NSFW. Rated M.
Disclaimer: The PPC is the creation of the wonderful Jay and Acacia, I’m only playing in it. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. ‘Better Than Revenge‘ belongs to Blinded-Kit and she can keep it. Mittens and the Radioactive Moss Creature are mine.
Response Center #170 was silent except for the low sounds coming from the console. The Radioactive Moss Creature, who most people referred to as the RMC, was lying on a beanbag, reading the tie-in novel Another Life. It was also gnawing on a piece of cardboard. Not eating, just gnawing. It liked to gnaw on things.
The RMC was wearing a black armband around its front leg. There was a water lily on the armband, proclaiming the RMC to be in the Department of Floaters. It hadn’t been given a uniform; they hadn’t been able to find one that fitted and it was actually quite happy with this.
The RMC very much resembled an anteater, but was shaped out off lush, green moss. It seemed to be wearing a brown fedora, but that was actually part of its head. The RMC was also, a suggested by its genus, slightly radioactive, although not dangerously so.
And yet, most PPC agents would find the sight of it reassuringly familiar, for it was doing one of the things that every new Floater ought to be doing which was, familiarizing itself with the most popular fandoms, in this case Torchwood, so that it would be prepared, if it was sent into this particular continuum.
At the console sat a young devil, called Mittens, wearing a black uniform also with the water lily patch. He had tousled blond hair and grey eyes, was of average height, slightly built, and with a face that wouldn’t make him stand out in a crowd of more than one person.
He was watching old episodes of Nostalgia Critic. Since very little fanfic is written about the Nostalgia Critic, this might seem like an odd thing for a new PPC agent to be doing, but Mittens – whose real name, by the way, was Mithrades – wasn’t acquainting himself with canon. He was trying to learn something much more basic; to tell good from bad.
Hell has very little in the way of entertainment, and what there is, tends to make an episode of Jersey Shore look like a Royal Shakespeare Company production of Macbeth. Being raised in Hell meant that Mittens had no taste whatsoever. Some PPC agents might consider this a blessing and understandably so, but it does make it rather difficult to be a PPC agent. After all, how are you going to recognize crappy characterization, poor plotting and vomit inducing writing, when that is all you have ever seen?
The console emitted an ear-splitting BEEP! and Mittens jumped in his chair with a small yelp. A red light flashed and he tentatively pressed the red button below it, then started reading the Intelligence Report on the screen. “It’s a mission,” he said. “Our first mission.”
The RMC snuffled. “Is it a Pirates fic?” it asked. The RMC wasn’t built for human speech so what it said was actually more along the lines of, “S t a piats fic?” but Mittens had know the RMC for quite some time now and had gotten used to understanding its way of speaking.
“The latest movie came out about three months ago; it must be spiking right about now,” the RMC continued.
Mittens shook his head. “No, it’s a crossover between Harry Potter and the new Doctor Who series. Takes place mainly in the Potterverse.”
“Very well, we are ready for it.”
“Will the Five-seven be an acceptable weapon?”
The RMC snuffled again. “Handguns are commonly used in the Whoniverse, so you can at least bring it.”
Mittens picked up the backpack that had been sitting ready for the last week. Then he turned to the shelf containing various going-away presents from old friends and welcome-presents from new ones. Among Mary Sue candy, brightly coloured socks, a tea kettle, a knitted hat, an Oracle Pigeon and other odds and ends, he found Johanna’s gift. The ever practical Johanna had given them a couple of high quality pens, with a small note attached reading: “No matter what organization you’re in, the standard issue pens are always crappy. Lots of love. J.”
The equally practical, albeit in a slightly different way, Dominique had sent them a FN Five-seven semi-automatic pistol with plenty of ammo. Since he had apparently read Johanna’s note and felt like poking fun, his note read: “No matter what organization you’re in, the standard issue weapons are always crappy. Use this to spread lots of death. D.”
Mittens placed a pen in the spiral coil of a notebook and strapped on a shoulder holster with the Five-seven. “Now we just need disguises,” he said and turned back to the console. He looked at the panel. “Any preferences?”
“Not really, no. Just set it to standard Harry Potter disguises and we’ll be off.”
Mittens nodded, pressed a couple of buttons, and activated the portal to the fic. The two agents jumped through and the portal closed soundlessly behind them.
There was black nothingness all around them. Then the author’s voice boomed.
Own Nothing.
The nothing around them obediently grew a small name-tag proclaiming it to be the property of the author. Then the prologue started and words drifted by, accompanied by an overly dramatic voice.
She has lived a long life. She couldn’t tell you how many mistakes she has made. But they, they were all in bloodshed.
“They were all, what, in bloodshed?” Mittens said, sounding confused. “Shouldn’t there be a verb there somewhere? Is she referring back to the previous sentence and in that case, does she mean that the mistakes were all made in bloodshed? Can you even make something in bloodshed, can’t you only end it there?
“Um,” the RMC replied noncommittally.
Mittens felt himself blush. “I was a grammar-Nazi apprentice for some time.”
When a child of Galliefrey reaches the age of eight years old,
There was a small plopping sound followed by a confused mewling.
“Mittens,” the RMC said. “Can you pick up that mini-Reaper?”
Mittens nodded, then realized that the RMC couldn’t see him and said: “Yes.” He stretched out his hands and fumbled in the darkness until he touched something small and scaly. The confused mewling stopped and he felt the small thing latch on to his sleeve and climb further up onto his shoulder.
In the fic, the sentence continued.
they look into the void of time itself t.
A single ‘t’ drifted past after the rest of the sentence. The RMC snatched it and started gnawing on it.
