Mission #1: The Death and Times of a Sue Named Blaise Zabini


Original story; The Life And Times Of A Girl Named Blaise Zabini.

Fandom; Harry Potter/Lord Of The Rings/Sandman.

Source; fanfiction.net via Potter Sue of the Day.

Disclaimer; Hogwarts and its denizens are owned by JK Rowling and Legolas is owned by the Tolkien estate, though Peter Jackson now owns shares. The original Deepcoiler is owned by Brian Jacques, and so is Marile’s namesake Mariel. Discworld’s Death is owned by Terry Pratchett. Neil Gaiman owns the various Sandman characters. The PPC was created by now-retired Agents Jay Thorntree and Acacia Bird. “The Life And Times Of A Girl Named Blaise Zabini” is the property of its author, who shall remain nameless, but who is not me. Makes-Things was created by Jay and Acacia, as far as I know. Agent Rena belongs to herself. Agents Laburnum and Foxglove, however, are mine. Do not take them without my permission or else.

Agent Laburnum, latest addition to the PPC, Mary Sue Department, examined her new call centre with a critical eye. It was a large room built entirely of metal - walls, floor and ceiling. There was a computer console with a desk and two computer chairs - one for her and one for her partner, when she got one. There was a wastebasket, several plain metal store cupboards, an equally plain sofa which had obviously seen better days, and a Star Trek food replicator crammed in the corner, as it took up less room than a fridge and cooker would. Nothing special, but it looked a little more homelike now she had moved in her pet's water tank and her posters - one featuring the four hobbits, another The Simpsons and a third the retired Agents Jay and Acacia (her idols).

Suddenly she heard a knock at the door. It should not be possible for a knock on a metal door to sound nervous, but possibility is somewhat stretched around PPC HQ, and this one did.

“Alright, alright, I'm comin',” she muttered, stepping over to the door and opening it.

The person at the door was a short, skinny black girl with a PPC MS Dept uniform, a PPC issue black backpack, pigtails tied with pink fluffy hairbands and pink glittery-framed sunglasses pushed back on her forehead. A pink suitcase was lying on the floor by her feet.

“Um, Agent Laburnum, is it? I'm Agent Foxglove. I'm your new partner . . . ?” the girl said nervously, looking down at her oversized trainers, which were unsurprisingly pink under the dirt and scuffing.

“Well, hi.” Laburnum held out her hand, smiling slightly as Foxglove shook it – she wasn’t one for huge shows of emotion with people she didn’t know. Nor with most people she did know either, come to think of it. “I wasn’t looking forward to having to do a solo mission – sorry, come on in.” The new girl picked up her luggage and stepped into the call centre, looking happier now her new partner hadn’t immediately ripped her head off.

“Nice place,” she said politely, though it wasn’t particularly impressive. “Oh, I love your Simpsons poster! I practically worship that show!”

“Me too! I’ve been watching since I was five.” Laburnum took Foxglove’s luggage and put it down by the battered sofa. “Thankfully it doesn’t get much fic. I dread to think of all the Lisa Sues we could get if it did.” Foxglove nodded and slumped down on the sofa. Right on cue, the console beeped.

Laburnum swore under her breath and threw herself down in a computer chair. "First lesson, Foxglove my friend; never, ever get comfortable in here. The computer knows."


“S’okay. Rena told me they’ve actually slowed down the workload a little since we accidentally hired someone with a caffeine allergy. He quit after a week - nearly died from lack of sleep, poor guy. Sadly we still get assignments just when we start to get comfy or tired. The Laws of Comedy have, shall we say, substance here.”

Foxglove winced. “What've we got?”

“Potterverse - no surprises there, it's inundated with badfic. Pseudocanonica Sue - Blaise Zabini? That’s a rare one.”

“I guess this was written before the revelation that Blaise is a boy,” said Foxglove. “At least I hope it was.”

“Oh well, easy mistake to make, it is a rather girly name. Heck, I thought it was a girl's name. It sounds kinda like one of Scarlett O’Hara’s friends, doesn’t it?” Laburnum turned back to the screen and frowned. “Crossover – Lord of the Rings with elements of Sandman? I haven’t read Sandman . . .”

“Don’t worry, I have,” Foxglove told her. “I’ve got the first few books if you’d like to borrow them.”

“Maybe later,” Laburnum said, scrolling down. “Blaise is Legolas’ granddaughter? Yow. This needs sorting fast.”

“Yeah, I suppose an easy first mission was too much to hope for," Foxglove sighed as Laburnum started tapping at the keyboard of the console.

“Hogwarts. . . student. . . sixth-years should do it - ew!”  Her hand entered a slimy puddle on the keys. A trail of the unpleasant liquid led to the mouth of a hideous green-grey snaky creature with fins, which was upright and weaving like a charmed cobra. Foxglove followed her gaze and yelped. Laburnum sighed.

“Whoa, calm down, it’s just the Mini-Deepcoiler.” She patted the creature’s head. Foxglove calmed down and looked interested.

“Fanfiction University of Redwall?”

“Correct. Not many people recognise her. Her name’s Marile.”

“Aww, ‘ello Mawiley,” Foxglove cooed, standing up and reaching out to the mini, which hissed softly and let her stroke its slimy head. “Once you get over the surprise, she’s kinda cute.”

“Isn’t she just? Sorry Marile, we can’t take you with us.” The Mini-Deepcoiler squeaked mournfully. “Aw, don’t look at me like that! You know we aren’t allowed to take minis on missions.”

“Sorry, Marile, but she’s right,” Foxglove said, scratching behind what was possibly Marile’s ear. Marile's expression now resembled that of a kicked puppy. She slithered out from under Foxglove’s hand, slid back into her tank and curled up sulkily.

“We’ll bring you back a snack. Promise,” Laburnum told her. The serpent perked up a little at these words. Laburnum smiled, reached into the tank and patted her pet's head, then wiped her wet hand on her jeans.

“O-kay,” Foxglove muttered, sorting through her backpack. “Laptops?”

“Check,” Laburnum replied, putting a laptop in her own backpack. “Character Analysis Device?”

“Check. Potterverse mission, so wands?”

“Check. Don’t need neuralysers, we have Memory Charms. Disguise and Portal Generators – oh, don’t forget the Bleeprin?”

“Check, check and check!” Foxglove pushed her sunglasses down her nose. Laburnum pulled a pair of sleek mirror-lensed shades from her jeans pocket and put them on.

With their equipment in their backpacks, wands tucked into their belts and sunglasses on their eyes, Laburnum and Foxglove stepped through the portal to Hogwarts.


The portal closed behind the agents, who were now wearing matching sets of black Hogwarts robes. Perfectly inconspicuous, except for the sunglasses. Laburnum raised her sunglasses, hissed softly and quickly pushed them back down.

“What-” Foxglove started to say, raising her hand to her own sunglasses.

“Don’t look. Expository lump,” Laburnum explained. “There’s no actual happenings or descriptions of location, so we’re stuck in limbo till something starts to happen.”

Ignoring the warning from her new coworker, Foxglove lifted her glasses. She quickly wished she’d listened. She and Laburnum were standing in darkness, even though they themselves were clearly visible. The floor may or may not have been existent – she was standing on something, so she assumed there was a floor of some sort. No walls or ceiling were visible, so she had no idea whether they were indoors or outdoors. It was extremely painful on the eyes. She dropped her shades back over her eyes with a shrill whimper.

