Authors Note: All characters belong to JKR. (NOT WB, though they like to put little TM's after all their names)

The Mary Sue Selection Agency

Undermining fandom one day at a time

Albus Dumbledore sat with the most unlikely companion in a small circular room, both of them holding clipboards, quick quotes quills, and large cups of coffee. They had been through 75 applicants already, and there were still many to go. So far, even the portraits that lined the room had fallen into a blissful slumber.
"I'm getting bored." Voldemort hissed through gritted teeth, scratching off Roger Morton's name with a vehement jerk. "Why is it, that with all these people applying, none of them are right? I mean to say, what is the world coming to?"
Albus sighed, gently doodling in the upper corners of his parchment. "Oh, we willfind one soon enough. The nextapplicant is one Tristan Lovegood, pureblood."
Voldemort's ears perked up. (A near impossible task, due to his near- nonexistent ears) "Lovegood?" he asked hopefully. "Related to..."
"No." Dumbledore said sadly, flipping through the boys charts. "I'm afraid not. He is not even from England. Or America."

"He isn't?" Voldemort asked, confused. "I thought all our applicants were one or the other? Is he from Beauxbaton or Durmstrang?"
"Neither. He is from Nepal." There was a knock at the door, as Voldemort seized the chart, glaring down at the hapless writing "Nepal? Dumbledore, you can't be serious! Half the people in the world probably think Nepal is some kind of sports utility store!"
The boy came in, smiling. He had freckles across his nose, brownish blonde hair, and large ears. Voldemort moaned and buried his face in his hands.

Albus shook his head at the boy, who was looking hopefully between the two of them. "I am sorry, you are not what we're looking for."

This was the 76th time he had said this in the past three hours. It was getting to be too easy to reject. He was afraid that once they finally did find the perfect person, instead of saying "Congratulations', he would accidentally say 'I am sorry, you are not what we're looking for."
Dumbledore took a sip of coffee and looked down the list of names. "Call out and have Minerva keep out the next three...John Green, Katie Michals, and Erin Rogers."

Voldemort wrinkled his nose. "Did they even read the pamphlet? What do they think they're doing here, with names like that?"

Dumbledore shrugged as Voldemort called out into the lobby. Seated at a large mahogany desk, Minerva McGonagall dismissed the three in question, then glanced down at the parchment. She had been here as long as Albus and Voldemort, although she had a harder job, staying out in the lobby and controlling the vast hordes of peoples that had come to tryouts.

"Carson Riddle." She muttered sleepily, poking her head in. "Halfblood."

Voldemort sat up straight, and Dumbledore smiled. Maybe this would be the one... A handsome, dark haired boy entered the room, looking sullen. He sat in the chair, and regarded the two of them warily. "Hello." He murmured. Voldemort clutched his hands together gleefully. The boy had an angsty aura about him...

"This is excellent!" Dumbledore replied, jovially. "You might be just who we are looking for!"
"Right." Voldemort said, leaning forward. "We have some questions to ask. First and foremost, are you related to me?"
"Eh...No." The boy answered, frowning slightly. Voldemort looked crestfallen as he sank back into his chair, then turned to Dumbledore.
"He can pretend, can't he?" he asked desperately.
"I suppose..." Dumbledore said, licking his sugar quill. "How good are you at school, my boy?"
Carson shrugged. "Fair enough. Really good at Herbology though."

"What about Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Voldemort animatedly.
"I can't do potions that well, and I can't even ward off a Grindylow." He said sadly, flicking an invisible speck off his knee.
Voldemort made a snort of disgust. "Failure."
"No, we can tie in something with the Devils Snare or the Mimbellus Mimbeltonia." Dumbledore reminded him gently. He turned towards Carson "Can you play Quidditch?"
"Nope." He said simply. "I do Gobstones." There was a silence.

"Are both your parents alive?" Voldemort pushed, looking frantic. "Any family members killed by death eaters?"
"Do you have a good home life?" put in Dumbledore anxiously. "Any abuse?"
Carson regarded them with alarm "Yes, no, yes and of course not!" he exclaimed. "Why does that matter?" Voldemort threw his hands up in disgust. "Forget it Dumbledore, he's a lost cause."
Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I am sorry Carson, but you don't fit the requirements."
Carson stood up and left rather quickly, mumbling under his breath.

"Let me do the next one." Voldemort prodded the old man with his quill. Dumbledore ignored him.

A cheery looking blonde girl opened the door and took Carson's place in the chair.
"Well hiya!" she said with an American accent, beaming. She looked pretty enough, and her eyes were a crystal blue, that flashed gently in the candlelight. "My name's Crystal Figg! I'm related to Arabella. She's told me all about you!" she sat down in a chair and smiled charmingly up at the two of them. Dumbledore looked triumphant, but Voldemort scowled and crossed his arms.
"Dumb luck."
Dumbledore poked him. "Oh come on, she looks perfect!"
"Looks." Said Voldemort crossly. "But how is she at school?"
"Excellent at Transfiguration." She said promptly. "But I would need be tutored in Potions, I'm afraid I'm rather bad in that area."

Dumbledore looked excitedly to his companion, who shook his head firmly. "You know what Severus said he'd do to you if you paired ...well, you know. And besides, how is she at Quidditch?"
"Bad." She replied.
"And are you an Animagus?"Voldemort said crossly.
"Isn't that illegal?" she asked, scrunching her face.
Voldemort noted she looked rather like a hedgehog when she frowned. He scribbled on his charts, then shot back "Would you be willing to break rules?"
"Absolutely not!" she said, horrified.
"Pull pranks on teachers?" he asked, poking her.
"No!"
"Dive in front of Harry Potter to save his life?"
"I don't even know him!" she exclaimed.
"Failure." Said Voldemort loudly, sitting back in his chair, arms behind his head. Crystal jumped up and ran out, almost in tears.