Some see greatness, other go insane. One man, she knew saw that the world need help. That they needed to be protected, to be safe, to be saved. He became the Doctor.
“Fwarge fwer …” The RMC spit out the pieces of the ‘t’ and started again. “Charge her with creating a mini-Reaper.”
“I’m on it. I’m also charging her with random changes of tenses and between singular and plural nouns.” Mittens had already begun scribbling in the notebook. It wasn’t easy in the dark.
Another man, a close friend, looked into the schism and heard drums. The drums of war. The insane beating of the Time Lord heart beat in the face of battle.
When the great Time War came to be, thousands were dying, and it was up to him to save them. He was to stay and fight.
But the Master, the Master ran, he from the cries of his dying race. He ran as a coward, as a man who wanted to live another day.
“I beginning to think that this fic should have been handled by the Department of Redundancy Department,” the RMC said. “Add ‘dramatic repetitions’ to the list of charges.”
The Doctor, the Sainted Physician, he came back. He fought and he sealed off the cries of his desperate people in the Time Lock. To keep the war from spreading to the whole of the universe and to save his people from a death he could not bare.
The universe around them once again obeyed the error and showed a skeleton with a scythe and man in a physician’s robe with a halo around his head, trying to pull of its clothes.
“Ouch,” the RMC said.
But she wasn’t like them. She wasn’t brave enough to fight on the front lines, to save her people. But neither was she a coward, she did not run from battle. She just watched. And one day, she hope that one day, she can atoned for he idle actions.
“Um,” both RMC and Mittens said.
“I’m charging her with badly constructed sentences. And with making mistakes that could easily have been caught if she had bothered to proofread,” Mittens said.
The RMC nodded, which couldn’t be seen in the dark. “Two classics among badfic authors.”
But no, when she looked into the Great Schism of time at the age of eight, she did not see Greatness. She did not go insane either with the sounds of rums that drove her friend to the edge of the universe.
Two bottles of rum appeared, being banged against each other. Mittens snatched one and uncorked it. He took a swig and proceeded to take a couple more as the prologue droned on about the main character being a fearsome killer, instigator of war and the destroyer.
The Destroyer of worlds.
The RMC shook it’s head, trying to clear the wooziness. It felt an urge to charge. “Charge her with …” What hadn’t already been added to the list? “… making overly dramatic statements that don’t make any sense.”
“Aye aye cap’n,” Mittens replied and happily scribbled down the charge, along with ‘annoying my best friend in the whole world, the RMC’.
She was Hermione Jane Granger.
And She will be the death of us all.
There was another small plop as a mini-Aragog, by the name of Jane, spawned. As the voice proclaimed it to be the death of us all, it hissed pitifully. Mittens picked it up. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can stay with us. You won’t have to be the death of anyone except Sues.” His hands were getting full, so he put the two minis in the backpack for safekeeping along with the bottle of rum.
“Charge her with creating a mini-Aragog and then brace yourself,” the RMC said. “Next chapter is coming up.”
They were still in pitch darkness and the author’s voice boomed again.
I’m going through the small stuff quickly, like the background info. Because to me, it isn’t important to me. Nor to the story to sweat the small stuff. Just keep you chin up and I promise I will… try not to disappoint. oh, it is AU to the last to books and slightly fogging on the Doctor Who part… It’ll make since, but bc time difference, it’s hard to keep it from meddling, so just let it be. Thanks
Own nothing.
“Charging her with stopping and starting sentences the wrong places; not capitalizing a word after a period; sprinkling random commas and periods on top of the whole thing and with wrong use of ellipsis.” Mittens scribbled furiously and wished that they could get out of the darkness soon.
“Also charge her with having the audacity to proclaim that this will make ‘since’. I really don’t know whether to laugh or cry at that particular error,” the RMC finished.
The darkness finally lifted and they found themselves in a dark forest. At least there was a full moon, so that was an improvement. Mittens looked down at himself. He was wearing the proper Hogwarts uniform, complete with a tie striped with Gryffindor’s colours.
He then looked at the RMC and blinked. The RMC looked back and blinked slowly in return.
Rather than making it human, the disguise generator had turned it into an common magical familiar, a cat; more specifically a brown-pointed Siamese cat with indigo eyes. Considering some of the creatures that existed in the Potterverse, it considered itself lucky.
Then Hermione came running though the forest and they had to pay attention to the fic. Apparently she was running from Remus in his werewolf form. The RMC winced as she used ‘a mating call that she had learned over the years’ to lure the werewolf after her.
They watched as Hermione, accompanied by a lot of spelling and grammatical errors, turned around and faced Remus. She pulled out a sonic device, a piece of alien technology that wasn’t disabled by the magic at Hogwarts and used it at the werewolf. Remus was knocked out and reverted to his human form.
After that, Hermione had a conversation with Peter Pettigrew, who had been hiding nearby, and handed him a book. The RMC scanned ahead in the text and saw that it was one of the Secret Books of Saxon. She claimed that the Dark Lord wouldn’t be able to regain his full powers without it. When Peter asked why she was doing this, she replied that she wasn’t betraying Harry.
“Then why?”
“Because.” She whispered, leaning towards him and he had a flighting idea that she was going to kiss him. But she quietly whispered the oblivate spell before pulling back. “I’m doing this, because I love a good war.” She smirked, before turning and running off.
The game was set, the battle was on.
Another mini -Aragog appeared and was quickly placed in the backpack as well.
The RMC hissed. “Hermione would never do that,” it said. “Nothing in canon supports the idea of her being a bloodthirsty warmonger. Making her a Time Lord is wildly improbable, but this … this is character defamation. Get a reading on her.”
