Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related. This is meant to be 100% parody of HP fanfiction clichés and not to be taken seriously. Books six and seven never happened and this story takes place in Harry's seventh year. The first part is not badly written, it's goofy on purpose.


Small Potatoes

One Potato

A true Mary Sue always lives her life with flair.

She'd always known she was slightly different from everybody else…I mean, it's just not normal for things to levitate when you're feeling upset, or to have your neighbor suddenly sprout boils all over his face if he was teasing you. And now, finally at the age of seventeen, she'd finally found out what was really so odd about her.

It was a normal afternoon at the close of August and Keirana Elizabeth Marian Susan Richardson, who everyone simply called Keira (or to her best friends, just Key), laid on her large bed. Her long, silky chestnut coloured hair fell over her milk chocolate eyes as she laid sprawled out on her stomach with a magazine in her hands, though the words upon the pages were not on her mind. She had been daydreaming about a chocolate chip cookie that was downstairs with her name on it when an owl (or at least what she could only assume to be an owl from watching the Discovery Channel, though she'd never seen one up close before) came flying into her bedroom window and dropped an envelope right on top of her head—also leaving a nice little birdie mess on the violet carpet on its way back out the window.

Curious, Keira looked at the emerald green writing on the front of the yellowish envelope that read:

Miss Keira Richardson

the largest bedroom

1435 Elm St.

Mayfield, VA 23528, USA

Keira flipped the envelope back to front, looking for some sort of return address but found none. "The largest bedroom," she read aloud to herself as she wondered how the sender could possibly have known she was in her bedroom at that very moment—though the odd fact that an owl had been the one to deliver this message in the first place seemed completely plausible when in comparison to this next development. Eager to see the contents of this creepy envelope, she hastily ripped open the top and pulled out a yellowish sheet of paper. Written in the same emerald green ink as the envelope was her destiny.

Dear Miss Richardson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Keira stared wide-eyed at the yellowish paper in her hand. Here in her hands, in the largest bedroom of the house, was an explanation for the last seventeen years of strange occurrences and feeling out of place in her world.

"MOM!" Keira cried as she gracefully flung herself through the bedroom doorway and down the stairs to the kitchen, all the while screaming at the top of her lungs for her mother.

"What is the matter with you, Keira? We use our indoor voices in this house," said her smiling mother, who was currently at the sink, happily washing a huge load of dirty dishes created by the morning's regularly large breakfast.

Keira looked at her mother with excited eyes, but did take a moment to admire the black and white polka-dotted dress her mother was wearing, complemented by black pump shoes and a pearly white necklace. "Mom! An owl dropped this letter for me and it says I'm going to go to a magic school! Oh, and an owl made a nasty mess on my carpet that you need to clean up."

Her mother, still smiling her dazzling, toothy white smile, removed the yellow rubber dish gloves that covered her delicate hands and took the letter from her daughter to read it for herself. Mrs. Richardson's glittering smile drooped only slightly as she read, obviously not reacting the way Keira had hoped she would. "Hogwarts?" she said still avidly staring at the parchment in her hands. "I don't know, dear—"

Rappa-tap-tapp, there came a sharp knocking at the front door, successfully startling both women.

"Now who could that be?" Mrs. Richardson thought aloud as she made her way through the dining room, the secondary kitchen, passed the conservatory (it's a rather large house), across the lavish sitting room, and into the foyer, stopped at the hall mirror to needlessly smooth out her perfectly placed hair and to check her bright red lipstick.

Keira took the liberty of opening the door herself, ignoring her usually perfect manners by not waiting for her mother. There, standing on the front stoop, was the strangest man Keira had ever laid eyes on. He was wearing long purple robes and a pointy hat, long white hair that nearly youched the ground, a white beard that matched his hair to length, and a pair of spectacles that sat upon a long, crooked nose. Keira thought he looked like Merlin from Disney's The Sword in the Stone…or maybe like Gandalf from those Lord of the Rings movies…

The old man smiled at their stunned greeting. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said in a thick British accent and bowed slightly. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If I am not mistaken, you've already received a letter from our school?"

