” asked Sirius testily. “Do you know how many fanwriters have tried to hug me today? Do you know how many start crying whenever they see me?”

“Well!” huffed Madam Pomfrey. “If that’s how you want to be, then stay like that!”

Sirius nodded blankly and resumed staring at the ceiling.

Meir Brin shook her head as Madam Pomfrey opened her mouth to speak again. “Just keep in mind that you’re out of the Vambiolatos’ reach now,” she said. Turning back to Madam Pomfrey, she lowered her voice. “How long do you think it will take before we can get the fanwriters and PPC agents back on their feet?”

“Oh, I expect they’ll be back around by tomorrow. Agents Krystannya Lamere and Ella Darcy have stopped having those hallucinations about winged broccoli sticks, so they’re well on their way to getting better. Oh, no, get out, you!”

Remus Lupin had entered the hospital wing. At Madam Pomfrey’s shout, he stopped like a deer in the headlights, and thrust a bag behind his back quickly.

“What have you got there, Professor?” asked Madam Pomfrey, bearing down on him like a saber-toothed tiger.

“N-nothing...” said Lupin, failing to look innocent.

“Are you trying to give Mr. Black chocolate again?”

“It’s a cure-all, honestly!” cried Remus Lupin as Madam Pomfrey pushed him out of the ward by the small of his back. She returned in a huff, dusting off her hands.

“It’s not like I haven’t told him that that will only aggravate his condition...” muttered the nurse under her breath. “Cure-all, indeed! Not when you’ve just been resurrected...”

Meir Brin covered a grin, and then took a look at her watch. “I’ll be back this evening to check on them all again. Wouldn’t want them to miss the... festivities...”

Madam Pomfrey chuckled, causing Venya Smith and Mercuria to start in their sleep. With a wave to St. Mugalos and Phomphery the Mini-Aragogs, Meir Brin strode out of the hospital wing, making for the Great Hall.

On the other side of the barb-wired Canon Character infirmary, a very downcast Sirius Black stared at the ceiling, contemplating death.

*********

Ally had a hard time getting used to life at HFA now that she was very well known. It was becoming common practice for a Canon Character or PPC agent to stop her in the hallway and shake her hand, and Ally honestly didn’t know why. When she thought about the Battle of the Canon (and she did think about it a lot), Ally couldn’t remember doing anything particularly noble that would earn her this sort of... gratitude.

HFA was full of gratitude these days. The Mini-Aragogs had stopped chasing the fanwriters around like hounds after rabbits, and had instead turned to hugging them on sight (which, if anything could be said, was in fact worse than being tackled or yo-yoed. There is nothing like a large, furry spider jumping on your head and squeezing with all its might, whispering “Thankeeses! Thankeeses!” Alex had fainted from lack of air in that manner just yesterday).

Also, the Canon Characters didn’t seem to be eyeing the fanwriters like some miserable plague, but instead as allies of a sort. This didn’t stop Draco from barricading himself in his room to stop a stampede of glomping enthusiasts, but in many ways it was the thought that counted.

Ally passed a crowd of PPC agents on her way to the assembly in the Great Hall. In a fit of thankfulness Meir Brin had invited all participants in the Battle of the Canon to stay at HFA for the whole week, or at least as long as their jobs would allow. And, well, in a week...

Ally’s throat burned strangely as she sat down at the Canonlaw table. In a week they would be leaving HFA. For good. Ally wondered why she felt so much like crying, when she would be able to see her friends and family again. But looking up and down the Canonlaw House table, over to the Slashering group, the Lusterbuff horde, and the Wantingmor battalion, it felt as if she had a family here as well.

“Settle down, please,” said Albus Dumbledore, standing at the head table and clinking his glass for silence. “I am at a complete and utter loss for what to say to you this afternoon,” said Dumbledore. “Therefore, I think it in our best interests to eat first, in hope that that might loosen my tongue.”

Good old Dumbledore, thought Ally, spooning potatoes onto her plate.