“I did warn you,” Laburnum said, pulling out her laptop and opening the Words window. “Oh good grief - come and look at this summary.”

Summary: Blaise Zabini isn't your average Slytherin. She's smart, she's loyal, and she wants to kick Voldemort's arse. Oh, and she's not human.

“Now that’s a good sign,” Laburnum said drily.

“Maybe not average Slytherin, but definitely average Sue,” Foxglove replied.

LotR (movie cannon) /Harry Potter fusion with elements from "The Sandman."

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

The Lord of the Rings belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien, probably his family, and New Line Cinemas, and probably a bunch of other people.

The Sandman belongs to Neil Gaiman, and DC Comics/Vertigo.

“Well, look on the bright side. At least we can’t say she wasn’t thorough with the disclaimer, and that’s a good thing, right?” Foxglove pointed out.

“True. But was it really necessary to repeat the summary and disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter?”

“She doesn’t, does she?”

“According to the intelligence report, yes. And she misspelled ‘canon’.”

Chapter 1

Blaise Zabini wasn't stupid.

“Is she implying that all other Slytherins are stupid?” Laburnum growled.

“Your House, I presume?” Foxglove asked.

“I’d say I’m borderline Slytherin-Ravenclaw. I’m one of those who’d sit under the Hat for ages while it decided.”

“Not me, I’m Hufflepuff through and through.”

Blaise Zabini wasn't scheming.

Blaise Zabini wasn't ambitious ...Okay, so she was, but more along the lines of "I'm going to do my best and kick arse while doing it."

“Us too, baby, us too. It’s just we have a specific rear end in mind. Yours.” Laburnum spoke through gritted teeth bared in a faux-cheerful smile. Three sentences into the actual fic and she could already feel her blood pressure rising.

Blaise was smart.

Very smart.

Smart as in she'd skipped grades before she went to Hogwarts, and had been looking forward to High School if she didn't get her letter, rather than Junior High School like most Hogwarts hopefuls.

“First charge – lack of Britpicking.” Laburnum typed as Foxglove spoke. “For crying out loud, you can find Britpickers on every message board. If we could skip years in Britain, Hermione would have done. Actually I think my big sister would have done too.”

“You take after her, brains-o?” Laburnum asked jokingly. Foxglove poked her gently and received a punch in return.

In her opinion, she belonged more with the Ravenclaws. Or even the Hufflepuffs! She worked hard, got good grades (She would be the head of her graduating class, if Granger wasn't such an over-achiever. How that girl managed to help Harry Potter and take so many extra classes at the same time, she didn't know. She worked just as hard as Granger on the individual subjects, but she knew when to kick back, unwind, and have some fun, at least!), and was loyal to her family and friends.

“Then why is she in Slytherin in the first place?” Laburnum wondered aloud.

“Because the author saw the name in the Sorting scene, thought it was cool and had to take the House with the name for her excuse for a character,” said Foxglove in a comforting voice.

“Probably true – oww, parenthetical paragraph. Why couldn’t she just move that to the end of the sentence?” Laburnum rubbed her eyes with one hand and typed up the charges with another.

Which came to the grand total of three people she was unquestionably loyal to: her mother, her grandfather (affectionately dubbed "Granda"), and Draco Malfoy. Her father, Lorenzo Zabini, didn't fit into the picture because she knew he was a murdering ba of a Death Eater.

Laburnum blinked.

“A murdering what?”

“Please, please tell me that’s a typo.”

Oh, and it was her life goal to "kick Voldemort's arse" (as in defeating him, but she didn't have an aversion to doing so in the literal sense, along with various other sensitive regions of his body...) in the most painful and/or embarrassing way, and make it look like Draco did it. Because, she figured, Harry Potter had far too much fame as it was, and she didn't really want any, and Draco was always complaining about how he hated that Harry got so much (in his opinion, undeserved) attention just because he had a bloody scar. Eh, whatever made him happy...

But the whole point of all this is that, quite frankly, Blaise didn't belong in Slytherin.

Stupid Sorting Hat...

It took one look at her last name (Her LAST NAME! Goddess, she despised everything her father stood for, and the stupid hat made its decision based on that moron's name?!?), said "Oh BLEEP! How did a Zabini end up here?!? I thought you all went to Durmstrang! Only one place to put you, and that's SLYTHERIN!"

“‘Bleep’? I guess the ‘murdering ba’ wasn’t a typo then.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought the Sorting Hat couldn’t sort people wrongly.”

“It can’t, if Harry is any indication. The person being Sorted seems to have the casting vote, otherwise Harry would be in Slytherin and Hermione would probably be Ravenclaw.” Foxglove peered over Laburnum’s shoulder and skimmed ahead.

No, she didn't like-like Draco! Ack! He was like a surrogate brother! Their mothers were friends, and probably would love it if she and he did get together, but it wasn't going to happen. Blarg...

“Why do I think this state of affairs won’t last long?” Foxglove muttered.

“Actually it does. I think the report mentioned Draco/Ginny in later chapters. Out-of-character Draco and Ginny, of course.” The girls skimmed ahead over the huge boring passage they were currently in.

Ah, the joys of being a budding Potions Mistress, and being the only person in the school who could cast ethric light. The "ink" she used for her more private writings was actually a potion that was odorless, didn't dry sticky, and happened to be invisible once dry, unless ethric light was shone on it. She'd developed it the summer after her first year, having had several close calls where her morons for dorm mates had almost gotten a hold of her notes for kicking Voldemort's arse, and she'd been staying at her grandfather's home at the time, which had a large greenhouse for her to do her work in, as well as Bunsen Burners (Isn't mundane technology grand? Unlike her father, she had had plenty of contact with the "Muggle" world, and she was rather fond of movies, her computer, her laptop, and the internet.) so she could make potions without using magic and getting in trouble. She'd been researching a lot of things, but most inks that turned invisible after drying could only be revealed by subjecting them to heat, like lemon juice or milk. Which didn't help her because, if she just wanted to review her notes, it would reveal them for all to see, and she wouldn't be able to make them invisible again! So, anyway, she had gotten to thinking about what she could do that very few people could do, and hit upon a solution: ethric light! Most witches and wizards these days didn't know what the heck it was, and the rest assumed it was simply a myth, something that worked only in "Muggle" Sword and Sorcery novels

“Probably because it is a myth in this canon?” Foxglove pointed out.

“Well, at least it’s a vaguely canonical-sounding word,” said Laburnum. “I mean, look at ‘Gubraithian fire’ – that sounds even sillier.”

“Is it going on the charge list anyway?”

“Oh yeah. We may need to justify what I’m planning on doing to this little brat.”

“What are you planning?”

“You’ll see.”

(I suppose you've noticed that the only times the word "muggle" has been used, it was in quotations. That's because it's not the proper term. The correct term for those without a magical talent is "mundane," or not out of the ordinary).  

Laburnum went rigid.

“What in the name of the Great White Hippogriff was THAT?!” she hissed. Foxglove took a step back. “Muggle IS the correct word! Nobody in the books EVER used the term ‘Mundane’! Where does she get the idea that J. K Rowling was wrong about a world she created?!” She slammed her fingers into the keys.

