The seven friends of The Absurd Fanfic Revolution were once again eating breakfast at the Gryffindor table, just like they had in every single chapter so far. Why should that change?
Even the assault by the Red Army in the previous chapter did nothing to deter them “ Tim would have to try harder than that if he wanted to alter their unyielding morning routine! Of course, there were more pressing matters to attend to than eating toast, but diverting their attention to things like “treated the wounded” and “repairing the castle” would be an admission of defeat!
After a few minutes, they finished, thus allowing the plot of the story to continue.
The Great Hall was in shambles. The Hufflepuff table resembled nothing more than a pile of matchsticks, so the other three bullet-riddled tables harboured yellow-and-black clad refugees that morning. The gaping hole in the ceiling had been simply covered over by a large tarpaulin, which was good enough protection against the elements until someone could figure out how to repair the masonry.
The rest of the castle was in similar, if not worse shape. There wasn’t a single intact window to be found anywhere in the school, and everywhere there were holes in the walls and piles of rubble, thanks to those lovely Soviet artillery strikes. The bodies of the dead student revolutionaries that littered the corridors had been buried in unmarked graves (Alas - those poor, glorious extras!) in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. The empty shells of the suits of armour lay were they fell, and even the paintings that cheerfully decorated the walls had suffered. Several portraits of ruff-wearing wizards and witches slumped dead to the corners of their frames, bleeding from where bullets had punched through the canvas.
Despite the great destruction that had occurred, there was still life to be found at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The assorted students and teachers, all the revolutionaries, were far from defeated, their spirits upheld not with cheer but some grim determination. They had good reason for their feelings: though their losses were great, they had won the battle, and now they even had a task force of Aurors guarding the castle!
“We couldn’t let some nasty commies kill off all of our kids at school, could we?” one of the nameless scarlet-robed Aurors explained. It was unclear whether he had any children at Hogwarts or not, but that wasn’t relevant to the story.
But even more important than the extra protection was the character development that had inadvertently been gained through the fighting in the previous chapter. Wherever he went, Wat Tyler was greeted with enthusiastic cheers from his followers. “Long live Wat!” they cried, masking their uncertainty with admiration for their leader. “We’ll beat Tim yet!”
In a story without any real soul, Wat had become a hero, elevated to Harry Potter-like status. He was daring, brave, and willing to fight tyranny when he saw it, but… he was no Harry Potter. Wat Tyler was just Wat Tyler “ no one, not even himself, even knew what he looked like. He had no background, no story to tell. What was his favourite colour? What were his favourite hobbies? How did his upbringing form the young man he was?
No one knew. As far as he and everyone else were concerned, he was just an inspiring leader, and for the purposes of The Absurd Fanfic Revolution and this story’s plot, that was enough.
Though his character was woefully incomplete and flat, Wat was content. It was a start, and he even contemplated the possibility of forming a full character for himself without Tim’s interference, solely based on his actions in the revolution. He also noticed that he had become the main character of the story. He was the first character to have his name introduced, and his name figured prominently throughout the story.
Yet the feeling was a bit overwhelming, and it disturbed him. Whether he liked it or not, he was the focus of the revolution “ not Meagan, or John, Harriet, Zigmond, Alice, or Chris. His friends, his fellow revolutionaries and comrades in arms, they were being cheated. As the story paid more attention to Wat, they fell by the wayside: Chris and Harriet had only gotten one line each in the last chapter, and Zigmond hadn’t even been mentioned at all. Though Meagan figured prominently as a secondary character, she was starting to become more and more of a clone of Hermione Granger, but just with a different name.
And I suppose I’m becoming a clone of Harry Potter, Wat concluded grimly. They weren’t becoming fleshed-out characters at all. They were only mimicking others.
If that was the case, then who was Ron?
Wat wasn’t the only person troubled by the disproportionate characterisation issue:
“Hey, Wat! I want to talk to you, you heroic prat!” called a voice behind him he didn’t recognise. He turned around.
It was John. It suddenly occurred to Wat that he had no idea what he looked or sounded like either, even though his friend was standing right in front of him “ the details were filled by his imagination. He answered with a certain amount of exhaustion and dread, knowing full well where the conversation was going to go: “Yes? What is it?”
“I’ll tell you what, Wat,” John stated with obvious frustration. “How come your character’s getting all of the attention? What happened to the rest of us?”