A sudden pounding of feet made her look up, and Europa took her seat beside her, looking out of breath.

“I can’t believe Madam Pomfrey chased me out of the hospital wing! I just wanted to give Sirius these flowers,” she said, slamming a bouquet of daisies onto the table.

“She let me drop off my card,” said Catherine Dark Wolf. “You didn’t try to give it to him personally, did you?”

“Yes, I did; why?”

“He’s not seeing visitors. Agent Thorntree told me after she got out,” said Catherine Dark Wolf.

“Then they did get the horns removed? That’s good,” said Europa, starting on a large tureen of steamed vegetables. For the first time in the history of HFA mealtimes, there was no Tantaflaf in sight. Ally felt that this must be a small victory of some sort.

A little while later the food cleaned itself up and the fanwriters stared at the head table, looking to see what would be happening next. Exams were over, and most of the student body was curious to see if anyone had passed.

“You have all passed!” said Albus Dumbledore, clearing up that little mystery. “Licenses will be available for pick-up at the end of term picnic, but in the meantime HFA sees fit to give certain people their just desserts.”

Ally gulped, more out of habit than fear.

“First, to all PPC agents who have aided HFA in our time of great need, we of the Hogwarts Fanfiction Academy gift you with these,” said Dumbledore. He opened a case that he had kept on the table, to reveal a solid bronze Selaria fork, engraved with loopy writing that read “Overworked, Underpaid, Very Much Appreciated.” There was a loud chorus of “Ooo!” and “Aah!” from the peanut gallery (Lusterbuff table, seats five through twenty on the left).

“And to the wonderful delegations from Middle-earth, Jossverse, and the world of Chrono Trigger, Orfalda the Basilisk is very happy to gift you with these statues, part of her latest collection: ‘Sues in Stone’.”

Tom Riddle wheeled out a trolley on which three Petrified Vambiolatos stood in various degrees of horror.

Miss Cam, Miss H, and Miss Cerberus inclined their heads politely while the Mini-Aragogs hissed in approval.

“And to the fanwriters...” began Dumbledore, turning his blue eyes on the group of students closest to the head table. “We were not sure what to gift you with, and no, we will not sacrifice young Mr. Malfoy to your ‘cause’. As well as exempting you all from tomorrow’s Mini-Aragog Paintball League game buffer-duties, we have decided to submit to one of your favorite pastimes that you so love to write about us partaking in.”

“Harry and Sevvie are getting together?” asked a hopeful Slashering.

“Can we hug you?” asked Mirild Sket. Most of the school looked at her, as she appeared to be addressing Dumbledore. “I-I mean hug our favorites, like Oliver?”

“Book Six is coming out early?” cried an ecstatic Aranel.

Dumbledore shook his head, but didn’t seem perturbed by the outbursts. “I am speaking of the ‘Veracity or Stunt’ game.”

Meir Brin stood up and whispered something to Dumbledore.

“That is, the ‘Truth or Dare’ game,” he said. “The Goblet of Fire will be set up in the Entrance Hall, and you may submit... ideas. If they pass a panel of judges and are found to be appropriate and non-demeaning, then perhaps we will consider holding such a thing at Friday’s Farewell Picnic.”

A roar went off in the fanwriter crowd, and Ally couldn’t agree more that this was the best reward that any fanwriter could be given. Of course, she suspected that the judges would probably weed out all the fun ones, but she wasn’t in the mood to complain.

It was a shame that the Canon Characters were making her more and more sad about leaving HFA. As she passed by Hagrid and Madame Maxime (and the five-foot pile of rubble) in the Entrance Hall, Ally was beginning to positively dread the end of the week.

“It could have been worse,” said Professor McGonagall to a downcast Professor Snape, as the two Canon Characters walked past Ally on their way to Aerobics Lair.

“I fail to see how this could possibly get any worse than it already is,” said the Potions master gloomily.

“They could have demanded ‘Spin the Bottle’.”