Oh, it was real, and it promised to be the perfect solution to her situation. The problem was that she couldn't use magic away from school until she graduated, unless it was a life-or-death situation.

Which meant no ethric light to test with.

Which meant she would have to work on this at school, with the Pug and the Baboon (if you can't figure out who these are, you're too slow) constantly butting in.


But then, her grandfather came up with a solution. He had a small, hand-held magical lamp of sorts that cast a light similar to ethric light, if not ethric light itself.

Was it mentioned how much she REALLY loved her grandfather?

“Was it mentioned that we don’t effin’ care?” Laburnum hissed through her teeth, breathing deeply to combat her internal fountain of rage. Apart from the canon rips appearing before the story had even started, the cheerful tone was making her feel slightly sick.

That problem averted, she had set to experimenting with various mixtures which she was assured wouldn't blow up or dissolve paper or do anything else strange, all with that little lamp shining on her results. She'd never figured out just why Swelling Solution had been developed. Sure, it made for a few laughs if it accidentally got on somebody, but who would want to have something swell up insanely? What purpose did it serve?

“Um, solving the world food crisis by putting it on fruit?”

“Doesn’t Hagrid do that with pumpkins?”

“Yep, but those are for the Halloween party.”

Well, in any case, she'd been going through her potions textbook and brewing everything she knew how to make in several lots, in beakers as well as her cauldron, and then fiddling with them, using less of one ingredient, or using more of another, sometimes adding something completely different that wasn't in the regular recipe. And then she stumbled upon the solution, almost literally. She'd been pruning the mandrakes (no, not the screaming magical kind; the kind that are just useful roots!),

“In the Potterverse, the screaming magical kind ARE the effin’ ‘useful roots’!” screamed Laburnum.

and had noticed that the leaves had gained a sort of shimmery quality when brought into contact with the lamp, so figured what the heck; might as well try it. She crumbled up and tossed one dried leaf into a beaker of unaltered Swelling Solution, which had happened to be the only currently unaltered potion on the table, and stepped back when a small puff of smoke was emitted from the concoction. She then proceeded to stir the leaf particles in, hoping they wouldn't simply swell up, turned off all of the Bunsen Burners, waited for the various potions to cool, and then proceeded to test them.

Only the Swelling Solution with the crumbled mandrake leaf worked.

And there was much rejoicing!

“Okay, so charge list; impersonating canon character really badly, lack of Britpicking, abusing the Sorting Hat, nauseating cheerfulness, creating non-canonical spells, assuming Ms Rowling was wrong about a world she created, being a better potion maker than Snape. And the story hasn’t even started yet. This is not good for my blood pressure.”

Which brings us to current times. It was early July, Blaise was out of school for the summer and staying with her grandfather for the month, and looking forward to her sixth year, having turned sixteen the previous March.

That's when her life started getting complicated, and she learned that not everything was as it seemed with her family.

It started when her father skewered her mother on an antique, Zabini family heirloom broadsword.

“Why, why, why didn’t he get the brat as well?” Laburnum wailed.

“Because then we wouldn’t have a job,” Foxglove said. She would have patted Laburnum’s shoulder, but judging by the girl’s current mood, she would lose fingers (if not limbs) if she tried.

Author's Notes: Ooh, spooky!

What's going to happen next? You'll have to read on to find out!

The world suddenly blurred and changed around the rookie agents, signalling a chapter shift. Foxglove yipped and grabbed her larger, sturdier partner for support. Laburnum was kind enough not to push her away, despite her extreme rage and body-contact aversion.

The girls were now standing in a real-looking room, a relief for their strained vision. They silently slipped into a corner and watched the scene before them. A cosy-looking kitchen containing a teenage girl reading The Two Towers and a familiar-looking man with unusually pointy ears, drinking chamomile tea. The Words defined the scenery - text in tiny letters crawled over every surface. It could be read, but Laburnum preferred to use her laptop - it was easier to not lose one's place. The partners sneaked out of the kitchen, Laburnum sat on the sofa and glanced at the words on her laptop screen, while Foxglove stood beside her and read the wall. They both reached the following paragraph at the same time, then reread it because neither quite believed it. 

When she'd been informed of the Green family's ultra-secret-secret, Blaise had gone running all through the house, screaming her trademark Lord of the Rings Fangirl Scream of Joy (tm).

Hey, if you found out you were the granddaughter of one of your favorite characters from your favorite books, you'd probably do the same thing!

She was half an elf, and darn proud of it!

Excuse me? What twisted thought processes could come up with this? Or indeed pretend it's a good story idea? For this, Miss Zabini, you are going to suffer lots and lots,” Foxglove hissed. She risked a glance around the door, looking pityingly at the “man”, now recognisable as Legolas.

“Don't think I'll bring this one back for Marile - that would be too kind,” Laburnum agreed. “Still, I think the Intelligence report said she gets a Cute Animal Friend at some point - Marile can have that.” She glanced back at the laptop. “Uh, is Dallandra an Elvish name?”

“Highly unlikely. Why?”

“Because that’s the Sue’s mother’s name. I was just skimming the backstory and apparently Legolas had a daughter called Dallandra and didn’t leave for the Undying Lands after all. Oh, and ‘Dallandra’ went to Hogwarts with Albus Dumbledore.”

“Bonus Sue. At least she’s already being murdered.”

Suddenly they heard a knock at the door, and in the kitchen the Sue was getting up. "I'll get it, Granda! An old man like you shouldn't be traipsing around like you do!" The agents ducked behind the sofa as the Sue came prancing into the room, giggling. She was soon followed by Legolas, now disguised as an old man.

She reached out, opened the door, and raised a single chocolate-brown eyebrow (yes, she's a brunette!) at the two wizards from the Ministry of Magic (She really got a laugh out of that; the idea that a bunch of politicians thought that they could regulate something as much a part of nature and the world as magic...It was hilarious!) standing on the porch.

Laburnum and Foxglove clutched their heads as the author's notes thundered through the world. “OW. Ow. Why did this idiot feel the need to tell us the Sue is a brunette when the text has already told us that and it doesn't matter anyway?” Foxglove whimpered.

“And why do the author's notes always shout? Oh no. . .” Laburnum held the sofa tightly with one hand and Foxglove’s hand with the other as the next sentence happened.

That's when her world was first turned upside down.

The room rolled over. Laburnum lost her grip and landed heavily on the ceiling, Foxglove landing on top of her, before the room righted itself and they struck the floor again, this time the much heavier Laburnum landing on Foxglove’s skinny body. Both yelped in agony.

 “YOW! God, I hate metaphors. I don't think I'm going to walk properly for the rest of the day,” Laburnum complained, rolling off Foxglove, who simply groaned. “Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, helping her friend upright. They shook themselves and listened in on the Sue. One of the Nameless Ministry Wizards had just told Blaise he had some bad news.

He paused for quite some time, not even roused when his companion nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. Finally Blaise quipped, "If my father's dead, then don't worry. That would probably be the best news I've heard in years, the arrogant bas-"

"Blaise! Language!"

"...Okay, he's an arrogant [pile of horse manure]."