Mittens took the Canon Analysis Device from his bag and, after checking that it was muted, pointed it at Hermione. [Hermione Jean Granger. Human female/female time lord. Canon/uncanon/canon. Jonkanoo. Replacement!Sue. El familiar. TCHP.] With a small sizzle the screen went black.
“It’s a Replacement!Sue, “Mittens said.
The RMC nodded; it seemed calmer now. “I suspected as much.”
“That means we kill her, right? And then we have to find the real Hermione and save her.”
“Exactly,” the RMC said. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Charge her with not knowing what kind of sonic device she is using; with attracting a werewolf with a mating call, something that not even real wolves have; with using the wrong name of the spell – it’s called a Memory Charm and even if she was referring to its incantation, it should have been Obliviate – and for making a bloodthirsty Hermione who helps Voldemort just for laughs and giggles.”
Mittens wrote it all down, grateful for the light of the full moon. He had just finished when the time skip hit them and knocked them sideways.
The next part took place a year later at the Quidditch World Cup. The two agents got up, dusted themselves off, and started looking for Hermione, the RMC perched at the shoulder of Mittens. They soon found her in the company of Harry, the Weasleys and the Diggorys. The rest off the scene was so filled with bad description and even worse grammar that it was hard to follow what was going on.
They were on their way up to their seats when Malfoy’s cane came down onto Harry’s wrist.
Since it wasn’t specified which Malfoy was holding the cane, the story flickered trough Lucius, Draco and Narcissa, before settling on Lucius. Then the Master showed up.
“Weasly” Malfoy spoke to the father of the red headed bunch. “May I introduce to Harold Saxon, he is a good family friend and plans to run for Muggle Prime Minster soon.”
“Aw yes, to keep a tight reign on those blasted Muggles and mud-bloods.” He smirked up at Hermione, as she heard the Weasleys growl and quietly curse at him. “And this here is my Wife, Lucy Saxon.” He pulled a small blonde woman out of the crowd and she clung onto him. If Hermione didn’t know him better, she would’ve thought that he wanted her to be jealous.
Mittens bowed down to pick up Weasly, the mini-Aragog, before anyone accidentally stepped on it, and put it in the backpack, where Jane, Galliefrey and oblivate seemed very happy to see it. They had managed to uncork the rum bottle and were now having a small party in the backpack.
He then produced the CAD from his pocket and, after smacking it a few times to get it to turn on, pointed it tentatively at the Master. [The Master. Time Lord. Canon/uncanon/canon. Out of character 40,14% and rising. Gya’gya. 1 − 2 + 3 − 4 + · · ·]
“That’s one for the charge list,”the RMC said.
Mittens scribbled in the notebook. This was so much easier when there was light.
The Replacement!Hermione shook hands with Lucy Saxon and dropped unsubtle hints about Harold Saxon and the Doctor. This was followed by an insult from Lucius Malfoy and another from the Master, after which the Master let the rest of his group leave first, and then inexplicably declared that Hermione had won the first point in the game. Because of one of the many spelling errors in the text Hermione was ‘in her supporters’ when he told her this. The result was disturbing to say the least.
“Blearg!” the RMC said. “I think I would like some of those Bleeprin the other agents keep going on about.”
She pulled away from Harry, standing a stair up form the Master’s face, smirking as she was at his eye level. “Watch me win the game.” She titled her head to the side with a sweet smile and a wink, before bounding back up the stairs.
He smiled, chuckling to himself, watching as the rest of her group followed her with wary looks in his direction. He walked up to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. She turned her head up to kiss him on the cheek. “So was it her?”
“Oh yes, same old Hermione Granger, destroyer of worlds.” His growl of excited vibrated down into his body. “Oh how I missed her.”
“So we’ve got bad descriptions, ham-fisted plot exposition, making another mini-Aragog, causing Hermione to be inside her supporters and having a past with a canon character. Did we miss anything?” The RMC asked.
“Capitalizing wife,” Mittens replied. “Unless Lucy is a Time Lord herself and that is her name, there was simply no reason to do so.”
“Good,” the RMC said. “And now, if we portal, we can avoid a new time skip.”
“I’m on it.”
Mittens opened the backpack, apologised to the minis who had just started a game of charade, and pulled out the remote activator along with some Bleeprin. He gave a couple to the RMC and stuffed the rest in his pocket.
“Do you think we can keep the minis?” he asked.
“I’m pretty sure that Weasly already has a home,” the RMC replied, “but Jane might not. After all, there can’t be that many authors who knows Hermione has a middle-name, and still manages to misspell it. We can check when we get back, and we’ll also have to see about Galliefrey.”
Mittens nodded, and pressed the dials on the remote activator. Then he and the RMC jumped through the portal to the next chapter.
Next chapter was a mangled mess, with more bad descriptions and offensive grammar. It started with Harry coming into sight, holding a dead body, the Master smirking and Hermione being angry because this wasn’t what she had planned. It was followed by some kissing between Hermione and the Master.
“Charge her with kissing a canon character,” the RMC said.
“Is that so?” His face moved closer, his lips grazing against her ear. “Is that how the Dark Lord got one my books?” He asked. “The Secret Books of Saxon. I noticed that the spell they used wasn’t originated here.”
“Making one of the Secret Books of Saxon a spell-book,” the RMC said. “And some more Bleeprin, if you would be so kind. You know, this would be easier if the disguise generator had changed me into something with hands.”
Mittens didn’t take his eyes of the notebook, he just nodded and used his left hand to pass the Bleeprin.
She shoved his hands in his pockets.
The Master became a woman for a brief moment, then changed back again.
“Charge her with making sex changes,” the RMC said.