"Yes, Sir, you are correct," Mrs. Richardson said, holding the letter with her faultless, manicured fingers. "Not one minute ago, in fact."

The old professor chuckled merrily at her answer, "Right on time, then."

"Would you like to come in, Professor," Mrs. Richardson asked politely and waved a hand invitingly. "May I get you some coffee or tea?"

"My lady, that would be lovely," his warm smile crinkled the corners of his bright blue eyes. "Some tea would be nice." Mrs. Richardson dazzled the elderly man with her blinding smile and turned toward the kitchen to make the tea.

Remembering her normally pleasant manners, Keira escorted the professor to the generously furnished sitting room.

"Keira," the professor began, already on a first name basis, "I'm sure you have many questions but I can assure you they will all be answered in due course." Keira nodded her head eagerly as the headmaster continued, "You have been specially selected to attend Hogwarts this year. It is a great privilege that we have extended this invitation to you and it is not to be taken lightly. You are a powerful witch, Keira. You are descended from the Clan MacLeod of the Scottish Highlands—"

Keira cut him off with an unimpressed laugh, "Okay, yeah, you almost had me there for a second. Let me guess. I'm immortal and the Quickening is drawing me to fight for the fabled 'Prize.' I saw that movie."

Dumbledore stared at her, the twinkle in his eyes having been replaced with a touch of annoyance, "No. I was going to say that your ancestors on your mother's side are from Scotland, therefore giving you a perfectly logical reason why you are destined to attend Hogwarts, which is located in Scotland."

"Not a very good reason," Keira said flatly.

Dumbledore shrugged his fragile shoulders, "It was the best I could do. That necklace you are now wearing," he pointed a long index finger at a spot just below her chin, "is the symbol of your great power."

Keira reached a hand to the emerald crystal that hung on a golden choker chain and remembered how the necklace had come into her life. "I just got this at the mall a week ago."

"Do you remember that creepy hag that came out of nowhere and convinced you to buy it?"

"That was my Aunt Susie," Keira said in an irritated tone. "She works at the department store jewelry counter."

"That's not the point, Keira," Dumbledore waved off his previous insult on her family unit. "The Green Dragon, as your necklace was once called, has found you at last and now it is time to begin your training as a witch."

Keira still had a few questions, "But, Professor, if I'm such a powerful witch why wasn't I contacted before? And why do I have to go to Hogwarts? Is that the only magic school?"

Dumbledore smiled weakly as he thought for a plausible answer, "We had to wait until you were ready to handle such news… and no, Hogwarts is not the only school, but for reasons that will make sense to you later, you must attend the same school as Harry Potter."

It was then that Mrs. Richardson returned carrying a tray of tea and chicken salad sandwiches cut into cute little triangles. "Professor Dumbledore, I was reading over that letter again and saw the due date was the end of July. I am afraid we didn't receive the letter in time. It's already the end of August."

"We are well aware of that, Mrs. Richardson. Exceptions are being made for Keira's attendance as we speak. We have already made several exceptions for certain students this year; I'm sure Professor McGonagall will not mind one more."

"Keira, sweetie," Mrs. Richardson said as she carefully held her china teacup in her hands, "I've forgotten the sugar. Would you please retrieve it from the kitchen?"

"But Mom—" Keira's whine was cut off by her mother insisting on the pressing need for confectionary sweetness.

"Professor Dumbledore," Mrs. Richardson said pensively when Keira had left to travel the one mile-long trek through the house to the kitchen, "I have always known she was different from the rest of us but I've tried to give her the most normal life possible. I really think it would be for the best to decline your invitation."

"My dear woman," Dumbledore said seriously and sat his teacup on the saucer in his hand, "you have done what you thought was best to keep her safe but I am sure you know all too well she cannot be hidden forever."

Mrs. Richardson's perfectly poised face twisted into horrific shock, the first expression of true emotion since this strange man had arrived, and she felt the teacup involuntarily slip from her hands and bounce across the white carpet, "Then you know?!"

