Compulsive Heroics Support Group

THE COMPULSIVE HEROICS SUPPORT GROUP

Preliminary Survey

Before we can let you join this group, you have to fill out our survey. It's a little formal affair, mostly so we can get to know the severity of your problem. It will be completely confidential, and only the people who work here (right down to the office boy) will read its contents.

'Right, so,' Harry muttered. 'Nothing to worry about here.'

He nibbled the end of the pen as he considered the questions.

'Well, yeah!' Harry murmured, scribbling the answer down. 'It's just plain politeness, after all.'

'Yes again,' Harry said with a cheery smile. 'I think it's just nice to help people.'

Harry pondered this for a moment.

'Kind of, sort of...' he mumbled. He scribbled down the word 'SOMETIMES'.

Harry smiled and wrote down, 'GET A WAND FAST'. He grimaced and muttered, 'But I have to be honest! Damn. Oh, well...RESCUE...ANYONE...IN...THE...HOUSE. That should do it.'

'Well, that's stupid!' Harry complained. 'What's the point in going to the same place all the time? Definitely somewhere new and exciting!'

Harry hesitated. Hermione had. Ron had. As a matter of fact, even Dumbledore had insinuated it.

He wrote a reluctant 'YES...REPEATEDLY!' on the paper.

Harry made a face.

It sounded so cheesy, and trashy! Like, like...some sort of crappy romance novel that Hermione sometimes read secretly from between the covers of her Potions book. Oh, she hotly denied it of course, but Harry had seen the titles... weird, horrifying crap like 'Passionate Trousers', 'Love in the Time of Scurvy' and most disturbingly, 'I'll Forsake My Magic If Only I Can Get My Hands On Your Throbbing Member'.

Still...it'd be nice if someone would say that to him. He scrawled down a 'MAYBE'.

'Well, duh,' Harry said, throwing his eyes heavenward. 'Voldemort's always got some harebrained scheme going against me, so...'

He scribbled down the words, 'YES, ALWAYS, AND USUALLY FAILING MISERABLY'.

Harry scowled.

This was so stupid it just had to be a trick question! Well, stupid questions deserved stupid answers.

'I WOULD ASK HIM TO PURSUE THE PATH OF RIGHTEOUSNESS, AND IF HE DIDN'T I WOULD KICK HIS ASS.'

Ah, another trick question! But he'd be honest with this one, he promised Hermione he'd try. Ever since that morning when Ron had burned his hand on the toaster, and Harry had smashed it to smithereens and told him, 'That toaster will never bother you again!' Ron had been too afraid to eat toast, but Hermione had tried to get him to attend this place.

'NOT REALLY...' he wrote neatly. 'WHY, DO YOU KNOW SOMETHING?'

'GIRL...RESCUE!' Harry wrote quickly. He only had one question left, and word associations were always so absurdly easy. Just jot down the first thing that pops into your head! 'TROUBLE...WHERE? DARING...HERO!'

'Huh?' Harry said thickly. 'Happy place? What kind of retarded quiz is this?'

Nevertheless, Harry wrote down, 'MAJORCA, OR ANYWHERE THE FORCES OF DARKNESS ARE NOT TRYING TO KILL ME.'

Harry thought carefully, and finally wrote, 'I DON'T THINK I'M AN OBSESSIVE "HERO", I JUST THINK THAT IT'S ONLY POLITE TO HELP PEOPLE OUT. AND IF YOU'RE HELPING THEM PICK UP THEIR WALLET, OR FIGHTING OFF A DRAGON TO HELP THEM...IT'S ALL THE SAME.'

Harry blotted the wet ink with blotting paper and handed it to the smiling receptionist. She was so fat that small groups of German backpackers could have been able to pitch their tents in her flesh folds.

'Thank you,' she said airily. 'Please wait while I feed your results into the computer.' The computer groaned and shook like a porn queen for a couple of moments, and finally a two-page printout whirled out of the printer. The receptionist stapled them together and placed them carefully in an envelope.

'Right-ho, Mister Potter,' she said brightly. 'Please make your way to Room Ten, last door on your left down that corridor there.'

The corridor was long and painted in a brilliant white gloss. So brilliant in fact, that Harry had the disturbing feeling that he had entered a Mental Institution. Harry glanced briefly at the other doors as he walked past them.

The first door bore the legend, 'ANTI-HERO'.

Harry glanced inside, and saw a guy with extendable claws stand up. He said clearly, 'My name is Wolverine, and I am an anti-hero.' The other members applauded wildly.

Harry shook his head. 'What the heck is an anti-hero?' he muttered, and continued on his way.

The next door had a sign saying, 'RELUCTANT HERO'. A guy with a scar across his face had just gotten to his feet.

'I know your pain!' Harry mourned, eyeing the young man's scar.