The Master then again inexplicably declared that Hermione had won another point and Hermione asked if Saxon was planning on actually playing.
“What’s the story with you and Malfoy’s new friend Granger?” One of the twins asked.
She shrugged, hoping it was much of an answer. “Can’t even side-kicks have arch nemesis? Or is that just a privilege to the super heroes like Harry?” She smiled, walking back up to the castle, hoping that they found Harry in time.
“Not bothering to specify which twin is talking, being genre savvy in an unfunny way and usurping the Doctor’s position as the Master’s arch nemesis,” the RMC said. “And there’s another time skip coming up.”
The time skip was followed by a paragraph filled with tense shifts in which Hermione went to Muggle London. There she watched the Doctor, Martha Jones and Captain Jack Harkness as they found out about Harold Saxon being the Master.
But she couldn’t stand his face when she told him that she allowed him to carry on like he was. She couldn’t stand the heartbreak when the Doctor would apologize for not noticing it sooner. The stares she would get form his companions when his face lit up when she walked back into his life.
She couldn’t ruin his life.
“Write down another instance of her having a uncannonical past with a canon character,” the RMC said. “And some more … thank you.”
They continued to watch the scene, where the Doctor spotted Hermione, who then ran away and started crying.
“I have very little idea what is going on,” the RMC said. “But she’s crying about her and the Doctor being some kind of star-crossed lovers so add wangsting to the charge list.” It scanned the words in the next chapter. “She has a confrontation with the Master and Lucy Saxon, and tries to persuade Lucy to get out while she still can. It is both annoying and ineffectual, and the only new charge would be for technobabble, which is only a minor charge for anyone writing in the Whoniverse. I think we can safely skip that part and go to where she meets up with the Doctor, Martha and Jack.”
Mittens wrote down the charges, then pulled out the remote activator and sent them forward through the fic.
Hermione was standing in front of the Doctor, crying and ranting about how she had been afraid to ruin his life by seeking him out, but that she wanted to help him against Harold Saxon.
“Wait,” Mittens said, puzzled. “I thought she wanted war and death and bloodshed. I thought that was who she was.”
“You’re right. Very good,” the RMC said. “Now write down, ‘making even her own Replacement!Sue act Out Of Character. And speaking of which, get a reading of the Doctor, please?”
Mittens smiled, wrote down and then pulled out the CAD. He pointed it at the Doctor. [The Doctor. Time Lord. Canon/uncanon/canon. Out of character 21,28% and rising.] “That’s not too bad.”
“Notice the ‘rising’ part. He is going to get much worse before this is over.”
Jack almost choked on his food. “The Hermione Granger? The creator of UNIT Hermione J. Granger?”
Hermione stared down at her food, shrugging. “Yes, I was on of the creators of UNIT.”
“But that was decades ago, almost a century ago.” Martha stated in shock.
“I’m a Time Lord.” Hermione stated in a whisper. “I’m like the Doctor. Only UNIT was created to stop me.”
“Why stop you?” The Doctor asked, his face scrunched up.
“Because what I do, remember?” Hermione sighed, looking up. “I destroy worlds, the mere sight of me sends species into battle.”
“You’re kidding me?” Martha asked, not believing it.
“You remember the story about Helena of Troy?” The Doctor asked, eating a fry.
“Yea, so?” Martha replied.
Hermione waved her hand. “I’m the Helena.”
“Really? Wow, can you give me a few pointers?” Jack asked, leaning forward.
“Jack not now.” Doctor ordered.
“Okay,” Jack muttered, shot down.
The UNIT Hermione J. Granger appeared for a moment, looking like a small building with unruly brown hair, then disappeared again. The RMC winced.
Mittens wordlessly handed it a couple of Bleeprins.
It swallowed them and said: “Write down: creating the UNIT Hermione J. Granger; claiming to have created a canon organisation; trying to copy the founding of Torchwood, by claiming that U.N.I.T. was created to stop her; making a gaping plot hole by not explaining how the wizarding world could fail to notice, that she was several hundred years old when she came to Hogwarts, rather than eleven; claiming to have been Helen of Troy; making Captain Jack Harkness look bad …” it had to stop for breath, “… and making the Captain want pointers on how to be Helen of Troy.”
“Can we charge her with spelling Helen with an ‘a’ at the end without discernible reason?”
“Go ahead.” The RMC scanned the words. “There’s some wangsting on a bus, which we can skip. Let’s go to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”
They watched in silence as the members of the order listened to Muggle radio to hear about the Master’s attack.
“Because someone killing ten percent of the human population is still not important enough to make it onto the news of the wizarding world.” The RMC shook it’s head in disgust. Mittens looked at his notebook and frowned. “What exactly …”
“Charge for thinking that the wizarding world and the Muggle world are completely separate. Oh, and there’s another mini.”
Toclafaine, the mini-Reaper looked at them with big, confused eyes. “Aw,” Mittens said. He picked up the small four-armed reptilian. “You’ll be safe and meet new friends in the backpack.”
The rest of the chapter consisted of Hermione blaming herself for not stopping the Master and then casting an extremely powerful spell, that would protect the wizarding world and everyone belonging to it.
“Has the author even watched that episode?” the RMC asked, incredulously. “Does she knows what the Master does to the world? How can you keep the magic users safe, when their whole country is being burned, as will happen to Japan?”
“More Bleeprin?”
“Thank you. I wished I had hands so I could facepalm. Or pinch the bridge of my nose.”
The two agents then used the remote activator to skip to the next chapter.
It was fifth year and Hermione was livid, already Umbridge has pulled the last straw. She was seconds away from herself casting a deadly curse on the woman. She had already tortured Harry’s hand and completely denied that the Dark Lord has ever rose in the first place. Calling Harry a liar in front of the whole school, Hermione decided something must be done.