Precisely how the Sue managed to pronounce square brackets neither agent would ever know. “Flippin' hell, woman, if you want to use bad language, bloody well use it!” This was a personal pet peeve of Laburnum's, and she grumbled as she typed, using a good deal more force then that usually required for a computer to register typing. She stopped abruptly as she heard the Nameless Ministry Wizard inform Blaise Sue that her mother had been murdered. “Ooh, here comes angst. And we all know it was her 'murdering ba' of a father that did it.” Foxglove nodded and both girls watched as Blaise Sue fainted gracefully into her grandfather's arms. Legolas yelled at the Ministry wizards and glared at them i mpartially. According to the Words, this was Legolas' "Glare of DOOM!", the idea of which caused Laburnum to wince. “What is this, a bad anime?”

The girls quietly followed Legolas upstairs. Unfortunately, halfway up the stairs a chapter-switch time shift struck. The whole building vibrated and the agents tripped and fell back down. Foxglove yelped again.

“Well, this has been a painful experience so far,” Laburnum muttered, cynical as ever despite her agony. “Ow, I've got bruises on my bruises.” She picked up Foxglove, they checked theselves over for broken bones, then they entered the Sue's bedroom - not without apprehension. Probably she wouldn't be doing anything too disturbing with Legolas, since he was her grandfather in this fic, but who knows? Name anything disgusting and some Sue will have done it.

The Sue was lying on the bed, wearing a black dress which she had apparently just been to her mother's funeral in. Legolas was sitting on the end of the bed, looking nervous. Foxglove produced a Character Analysis Device from her pocket and pointed it at at him.

(Legolas. Elf male. Canon. Out Of Character 50.21%)

Laburnum cursed softly. According to the Words, which also contained a vast author's note identical to that at the start of the last two chapters, Legolas had just informed Blaise Sue that “Dallandra” hadn't been her mother after all.

Dalla had been her sister.

Which meant that Granda wasn't her grandfather, but rather her father.

Laburnum blinked. “Okay, this is becoming a really confusing soap-opera. . .”

“Hey, don’t insult Eastenders by associating it with this tripe!”

"Well, you see, Blaise," Legolas started, his face composed even as his anxiety manifested itself in his hands fidgeting, absent-mindedly playing with the bits of yarn that stood up from the surface of the quilt on the girl's bed. He wasn't quite certain how to proceed with this, even though he had been preparing for it since Blaise had been born. He also didn't know how she would take the news.


The CAD shrilled. Foxglove hurriedly switched it to mute, then checked the display.

(Legolas. Elf male. Canon. Out Of Character 77.59%.)

“Whoa hell. This is gonna get worse before it gets better. Hang in there, Legolas.”

"Your mother was a young lady whom I'd presumed was human. She introduced herself as Teleute, and we were in a small country pub, she for reasons unknown at the time, I observing the anniversary of my wife leaving me for Valinor," Here he winced, and Blaise reached out a comforting hand to him, which he took, giving a light squeeze of thanks before continuing. "In any case, she drew me 'out of my shell,' so to speak, and we got to talking about life, and the things people take for granted. Eventually, we got far too drunk for our own good, which rather surprised me that she lasted as long as she did, being of such slight build, but I had been drinking for several hours long ere she introduced herself."

The CAD display flickered and died with a soft “pow”. Laburnum muttered every curse word she knew under her breath, including the Unforgivable Curses when she ran out of actual swear words. Foxglove did the same, but it went on for a lot longer.

“What are you on about?” Laburnum whispered

“My cousins in India taught me to swear in Bengali,” Foxglove whispered back, “and I picked up Klingon at the agent training school.” They turned back to the scene and listened in. Apparently drunk!Legolas and the mysterious Teleute had conceived Blaise over a century ago.

Now Blaise was just plain confused.

“You and me both, sister.”

"So my mother was an Elf? Wouldn't you have been able to tell?"

Her father shook his head, then explained, "No, she wasn't an Elf. And, though she had a mortal form that night, and the day you were born as well, for that matter, your mother wasn't mortal. I would go so far as to say she can't even be classified as immortal. Her kind, her /family/, really, are known as the Endless.

"Your mother is Death, Blaise.

Laburnum blinked again. Her jaw dropped. “WHA. . . ?!” she gasped. She put her backpack on the floor and started to rummage for the Bleeprin. “Oh help, that is a mental picture I did NOT need!”

“Discworld fan?” asked an amused Foxglove. “Don’t worry, Sandman’s Death is a human-ish woman, not a skeleton.” Laburnum still swallowed several of the white pills.

"Apparently, once each century Death takes on mortal form for a single day, in order to better understand those who pass into her care." The Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien gave his youngest child a few moments to recover before continuing his narrative. "As far as either of us could divine, with your sister's help, you were conceived that night all those years ago, and born as soon as Death again had a mortal form to use to give you life, for Death cannot create, only offer rest before renewal and rebirth.

"Essentially, your gestation period, in chronological terms, was a century, though in mortal terms it was but a day."

“I’m confused,” Laburnum said unnecessarily. “If Death cannot create, shouldn’t she be completely infertile?”

“Probably, but when did logic ever stop a Sue?”

While typing the never-ending list of charges, the agents listened to Legolas explaining that the original “Blaise” had been Dallandra Sue's actual daughter, who had died at birth.

"Death brought you to me a few hours after your birth and begged me to take care of you. Her time in mortal form was almost spent, and she couldn't well take care of you in her normal form. So I accepted you, and promised to keep you safe.

"Unfortunately, as things happen, my disguise was, at that time, far too old to be considered your father- not without far too many difficult questions -and far too young to fake my death, set up a new identity, and not be recognized by those of my associates not 'in the loop,' so to speak.

"And then, Blaise died being born, strangled by the umbilical chord.

"This provided a perfect opportunity, for all we had to do was keep the death of your sister's daughter, your niece, quiet, as well as handle legal issues with some trustworthy associates, and you smoothly took her place, with Lorenzo."

Laburnum had by now given up trying to keep track of the ridiculously complicated story.

“Definitely like Eastenders, only marginally less believable,” she said, dodging a thump from Foxglove.

 They watched and listened as Legolas explained that Blaise Sue's "real" name was Elessario.

"Is that Elvish?" Laburnum asked. “I don’t know much about the languages of Middle-earth, but I’m pretty sure no Elvish names end in ‘o’.”

“Doubtful,” Foxglove replied. “Sounds like she was trying to name her Sue after Elessar and missed.”

Legolas then left the room. Blaise Sue lay on her bed, grumbling about her supposed-father-now-revealed-to-be-brother-in-law - probably trying to work out exactly how this bizarre family tree fitted together.

Suddenly, the agents sensed something in the room. A ghost? The Sue spoke.

"Hallo, Haldir. Sorry if I don't get up, but I've had a really lousy week."

The agent’s brains had already been stretched to the limit. They weren’t even surprised by this, and only marginally irritated. Compared to the rest of the story, this was perfectly possible. A spectral version of an elf appeared, hovering by Blaise Sue's bed.

"What has troubled you so, Blaise? I could feel your distress even unto the far reaches of the Astral Plane that circumstances have forced me to make into my home."

Blaise grunted slightly as she sat up on the bed, wiping tiredly at the tears in her eyes and on her face. "What has been bothering me?" She raised an eyebrow at her spectral friend, letting out a self-depreciating laugh, "More like what hasn't been bothering me, Hal."

Foxglove giggled at Haldir’s ridiculously pretentious speech. 