Scar-face looked very young, and he clutched what appeared to be a cross between a gun and a sword.

'My name is Squall, and I am a reluctant hero,' he declared to polite applause.

'At least reluctant hero is easy enough to understand,' Harry mumbled, and peeked through the next door.

This one bore a notice saying, 'DAMSEL IN DISTRESS'.

There were a lot of girls in this room, and to Harry's surprise, one or two men.

'Good grief, I would love to rescue them!' Harry whispered eagerly, his eyes caressing the beautiful women within.

A pretty, animated redhead got to her feet and said, 'Hi, like, I'm Daphne, and by jeepers, I'm a damsel in distress! My friends Fred and Scooby always have to rescue me, but I'm like, still a major part of the team!'

The applause was scattered and even a little insulting.

Two doors down was a very battered looking door, with words scrawled on in marker 'I DON'T WANT TO BE F**KING WELL SAVED!!'

The instructor inside said, 'OK, repeat after me...sometimes, I have to let someone help me just a teensy bit...'

He ducked as a barrage of knives and improvised missiles soared over his head.

'Very good! Much better than last week when you all tried to throttle me...'

Harry backed away slowly, saying to himself, 'OK, I don't think they'd like me in here...'

The other doors were all closed, with no signs on them. Harry went on his way, and finally found the one he was looking for. It's notice read, 'PATHOLOGICAL/COMPULSIVE (I.E. STUPID) HERO'.

'Hey!' Harry yelled in disgust. 'I resent that!'

The door swung open, and a smiling brunette ushered him in.

'You must be Harry Potter!' she said brightly. 'OK, now everyone's all here, we can begin properly. My name is Beth, and I'm here to help you. Now, could everyone please hand up his or her result envelopes, and we can continue with the meeting. Chat amongst yourselves while I read through these!'

Harry looked around the room. There was a guy wearing a weird pair of red sunglasses and a leather bodysuit. There was a little woman, just under a metre in height with auburn hair blinking slowly as if she were about to pass out from boredom. A man in his forties wearing a breastplate and cloak sat beside her. He looked as if he were used to serious command. A little man with curly hair and pointed ears, with disturbingly hairy feet sat next to him, chatting away to some weirdo wearing a crown. Beside him was a very pretty blonde girl wearing a leather jacket. Finally, there was what looked like a hulking red demon wearing a dirty brown trench coat.

'Who are you?' the demon demanded.

'Harry Potter,' he replied nervously.

'The name's Hellboy,' the demon said with a nod. 'My friends made me come here.'

'Mine too!' Harry agreed. 'Anyone else's?'

'My little sister, actually,' said the blonde, pouting. 'I mean come on! Being a hero is my job description...I'm Buffy the freaking Vampire Slayer!'

'My Commander made me come,' said the little woman. 'He said to me, "Holly Short, I am sick of you taking stupid risks. You're going to these classes, and that's final!" He's such a retard, I am definitely not saving him any more!'

'How about you lot?' Hellboy asked the remaining four.

'The wife,' they moaned.

'She said I should go to some meeting to help me sort through my sexuality, and another for being such a hero,' the little man said. 'And I said, no way! No Gamgee has ever been gay!'

Harry turned away quickly.

'How about you, king?' Hellboy asked.

'The name is King Aragorn of Gondor, also known as Strider, Telcontar (meaning Strider), Estel (meaning hope) and son of Arathorn!' he boomed jovially. 'My wife Arwen made me come. Was it the same for you, mister...uh...'

'Vimes,' said the guy in the armour. 'His Grace, Sir Samuel Vimes, Duke of Ankh-Morpork and Commander of the City Watch.'

Aragorn seemed to be sulking at this. 'He's got more names than me!' he muttered.

'How about you, gimpy?' Hellboy asked the man wearing leather.

He scowled, but it was hard to read his expressions with the sunglasses.

'The name's Scott Summers, but most people know me as Cyclops,' he said heavily. 'It all began when I discovered I was a mutant, and my first love Jean Grey died. I couldn't save her, so I tried my best to save everybody that I can. My new wife Madeline is worried that I try to hard. But if I don't try...I'll have to relive the shame of not being able to save my Jean! My ruby quartz visor stops me from smashing all of you into pulp, because I have no control over my mutant power. I am tall. I am wearing leather.'

Hellboy and Harry exchanged glances.

'That was very...upfront,' Harry said carefully.

'I am a comic book character,' Cyclops explained. 'I have to state the obvious a lot.'

'How about you, kid?' Hellboy asked.

'Yeah, what's with the scar?' Buffy questioned, raising her pencilled eyebrows delicately.

'Oh, this old thing?' Harry laughed. 'The most evil wizard in the known world tried to kill me when I was a baby, and that's all he managed to do.'