Wat sighed and answered, “I’m sorry. It’s not my fault, it’s just the way this story is going“”
“Yeah, like hell! Isn’t that what this whole revolution is about? Trying to make all of us full characters? Freeing ourselves from the author’s influence? Well, guess what? It wasn’t the author that fought off those Soviets “ it was us! ALL OF US, Wat! Yet you jump in there and take all the dialogue and paragraphs for yourself, not leaving any for the rest of us!”
The leader of The Absurd Fanfic Revolution despaired at what he was hearing from John, the friend who had come up with the revolution’s name in the first place. Their epic struggle was starting to unravel from within, and all without Tim the Enchanter’s destructive interference “ the author didn’t even have to do a thing.
“…So Wat, why don’t you just lay off for a bit and give someone else a chance? If you’re our leader, set an example! We’re characters in this story too!”
John shot him a final glare and walked off, leaving Wat feeling thoroughly miserable “ he found himself thinking about the countless casualties of the last chapter, of all of those nameless people who DIED so that he could play the hero. Somewhat pathetically, Wat retorted with a mumbled, “I’m sorry you think that way.”
His friend stopped dead in his tracks. His grinning face turned to Wat “ “Of course that’s not what I think!”
“Wait, what?”
“I’m not Wat, I’m John,” he joked rather badly, but still smiling. John even walked back and patted Wat on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry; it’s an honour to fight at your side! You’re a bloody hero!”
It took a few moments for Wat to put his mind together for him to answer. He asked, “So… what was with that badly written, subversive rant about how unfair I was?”
John did a good job of looking affronted. “Isn’t it obvious? I was just trying to give my character more exposure in this story “ some paragraphs of dialogue for myself, you know? That’s all. Cheerio!”
And he left, leaving Wat feeling a bit confused…
“Are you Wat Tyler?” asked another voice. Not knowing what to expect now, Wat turned around and discovered two adult men, asking for his attention.
One was a little on the short side and appeared to be thin underneath his crimson Auror robes. He had a very angular face, a prominent jaw, hawkish hazel eyes, and brutally short blond hair. His much taller companion was dressed in Muggle British Army combat fatigues and had kinder, less chiselled facial features. He had penetrating blue eyes and some brown hair that was just visible underneath his helmet.
“Yes, that’s me.” Wat replied.
“I’m Reg Scott,” the man who asked for Wat’s name (the Auror) introduced himself.
“And I am Sergeant Archer Price, British Army, 2nd Infantry Division. Pleasure to meet you,” added the Muggle, offering his hand unlike his companion. As Wat shook it, he was suddenly struck by a pang of annoyance that these two strangers out of nowhere had full names and physical descriptions, yet he was just some vague idea of a person whose appearance was up to the reader’s imagination.
“Nice to meet you too,” Wat said, despite the irritation in the back of his head. “Anything I can do for you?”
“No you can’t,” answered the Auror in what might have been sarcasm, but Wat wasn’t sure. The Sergeant rolled his eyes and he decided to explain instead: “Don’t mind him. Anyway, we’re here to join in your revolution and aid you in whatever ways we can to bring Tim the Enchanter to justice.”
Wat muttered some thanks, but he was confused: “Sorry, but aren’t you already helping us…?”
“Right you are,” answered Sergeant Price cheerfully, “but not for the same reasons. Actually, I take that back “ the army just left the grounds in between this chapter and the previous one, but that’s beside the point! You see, Reg here and I were sent to Hogwarts to fight Soviets, not join in any student revolution. There’s a difference“”
“It’s personal,” interrupted Reg the Auror with obvious bitterness in his voice, and the Muggle Sergeant nodded in agreement. The Auror then muttered some highly colourful curses under his breath that Wat heard nevertheless.
“Why, what did he do to you?” Wat asked, wondering what on earth Tim the Enchanter had done to warrant such creative profanities “ can’t be any worse than being attacked by hordes of mad communists? he thought.
“Notice how you can actually see me as a corporeal story character, right?” Reg explained, and Wat nodded. He could tell that the Auror was an aggressive, confrontational sort judging by his mean stature and tone of voice. Sergeant Price appeared tough but collected, and much more sociable. However, none of the revolutionaries had that privilege of instant characterisation by sight and sound.
“…I was one of the first characters that Tim ever thought up. He did some character sketches of me, working out my appearance, my personality “ he even specified that I’m left handed and I have an irrational obsession for Italian racing brooms.”