“Hal. For godssakes, Hal. Thou shalt not make up stupid nicknames.” Laburnum checked the Words again. “I don't want to watch this weirdness much longer. We should portal to Diagon Alley before the stupid Sue's mother shows up.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to watch the mangling of the Endless. Maybe we should introduce a Mary Sue to Discworld's Death someday.” Foxglove rummaged in her backpack for the generator, yanked it out and the girls portalled away.


In Diagon Alley, Laburnum and Foxglove watched as Blaise Sue and Legolas exited the Magical Menagerie, Blaise clutching a revoltingly cute chocolate-brown kitten with huge blue eyes. Foxglove closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, muttering “Must not look into big blue eyes. Must not squee over Cute Animal Friend.” Laburnum felt sick at the pure twee-ness of the kitten, but she was comforted by knowing that the disgusting little animal was soon going to be her own pet's lunch. Under normal circumstances (insofar as “normal” had any meaning for a Protector) she liked cats, but normal circumstances did not encompass Cute Animal Friends. Suddenly Diagon Alley shook violently as a POV switch hit. Foxglove and Laburnum briefly felt as if they were standing over a minor earthquake, then found themselves both crammed into the Sue's body.

What the . . . ?

Hey, this is weird! What’s happened?

Stupid POV shift, thought Laburnum at Foxglove. Neither of them could move their mouths, or rather the Sue’s mouth. Working together, they managed to move her eyes enough to see themselves standing on the other side of the street, before the Sue took over again and looked down at the kitten in her arms. It purred and Laburnum resisted the urge to try and strangle it.

"So, what are you going to name her?" Legolas asked. The agents heard the Words run through their minds in the Sue's voice . . .

I paused, taking this very seriously, because naming a pet is like naming a child: naming it off the bat and ending up with something stupid is bad, and could lead to resentment on the name-ee's part.

Laburnum was thoroughly puzzled by this leap of logic. The cat doesn't care what you call it! Cats don't speak human! You could call the wretched thing Beelzebub and it wouldn't care as long as you knew how to put food in a bowl! She couldn't actually say this, however, as “her” mouth was controlled by the Sue. She felt her mouth force open.


Daddy raised an eyebrow, and said, "Dellai?"

I nodded happily, and explained, "It's short for Delight; I decided that Mum's family needs another one, since Auntie Del's name was changed from that to Delirium. And Auntie once said that she likes kitties, too."

I swear Daddy almost actually sweatdropped. I don't know why; I think it's a cute name.

The fic suddenly switched back to third person. Laburnum and Foxglove screamed and fell over as they found themselves back in their own bodies, but managed not to drop the valuable equipment in their hands.

“Ouch. Must get hold of one of those ‘Me’ crash dummies,” Laburnum muttered, rubbing her sore behind.

“So, she doesn't want to give her kitty a stupid name, and she's calling it 'Dellai',” pointed out Foxglove. “I'm seeing a sort of. . . lack of consistency here." Laburnum shuddered. Cutesy names for pets nauseated her, and seeing Legolas with a sweatdrop was not a sight she'd ever forget.

“More proof this is becoming a bad anime. Still, Legolas agrees with us on the name - maybe he's not so OOC after all.” Laburnum skimmed the next few paragraphs of the Words. “So she gets high on ice-cream – which, by the way, is impossible unless you mean the cold headache - has a run-in with Pansy ‘Pernella’ Parkinson and then meets someone called Ferret - oh, hang on, that's Draco. I doubt canon Draco would let anyone call him Ferret. I wouldn't if I was him - I wouldn't want to be reminded of an incident like that particular one. He also calls her ‘Cranky the Stoat’ - and she talks about their ‘rodenty’ nicknames. If she’s so smart, why doesn’t she know that ferrets and stoats are mustelids, not rodents?”

“I only knew that because of my Redwall fic research,” Foxglove told her.

“Me too, but it’s not a difficult thing to look up.”

Foxglove started to walk away very quickly in the opposite direction from the Sue.

“Best leave quickly, Burnsey -  being so much as near this version of Draco will probably set the CAD on fire. Let’s hide out at the Leaky Cauldron and wait for a few scene shifts.”

“Fine. But don’t call me Burnsey!”


Crammed into a bathroom stall at the Leaky Cauldron, Laburnum and Foxglove fiddled with the Portal Generator. Fortunately the other patrons were used to flashing lights and strange noises coming from odd places, including bathroom stalls, and so they went unnoticed.

“Hogwarts Express, here we come!” Foxglove said cheerfully as the portal opened and they fell through it into a train corridor. Draco and Blaise Sue were in the nearest carriage, chatting happily and OOC-ly.

"...So, anyway, I met a cousin on my mum's side of the family that I never knew existed," Blaise commented towards the end of her telling of the boring version of her summer vacation. She still wasn't cleared to tell any of her friends about what had really happened.

"Are they Muggle?"

She leaned over and playfully smacked him on the arm, then went back to double-checking that her trunk wouldn't unexpectedly get loose and fall during the ride.

"Jeebus, Draco, the term is 'mundane,' not 'Muggle!' How would you like it if they called you a Tinkerbell just because it sounded more demeaning than a Wizard? And no, he's got some powers."

Foxglove stepped away from Laburnum, who was grinding her teeth and clenching and unclenching her fists. The Sue could see them, but this didn't matter now. All the Sue would see was other students - harmless, or so the Sue would think.

“She is going to suffer for this. I almost can't think of anything gross enough to do to her for this travesty,” Laburnum growled. “Why must she wreck canon so much it's not even recognisable as Harry Potter anymore? Not to mention I notice at this point she seems to have completely forgotten about her mother's murder, I mean her foster mother's murder, I mean her sister's. . . aww dammit, I'm confused now.” She slapped her forehead.

A short time later, their conversation ground to a halt when the compartment door slid open, revealing the flushed face of Ginny Weasley, who had her hands full with her trunk, which seemed to have lost a wheel.

"I'm sorry, but all of the compartments near here are full, and my brothers bolted off, and my trunk is broken so I can't get very far, and I was wondering- Oh, it's you, Malfoy."

“Well, Ginny seems mostly in character so far, but I don’t think the Weasley boys would rush off and leave her alo-,” Foxglove started to say, then stopped when she realised Draco was giving Ginny a nauseatingly lovesick look. “Thank goodness the CAD is already broken, I don't even want to know how OOC that was.”

“Canon Draco hates all the Weasleys, when will the stupid fangirls realise this? I used to be a stupid fangirl and even then I could tell!” Laburnum tried not to scream this sentence, but her voice did sound slightly squeaky. It would have been funny if the viewer hadn’t known she was a trained killer.

"Hi! Virginia, right? I'm Blaise." Blaise smiled her most sincere smile, made all the more believable because it actually *was* sincere, and held out her hand to the redhead.

“Am I the only person who has looked at the official website? Ginny's name is not Virginia, it's Ginevra. It's not as if that information is bloody hard to find! Just look at jkrowling.com!” Foxglove restrained her partner from leaping directly at the Sue’s throat. The agents watched as the characters' in-character-ness vanished - Ginny becoming friendly with Draco, Draco actually speaking nicely to a Gryffindor. Eventually they could take it no longer, and so they ran.