'But who are you?' Cyclops pressed.

'Are you human, hobbit, elf, dwarf or wizard?' King Aragorn asked.

'I'm a wizard,' Harry explained. 'And my name is Harry Potter. It's great to be somewhere that I'm not famous!'

'Tell me about it,' Holly muttered. 'Although most people just link me with Artemis Fowl.'

'I'm the hero-king of Gondor, I have to be famous,' Aragorn said to no one in particular.

'I'm known all over my area for being brave,' Samwise said proudly.

'I'm just known for being big, red and demonic and doing very stupid things when I get mad,' Hellboy said idly.

'I'm known for rescuing people, particularly from vampires,' Buffy explained.

'Famous for being a mutant, and for my ruby-quartz visor,' Cyclops droned. 'Also, for being the leader of a gang of super heroes.'

'I'm generally just known for being a dumb copper and chasing people about,' Sir Samuel sighed.

'OK!' said Beth cheerfully. 'It's time to start the meeting. Has everyone got a chance to talk to your fellow members?'

They all nodded.

'Good!' Beth said happily. 'Alright, we have a few interesting cases here, and hopefully at the end of this course you'll be fully-functioning citizens again!'

'You mean we're not now?' Buffy asked.

'Of course not!' Beth chuckled. 'You're all suffering from Superman Syndrome. It's where you think you can solve everything, and you always have to involve yourself when really you needn't bother.'

It was as if she had just used one of the most disgusting word formulations in the English language, like 'suppurating scrofula sores' or even 'the haunting sound of the panpipes'.

The eight exchanged irritated glances, each of them clearly saying, 'I am going to kill my friends/my wife/my commander/my sister...'

'There are five stages you must go through to wean yourself off the urge to be heroic,' Beth explained. 'Firstly, admission. If you cannot admit that you have a problem, you can't be cured! Secondly, we have resistance. Fight the urge to rescue people unless it is absolutely necessary! Thirdly, you must learn the art of distraction. Whenever someone yells 'HELP!' sit tight and play noughts and crosses, or hangman, or light up a cigarette. Just sit there, and don't move! Fourthly, we find reluctance. You will become reluctant to move from your beloved armchair, and will hopefully in time become a couch potato. And finally, you will learn acceptance. Having gone through these stages, you will accept that you do not have to be a hero. If you just go around rescuing people all the time, how will they ever learn to rescue themselves, or better yet, not get into situations where they need to be rescued?'

A few half-hearted mumbled agreements emanated from the heroes.

'Now, how about a song to cheer ourselves up?' Beth asked brightly, pulling out a guitar.

The guitar exploded, and Beth was left holding a handle, six strings and kindling.

'Mr. Boy, I presume?' Beth asked shakily.

'Yup,' Hellboy replied blithely, blowing smoke from the gun barrel.

'Not a big music fan, what?' she continued.

'Nope,' Hellboy said shortly.

'Right...' she said. 'OK...we'll read out some answers!'

She shuffled through the envelopes and selected one at random. She waved it at the group with a condescending smile and said, 'There were some interesting answers in this one!'

She removed the printout and said, 'Ooh...here's their answer for question eight: do you have a worst enemy? This person said the Nazi's.'

She eyeballed the troupe nastily. 'Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't this a little outdated? The Nazi's had disbanded by the early fifties, and they've been illegalised.'

'Say that when there's one cocking a gun against your throat,' said Hellboy idly.

Chuckles rounded the room, while Beth looked ready to pop an artery.

'Anyway...the same person's answer for the next question (which was the one asking what you would say if your worst enemy appeared) was: I wanna jam my legs up your ass and rip your sphincter like a hair scrunchy and dance around in your devastated bloody ass-meats!'

Harry, Vimes and Buffy nearly fell out of their chairs laughing, while Hellboy grinned away as if he were highly proud of himself. Aragorn, Samwise and Holly swiftly began to eye all possible exits from the room.

'That is highly inappropriate,' Cyclops complained.

'Indeed,' said Beth. 'But he or she also added, "But if he asked me not to, I wouldn't. I'd just shoot him." Does that sound fair, or even humane to you all?'

Harry and Buffy were laughing too hard to answer.

'I come from Hell, what do you expect?' Hellboy muttered.

'Here's another answer, this time from a different person,' Beth said briskly. 'This one was the "happy place" question. This person answered, "Somewhere that I can run...and nobody will stop me or shoot me in the legs. Yay!" Now, I wonder why this person would be shot in the legs?'

Buffy piped up, embarrassed, 'Maybe because nobody wants her...or him...to get to their cache of weapons because that would mean they'd end up dead very, very soon?'

Beth grimaced.

'Define "soon" for me, Buffy?' she said icily.

