Thursday Next and the Mary Sue

The Mary Sue problem had, until that point, been confined to fanfiction, which meant, in effect, the Internet. After all, stories with a blatant Mary Sue character aren’t going to find many commercial publishers. Since the BookWorld didn’t concern itself with the Internet – at least, not at that time – no one worried about Mary Sues. Until ...

xXx

I looked up at the sound of tapping on the window. Commander Bradshaw was standing outside, an agitated expression on his face, rifle slung over his shoulder. I might have expected something like this – it was at least ten days since someone from Jurisfiction had come running to me with a problem. I opened the French windows.

‘Good morning, Commander.’

‘Thursday!’ he spluttered. ‘I know I said I’d never bother you at home again, but ... we have a major crisis on our hands! We really do need your help ... if at all possible ...’

I blinked. I had never seen him was agitated as this. Such behaviour didn’t sit well on the usually phlegmatic Commander, intrepid game hunter and hero of Bradshaw and The Kaiser (published 1927, price 7/6), and the long sequence of Boy’s Own stories that followed, all set on the wide plains of East Africa.

‘What is it this time?’ I asked, slightly sceptical.

‘We’ve had to shut down the Potter novels!’ he told me, still agitated.

Now that did get my attention.

‘Shut them down?’ I repeated rather feebly. He nodded. ‘Then ... then what are people reading?’

‘Anyone who thinks they’re reading a Potter novel at the moment is actually reading Great Expectations.’

‘Heavens,’ I said, impressed. ‘How did they pull that one off?’

‘With great difficulty.’

‘And why?’

‘A Mary Sue.’

I blinked again. I was familiar enough with the concept, but Mary Sues were only found in fanfics. ‘There’s a Mary Sue in a Potter novel at the moment?’

‘That’s right.’

‘A real, live Mary Sue?’

‘Yes, yes!’

‘How did she get there?’

‘No one knows,’ he spluttered impatiently, ‘but our priority at the moment is to get her out again.’

I could see his point. ‘Hold on - I’ll be right with you. Which book is she in?’

‘Number five.’

I grabbed a coat and slipped a paperback copy of the book into a pocket. What else would I need? My emergency kit, just in case things got rough. I checked to see I had a good supply of Eraserhead cartridges, just to be on the safe side, although I couldn’t imagine a Mary Sue putting up much of a fight. On the other hand, one who had shown as much resourcefulness as this ...

I put my head round the study door. Landen was at his desk, pencil in hand, bent over a pile of typescript which lay in front of him.

‘I’ve just had a summons from the Commander.’

‘Oh?’ he murmured, not taking his eyes from the page.

‘I may be some time,’ I warned.

‘That’s nice, dear.’

I left him to it.

xXx

‘Righto,’ I said to Bradshaw as we walked up the lawn to the Hogwarts main entrance, ‘fill me in. What happened?’

‘We’re still working at the how, but we know what. Apparently this girl made her way from some fanfic to Hogwarts, slipped into the group of new students, and got Sorted into Slytherin. During Umbridge’s speech before the Feast, she jumped up and ran from the House table, slapped Umbridge’s face hard, before bursting into tears. She then made a bee line for the exit, and got away before anyone could stop her.’

Now that was impressive. ‘And where is she now?’

‘No one knows. That’s the problem. She’s at loose somewhere in the castle, and we’ve got to track her down before she can do any more damage.’

‘Ah.’

‘That’s why it’s all hands to the wheel. And that's why we’ve had to close the books down.’

‘Fair enough.’

We had arrived at the steps to the castle now, and our mutual friend, Professor Snape, was there waiting for us. For once, the sneer was missing, and he looked tired, and unusually for him, somewhat distraught.

‘Your colleagues are inside,’ in the brisk tone we had come to expect from him.

He led us in through the entrance hall, where there was a small conclave. I could see Mrs Tiggeywinkle in company with the Emperor Zhakod.

Oddly enough, Mrs Tiggeywinkle had became the Jurisfiction expert on the Internet, and was leading the attempt to break into fan fiction – something we hadn’t been able to do up to now. Her dexterity with computers had come as a surprise to all of us, but, as she had said, placidly, ‘You’re never too old to learn new tricks.’

She turned to us with relief. ‘Thank Heavens you’ve arrived. We were just about to begin our briefing.’ She looked round to make sure she had everyone’s attention, then began.

‘Thanks to the Emperor Zhakod’s contacts in the science fiction world, we were able to make our way into The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, which was previously unexplored territory. We tracked down Marvin, and had a long conversation with him ...’ - I could imagine - ‘... and eventually he agreed to help us. He said it made a welcome change from parking cars.

‘Anyway, I think we’ve established where she came from - a story on a site now defunct, although the file is still sitting on the server. Marvin was able to access the file, and gave us some details.

‘It wasn’t exactly a very popular story, and reading it, one can understand why. To date, the file has been accessed seventeen times.’

She paused, and there was a slightly baffled silence.

‘You mean the story’s been read seventeen times?’ asked Weasley.

‘Well ....’ Mrs Tiggeywinkle drew the word out to double its length, ‘not quite. There have been eleven unique visitors to the site.’

‘So it’s been read eleven times?’

‘Maybe – but just because the file has been accessed doesn’t mean it’s been read all the way through.’ She hesitated again. ‘Some readers,’ she went on delicately, ‘might have given up after the first page. Or the first line.’

Snape snorted.

‘Is it a very long story?’ Weasley persisted.

‘Well,’ hesitant again, ‘not too long, but, of course, since she’s done a runner, there isn’t a lot left of the story.

‘We were able to piece together quite a few details. Her name, apparently, is Kaylay de Bellezza, and in the original story, she became an exchange student at Hogwarts.’

‘American?’ asked Snape, with an inflection of an eyebrow.

‘Worse.’

‘Worse?’

‘Californian.’ There was a sharp intake of breath all round. ‘Needless to say, she was sorted into Slytherin.’

No one dared look at Snape. Finally, the Commander cleared his throat.

‘Any physical description, perchance? Distinguishing marks, that sort of thing?’

Mrs Tiggeywinkle gave him a exasperated look. ‘Violet eyes,’ she said in a tone of slight boredom. ‘Titian hair.’

‘That’d clash,’ murmured Professor Flitwick.

Mrs Tiggeywinkle continued as if she had not heard. ‘Six foot tall. An hourglass figure. And ...’ she hesitated for a moment ‘... a D cup bra.’

Another silence, before Potter muttered, ‘I don’t like tall girls.’

‘That’s a shame,’ said the hedgehog, ‘since the two of you end up on an Hawaiian beach together, as the sun sets. And you’re wearing ...’

‘Quite,’ said Professor Dumbledore. ‘I think we get the picture.’

‘All too vividly,’ said Snape dryly.

‘But how did she get out?’ the Commander asked.

Mrs Tiggeywinkle demonstrated that six foot hedgehogs could shrug. ‘Does it matter for the moment? Our first priority must be to find her.’

‘Well,’ said Dumbledore, ‘the ghosts have searched the castle. No sign of her. And there doesn’t seem to be any indication she went out into the grounds.’

‘Maybe,’ said Weasley, ‘she went into the forest, and got eaten by something. Like a giant spider.’

Snape snorted.

Not in the castle, not in the grounds ... where could she have gone? Then I had a sudden idea. ‘You said she was sorted into Slytherin?’ Mrs Tiggeywinkle nodded. ‘She wasn’t a Parselmouth, by any chance?’

‘I think so. Oh, yes, and half Veela, too.’

But Potter had picked up on the Parselmouth. ‘You don’t think ...?’ he said, looking at me.

‘Worth a try.’

‘What?’ asked Weasley.

‘She could have got into the Chamber of Secrets,’ I said. ‘Our only problem is following her in.’

‘With a snap of my fingers,’ declared the Emperor Zkahod, ‘I can summon up a battlefleet of starships ...’

‘Many thanks, but I think we’d prefer to have the castle left intact afterwards,’ said Dumbledore courteously. ‘However, Harry here speaks Parseltongue, and so can open the Chamber for us.’

‘One thing,’ I interrupted, ‘with her being part Veela, it might be an idea if ...’

‘I take your point. Perhaps if we went in pairs – you, Ms Next, with Mr Potter; Ms Tonks with ...’ I could see he was going to say ‘Professor Snape’, but he went on rather hurriedly, ‘... Commander Bradshaw.’

The Commander tapped the 303 rifle slung over his shoulder. ‘Loaded with Eraserheads,’ he said rather proudly.

This was greeted with a rather cold silence. No fictional character likes to be reminded of Eraserheads. Tonks muttered something like, ‘Be careful where you point that thing, then.’

‘So, then, Harry,’ said Dumbledore briskly, ‘lead the way.’

The BookWorld award ceremonies had, up until then, been rather boring affairs. Would Richard III or Scrooge win the Most Hated Man in Fiction yet again? Would Mrs Danvers win the Most Hated Woman in Fiction for the twenty third time running? Then the Potter saga appeared, and almost made a clean sweep of the awards. Snape, of course, for the Most Hated Man, and Dolores Umbridge for the most hated woman. The Marauders as the Most Annoying Characters of All Time. Dumbledore winning the Favourite Old Codger Award, and so on.

Millon DeFloss, A History of the BookWorld Awards.

Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom was indeed a fairly unsavoury place. Moaning Myrtle herself wasn’t in evidence – perhaps still searching the castle. Potter marched up to a basin, glared at a tap, screwed up his eyes, and hissed. Even though I was expecting it, it still sounded creepy.

The resultant opening of the entrance was quite impressive. What was less impressive was the filthy pipe descending into the bowels of the castle.

‘So, um, how do we get down there?’ I asked.

‘Broomsticks,’ said Potter briefly.

‘Oh. It’s just that the Commander and I ...’

‘Perhaps,’ suggested Dumbledore, ‘you go on Harry’s broom, and the Commander goes on Tonks’ broom. It should only need the four of you; the rest of us can get on with checking the rest of the castle and grounds.’

Right. I looked at Potter and he looked at me. Nothing for it then. I climbed onto the Firebolt, and clung onto Potter, who shrunk forward. I’d forgotten that the Potter of Book Five was rather ... hormonally challenged. We rose up, hovered, then slowly descended that filthy pipe. I could hear Tonks whooping as they came down behind us. The Commander seemed to be getting on rather well with her ... perhaps too well.

Eventually we stopped at the door to the Chamber, climbed off the brooms, and Potter did his hissing bit again.

‘Whoa,’ I said. ‘Before we go in there ... we don’t know what state of mind she’s going to be in, so we need to be careful. And Commander, Potter – you’d better hang back, if that Veela report is correct.’

Tonks and I stepped inside, then paused. The only sound we could hear was a steady dripping, which echoed through the Chamber. Potter came in after us, and I heard the sudden intake of breath as he saw the remains of the basilisk. It was not a pleasant sight.

Not only had we to skirt the rather smelly corpse, we also had to tread quite carefully to avoid splashing in the puddles. As we got further into the Chamber, I held up a hand, and the others froze. I could hear something – a faint distant sobbing. I looked over to Tonks, raised my eyebrows, and she nodded. By the sound of things, Kaylay could be ... well, let’s say emotionally fragile. I waved Potter and the Commander back, and beckoned to Tonks.

Walking round that grotesque statue of Slytherin, we caught sight of a girl huddled in a corner, sobbing her heart out. Titian hair – yep. I waved Tonks over and whispered, ‘Tell Potter to go back and tell the others we’ve found her.’

Tonks nodded, and there was a brief consultation between the two of them before she came back.

‘What now?’ she asked.

I nodded towards the girl. ‘Come on.’

We stopped a few feet from her – I wasn’t sure whether she knew we were there yet, so I cleared my throat loudly. The sobbing slowed, and she looked up. Flitwick was right: violet eyes did clash with titan hair. All the other attributes of a Mary Sue were in evidence: the flawless complexion, the curving eyelashes, the hourglass figure, the D cup bra ... but on the other hand, several hours of sobbing had left her face distinctly swollen.

‘Kaylay?’

‘I’ve been, like, soooo stupid.’

By the look of her, she didn’t have a hankie. I gave her some tissues.

‘Well, maybe, but I’m sure we can sort things out.’

‘You’re going to send me back, aren’t you?’ she said dully. ‘Who are you, anyway?’

‘I’m Thursday Next, and this is Tonks.’

The girl’s gaze shifted over to the Auror. ‘Tonks? I never thought you looked like that.’

‘Well, I can change if you like,’ and her hair became the same colour as Kaylay’s.

‘Cool. You really can ...’

‘Yep. I really can.’

Then she saw the Commander, who had his 303 rifle cradled in his arms. ‘Who's that?’ she whispered.

‘Commander Bradshaw at your service, ma’am,’ he boomed.

‘What’s he carrying?’ still in that hushed tone.

The Commander slapped the butt of his rifle. ‘My trusty 303. Did I tell you about the time I bagged four lions with this rifle?’ he asked eagerly.

Ah, yes. Bradshaw and the Railway (published 1929. Price 7/6). A rip off from Colonel Patterson’s Man Eaters of Tsavo. I hadn’t had the nerve to tackle him on that one yet.

‘You ... shot ... four lions?’

I don’t think the Colonel had heard of the Animal Rights Movement.

‘Indeed, yes. You see ...’

‘Later,’ I told him.

Kaylay looked from him to me, her eyes narrowing. ‘You’re not in the Potter books.’

‘Well, no. We’re from Jurisfiction.’

‘Jurisfiction ... ?’ Then her eyes widened, and she started to snivel again. ‘I’m in sooo much trouble ...’

I did a Dumbledore. ‘Yes ... and no.’ I turned to Tonks. ‘We’re going to need some more brooms to get out of here.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Told Harry to send along some more people. But first,’ ... she turned to Kaylay ... ‘you’d better give me your wand, luv.’

Kaylay blinked – it was probably the first time she’d ever been addressed as ‘luv’ - but handed it over meekly enough.

A party of students on broomsticks arrived a minute or so later. Weasley gave us the news that the books had been put back on line, so to speak. I took up his offer of a lift back – the trickier problem was who to give Kaylay to, and it was with some pleasure that I saw Draco Malfoy in the group. Those two deserved each other, I thought.

xXx

One of the problems with fanfic was the material the authors had to work with. The real Snape, for example, could not, of course, appear in all of the multitude of stories written about him. The sheer number of stories meant that inexperienced Generics had to be pressed into service, often with very little training. This accounted for what was referred to as OOC behaviour – or ‘out of character’. Not even the best educated Generic could hope play such a rich part as Snape successfully. The result was that all the Generic given the role could hope to do was to grasp the more obvious character traits, but without any great subtlety.

Mrs Tiggeywinkle – The Role of the Generic in Fanfiction

xXx

We gathered in Dumbledore’s office. The Commander and the Emperor Zakhod had been sent back to TechCentral to help sort out the mess there. Mrs Tiggeywinkle and I represented Jurisfiction; Dumbledore, Snape, and, slightly to my surprise, Dolores Umbridge acted on behalf of Hogwarts. As for Kaylay – well, no one represented her.

‘Well, Miss de Belleza, you do seem to have created a commotion.’

‘I’m sorry, Headmaster, it’s just that ...’

‘Yes, yes.’ He waved her apology away, and I thought he was about to offer her a lemon drop. Instead, he twinkled at her.

‘However, I do rather feel that it is Professor Umbridge who deserves the apology.’ There was a slightly stunned silence. ‘After all,’ Dumbledore went on, ‘she was only saying the lines given to her by the author.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Kaylay. ‘Um ... sorry, Professor.’

‘That’s all right, dear,’ and the Toad smiled one of those gruesome smiles, stepped forward, and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. Kaylay shrunk away.

I always had my suspicions about Umbridge.

Mrs Tiggeywinkle cleared her throat. ‘What does interest us at Jurisfiction is – how did you do it?’

Kaylay looked puzzled. I don’t think a high I.Q. was written into her part.

‘Do what?’

‘Become a PageRunner.’

‘Oh. Is that what I am?’

‘Yes, indeed. And a most remarkable one.’

‘Really?’ She brightened slightly. ‘Why’s that?’

‘Well, doing it from book to book isn’t easy, but it can be done, nowadays. But you have done something no one’s done yet.’ Mrs Tiggeywinkle paused expectantly, but Kaylay was still looking a little perplexed. ‘You, my dear, have managed to escape from the Internet into a book!’

‘Heaven help us now,’ muttered Snape.

He had a point.

‘How did you do it?’ Mrs Tiggeywinkle asked.

Kaylay’s brow furrowed. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.

‘Ah,’ said Dumbledore, ‘that gives us a problem.’

‘Why so?’

‘Because if you don’t know how you got out, how are you going to get back in?’

Kaylay’s lower lip started trembling. ‘What am I going to do?’

‘We could write you a new story. Couldn’t we, Severus?’

‘I suspect you are being a little optimistic there, Headmaster.’

‘Nonsense. You’re just the man for the job!’

Snape turned to Kaylay. ‘Let me see. You were a ‘cheerleader’ – that is what they are called, is it not? – at your magical high school in California. You were the centrefold – I believe that was what it was called? - for a magazine called, apparently, "Witch Weakly"? Interesting title. And having come to Hogwarts as an exchange student, you then proceeded to "off" the Dark Lord, reform the Ministry of Magic, then run away with Potter to Hawaii.’ Kaylay began to go very red. Her cheeks clashed with both her eyes and her hair now. ‘I hardly think I am the person to turn my hand to write such ... twaddle.’

‘Come now, Professor Snape,’ Umbridge remarked, in a tone of honeyed acid, ‘why not?’

‘More in your line, I would have thought, Dolores. Certainly you would have no problem emulating the spelling, grammar and punctuation of the original.’

Her mouth thinned to a razor like narrowness.

Mrs Tiggeywinkle cleared her throat very loudly. ‘I don’t think this is very helpful.’ Neither Snape nor Umbridge had the grace to look ashamed. ‘Professor Dumbledore has made an interesting suggestion. On the other hand – I don’t want you to think we’re regarding you as some form of guinea pig, Kaylay, but we are rather interested to know how you did manage to escape.

‘PageRunning is something distinctly frowned upon by Jurisfiction, but we do accept that you didn’t perhaps realise what you were doing. I think your original story is beyond rescue, and it’s quite likely that if we did insist you went back, that you’d probably escape again from sheer frustration.’

Dumbledore and the other professors might have the brains, but they did lack the commonsense of Mrs Tiggeywinkle.

I felt I’d better make a contribution. ‘So now, we have to think of where we go from here. One obvious answer is to find a writer who’s also into fanfiction, and who would be prepared to write a story around you.’

I thought of Landen, then rapidly dropped that option. I didn’t want him forming ... well, too close an association with Kaylay. Not that I didn’t trust him, but, all the same ...

‘But who’d want to write a story about me?’ Kaylay asked.

‘Well, either a fanfic author, or perhaps we could commission someone. A fanfic author would be better though – have more feel for his subject.’

‘But ... but I’m, like, just a Mary Sue. I know that.’

‘True, you have many of the common attributes – but a good writer ought to be able to put that to good use.’

Mrs Tiggeywinkle came in.

‘Unless we go for one of the less ... er, choosy ... sites, we’d better pick our author carefully. Many of the sites which consider themselves more prestigious are moderated by graduate students with a copy of Strunk and White by their elbow, and who will quibble endlessly as to the usage of "that" versus "which". Although we could, of course, market it as PWP.’

‘PWP?’ enquired Umbridge.

‘Porn Without Plot,’ Mrs Tiggeywinkle explained.

‘Oh.’ Dolores went a little pink. There again, pink was her colour.

Kaylay sat up straighter in her chair. ‘Hey, look, I know, like, the ending of that story might have been a little hot, maybe even raunchy, but not porn ... no way!’

Snape snorted.

‘Well,’ said Mrs Tiggeywinkle judiciously, ‘we can cross that bridge when we come to it. In the meantime, we’ll have to find somewhere for you to stay. I doubt Professor Dumbledore would want you in the castle.’

Kaylay gave Dumbledore a shy smile, but he seemed strangely immune to her charms – as did Snape, though probably for different reasons.

‘Dear Ms de Belleza, much though many of us would love to have you in the castle -’ Umbridge simpered ‘- in view of recent events, it might not perhaps be wise.’

‘But ...’ stammered Kaylay, ‘where am I to go?’

I had an idea. After all, a woman who has coped with Lady Hamilton and with Bismarck should have no problem with a Mary Sue. I cleared my throat.

‘You have an idea, Ms Next?’ asked Dumbledore.

‘She could always stay with my mother until we get things sorted out.’

‘Your mother? But aren’t you’re an Outlander?’ Kaylay asked cautiously. I nodded. ‘Hey, does that mean I would get to live in the Outland?’

‘On a temporary basis.’ I’m sure Mother’s patience would have its limitations. ‘Until we get things sorted out.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ Kaylay breathed.

‘On a temporary basis,’ I reminded her.

‘Indeed, that is a very kind offer,’ said Dumbledore gravely. Umbridge scowled.

As long as I kept her away from Landen.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. ‘There we are! Thanks to the kind offices of Ms Next - problem solved.’

Oh, yes – problem solved for him ... mine were just beginning.

I stood up. ‘Right, then, Kaylay – ready to go?’

‘Yes, Ms Next – and thank you.’ She turned to the others. ‘And I’m really, really sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused.’

Dumbledore twinkled. Snape scowled. Tonks shrugged. And Umbridge ... well, she looked as though a very juicy fly had escaped her clutches.

xXx

PlotHole Fillers.

PlotHole Fillers, as their name suggests, are employed by JurisTech to divert readers’ attention away from the more obvious holes in an author’s plot. A crisis arose in the mid 1990s with the publication of the Potter saga: no fewer than 741 Mrs Danver clones (q.v.), surplus to requirements, had to be rapidly trained up as PlotHole Fillers – a job which they fulfilled quite admirably.

Stanley Kneif – A Guide to JurisTech

xXx

Mother and Kaylay got on surprisingly well. Kaylay was tucked up in bed with hot chocolate in no time at all. The chocolate was surprisingly good – I hadn’t had the time to warn Kaylay about Mother's cooking.

As to finding an author – that proved more difficult. Mrs Tiggeywinkle set up a LiveJournal account, and asked for fanfic writers to get in touch. The trouble was that most of them didn’t seem that suitable – at least, not once we’d read their stories on fanfiction.net. We had a meeting with one author who turned out to be a middle aged schoolmaster – unfortunately, introducing him to Kaylay proved to be a mistake.

It was Mother who came up with the answer.

‘Why not try one of those Mills and Boon* authors?’

It was a master stroke. We found this kindly lady of a certain age, and she and Kaylay got on like a house on fire. I think Kaylay saw her as a surrogate grandmother.

We explained what we wanted, and she sighed. ‘Oh, dear. Does this mean I have to read the books?’ We nodded. ‘They’re rather long, you know. Still ... I hope you don’t mind if this is reflected in my fee?’

Since Jurisfiction was paying, I had no qualms in agreeing to that one. It took her a fortnight to get through them all, and on our next visit, I took along printouts of various fanfics to give her some idea. She scanned through some of them and sighed. ‘Oh, dear.’

‘What is it?’ Kaylay asked anxiously.

‘They’re not ... well, terribly good, are they?’

‘Don’t you think so?’

‘No, I don’t. I mean, really – look at some of this ...’

I thought she was going to get a red pen out and start correcting them.

‘You can do me a better one?’ Kaylay asked.

‘Oh, yes. How long would you like it?’

I looked at Kaylay and she looked back at me. ‘How about fifty thousand words?’ I suggested.

‘Five weeks,’ she said briskly.

‘Five weeks?’

‘Five working days a week, so that’s twenty five days at two thousand words a day.’

‘Right,’ said Kaylay slowly, her brow furrowed as she tried to follow the arithmetic.

And the story turned out to be surprisingly tasteful as well as suitably romantic.

‘Years of practice,’ she assured us. ‘I’ve written twenty four books so far. I aim for two a year.’

‘Does it pay well?’ I asked, curious. Maybe Landen could try his hand at one.

‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘It’s more fun than anything.’

‘Right,’ said Kaylay.

‘I’ve put it onto a CD for you. Is that okay?’

‘Oh, yah. Thanks very much.’

Mrs Tiggeywinkle uploaded it to her LiveJournal, and it was time to say farewell to Kaylay. In an odd sort of way, I’d rather miss her.

*Harlequin is the American equivalent of Mills and Boon.