Had the Mary Sue chanced to go to the lavatory on the train journey, she would have seen two girls sitting curled up by the door with a laptop by their side and their fingers in her ears, singing loudly (and badly). Luckily the Sue never left the train carriage and the other characters could not see PPC agents, and so Laburnum and Foxglove spent the journey undisturbed. Well, undisturbed except for what they had seen in the Sue's carriage, but the Bleeprin had taken care of that.

They got through five verses of the Hedgehog Song before the train suddenly shook violently.

“OHMYGODWE'VECRASH. . . oh. Just another time shift.” The agents relaxed as the Author's Note screamed "Several hours later, everybody in their uniforms..." “Hate it when that happens.” Laburnum shook her head - she swore she could hear a noise. It sounded almost like Draco's and Ginny's voices would if they were singing.

“Uh-oh. They are singing!” The both pressed their hands over their ears again and started to sing even louder, thankful that the train journey was almost over. As they did so, Foxglove caught a glimpse of the Words and nudged Laburnum, who looked and blinked. Apparently Blaise Sue and company were busy doing something called the "Happy Fish on Tuesday Dance."

What on earth. . .? Since when would anyone over the age of six do a dance like that? Unless they were a kid’s TV presenter? Or really, really drunk?”  Laburnum squeezed her eyes shut. “I wish I was illiterate,” she wailed. “Or more to the point, I wish this author was illiterate!”

“Come on, girl,” Foxglove said encouragingly. “Surely this isn't that bad. At least the author doesn't spell it Zambini. It could be worse.” She didn’t sound as if she believed it herself.

The train stopped. Laburnum and Foxglove stood up quickly, then fiddled with the Disguise Generator. They soon found themselves dressed in Hogwarts uniform, complete with badges in the Slytherin colours. Foxglove looked quizzically at the badges.

“Might as well be near the Sue at all times,” Laburnum reasoned. “Be ready to any opportunity to kill.” Foxglove nodded in agreement.

Following the rest of the students, they slunk out of the train. Even if the students could have seen the assassins, they would have ignored them. Just another two students - nothing to worry about, although they might have been puzzled by the fact that they were wearing sunglasses.


Another time shift, this one a space shift as well, hit. This one wasn't so bad, as it was at the beginning of a chapter. Authors, good or bad, can't very well account for every minute of their character's lives. The worst ones were in the middle of chapters, particularly when the author felt the need to mark them with a large author's note. Suddenly shifting from the train platform to the next morning in the Slytherin sixth-year girl's dormitory was still not fun, though. Laburnum and Foxglove both felt queasy, but tried not to show it as they watched Blaise Sue bounce happily out of bed.

“A whole bloody flippin’ paragraph describing her flamin’ hair!” Foxglove half-screamed, seeing the Words. “You can deal with your stupid hair in about five words!” It took a lot of effort to not shout this directly at the Sue, but that would make the pair somewhat conspicuous. Laburnum breathed deeply, ground her teeth and pulled at handfuls of her own hair.

Add her school uniform and robes, black ankle-boots replacing her black Mary-Janes from last year, and she was feeling pretty darn Elf-spiffy. ~_^

Laburnum winced. “Emoticons in prose. Another Unforgivable Sin According To The Sunflower Official. And where the hell did the phrase ‘pretty darn Elf-spiffy’ come from?”

“I dunno, but it does have kind of a nice ring to it,” said Foxglove, then cringed under the odd look Laburnum gave her. “Still, at least she remembered that Hogwarts has a uniform,” she said, hurriedly changing the subject. “That's not enough to save her, though.” She sprang for the door. “Wanna go get some good ol’ Hogwarts breakfast?”

“Okay,” said Laburnum with a shrug. “Bleeprin’s not very filling, and it’s preferable to watching this bimbo get dressed.”

Laburnum and Foxglove found the Great Hall easily enough and ate quickly, Laburnum typing the charge list with the hand not holding a fork, and left just in time, as the Sue entered, carrying Malfoy in a fireman's lift.

Another, more violent, temporal-spatial shift nearly wasted their food. Luckily by now they were getting used to it. This time they landed in the Slytherin common room, some time in the evening. Several students were doing their homework, while Blaise Sue explained the workings of computers to Draco.

Blaise then looked back at her sheet of  parchment, scowled, and said, "I swear, before I graduate I'll figure out a way to make my lap-top computer run on magic so I can use it here!"

“How does a self-respecting pureblood know or care what a computer is? Particularly a Slytherin. Wouldn't a real Slytherin dismiss computers as Mudblood nonsense?” wondered Foxglove.

“Stop being logical. They warned us against that during training. Avoid applying logic to Suvian fiction, or your brain may explode with the effAARGH!” Yet another time shift hit, less than ten minutes after the last. This time they were still in the common room, as the author had not yet specified a spatial change, round about mid October, in the middle of an info-dump. According to this section of miscellaneous, unnecessary background:

Blaise was taking S-classes, or Specialty (AN: I think that's what it stands for. I'm a Californian, I'm basing a lot of this part on what I learned after reading book five, though I'm not including it in my cannon, and on a particular fic that was written by a British person, so I figure they would know. Bai-bai!) classes, in Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy.

“Uh, Laburnum, are you okay?” Foxglove asked nervously.

“Yesssss. Why do you ask, my dear partner?” Laburnum said through gritted teeth.

“Er, no reason. It’s just you’re very pale, and you’re twitching, and the whites of your eyes have gone a weird shade of red.”

“Oh, that’s just Bloodwrath. It’ll go away once we kill this little bitch produced from the keyboard of the most arrogant writer I have ever SEEN!” Laburnum’s voice rose with the sentence until it became a shriek. She stamped around the room, still raving. “This is the last straw. I can't believe this. First she declares that ‘Muggle’ is the wrong word, then she actually announces she's deliberately ignoring book five, then she bases part of her fic on someone else's fanon without bothering to check it! READ THE BLOODY BOOKS! And she spelled ‘canon’ wrong!” She breathed deeply. “Uh. Sorry, Fox, I'm not usually like this. I just get ticked off easily. Am I scaring you?”

“No,” Foxglove lied. “Let’s go kill the Sue, that’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah. But first I have to pick up a takeaway for Marile.” Laburnum punched her palm, then called out in a sickly voice, “Here kitty kitty . . .”

It took a while to find “Dellai”. The author had not actually specified where the animal was, but the place was rather badly defined. As Agents Jay and Acacia had discovered a long time ago, “the advantage of badly defined places was that whatever you were looking for was probably there, merely because it was being looked for.” After ransacking the fuzzy-walled common room and most of the equally indistinct dormitory, Laburnum finally found a quivering ball of fluffy brown fur under the Mary Sue's bed.

“That's a cat?” Laburnum asked, holding it up. “Looks like a pompom.”

“It’s neither. It’s a Cute Animal Friend,” replied Foxglove, saying the term “Cute Animal Friend” in the same tone of voice she would have used to say “giant leech”. The cat trembled and mewed pathetically, but Laburnum was not moved. She pulled the wand from her belt and struck the animal hard over the head. It collapsed into an unconscious fluffy lump, which the agent shoved into the bottom of her backpack.

“Brings a whole new meaning to ‘pet food’, huh?” said Foxglove, checking the Words. “Okay, Sue and company are in the Charms corridor. Walk or portal?”

“Portal. It’s faster and every second the Sue’s alive is a second the Potterverse suffers.”


Laburnum and Foxglove emerged from the portal in the Charms corridor, looking about suspiciously.

“Did she see us?”

“Nope. If she did we could just tell the stupid creature we can Apparate. She mutilated the Potterverse enough for her to believe that.”

“And I want to get her for what she did to Death and company,” said Foxglove, smacking her wand against the palm of her hand. “Why did I have to go and read over the ‘family reunion’?”

As it was, Blaise Sue was too busy chatting to Ginny and Draco to notice the assassins’ appearance.

Ginny collected herself, then beamed at her friends, saying, "Professor Flitwick taught us about glamour magic; you know, for disguising things?"

Yet another huge infodump appeared. According to this one, only Elves and part-Elves could cast “glamour”, which made people see them as humans. Ginny Weasley could also apparently cast it.

“So the Weasleys are part-elf? Wow, I'd never have guessed,” Foxglove whispered to Laburnum, who remembered the Discworld elves and suppressed a snigger.

Ginny looked at the older girl, delighted surprise on her face. "You can cast glamour too, Blaise? That is so cool! I mean, what are the odds of two of us being so close in age, much less living in the same country!

“What are the odds indeed? Nil, since it doesn't exist here,” muttered Laburnum.

“Why would they bother making it look like something was something else when they could just turn the thing into something else? Much more fun.”

Professor Flitwick says he was the only one at Hogwarts all of his seven years when he was a student."

Blaise smiled. She knew there was a reason beyond Tiny Person Initial Cuteness that made her feel at home around the diminutive professor.                                                                                                                                 

“Wha. . .? Flitwick, part elf? He looks nothing like an elf, for cryin’ out loud! Even if elves existed here, I’d be surprised if he was one.” The agents grasped their wands until their knuckles went white.

“And tiny people aren’t bloody cute! I’m short and I’m certainly not cute. Except when I want to be.” Foxglove grinned.

Maybe he was part Hobbit or something, too. She knew the Shire had been placed under magical protection by Gandalf, only accessible by those who knew of its existence and meant no harm. Unfortunately, her father had long since lost track of the entrance, so he didn't know if there were still Hobbits in the world. Blaise hoped there were. But, now that she was thinking about it, if Flitwick were part Hobbit, which would attest to his lack of stature (though he could, she supposed, simply be a run-of-the-mill midget), and he was definitely part Elf, did he have particularly hairy feet?

“No, he doesn’t,” said Laburnum, as she and Foxglove stepped into Blaise Sue's line of vision. “That’s because there are no Hobbits in this universe, therefore he cannot be one.” Ginny blinked.

“What the - you weren't here a second ago! Were you using an Invisibility Charm?”

“Something like that, yeah,” said Laburnum. She didn't have time to bandy words with students. She turned to the Sue, who was standing slack-jawed.

“Who are you? Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors?”

“Never mind. Blaise Zabini, is it?” The Sue nodded. “Thought so.” Laburnum didn't bother with a curse, as the Sue would probably display more special powers and block it. She simply raised her hand and brought the wand down on Blaise Sue's skull. The Sue dropped like a stone.

“Hey, what did you just do to my best friend?” Draco shouted. Laburnum and Foxglove both cringed at these hideously OOC words, but did not answer. Instead, Foxglove raised her wand.

“Look at this!” she shouted. Every student's head automatically turned. “Obliviate!” she yelled, spinning round in a circle so everyone got an eyeful of the spell. The student's faces all went blank.

“Okay,” Laburnum said to Draco as she and Foxglove removed their sunglasses and put them in their pocket. “Draco, you’re a nasty little brat and a Death Eater in training. You like it that way. You hate Ginny. Ginny, you hate Malfoy. Everyone, Blaise Zabini is not a girl and elves do not exist. Nothing unusual has happened. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Okay, is that taken care of?” Laburnum asked as she hoisted the unconcious Sue over her shoulder and the agents started to leave, in a hurry to get away before the students regained normal thought patterns.

“Should be. Canon was so stretched here it’ll sort of ping back into shape. Boy Blaise should be reappearing any minute now, just as Legolas and Miss Death go home. Speaking of which . . .”

“Yeah, it won’t take too long to get rid of this,” Laburnum replied, jerking the arm with the Sue draped over it. “Just one quick stop-off in the kitchens.”

“Why the kitchens? You going to shove her in the mincing machine?”

“Oh no, that would be too kind. I’ll explain when we get the stuff.”

As the agents headed towards the stairs, a portal opened in front of them and a figure fell out onto the landing. It was too fuzzy to make out any features except the Slytherin uniform, but it seemed somehow to be male even though it was essentially a humanoid cloud. It landed on its hands and knees with an “oof!”

“Blaise Zabini, right?” Foxglove asked it - or rather he - as he scrambled upright. She pointed her wand as he took a breath to speak.

“What . . . ?” He never got the sentence out, as at that moment the Memory Charm struck. The world shook violently as canon snapped back.

“Thanks for your time!” Laburnum said cheerfully, and both girls ran for it.


After getting what they required from the house-elves, Laburnum and Foxglove walked briskly outside to the cabbage patch. Nobody around. Perfect. They dropped Blaise Sue on the ground, hard enough to wake her up. Before the Sue could move, Laburnum sat on her and stuffed a handful of paper napkins into Blaise Sue's mouth. Laburnum was not a small person, so her weight easily held down the short, skinny Sue.

“Alrighty, it’s time for your charges,” she told her victim, smirking evilly. Blaise Sue squirmed and squeaked through the impromptu gag. The agent cleared her throat and started to recite the charges.

“Mary Sue, also known as Blaise Zabini, also known as Elessario, you are charged with being a Mary Sue; impersonating a canon character really badly; changing the gender of said canon character without cause, abusing the Sorting Hat; being related to Legolas - who does not exist in this bloody continuum, you stupid Orlie fangirl; being an elf in a world which does not contain any unless you count house-elves; using ‘bleep’ instead of swearing; using only the first two letters of a curse word; whining about being put in Slytherin; wishing to give Draco the credit for defeating Voldemort even though Draco is a Death Eater in training and thus would not WANT Voldemort to be defeated; giving Pansy Parkinson a stupid and noncanonical middle name; bashing Pansy; using emoticons and non-words in prose; claiming that ‘Muggle’ is not the correct word - guess what, little girl? In this world, IT FLAMING WELL IS! You don't like it, write original fiction!” She punched the Sue in the jaw repeatedly while Foxglove took over reciting the charges.

“Ahem. You are also charged with being better at Potions than Professor Snape; not even attempting to Britpick or research simple things about your own fandoms; having noncanonical Suvian powers; using mid-sentence author’s notes to describe things that could be made perfectly clear in the prose; making various characters out of character, most notably Legolas, Draco and Ginny; being in contact with the ghost of Haldir; calling said ghost Hal; misrepresenting the Elves of Middle-earth, i.e. making Legolas father a child out of wedlock, which Tolkien’s Elves do not do; misrepresenting the Endless; being the daughter of Death’s mortal form. . .”

At this point Laburnum went into a fit of laughter, drowning out Foxglove’s speech. “At least Ysabelle was adopted,” she choked out. She coughed a few times and tried to focus on the job, as the Sue was struggling hard now.