Buffy thought for a moment and said, 'Later than now, but earlier than never.'

Another ripple of laughter passed around the room like a Mexican wave.

'Oh dear...' Beth said sadly. 'This will never do.'

She carefully filed the sheets away and said, 'OK, inkblot time!'

'Yay,' Holly said sarcastically.

Beth held up a random inkblot picture and said, 'OK...Aragorn, what does this look like to you?'

'Like nothing I have ever seen before, and I am king of Gondor!' he boomed.

'Well, what does it remind you of then?' Beth pressed.

Aragorn squinted at the picture and said, 'Like a band of bloodthirsty orcs waiting to be killed by me!'

'Right...' Beth said slowly. 'New picture! Cyclops, it's your turn now.'

'Daddy,' Cyclops said instantly.

'Very good!' Beth enthused. 'But how does it remind you of your father?'

'I'm a comic book character,' Scott yawned. 'I'm made out of ink and paper.'

'Right, so,' Beth nodded. 'Sam, tell us what this looks like to you.'

This one was small, with what looked like fuzz on the top of the blot.

'That's my master Frodo!' Sam said instantly.

'How come he's in this group?' Buffy whispered. 'He has a master. He's not a hero! He should be in some sort of S and M group, not freaking here!'

'All right!' Beth said with a smile. 'I'd like you to attend a psychiatrist before coming back here, OK Sam? Next up, His Grace...'

'Sir Samuel will do...' Vimes said heavily. 'That reminds me of the time Carcer was hung.'

'Next up!' Beth said shrilly.

This was obviously not going according to plan for her.

'Holly?' she said quickly.

'Mud,' Holly replied instantly.

'Why mud?' Beth asked, puzzled.

'Cause I'm sitting in a room full of mud-men, that's why,' Holly said caustically.

'I resent that!' Buffy snapped.

'And two mud-women,' Holly said wearily. 'Happy now?'

'Yes,' Buffy replied.

Harry shook his head sadly. She was such a typical blonde...

'OK, I think that's enough inkblots for today. Would anyone like to speak?' Beth continued briskly. 'Harry, how about you go first?'

'Umm...I don't know...' Harry mumbled.

'I thought you were all brave!' Beth chided.

Upon hearing this, all eight began bouncing up and down in their chairs.

'We are brave!' they yelled, waving their hands and arms in the air.

'Of course you all are,' Beth said, as if humouring a small child. 'Harry?'

Harry reluctantly got to his feet. 'What should I say?' he asked.

'Whatever you like!' Beth replied.

'Umm...' Harry mumbled. 'Cheeseburgers?'

'What?' Beth asked, her botox-smoothed brow unable to contort in confusion.

Harry shook himself mentally. 'No, I meant to say that there's nothing wrong with wanting to help people,' he said loudly.

'Not so loud, Harry, the I.D.W.T.B.F.W.S. group is just down the hall!' Beth whispered urgently.

'No, I mean it!' Harry said, getting truly angry now. 'We're not suffering from anything, we just like to help people, right?'

'Right on!' Holly said excitedly.

'Praise him with great praise!' Aragorn intoned.

'Er, right...' Harry made a point of not looking at the monarch. 'And people need to be helped sometimes, am I right?' Harry continued.

'TESTIFY!' Buffy whooped.

'Damn, he's so right about everything!' Vimes bellowed.

'Let's go crazy, and rescue EVERYONE!' Cyclops howled.

'I didn't mean that!' Harry yelped, but his voice was drowned out in a barrage of supportive shouts.

Chairs overturned, windows were smashed and somehow, several species of animal became extinct in the noisy fracas that followed. The other seven pathological heroes cheered and fled the room.

Harry heard angry yells as the compulsive heroes broke into the 'I DON'T WANT TO BE F**KING WELL SAVED!' group's room and carried them all out. Other heroic groups joined in, the reluctant heroes hanging back initially but eventually being swept along with the others. The damsels in distress followed, the sound of snapping high heels and squeaks of excitement rolling in their wake.

Harry gulped nervously.

'Mr. Potter?' Beth said icily. 'You just destroyed the group!'

'Oops,' Harry said with a grin.

'Well?' Beth demanded. 'Aren't you going to help clean this mess up?'

'No,' Harry said lazily. 'You've cured me! If I help you, I can't help myself. I think I'm going to just leave you here in this ghastly mess to think about what you've tried to do. Bye!'

Beth watched as he ran out of the room. The papers settled while small fires (which had appeared, but never been explained) flickered brightly in random spots.

'Damn!' Beth snarled. 'Looks like I'm back to setting up my own religion again.'

Then, as suddenly as it was bizarre, a refrigerator dropped on her head.

Harry was lucky he got out when he did.

Otherwise, Beth would have given him the cold shoulder.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA...