2. If there are any Mary Sues that share your name, pick the worst-sounding one and post the summary.
There are a lot....
Anna Grayson was born into a powerful wizarding family in America. Born a squib, Anna begins showing astonishing powers that lead her to Castlewood Academy for the Magical Arts and eventually to the realization she’s a Guardian in The Order of Merlin.
But of course!
And I hope English isn't this girl's first language:
It's Anna first year at Hogwarts. She is a normal student with abnormal taste is guys that she like. Is it possible for some one to like Harry and Draco? Anna will find all of that out and have the same classes with them.
I'm not sure how the imperius curse is linked to "birthing" a child...
Anna is a transfer student who ends up falling for Harry and Draco. But she falls under the imperius curse and she births a child. What will happen to Harry, Draco, and Anna in terms of the baby? Who knows...
I include this one because it's typical of about ten others (American transfer student blah blah blah)
Anna Morgan is an exchange student from America in our favorite Hogwartians 5th year. She has many secrets to tell to her new friends, but she also has quite a few she isn't so eager to spill...
This is the funniest, and the most deranged:
Anna and Nia were two ordinary London Harry Potter fans. When they discovered that Harry Potter was real, their lives changed forever.
"Girls, what I am about to tell you must not be told to any of your school friends, and not even to your parents," Dumbledore informed them somberly. Both girls glanced at each other. Anna was good at lying, but Nia was known for her honesty. And to their parents!
"I know that this is a big thing to ask of you, but it is necessary, to the survival of this world." The twins gasped. The gravity of this simple statement was so heavy, that it seamed surreal. It was the sort of thing that you would read in fantasy novels. Unfortunately, this was no novel.
"Am I right in thinking that both of you have read the series novels, 'Harry Potter,' by Joanne Rowling?" The twins nodded dumbly.
"Well, did it ever occur to you that this 'wizarding world,' was not entirely just the imagination of an extremely talented author? No? I shall be blunt." he peered down at them through his half moon spectacles, his expression grave.
"You have not read the whole story. The beginning begins before Lily and James Potter's house invasion. It actually begins with Joanne Rowling herself. I shall tell you the story that you do not already know. But you must promise not to tell another Witch or Wizard, unless you are certain, ABSOLUTLY certain, that the time is right. Are you willing to agree with this?"
"You know about Joanne Rowling?" demanded Nia, astonished.
"I do. She is an old friend of mine."
"I'm willing to agree!" exclaimed Anna. Nia glared. She HATED it, how Anna would act so headstrong, and leap into situations that her sister would have to extract both of them out of. Anna saw her look.
"Well, it isn't really like we can refuse!"
"And why exactly is that," Nia enquired icily.
"Err, well, because how could we live with knowing that we had refused a piece of knowledge that affected this whole world!" The twins shot daggers at each other. After a moment, where Dumbledore looked between the two girls, his eyes twinkling, Nia, being the twin that hated fighting, and always attempted to avoid arguments, slowly nodded, though she knew in her heart that this kind of argument would happen again.
"I don't know if it is a good idea, but I can see that you are going to continue to act juvenilely until I give the okay." Anna poked out her tongue, but Nia ignored her, and, turning to Professor Dumbledore, nodded stiffly. He raised his eyebrows, but complied. He pulled out what the twins assumed was his wand, conjured three chairs, three mugs, and a pot of coffee out of thin air. Both girls gasped in shock. He smiled, and sat down, motioning for them to follow suit. Once they all were seated, he began to speak.
"Alright, if so, then this is how it begins...
Almost fourteen years ago, when both of you were very young, a young woman was waiting to catch a train that was going to Kings Cross station, in London. The station was remote, and that young woman was the only waiting passenger, other than an elderly man that was clothed in all black. All the trains had been delayed an hour or two; there had been some terrorist attacks, and the trains were being checked for suspects. This young lady was extremely fed up with waiting, and, being a nice person, decided to attempt to strike up a conversation with the old man.
"You headed for Kings Cross?" she enquired tentatively. She almost took a step backwards as the man suddenly swung around. Not that she had got a fright, but because of his appearance. He was tall and skeletally thin, his hands like overlarge spiders. But it was not this that had shocked her. It was his face. His skin was ice white, his mouth lipless, and eyes like the young woman had never seen before. They were like chips of stone, cold and hard.
She was about to apologize, and leave this frightening man to his own business, when he spoke.
"Perhaps." His voice was flat and cold, like his eyes. She did not reply, unsure whether he wanted to make conversation, but he spoke again.
"Why are you, if you are?"
"Oh, I'm going to try to get a job as a teacher. Maybe I'll write a novel." she was chattering, made nervous by his air.
"You are a writer?"
"Oh, I love writing!"
"I see..." A thin smile made his face look even more threatening.
"What sort of novel?"
"Err, maybe a fantasy. Yes, I like fantasy!"
