Consider a fantasy story where, as often seems to happen in this genre, a young human is pulled from their world into a world of magic and elves and wizards and prophecies.
But this happens just about every other Tuesday in this world because the resident soothsayer is a little trigger-happy and is spouting off prophecies left and right. So there’s been an influx of teenaged humans without adult supervision and the reigning queen had to set up an investigative bureau and a complaints department just to deal with this problem.
So our human protagonist finds themselves in a dark spooky forest, stuck in some kind of ewok-style trap. Along comes a bearded elf (don’t tease him about the beard, he’s trying to make a good impression on the dwarf lady in charge of his department) who looks up at the net, sighs, and out comes the paperwork.
“If you wouldn’t mind, please state your name, age, and how you came to this realm.”
“How what now?”
“What was it? Wardrobe? Magic portal? Dragged under the bed by trolls?”
“Um…I just woke up here?” They mumble, confused.
“Alrighty,” the elf flips a few pages. “We’ll just skip to section D then. Any inherent magic? Any strange inheritances received lately?”
“No?” The protagonist leans on the net. “I mean, my former roommate gave me their old David Bowie CD collection, but I don’t think that counts.”
The elf nods once or twice, hard to tell if he’s listening or not, and pencils a few things in. “Alright, we’re almost done with the preliminary stuff, then we can get you out of there and down to the Bureau so we can get you home. Current status of parents or parental figures?”
The protagonist cringes. “Um…not applicable, I guess.”
“Oh dear. And your age again is-?”
At this the elf sighs. “Oh no, not another one. Some days I’d like to shake some sense into that soothsayer, really, I would. I swear I am this close to setting myself up as the next evil wizard around here just so I can keep some of these would-be heroes out of trouble.”
He then flings his pencil, sharp as a knife, and down comes the net with Protagonist inside. The elf helps them to their feet and brushes the leaves off their shoulders.
“Alright then, you,” he grumbles, “Lets get you down to the Bureau with the other three prophecy-kids who turned up this week.”
He has so much paperwork to do now.