“But what has he done with that? NOTHING! Tim went through all of the trouble of making up a character who is an Auror and a bit of a git, but a full-blown character nonetheless. BUT HE HASN’T DONE ANYTHING WITH ME! I mean… shit! I need to appear in a fanfic someday, don’t I? ...Well, that’s just my story.”
Seeing that his friend was done raving, Sergeant Price detailed his grievances:
“Fortunately, I already have a story “ I’m actually the main character in the first Harry Potter fanfiction the author wrote, but that’s not important. I don’t really mind that he messed up my life with Death Eater attacks and memory modifications, which are a complete pain in the arse, mind you, but I’m angry because he’s practically forgotten about my story! For months he’s left me on the verge of death with this stupid cliffhanger at the end of my Chapter Four, and he hasn’t written a single word of the next chapter yet. My story can’t just end there! He can’t just leave me hanging like that, can he?”
Reg laughed unpleasantly. “Hey, at least you have a story. Look at me! I have to make a stupid cameo in this one!”
Unsure of how to end the conversation, the author just had the two new adult recruits shake hands with a sympathetic Wat (who had simply nodded and muttered “Of course,” while they were talking). They marched off to prepare the castle’s defences for the inevitable second assault in the next chapter.
The next few hours passed uneventfully in a short paragraph just like this one…
Then it was night “ the time for The Absurd Fanfic Revolution to strike again! They would have to do something more potent, more devastating, because altering Word documents didn’t do the trick last time. Plus, they needed to avenge the deaths of more than half of their number. Wat, Meagan, John, Harriet, Zigmond, Alice, and Chris were seated on the comfy chairs and sofas, conspiring conspiratorially. For the first time, Chris was actually useful for the revolutionaries’ cause (“Hey! That’s not true!” he yelled at the ceiling of the Gryffindor common room), for it was his cunning plan that was chosen. For the sake of brevity, they simply had an absolutely evil idea…
Just like the previous night, the seven friends opened the blinding portal of seizures and jumped through.
Tim the Enchanter finished eating his breakfast and returned to his computer, eager to finish this ridiculous instalment so he could get around to writing the more exciting sixth chapter. Before he set to work however, he did his routine checks “ no new reviews for any of his stories on fanfiction.mugglenet.com, and his most recent chapter was still in the queue.
He then moved on to check his e-mail:
Inbox (27)
“What the hell?” he muttered in a completely normal voice, the fake Scottish accent absent. Tim’s spam blocker was pretty good, so he never got that many e-mails at one time. With trepidation, he opened the inbox.
Tim the Enchanter swore.
Loudly.
All the e-mails were responses from his friends and even his old Literature teacher:
…Tim, you are a pompous arse. Sod off and may we never meet again.
Burn in hell you sick pervert.
Moo. Now die.
Cao ni zuzong shiba dai!
Suck a nut >:(
I sincerely hope this is joke, Tim. If not, I’m sorry to admit that I had overestimated your integrity, for now I see what kind of person you really are…
Anxious to discover what could have inspired such hate mail, Tim read the e-mail “he” had sent to everyone in his address book. What he saw made him sick with fury:
Dear [insert name here],
Hello…
The rest of the e-mail was so inconceivably and ridiculously obscene that it defied Tim’s wildest imagination, and could not be displayed in this story for sake of decency and the rating. But the e-mail wasn’t just simply vulgar: it was hateful, spiteful, and made Tim look like the world’s biggest arsehole.
He wanted revenge with an intense passion, but he decided that damage control was more important at the moment. He created another e-mail address and sent a lengthy message to everyone The Absurd Fanfic Revolution had mailed.
Tim explained (as in lied) that his new laptop had just been stolen, and to add insult to injury, the thief sent that scathing e-mail under his name. He proceeded to pick apart that obscene message, proving that he didn’t write it based on the language chosen and writing style “ for instance, Tim never used emoticons at all, but that e-mail was choked full of them.
He concluded with a carefully worded apology, and requested that all further contacts with him should be done via his new e-mail address on a different computer, since the old one was on the stolen laptop and no longer any good.
Tim the Enchanter thought his explanation was a bit feeble, but it was at least plausible. Still, he was happy that he had been calm and clever enough to have come up with a better excuse than just a “temporary bout of insanity.”
Now that he had done his best to repair the damage The Absurd Fanfic Revolution had done, Tim forsake all restraint and focused all his heart and soul into punishing the fanfiction characters who had humiliated him. Revenge would be very sweet indeed…