"Any experience at writing?"
"Oh, not much - but English was my best subject. I have written some before, but I didn't like them."
"I see..." he said again. Suddenly, he whipped out a stick of wood, and pointed it at her. She began to back away. What was this man playing at?
"I think that you might be of use to me." he commented mildly.
"What - what do you mean?" she snapped, trying to hide her fear. This man was obviously mad.
"What I mean is that I have been looking for a muggle with writing talent to perform this curse on," he said, sneering.
"I don't understand." she replied, more stoutly than she felt.
"You don't have to. All you have to understand is that for the next decade or so, you will be compelled to write a book series that, in truth, will be the future. From these books, I will find out how to defeat my enemies, and turn the world to utter darkness!" The woman just stood and gaped. He was crazy. Crazy, and dangerous. She'd better get out of here as soon as was possible. Oh why, why did she have to have started a conversation with this madman? And what was this rubbish about her writing the future in a novel series? She had to get out of here!
She turned to make a break for it, but felt her back explode with pain, and she flew forwards ten feet. What had happened? She had no idea! But even as she screamed for help, it was no use. There was no one nearby. Even the ticket distributor seemed to have gone missing. She struggled to her feet, and spun around. Her whole body ached after her painful landing. The old man had his stick pointed at her again, and called out a word in Latin that she recognized. The word was 'Vide', which meant 'Sight'. But before she had any time to realize anything past this, a jet of light had shot out of the end of the old man's stick, and she felt the most strange sensation ripple thought her as the light hit her. It was as if she had just woken up, it was a realization. All of a sudden, she knew hundreds of things that had never occurred to her before. She clamped her hands over her ears, and screamed as her brain struggled to comprehend and sort though all that she knew. But over all the confusion and pain, she heard the man's voice pierce her scull.
"You will ONLY hold 'Vide' over the Wizarding world, and focus on Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Only this! Vide!"
The rush of knowledge stopped, and left, leaving her head feeling dizzy. All she could 'see' now, was - what was it? An old man with half moon spectacles and a long beard and hair, far older than the man that she was currently facing, then a huge castle with many turrets and towers, then hundreds of children, and lastly, a boy, a boy of about ten or eleven. Something about this boy caught her attention. There was nothing much out of the ordinary about him; he was short, with jet-black hair, green eyes, and a peculiar mark on his forehead. It was a thin scar, shaped like a lightning bolt. The boy stretched out his hand to her and began to talk. But, before she could hear what he had to say, the Old Man, who, with her new knowledge, she knew to be a Wizard. He was the feared wizard that terrorized the world. His name...was Voldemort. Will for death, it meant in Latin.
Voldemort pointed his stick - his wand at the woman and yelled,
"Obliviate!" the meaning of this word was obvious.
"Nooooo!" she screamed, but it was too late. The jet of sparks hit her, and enveloped her.
She woke up with a kind faced man dressed in uniform bending over her.
"Are you are all right ma'am? Why are you lying on the ground" He helped her to her feet, and assisted her onto the now waiting train.
"On the ground...what happened? I can't remember anything!" she gasped.
"Pardon? Are you sure that you're all right? Would you like to come into my cabin?"
"Oh, no thank you. But it would be nice if you had pen and paper; I need to write something down."
"If that's what you want, then here you go. By the way, my name is Steve, and I will be your train driver. And your name is..."
"My name is Joanne, Joanne Rowling. Thank you very much, Steve!"
"You're welcome. Here is your paper and pen. I hope you have a nice trip." Joanne smiled, and began to furiously scribble down on her paper. As he was leaving, Steve managed to see the words on the first line. They were, 'Harry Potter, the boy who lived.'
"And this was how the Harry Potter novels were born," explained Professor Dumbledore to the astonished girls.
"Joanne now thinks that her visions are figments of her imagination, and writes the Harry Potter series as if it were a mere fantasy. She has incredible talent at writing, and interprets her visions with amazing accuracy, and translates them onto paper better than anyone could possibly be expected to. I have met her since her encounter with Voldemort, and am glad to report that it did not damage her at all, like his meetings with so many others have. I have become great friends with her, and she permits me to read them before she publishes them. Before each one is published, I put a charm on them to ensure that no witch or wizard that knows that they are of magical blood can read them. Therefore, up until recently, no wizard could."
"What do you mean, up until recently? Do you mean that they can now?" asked Nia, horrified. All three members present knew exactly why Voldemort had wanted Joanne to write the novels. He would read them, and find out how the future went, and change it, killing his enemies, learning their plans, killing Muggles... the list of things that he could do were endless.
"He could not read them until recently...but, for a reason that none of us know, taking blood from Mr. Potter last year, as he did, gave him the power to do so." he informed them gravely.
"I will explain all the rest later. But for now, goodbye." he said, and vanished with a small pop, and a faint wisp of smoke.