A/N: Ok, I think this extremely random fic warrants an explanation. We're reading Macbeth in English class, and therefore, we must do a project about it. Part of my group's project is to write a story where the characters from Macbeth interact with characters from other works of literature. My editor/friend, Lily, and I were put in charge of that part. Well, here it is. Lily said I should post it, so I am. (I have a cameo appearance by Skinner. I know he's not in any books, but I like him too much to leave him out.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or the works of literature (or cinema, in one case) from which they come…
Hermione Granger sat up in bed, idly leafing through a copy of Shakespeare's Macbeth. Her parents were getting worried because all she had been reading as of late were textbooks from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They wanted her to brush up on her Muggle literature, and had bought her a mass of books ranging in authors from Shakespeare and Agatha Christie, to Mark Twain. She issued a sigh and tossed the book aside. These just weren't as interesting as her schoolbooks. She scanned the stack of books before her, when something caught her eye. It seemed a somewhat thick magazine had found its way into the stack. She pulled it out – as it turned out, the magazine wasn't a magazine at all, but a rather large comic book.
'How on earth did this get here?' She wondered, inspecting her findings. The enormously thick comic, or graphic novel, as the cover stated it was, went by the name of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. That she knew about – her Muggle friends had dragged her to see the movie version when it came out. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Her parents definitely had strange tastes in literature. She scanned it in the same bored fashion as she had the other books. She shook her head disgustedly. All this was accomplishing was making her extremely bored, and tired. She yawned, tossed the "graphic novel" aside and pulled the covers up around her. She must've been more tired than she first thought because she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow…
* * *
When she awoke, she found that she was no longer in her bedroom. Because of the walls of stone and various candles, she would've guessed that somehow she'd ended up at Hogwarts, but she knew Hogwarts, and this was definitely not it. She carefully slid out of bed and went in search of something to wear besides her pajamas. Much to her surprise, she found her school robes flung over the back of a chair. 'That's odd… maybe I am at Hogwarts…' she thought, but then brushed the notion away. She was certain she wasn't at Hogwarts.
A few moments later, Hermione emerged form her "room," fully dressed and ready to do a little exploring. She rounded a corner and ran smack into Harry and Ron. "Harry? Ron? What are you doing here?" She asked in bewilderment.
Harry grinned mischievously. "We're going to go bother Snape!" He said excitedly.
"Right-o!" Ron chortled happily, and they dashed down the hall, chorusing, "Bother! Bother! Bother! Bother…!"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. They were certainly acting strange. She continued down the cold stone hallway, bent on finding out where she was exactly, and better yet, why Harry and Ron were there as well. After a while, she heard someone wailing. Her first thought was that it was Moaning Myrtle, the ghost that haunted one of the girls' bathrooms at Hogwarts. 'No, I'm not at Hogwarts,' she reminded herself as she went to investigate. She found the wailing was coming from behind a large wooden door near the end of the hall. She carefully opened it to a crack and peered inside. Inside the room was an elegantly dressed woman, she was bent over a washbasin and fervently scrubbing her hands.
"Out damned spot! Out I say!" She wailed, scrubbing even harder.
'Out damned spot…?' Hermione wondered. She knew that sounded familiar, but she couldn't remember where she'd heard it before. She woman continued wailing and scrubbing in the background as Hermione racked her brain, trying to remember what was so familiar about all this. It came to her like a lightning bolt. "Lady Macbeth!" She exclaimed, not exactly meaning to say it out loud.
Lady Macbeth halted in mid-scrub and reeled around. "Who's there?" She demanded. Hermione cautiously pushed the door open. "A young girl? We've no young girls here," Lady Macbeth said in puzzlement. "Where did you come from?"
Hermione wasn't sure why Lady Macbeth didn't sound the least bit Shakespearean, but was glad that at least she was understandable. "My name is Hermione Granger," she replied. "I'm from England."
"England? No. We've no young girls here. I must be going mad…" She glanced down at her hands and a look of horror spread across her face. Seemingly forgetting Hermione, she resumed her tasks of wailing and scrubbing.
"But, Lady Mac…" Hermione tried, but was abruptly cut off by Lady Macbeth's wails. 'I must be the one going mad, trying to reason with a book character!' She thought as she tried to get the lady's attention. She would not be moved from her scrubbing.
"My wife! What are you doing?"
Hermione and Lady Macbeth both did an abrupt about-face. A man was standing in the doorway that Hermione assumed could be none other than Macbeth himself. He looked from his distraught wife to Hermione and back again. "Who is this?" He asked at length.
"My name is Hermione Granger. You must be Macbeth."
Before Macbeth could respond to this, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to face a young man of his mid twenties. He was tall and rather nice-looking. "I say old man, wizard place you got here!" The young man exclaimed.
"What is going on here?" Macbeth demanded. "Who are you?"
"Marston," the man replied. "Anthony Marston."
"Marston?" Hermione knew that name sounded familiar as well. "Ah…" She said to herself. "Anthony Marston, from the Agatha Christie novel: And Then There Were None."
Marston peered over Macbeth's shoulder at her. "What's that you said?"
"Nothing," Hermione replied shortly. She silently thanked her parents for making her read those books they bought. They were turning out to be a great help. "Um, is there anyone else out there?" She wondered.
Marston looked back over his shoulder. "Ah, hello. Who're you?" He stepped aside to allow the beautiful auburn-haired woman inside the room. She was dressed chiefly in black and wore a bright red scarf about her neck.
Macbeth bowed politely to her. "Ah, welcome," he said. "What may I call you?"
The woman looked around the room, as if she expected to find someone she knew and looked both disheartened and curious when she saw no such person. "My name is Wilhemina Harker," she said at length. "You haven't seen a young man by the name of Tom Sawyer, have you?" Those assembled in the room shook their heads. She sighed and made for the door. "If you do, tell him I was looking for him, will you?" After receiving a nod from everyone, she left.
'Wilhemina Harker is looking for Tom Sawyer?' Hermione wondered. Then her mind drifted back to the "graphic novel" and the movie that was The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. The idea behind the entire thing was that random literary characters team up to create a band of misfit superheroes and save the world. Now it made sense that a Wilhemina would be looking for Tom – they were both members of the League.
Meanwhile, Macbeth was looking thoroughly confused. Why were all these strange people in his castle? "My Lord?" The voice of one of his guards snapped him out of thought.
"State your business," Macbeth said sharply.
"Sir, we found these three miscreants running rampant in the castle. Two of them, we do not know, but the third… oof!"
"Sorry about that, old chap," the man who had pushed past the guard and his captives said in a definite Cockney accent. He was an odd sight to behold, wearing a long black leather trench coat, and his face covered in some kind of white paint. "Mina? Are you in here?" He called, and then switched to a singsong tone. "Oh Miiinaaa!" He sang. When this got no answer, he shrugged and turned to go. The guard stopped him.
The man in the coat was not at all amused. "Do you mind?"
"Who are you and where are you going?" The guard demanded.
"Oh, dear me, where are my manners?" He said sarcastically. He bowed mockingly to the guard. "Rodney Skinner, gentleman thief. I'm looking for Wilhemina Harker – goes by Mina. Maybe you've seen her. Pretty, wears black all the time…"
"She just left," Marston said. "Went down that way. Pretty wizard girl, that one." Skinner raised an eyebrow and pushed past the guard and out the door. The guard did not look at all happy about this.
'I wonder where the rest of the League is,' Hermione thought. 'We've seen two of them already…'
"Sir," the guard continued, sounding slightly flustered. He pushed his captors forward. The first two were Harry and Ron, looking a little beat up, but Hermione couldn't identify the third. He was a young man, probably not much older that Marston.
Macbeth let out a gasp of obviously fake outrage; while in the same instant, his wife breathed a sigh of relief. "Donalbain!" Macbeth declared. "So the murderer of King Duncan has returned!"
The late Duncan's younger son looked up at Macbeth. "I did nothing to harm my father! I am innocent!" Harry and Ron tried to stand up, and were abruptly pushed back down by the guard.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "Let us go!" He demanded, aiming his wand at Macbeth.
Macbeth stared at Harry's wand with a maddening look in his eyes. "Is this a dagger which I see before me…?" He began.
"What are you, mad?" Harry asked incredulously. "This isn't a dagger, it's my wand! See…" he waved his wand around and it began emitting soft yellow sparks.
"Oh, wizard!" Marston exclaimed.
Harry looked up at him. "Yes?"
"Silence, all of you!" Macbeth cried, clearly having forgotten the "is this a dagger" incident. He turned his attention once again to Donalbain. "You are a traitor to the crown, and therefore you must die!" That maddening look was back in his eyes again. "As must your young accomplices!"
"Not Harry and Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "You leave them out of this! It wasn't them anyway! You killed Duncan!"
Macbeth then tuned on her. "If you utter one more word, you shall join them!"
"You're the murderer!" Hermione couldn't bring herself to stop. "You killed him!" Macbeth had heard enough. He drew a dagger from his belt and moved to advance upon the young girl when he felt cold steel on the back of his head. He didn't dare move another step.
The young man behind him cocked his Winchester rifle menacingly. "Take one more step, and you're toast." Mina and Skinner soon came striding up the hall.
"There you are Tom," Mina said. "I've been looking all over for you. What are you doing?"
Tom Sawyer grinned at her. "Savin' the day."
Suddenly, Lady Macbeth began wailing again. "Please! I beg of you! Spare him!" Marston covered his ears, being the closest one to her.
"Calm down lady," Tom said, lowering his gun. Lady Macbeth only wailed louder and louder. "Jeez…" Tom winced. "It's like a nightmare in here. Let's go…"
* * *
Hermione snapped into wakefulness. She half-expected to find herself in a castle, but instead, found herself in her own room. "It was just a dream," she sighed with relief. She eyed the stack of books on her nightstand. "This is all your fault," she told them.
There was knock on her door and her mother entered. "Get up dear. You need to get ready."
"Ready? Ready for what?"
"We're going to go see a play this afternoon," her mother replied brightly.
"Really? What are we going to see?"
Her mother smiled at her and said, "Macbeth."
"Macbeth?" Hermione groaned and pulled the covers back over her head.
A/N: So, that's it. I know the ending is kinda corny, but oh well. My English teacher will get a kick out of it, and that's all that matters!