"Really Tom." Said Dumbledore crossly. "That is the 47th person you've scared out of here!"
Voldemort snorted. "Give it a rest. We're not going to find anyone. You really should've let me take care of it all. I would have found you someone good two hours ago."
"I don't like your methods." Dumbledore replied testily. "But fine, you can choose the next one. Pick a number from..." he looked down at the charts. "77 to 93"
"86." Voldemort replied promptly. Dumbledore ran a long finger down the chart. "Fiona Evans, halfblood." Not daring to hope, he rang Minerva out in the front office and asked her to send the girl in.
Voldemort had crossed his arms, and was looking very smug indeed. Dumbledore didn't notice that he also had his fingers crossed, and inside his mind was chanting 'Please be the one, Please be the one, Please be the one.'

A stunning redhaired girl came almost gliding into the room, smiling sweetly. She sat gracefully down in one of the chairs and extended a hand to Voldemort.
"Hello." She said, her voice thick with a French accent.
Voldemort smirked and shook her hand. "Tell us a little about yourself Fiona." He said, shooting Dumbledore an 'I told you so' glance. Dumbledore merely huffed.

"My name is Fiona Evans. I'm 16 years old, and I live with my uncle, Daniel Evans. My real father is Severus Snape, though, and my mother was Lily Evans." Dumbledore spluttered a little into his tea. Voldemort clapped his hands gleefully.
"When I was born," she continued "Mum was engaged to James Potter already. She had to give me away to her cousin, Daniel. Severus and James never knew about me. Up until now, we've lived in France, in a small town of muggles. I never knew about my wizarding abilities until I got my letter. I go to Beauxbaton now, you see, because I was hidden from the world, and didn't get my letter to Hogwarts." She looked at Dumbledore sadly. "We moved to Magnolia Crescent, near where my half brother Harry lives. My cousin Mark will be going to Hogwarts next year, and I'm going to go with him. I'm sure I'll do excellently….I'm a falcon animagus, you know." She added, giving Voldemort a wink. "I was inspired by the Marauders. I know all about them from my mother's scrapbooks. I excel in the Defense Against the Dark Arts, my patronus is a unicorn, and I know for sure that I'll be in Gryffindor, like my mother. Bill Weasley is one of my best friends because his girlfriend, Fleur, was my roommate from when I went to Beaxbaton, and we stayed good friends. I'm a seeker, Keeper, and Chaser, but I also like to commentate. " She smiled irresistibly at the pair, who were both looking at her dumbfounded.

There was silence in the room. "Well Albus?" Voldemort drawled, hardly refraining from cheering. "Does she suit you?" Dumbledore was beaming at the girl, barely containing his excitement. "Excellent! You're perfect for the job! I only have one additional question." He crossed his fingers slightly and whispered "What do you think about You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort?" she laughed, tossing her hair back charmingly. "I could take him."
"Could not!" Voldemort spluttered.
"And would you be willing to die for Harry, if the need showed itself?" Dumbledore continued.
Fiona put on a solemn face. "I would do anything for my brother."
"Splendid!" said Voldemort happily, holding out a plate to her. "Tart?"
She laughed. "I know those are canary crèmes, silly. I'm an expert at pranking." She ran a hand through her hair and smiled impishly. "I once turned all my professors hair green."

Dumbledore broke out into applause. "Perfect! My dear girl, you are absolutely perfect! I'll owl you in three days time with all the information you'll need." Fiona Evans smiled triumphantly and flounced out, her hair swishing behind her.
The door thudded close and the two enemies exchanged glances.
"Weasley?" asked Voldemort eagerly, sipping his tea. Dumbledore fondled his beard, thinking. "Yes...and Mr. Malfoy as well, I should think. A love triangle, if you will."
"But not Severus?" The Dark Lord murmured crossing something out on his list.

"Indeed...incest is something we can do without." Dumbledore decided, twirling his long white hair. "We'll probably have a summer section where she saves Harry...she'll stand up to Draco on the train, and he will admire her spunk, immediately falling in love with her. Ron Weasley as well...since she's good friends with Bill, it's only natural."

"And the end?" prompted Voldemort.

"Hmm..." He pondered, plumping himself down into his armchair. "At the end, you and Harry will duel, and he'll have lost badly, you're about to kill him, when she stands in front of him, saying 'you'll have to kill me first'. You'll kill her then, of course. I really don't think I could stand her for another sequel..."
Voldemort nodded happily. "That's good. The last sequel got so annoying...and the sequel to the sequel? I don't know what you were thinking."
Dumbledore shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Voldemort stood up and stretched. "I get to pick out the next one." He informed Dumbledore. "Mine always work out better than yours, you know."

"Pure luck." Dumbledore grumbled, putting on his hat and scarf and walking out of the small room. Voldemort scratched the back of his neck, as he rang Minerva in the front office.
"We've got our girl Minerva, tell all the others that they can go home now.
Minerva sighed with relief. "Praise Merlin!" she groaned "I was about to go mad…"
The Dark Lord gulped down the last of his tea, then, disapparating silently, re-appeared in his own rooms at the Riddle House.

92 unhappy, under developed, imperfect characters went home distraught that night. It was another successful day at the Mary Sue Selection Agency.