"Anyway, that brings us to your other charges, as follows; starring in a soap-opera-come-sitcom featuring the Endless; being related to an Endless for no apparent reason other than to make you look cool; using pointless and uncanonical fangirl Japanese; using the murder of your foster mother - your sister - your. . . your family member as a plot device and then forgetting about it; ignoring elven growth rates – Tolkien’s elves mature at fifty, if you’re sixteen you’d still look about five; being a sixteen-year-old who acts like a drunken five-year-old; being a pureblood Slytherin who acts like a Muggle-born Hufflepuff; having a Really-Sickeningly-Cute Animal Friend; trying to shorten Delight to Dellai’; making non-anime characters ‘sweatdrop’; giving characters non-canonical nicknames, eg calling Draco Ferret; not knowing the difference between a rodent and a mustelid; getting Ginevra Weasley's name wrong; writing a whole paragraph describing your hairstyle; actually announcing that you are ignoring the whole of Book Five; making the Weasleys part elf; making Professor Flitwick part elf and possibly part hobbit; displaying extreme stupidity; causing canon characters to act stupidly; causing events to eventuate solely for your own benefit; mangling at least two fandoms; using mid-chapter time and point-of-view shifts; using huge great chunks of unnecessary author's notes at the beginning and middle and end of EVERY BLOODY CHAPTER; confusing PPC agents, irritating PPC agents and forcing us to sit through this excuse for a story when it’s been a long day and we’ve had enough. I’m sure there are more charges, but we lost track. For the aforementioned crimes against canon, you are condemned to die, really slowly. Any last words?”

“Wow. Fifty charges on our first mission. That must be a new record.” Laburnum pointed her wand under the Sue’s chin and removed the gag. The Sue spluttered and spat pieces of paper. “Well?”

“You little b****es!” screamed the Sue, somehow managing to pronounce a row of asterisks. “You can’t do this, my mommy will get you!”

“Uh, number one, we are doing this, in case you hadn’t noticed,” said Laburnum. “Number two, the only person who your ‘mommy’ is going to pick up today is you. Petrificus Totalus!” She stood up, put away her wand and took one of the two bottles of Butterbeer Foxglove had just removed from her pockets. She poured one bottle over the Mary Sue, paying particular attention to the face. The other, Foxglove used to make a trail from the cabbage patch to the Sue's body. The Sue looked terrified and slightly confused, insofar as a Body-Bound person can look anything.

“Oh, you're wondering what we’re doing? Well, there's been a nasty infestation of Flesh-Eating Slugs here lately. Now all they’ve had to eat recently is cabbage, so I thought I’d give them something better. Butterbeer attracts the Slugs, so I gave them a scent trail,” Laburnum said sweetly.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be over in. . . ooh, I'd say about two, maybe two-and-a-half hours till they eat down far enough to kill you. Less if one crawls up your nose. It’ll take five or six hours till they’ve completely finished all of you, but by then you won’t feel it. Well, we’d love to stay and watch you die, but we really don’t have the time,” Foxglove explained, taking the empty bottles for disposal later – just because you’re assassinating someone doesn’t mean you have to pollute the environment while doing so. The Sue looked as if she was trying to shriek, but the Body-Bind curse held her jaws shut and prevented her from doing so.

“Have fun with your slimy little friends!” Laburnum said gleefully, with a final wave as she and Foxglove portalled out and left the Sue to her fate.




“Who are you?”


“No you're not. Death's my mom! She's not a skeleton!”


The seven-foot skeleton peered closer at the psychic remnant of Blaise Sue Zabini. Common PPC rumour claims that Mary Sues have no souls, so exactly what he was looking at was a mystery.



Death did not reply. Instead, he reached into a pocket of his traditional black robe and produced a much smaller figure, which was also wearing a black robe and carrying a scythe.

I THINK THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, he told it. The Death of Rats twitched his skeletal snout.


And that was the last anyone ever knew of Blaise Sue Zabini, except for Legolas, now back in Middle-earth, having an unexplained headache for a few days, and Hagrid finding some things in the cabbage patch which looked suspiciously like teeth. Luckily weirder things turn up around Hogwarts than teeth, so he thought nothing of it and ground them into the bonemeal fertiliser.


“Hello there Marile, I’m home!” Laburnum called as she and Foxglove jumped through the portal into the call centre. The tiny lake monster peeked over the edge of the tank and wagged her tail in greeting.

“Aww, you must be hungry. I got you a Cute Animal Friend - I think it’s still alive, too.” The agent removed her backpack and shook it hard. A mew from inside showed she was right. “Oh good. I know you like your food fresh, don’t you darling?” Foxglove stared in disbelief at her cooing partner. Laburnum balanced the pack on the console, removed the now-awake and struggling Dellai and dropped her in front of the drooling mini. Foxglove winced.

“Don’t stain the floor, sweetie. We’ll be back soon, we have a few errands to run.”

Foxglove and Laburnum left the call centre, with the sounds of screaming cat, happily hissing Mini-Deepcoiler and crunching bones echoing behind them.


“My God, what did you do to this thing?”

Makes-Things stared in horror at the Canon Analysis Device.

“The major circuit’s completely fried! What happened to it?”

“Trust me, you don’'t want to find out,” Laburnum said, as she removed the cap from a fresh bottle of Bleepka (non-alcoholic variety - after all, she and Foxglove were only fifteen) and swigged most of it in one go. She coughed violently as some went down the wrong way.

“Whoa, it must have been bad. I don’t think you're meant to drink Bleepka by the pint.”

“Don’t care. Need it. Only had one bottle of Bleeprin pills each through that mission, we need something stronger - and more of it.” Foxglove swallowed a mouthful of her own Bleepka.

The disturbed engineer looked back at the CAD in his hand.

“Uh, you can borrow one of my spares. This one’ll take a long time to fix.”

“Thanks, Makes-Things,” Foxglove replied with a smile.

“Must go,” Laburnum interrupted. “Sues to kill, mind-bleaching products to buy, ya know how it is.” Foxglove picked up a spare CAD from a cupboard and they left hand in hand, singing.

"Hohoho to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. . .”

Makes-Things stared after her. Wow, they’ve only been on one mission and already they’re both going crazy. Good, they’ll fit right in.


[Author's Note; Hi there! I saw this fic at Pottersues during “Blaise Zabini Week” and just HAD to PPC it. It’s been deleted now, probably because the author read Half-Blood Prince. This mission was written and set before HBP came out, which explains why Blaise is just a cloud. With apologies to Meir Brin - I'm the person who insisted Blaise was a girl’s name. According to babynames.com it's gender neutral. I still maintain that it sounds feminine. The Britpicks I know to be facts because I was brought up in England. The skit with Discworld’s Death is a bit disconnected, but I felt I had to include a little poetic justice. Anyway, I’m honoured to be accepted into the PPC, and I hope I’ll have a long and productive - or rather destructive, since I’m an assassin - career. I can find real badfic on my own, but I would appreciate it if you would send me your deliberate badfic which looks real, or the really awful fics you wrote when you were twelve and hate the sight of now. Please make sure it’s really, phenomenally bad and there is no possible way you could think it wasn’t a Sue. Better wrap up now, I’m rambling. Marile and Foxglove say bye-bye. See you next installment!]


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