The scene in front of them showed Hermione calling Harry a liar in front of the whole school. Then the scenery changed and they were in the Gryffindor common room.
It was mostly emptied, except for a few years and the Weasly twins.
A large 1999 and a 1812 were sitting uncomfortably in chairs in the room. Weasly scratched the inside of the back pack when his name was mentioned.
Hermione talked to the Weasley twins, saying that she wanted them to take a spectacular revenge on Umbridge.
“Charge for excessive use of smirking,” the RMC said. “Everybody in this fic smirks almost constantly. And eye-rolling as well.”
Mittens wrote it down.
“Now let’s portal ahead,” the RMC said.
“How far?”
The RMC squinted as it read the words. The next part had Hermione needing a distraction and a lift to get to London, even though she hadn’t needed either until now, but that was a minor charge, so it would rather just skip that and go straight to some major offences. “Chapter six,” it replied, “aboard the Valiant.”
The chapter started with Hermione hiding and watching the events of ‘Last of the Time Lords’ and taking credit for having given Martha Jones the gun. When canon reached the part where the Doctor was restored, Hermione walked in.
“I forgive you.” The Doctor stated to the Master, he looked up and saw Hermione standing there, her eyes wide. “I forgive both of you.” Everyone could see her now, their eyes staring at her as she kneeled in front of the Doctor and the Master.
“You gave me the gun.” Martha pointed her voice in shock as she remembered Hermione’s face.
“Changing canon dialogue,” the RMC said. It sounded weary. “Having Martha point her voice. Also, neglecting the fine and useful word ‘said’. Half the lines in this fic are being smirked, the rest are being ‘stated’, ‘whispered’, ‘growled’, ‘shouted’ or something like that.”
The agents watched a pointless argument in which Hermione wanted the Master dead and the Doctor wouldn’t let her kill him.
She watched as the Master tried to make a run for it, and then a shot rang out, killing him. She heard screaming, both the Doctor’s and hers. They both ran to his side, holding him, she watched as the Doctor cried, begging him to regenerate. “No.”
“Regenerate you coward!” Hermione yelled, shaking him. “For once in you god for saken life have to courage to stay and fight!” Tears began to fall as Hermione began to choke on her words. She watched as the light went out of his eyes, “Why do you always run?” She whispered, “Why do you have to run?” The Doctor wrapped his arm around her and they sat there crying as UNIT began to take control of the Valiant.
“Charge for begging someone to not die, even though she was ready to kill him herself a minute ago, and for usurping canon moments,” the RMC said. “Let’s skip to the next chapter. That will also save us from some more sex changes.”
They laid there in bed, his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. The covers pulled over them, burying them under it. His chin nestled in the crook of her neck. She laughed lightly as he planted kissed along it down to her shoulder. “I should be going.” Hermione tried to pulled away, but he pulled her back down to him.
“I think you should stay.” He kissed her on the lips.
“Doctor.” Hermione stated, she started to get serious, looking him in the eyes, showing him that she was. “I have to get back. I have things to finish there.”
He sighed, lowering his head to lay on her chest. “Hermione, if I let you go, I feel like you’re going to do something dangerous.”
The agents were standing right outside the door, peeking in at the scene.
“Charge her with having sex with a canon character … Um, are you all right?”
Mittens was blushing like a Worcestershire orchard before harvest. “Yes,” he replied. “It’s just that, I haven’t …”
The RMC sighed inwardly. This, it thought, was what came form having an author who was a prude. It was one thing that she never wrote sex scenes, but she could at least have made a note about Mittens having some kind of experience, before he came to the PPC.
“Don’t worry,” it said. “We’ve seen enough to make the charge and an additional one for making fluff so let’s just skip ahead to the next chapter.”
Groaning, she closed the book and stood up, going to the book shelf. She made room to put the book back. She stood there frozen when she felt a pain of hands run up her sides, hand that weren’t her own. “Do you think that this was over?” A hot whisper tickled her ear.
The Master. Chilled ran up her spine in either excitement or shock, she didn’t know.
“What are you doing here?” She whispered back. “How did you find me?”
“What? A big bubble protecting a magical world, how could I not know it was you?” His hand slipped lower down her side, pass her hip to his inner thigh. “We have unfinished business to attend to Hermione.”
“Do we? I thought that ended when you died?” She shot back, trying to pull away, but he held her there.
“No, it was left unfinished.” His fingers found her undergarments, running his fingers across the cotton fabric, he pulled them down, letting them fall to the ground.
“What do you think you’re doing Master?” Hermione asked, though she acted like she hated it, she knew that this was happening, that this always happened.
“Meep …”
“Oops! Sorry about that.”
Thankfully the Remote Activator had landed them behind a bookcase, shielding them from being seen by the Sue.
“It’s okay,” Mittens replied, rather weakly. “I’m a PPC-agent, I can handle it.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can. Now why don’t we just add ‘having sex with another canon character’ to the list and then we can leave.”
“Okay,” Mittens replied, fumbling with the notebook. “Maybe I should try some Bleeprin to.”
“Better then anyone else.” He spat, slamming in further then before hitting one of her g spots. Her back arched, bringing herself off the table. He took his hands off of her hips and grabbed her back, bringing her to a sitting position, one that was a better angel for him.
A stone angel appeared for a moment. Its hands covered its face, which was probably a good thing. When it disappeared again, the RMC closed its eye for a moment. “Charge her with having multiple G-spots, and with bringing a weeping angel into this mess, and pass the Bleeprin. Then let’s get out of here.” It scanned the words ahead of them. “There’s a meeting featuring the men and women of ‘the Dark Lord’s closet circle’. We have to pick up a another mini, Wesley.”
The scene with the Death Eathers and Saxon was boring to say the least, even though it, true to the words, was taking place in a closet, so after they had collected the mini, the RMC scanned the words again. In the next chapter, Hermione was kidnapped and killed by Voldemort. “Let’s go to chapter 10 and watch the Sue get killed,” the RMC said.
Of course she didn’t stay dead.
Everyone sat in silence, as the Dark Lord summoned his snake. “Dinner.” He whispered, watching as it slithered down the table. It opened it’s mouth, it’s fangs ready to bite, when a silver blade came down onto her head.
Hermione groaned, sitting up, as the blade of the knife pierced the head and nicking the table under. “Did you really think I’d die that easily?” She was ready when everyone stood, their wands pointing. She held up the Sonic Screwdriver and hit the button. “Sorry, your wands wont work. I disrupted the magical field with this handy Sonic Screwdriver I borrowed from a friend.” She glanced up at the Dark Lord, her head tilting. “Who put you up to this?”
“How are you still alive?” She heard Draco whispered off to her side. She ignored him, knowing that this incident will fuel something even greater into her plan.
“Because whoever it was, give them credit. Yes this totally would’ve worked if I wasn’t over 900 years old and full of more power then you could even imagine.” She glanced down at the snake as it thrashed openly on the table. “Okay, let me put you out of your misery.” She dragged the knife down through the snake, opening it up in one giant slice. It stilled, dead within seconds.
The RMC sighed deeply. “Charge her with copying the Doctor by being 900 years old and full of power,” it said. “With killing Nagini; with not having Voldemort react at her death, even though she was both the one thing he cared about and one of the Horcuxes, and with calling Harold Saxon ‘old man’, even though she’s claiming to be 200 years older than him.”
The two agents watched some more bickering between the Death Eathers, Voldemort, Hermione and Saxon.
“I’m starting to think that this planet is getting to big for the two of us.” He growled at her.
Then they portalled forward to the next chapter.
She woke up, in her own bed at the Order’s Headquarters. She sat up, her old bones groaning from being unused for so long. She lifted the covers off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing up she grabbed some clothes and walked to the bathroom. She took a quick shower, dried off and then changed into her new set of clothes. She looked into the mirror, slightly amused. She didn’t change to much, her hair was a darker shade of brown, glossier curls tumbled down her back. She looked taller, a bit thinner then before to. As her jeans fitted her in places they didn’t before and she filled out her shirt more then she did before. Sighing, she brushed her teeth and threw her dirty clothes in the hampers, and walked down stairs.
“Having the same personality and almost the same body after regeneration, and trying to hand wave the explanation by claiming she went through a meta-crisis,” the RMC said. “Make a separate charge for regenerating into a body that is taller and thinner and with larger breasts. Nothing interesting in the rest of the scene, just lots of inane conversation.” It tilted it’s head. “I think some of it is supposed to be funny, but it’s really hard to tell.”
“I’ve charged her with ‘forgetting closing quotation mark’. Shall I add ‘bad humour’ to the list?” Mittens asked.
“No, not when we’re not sure if it’s even supposed to be funny or not. Let’s just jump to the last chapter.”
Hermione sat back, looking down at her now half finished plate after ten minutes of silence. “I’m thinking about changing my name.” She glanced up at her two male companions. “Something that wont strike fear and wont cause the earth to shake when it is said.”
“What the Destroyer?” The Master asked as the Doctor and Hermione’s eyes grew wide when the the building where they say began to shake, the planet’s crust roared in fear, trembling the earth all over from where they sat, it only lasted a minute, then it was gone. But the damage was done.
“Idiot.” Hermione muttered under her breath as she wiped the tea that spilt on her pants with the napkin. “There is a reason why we don’t call me by my name.” She growled through her teeth as the waitress came by to check on them. She smiled as the waitress gave more napkins and left of new cups of tea.
The RMC took a deep, trembling breath. “Charge her with having a name so powerful, that saying it causes earthquakes. Even though neither the Doctor, the Master, the Daleks, the Reapers, the Vashta Nerada or anyone else in canon has a name with that effect.”
It shook its head and gratefully accepted a couple more Bleeprins. “Anyway,” it said. “I think we’re done collecting charges. Now for the fun part.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, keeping them sternly on the Master. “You were saying about a new name Hermione. Though I like Hermione, it seems like a nice one.”
“It is, and I will keep it as a human name, but I don’t want to be known for my past actions, I want to become something new, something nice.”
“Like a Confessor?” The Master joked, snorting as he took a bite out of his food.
“Confessor sounds nice. It’s better then the instigator or all the horrible other names I’ve been given over the years.”
“Helen of Troy was a good one.” The Doctor laugh, causing Hermione to smile.
“Oh get a room, the two of you.” The Master rolled his eyes. “I’m going to get sick.”
“Join the club,” a voice said. The three Time Lords turned in their seats to see a very ordinary looking young man with a cat on his shoulder.
“Who are you?” Hermione exclaimed.
“Would you stop with all the exclaming?” the cat said. “Just asking is perfectly fine, you know. We are PPC agents and we are here to charge you, Hermione Granger.” It turned to the young man carrying it. “Put me down on the table, please. And put the notebook down in front of me.”
The three Time Lords looked on in puzzled silence as the young man placed a spiral bound notebook in front of the cat. The cat started to read. “You are hereby charged with …” It squinted at the text, then looked up at the young man.
“It was pitch dark when I wrote the first pages,” he said, sounding defensive.
The cat turned back to the notebook. “Hermione Granger, you are charged with random changes of tenses and between singular and plural nouns; dramatic repetitions; writing badly constructed sentences; making mistakes that could easily have been caught if you had bothered to proofread; making overly dramatic statements that doesn’t make any sense; annoying …” It looked up at the young man with a questioning expression. He had taken off his backpack, and was digging in it for something, but stopped and looked slightly embarrassed.
The cat continued its reading. “… annoying me, and I can’t imagine that my fellow agent has been too happy either; creating mini-Reapers, to wit Galliefrey and Toclafaine; creating mini-Aragogs, to wit Jane, oblivate, Weasly and Wesley; stopping and starting sentences the wrong places; not capitalizing words after a period; not capitalizing names; capitalizing words that didn’t need capitalizing, such as ‘wife’; wanton cruelty towards the common comma and period; wrong use of ellipsis; proclaiming that your story will make ‘since’; not knowing what kind of sonic device you are using; attracting a werewolf with a mating call; getting your spell wrong; causing OOCness among canon characters; bad descriptions; ham-fisted plot exposition; being inside your supporters; having non-canonical pasts with canon characters; kissing a canon character; making one of the Secret Books of Saxon a spell book; making sex changes; not bothering to specify which twin is talking; being genre savvy in an unfunny way; usurping the Doctor’s position as the Master’s arch nemesis; wangsting; making even yourself act out of character; creating the UNIT Hermione J. Granger; claiming to have created a canon organisation; trying to copy the founding of Torchwood, by claiming that U.N.I.T. was created to stop you; not explaining how the wizarding world could fail to notice that you are several hundred years old; claiming to have been Helen of Troy; making Captain Jack Harkness look bad; making the Captain want pointers on how to be Helen of Troy; spelling Helen with an a at the end; thinking that the wizarding world and the Muggle world are completely separate; having everyone constantly smirk and roll their eyes.” It paused and looked at Hermione. “There are other facial expression you can use to convey emotion.”
Hermione just smirked and rolled her eyes.
The cat sighed and continued reading. “Changing canon dialogue; having Martha point her voice; cruel negligence of the word ‘said’; begging someone to not die, even though you were ready to kill him yourself a minute before; usurping canon moments; having sex with a canon character; fluff; having sex with another canon character; having multiple G-spots; making random weeping angels appear; copying the Doctor by being 900 years old and full of power; killing Nagini; having Voldemort not react at Nagini’s death; calling Harold Saxon ‘old man’, even though you’re 200 years older than him.”
“You know, it has a point,” the Master said. He sounded slightly dazed, since the continuum was keeping him docile, while the agents worked.
“Shut up!” Hermione growled.
“If you don’t mind,” the cat said and continued. “Having the same personality and almost the same body after regeneration; being thinner and taller and having larger breasts after regeneration; forgetting closing quotation marks; having a name so powerful, that saying it causes earthquakes; and finally you are charged with impersonating a canon character and being an irredeemable Replacement!Sue for which I am pleased to announce the punishment is death. You’ll get no last words. Mittens, if you would do the honours.”
A shot rang out through the restaurant. The two Time Lords stared at Mittens whom everyone had completely forgotten about, and who was holding a pistol. They then looked at Hermione who had been shot in the head. Since Sues rarely, if ever, have any idea how a shot to the head actually looks, there was only a tiny entry wound, glittering with Sue-blood, on her forehead and no exit wound. She slowly tilted to the side and hit the floor.
The Master and the Doctor stared from her to Mittens, conflicting emotions running through them. The Suefluence made them want to either attack Mittens or kneel down and cradle Hermione, but it was already waning and they were starting to ask themselves what they were doing here together, and then there was the continuum, still keeping them passive while the agents worked.
“Let’s start by getting them back where they belong,” the RMC said.
Mittens nodded, took out the neuralyzer, and turned the dials to set it to three years. “If you’ll just look at me,” he said to the Time Lords, “I’ll explain everything.”
They looked at him and he closed his own eyes – somehow, even though the backpack had been packed for a week, they had managed to forget the sunglasses – and pressed the button. He assumed there was bright flash. When he opened his eyes again, the Time Lords were looking at him with blank expressions.
He turned towards the RMC. “Will you fill them in?” he asked.
It shook its head. “No talking cats in the Whoniverse, at least not what I know of. Let’s not take any risks.”
“Okay.” Mittens turned towards the two Time Lords. “You have never heard of a Time Lord called the Destroyer. You don’t know anything about Harry Potter and the wizarding world except that there is a very popular series of books about them. You,” he addressed the Master, “are running for Prime Minister as part of some evil scheme.” The Master slowly nodded and Mittens turned to the Doctor. “And you are going to thwart that scheme.” The Doctor also nodded.
“Good,” Mittens said, and grabbed the Remote Activator from the back pack; while the RMC had been reading the charge list, he had had enough time to ready everything. He punched the buttons that opened a portal to the Whoniverse. “Now, if you’ll just step through the portal,” he said and both Time Lords obeyed. The portal closed after them and he sighed. “Okay, that’s taken care of. What’s next?”
Because of the sloppy description in the story, the Death Eathers were still sitting motionless around the table with the dead Nagini in the middle, when a young man with a cat on his shoulder and a very dead looking Hermione Granger under one arm, appeared in the room. The young man casually dropped the girl on the floor and pulled out a wand; except that it wasn’t a wand, it looked rather like a pen. They were all still staring at it, trying to figure out what it was, when there was a flash of light.
“Right,” said the Siamese cat, sitting on the table in front of them. “You don’t know any Harold Saxon. You have never heard of Doctor Who, except maybe that it is a television series in the Muggle world. No?” It looked at their contemptuous expressions. “You don’t watch Muggle TV; perfect. Anyway, you were planning the demise of Harry Potter and the conquering of the wizarding world. You should just carry on.” It jumped down from the table and walked out the room.
Outside the room Mittens was waiting with the Replacement!Sue under one arm. She had begun the process of regeneration and was glowing with a sickly pink light. He had taken her unspecified sonic device and was turning it over in one hand, looking at it.
“Did you get Nagini to Medical?” the RMC asked.
“I did. Can’t we get rid of the Sue now? Carrying her around is getting bothersome.” Mittens stuffed the sonic device in a pocket.
“We just need to find Jack and Martha and send them back, and find the real Hermione and set her free. After that we can get rid of the Replacement!Sue in a poetically just way. Several times, since she’s a Time Lord.”
“All right,” Mittens shifted the Sue to the other arm. “Do you know where Jack and Martha are?”
“They were last seen aboard the Valiant and she haven’t mentioned them since. I imagine they’re still there.”
Mittens pushed the buttons on the remote activator.
“Martha Jones, you are a companion of the Doctor and a medical student. You are totally capable of saving the Doctor and the world on your own.
Captain Jack Harkness, you are an immortal human, former Time Agent, and present leader of the Torchwood Institute. You have no interest whatsoever in being Helen of Troy.
Neither of you have ever heard about a Time Lord caller the Destroyer. Neither of you know anything about Harry Potter and the wizarding world except that there is a very popular series of books about them. Now step into the light, please.”
“You’re getting good at it,” the RMC said. “Now, let’s get out of here. With all the Doctor Who characters back in their own continuum, the Potterverse is starting to expel the Valiant.” It was true. Their surroundings were becoming transparent and the grey sky outside could be seen through the walls.
“We just need to find Hermione, right? Any idea where to look?”
“She is in a plot hole somewhere. Remember the plot hole I mentioned, created by not explaining how the wizarding world could not know about the Sue’s background? I’ll bet the real Hermione is locked up there.”
“Where is it, then?”
“Most likely in the basement of Hogwarts,” the RMC replied. “Somewhere the Sue doesn’t risk people finding it by accident.”
“Okay.” Mittens once again fished the remote activator out of his pocket and started pushing the buttons.
“Hermione Jean Granger, you are a Muggle-born witch and a third-year student at Hogwarts. You don’t know anything about Doctor Who except maybe what you’ve seen on TV.”
Hermione gave them a slightly dazed look. “Daleks?” she said.
The RMC and Mittens exchanged looks, then the RMC said: “Yes, that’s right. There are Daleks in the TV-series. Now, your friends, Harry and Ron, are no doubt doing something foolish this very moment, and they need you to try and talk them out of it. Why don’t you get on it?”
Hermione nodded and walked past the two agents, slowly at first, but then she picked up speed. She didn’t look back.
Mittens looked down at the Sue he had unceremoniously dropped on the ground. “I think she’s almost done regenerating.”
“Let her,” the RMC replied. “She has imposed upon herself that she will be unconscious for a couple of days afterwards.”
“What should we do with her?”
“We could release her in the Forbidden Forest and let it solve itself, although …” The RMC paused thoughtfully. “Sues are cunning and should not simply be left for dead and this one has multiple lives. We need to make sure that she can’t escape. We could shoot or stab her through both hearts at once, that will end the regeneration cycle, but I don’t think she deserves to get of that easily.”
Mittens nodded slowly. For the first time in quite a while now, he felt himself on familiar ground. After all ‘cruelty towards captive enemies’ had been one of the 101s in Hell. “Tell me,” he asked the RMC. “If Jane, oblivate, Weasly and Wesley are mini-Aragogs, does that mean there’s a full-size Aragog around somewhere?”
“Yes, in fact there’s Aragog and quite a lot of his children and grandchildren.”
“Let’s feed the Sue to them.” When the RMC didn’t look discouraging, he continued: “They are spiders, right? That means they can wrap her up for a couple of days, until she wakes up, and then they suck her dry, let her regenerate and repeat the process.”
The RMC looked thoughtful. “That might just do it,” it said. “The Acromantulas are immune to Sueflunce and the are never Out Of Character, mostly because the Suethors never mention them. She can’t get away from them and she can’t convince them to let her go. That is wonderfully cruel and well thought out. I could never have come up with that myself.” The RMC practically beamed at Mittens, who looked down shyly and busied himself with picking up the Sue.
“That didn’t go so bad,” Mittens said, stepping back into RC #170. “We even got our first souvenir.” He fished the sonic device out of his pocket. “I wonder what it does.”
“Except knocking out werewolves, which may or may not come in handy in the future? I have no idea, and neither had the author” the RMC replied and snuffled. It was wonderful to be back in its own body. Although speaking of which … “Will you come with me down to the Department of Sufficiently Advanced Technology? We can distract each other on the way. We need them to fix the problem with my disguise before our next …” BEEP! “… mission.”
[…] and for agents using swear words. The fic is a side story to the agents’ very first mission, Better Than Revenge, in which Hermione was a Time Lord and a Sue, to boot. It should be possible to read this without […]
I’m running a fanfiction university for Doctor Who–might I have the mini-Reapers?
The agents would like to keep the minis themselves; they’re kinda part of the family. However, you can try asking on the PPC posting board, if the mini-adoption centre has any mini-Reapers or if anyone have more than they can handle. I know Indemaat did a lot of missions in DW/Torchwood and might have picked some up. Anyway, good luck with the Whoniversity; I can see that you’ve already written a great deal and I’ll be reading it as soon as I can.