A/N 2- The Author’s Notes Strike Back: As I’m writing this, I know how the story will begin, but not how it will end. Keep that in mind.
Our story starts in a barn in a small Amish community.
Jebediah: Oy! Ichabod! There’s a piece of paper on the floor!
[Ichabod runs over to Jebediah]
Ichabod: What’s the problem, Jeb? What’s paper?
Jebediah: That. [points to floor]
Ichabod: Oh…… Shall we take a look at it?
Jebediah: Careful, brother. Who knows what deviltry is afoot!
[Ichabod picks up the sheet of paper and they both start to read it]
Odium! Scandal! Outrage! This blasphemes every ideal which we uphold! No God-fearing man wrote this!
Ichabod: Indeed! We must find this… [he looks at the paper] Magorian… and burn him to the ground! And we must find this “The Savant” too!
Jebediah: No, dear brother, The Savant is the author! We cannot harm him, lest he write something horrible to happen to us! No, we must focus on his construct, this insipid horse-man. To arms!
[Ichabod cups his hands over his mouth and shouts to the village]
Ichabod: Everyone, get your torches and pitchforks! We’re going fanfic hunting!
[Townspeople rally a warcry and charge out of the town exit, fully equipped with torch and pitchfork.]
Ichabod: Shan’t we go also?
Jebediah: Right after we find out how we leaned to read.
Ichabod: Right.
Meanwhile, In a cave in Gotham…
Robin: Holy galloping jeepers and cows of jumping Jehosephat, Batman, there’s something new on the Bat-Computer!
Batman: What is it, Robin? What’s this? What is a… fanfic… doing on the monitor?
[He reads it]
Oh my god… This is just about the dumbest thing I’ve ever read! We must stop this madness before every one in New York City- er, I mean, Gotham City- who reads this becomes brain-dead!
Robin: You’re right, Batman! Yeah!
Batman: Come, Robin, to the Batmobile! And make sure you put on those tight spandex short shorts.
Robin: Why?
Batman: Just do it.
Robin: But don’t we have to chase the Riddler again?
Batman: The Riddler? Pshaw. What’s he going to do, ask the city a tough question? Besides, he’ll just escape again. They all do eventually. It’s surprising how escapable a maximum-security prison built especially for super villains is.
[whispers]
Man, I wish I was in Marvel Comics right now.
Robin: What’s Marvel Comics?
Batman: [still whispering] Damn those Bat-Hearing-Aids!
[regular voice]
Erm… I said nothing! C’mon, we have to bring this fic back to some semblance of Harry Potter again!
[Spinning Bat-Symbol transition sequence]
Snape: Dumbledore, this staff meeting started nearly two hours ago, and yet we still haven’t discussed what I think is a subject far more important than any of the others- subduing the centaur.
McGonagall: I hate to agree with him, Albus, but he’s right! Don’t you remember that it was us who had to pay for rebuilding the forest after he burned it down? It was us who had to pay for his rehab after that unseemly Kool-Aid addiction! And I daresay we don’t need to relive the dreaded dishwasher incident!
[they all shudder]
Dumbledore: What would you have me do, Minerva? Quarantine him in the school? Drive him out of the forest? We would sustain legal persecution either way. I don’t think I need to remind you that the Ministry of Magic still doesn’t like us any more than they do Voldemort.
[they all shudder again]
Sprout: [tentatively] Maybe if you just appealed to Fudge…
Dumbledore: I absolutely refuse to negotiate with the man anymore, Sylvia. If he can’t see we’re the good guys by now, he never will. Senile old fool…
Flitwick: Perhaps we could just, y’know… kill him?
[they are all flabbergasted by Flitwick’s sudden cruelty.]
Hey, it’s just a thought…
Snape: Anyway, here’s a thought- we could frame him. Have the centaurs spot something heretical that they think Magorian did. Then we’ll have done nothing against the law, and we’ll finally be rid of him.
Flitwick: Then won’t he be dead anyway?
[they all glower at Flitwick]
Snape: Don’t you have a pillow to enchant or something, Flitwick?
Dumbledore: Enough! What say you, Professor Sinistra?
Sinistra: Hm? Sorry, wasn’t listening. I’m only a filler character that has no real relevance and that readers will never get to see in the books anyway.
Hooch: Not even in Book 7, Harry Potter and the Chamber of the Stone in the Goblet of the Azkaban Phoenix Prince?
Sinistra: Not even then.
Dumbledore: Uh-huh. So here’s the plan. One of my trinkets has revealed to me his desire to meet a female centaur. We’ll transfigure Mrs. Sinistra into one and then lure Magorian out of the forest.
Sinistra: Hey! Why don’t you pick Professor Vector? Or the nameless Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies professors?
[invisible teachers writhe in indignation]
Dumbledore: Because, Sinistra, there are ALREADY way too many characters in this chapter.
Flitwick: Wait, Headmaster! Look what I got for you!
Dumbledore: My, my! What’s this? Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans! Filius, you shouldn’t have!
Flitwick: [excited] Go on, eat them!
Dumbledore: Don’t mind if I do! Just hope I don’t get earwax… Hmm, a milky white one- white chocolate, I suppose?
[Flitwick nods enthusiastically. Dumbledore pops it in his mouth, and then sputters it out.]
Dumbledore: That was pillow, wasn’t it?
Flitwick: Heehee! Nothing tastier!
[Dumbledore takes out another and examines it.]
Dumbledore: They’re all pillow-flavored, aren’t they?
Flitwick: Pillow-flavored?
Dumbledore: Flitwick, you sick freak!
[He storms off to his office, where he can cry the trauma away with the liquor he saved from Godric’s Hollow instead of Harry.]
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Magorian was getting bored. There were only so many times one could have a staring contest with a geranium before it got old. His pet dancing bear, Ganglia, was starting to get on his nerves, too.
The truth was that Magorian was beginning to tire of all this adventure…
REWIND
The truth was that Magorian wanted even more adventure. He wanted to obtain something he couldn’t have, see something he had never seen. Sure enough, the perfect idea floated into Magorian’s head, as they always did when the story needed to be carried along without meaningless pauses.
He wanted to court a female centaur.
Quickly, he consulted the reference book he had pilfered in Amsterdam that crazy weekend he was tried by the Wizarding World Court.
Hmmm… vampires (The preferred steed of the vampire is the giraffe, for its long neck supplies it with enough blood for long journeys.)... zombies (Their diets include the daily requirement of lentils, brown rice and soy bean extract, sometimes a bit of potato salad as an after-dinner snack , and heaping helpings of the brains of poor, defenseless animals.)… aha, here it is- centaurs!
The centaur is a solemn, sylvan being, devoted to the forest in which they inhabit. They are known to be extremely well-versed in astrology and other forms of prophecy, and have a notoriously unfriendly disposition towards humankind in general. A centaur has the body of a man down to the waist- the rest of its body is that of a horse. Never mention this to a centaur, however, for they are averse to being compared to horses and are skilled in archery.
Blah blah blah, thought Magorian, I know this crap already. Get to the good stuff. He turned the page with his pliers.
Tribes of centaurs have been allotted space to live in areas of England, Greece, Italy, and France, though there have been reported sightings of the elusive female specimen in Australia.
SLAM
That’s all Magorian needed to know. Quickly, Magorian fed the book to the bear (he always had great feeding Ganglia things it shouldn’t eat) and galloped away, grin readily set on his face. His id was insatiable; nothing could stop him now. After all, there couldn’t possibly be three extremely powerful forces endeavoring to take him down at this very moment!...
A/N: Whew… well, it’s like they always say- the first step’s a doozy. And yes, I just added that description to give myself a reference for centaurs.