Eyeing the white carpeting now decorated with a splattered blotch of light brown liquid, Dumbledore said solemnly, "She has been known of for some time now." Mrs. Richardson's shaking hands flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp and a declaration of disbelief and her normally sparkling blue eyes were wide with shock. Carefully choosing his words, Dumbledore continued slowly and deliberately, "Circumstances have changed, Mrs. Richardson. He is back and throwing away the school's invitation letter every year will no longer suffice in keeping her safe. He will find her. I do believe that Hogwarts truly is the best place your daughter could be in this time of debauchery."

"You mean, you knew?" They both turned sharply to see Keira standing in the doorway of the living room, the sugar having never been retrieved. Her normally placid face twisted in frustration, she quickly stepped into the room, "All this time, you knew there was something different about me?"

"Keira, sweetie," Mrs. Richardson put a hand to her daughter's shoulder but she was quickly thrown off.

Keira shook her head, her flowing hair swishing with her movements. "You deliberately hid this from me? Throwing away my letters?"

She took a step back from her mother's comforting arms as a light bulb in the chandelier above them shattered violently, spraying soft white glass over the ruined carpet. Mrs. Richardson flinched at the small explosion and what was once a part of the filament landed in her pristine hair.

"All this time I could have been learning magic," Keira continued, growing angrier with her mother than she had ever been. Even more angry than when she wouldn't allow Keira to stay out past curfew last night on her date with Kevin Conley, the hottest boy at her school.

"Keira, sweetie," her mother desperately pled with her, "there are things you don't understand. After your father died," she choked on a sudden sob as her eyes glazed over with tears, "I swore there would never be magic in this house again."

"My father?"

"Their world is—it's dangerous!" her mother cried desperately.

"What does my father have to do with this?" Keira spat as her mother collapsed into a sobbing, pathetic heap in an overstuffed chair.

Mrs. Richardson managed to breathe in a rattled bit of air, "I won't let magic hurt you too," reinforcing the word 'magic' with a tone of absolute revulsion.

What remained of the chandelier above their heads shattered with the force of Keira's growing anger, showering them with sparks of electricity and broken crystal. "Did you really think you could hide this from me, Mom? All this time you knew I didn't fit in here and you knew exactly why. Why would you do this to me?"

Refusing to meet her daughter's dark gaze, Mrs. Richardson dabbed at her eyes with a lacy white kerchief from her dress pocket, smearing it with black from her smudged makeup. "I had to," she sniffled and watched warily above her as the once dazzling chandelier now randomly shot off white-hot sparks from its empty sockets, "I couldn't let them take you away."

"Well I'm going now, Mom," Keira stated firmly, shaking her head in resentment, "I'm going to Hogwarts. You're not stopping me anymore."


Mary Sues make grand entrances.

Neville Longbottom tapped the back of his head against the brick wall as he waited for his grandmother. It had been at least ten minutes since he had passed through the barrier that connected the muggle world of King's Cross Station to the wizarding world of platform nine and three quarters and the Hogwarts Express. He now stood against a nearby wall twiddling his fingers while growing a bit impatient for her to join him.

It was September first, the day he was to climb aboard the Hogwarts Express and begin the adventure of his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, it was becoming increasingly questionable as to whether or not he would actually attend this year, seeing as he was unable to board the train because his grandmother was nowhere in sight.

They were already running late and Neville thought of simply dragging his things to the train without waiting for his grandmother…to save time. However, the thought of her feverishly running around the platform in her vulgar hat, worrying that he'd somehow been helplessly lost amongst the crowd at the tender age of seventeen, climbing aboard the train to spy in every compartment to find him—well, the mere thought of this happening was enough to keep him patiently waiting for her by the wall.

So instead, Neville stood twiddling his fingers and entertained himself by watching the many parents and students milling around the train platform. Students boarded the grand Hogwarts Express, mothers stood teary eyed with damp kerchiefs in hand, friends spotted friends and chatted loudly among themselves. At one point Neville even thought he'd seen one of the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan, but just as fast as they'd been spotted they disappeared into the crowd.

Inspection of his wristwatch told Neville he had four minutes to board the train or be left behind but still his grandmother had not come through the barrier. The swarm of people was now quickly dissipating as the students said their final goodbyes and parents waved their soggy kerchiefs at their children as if they'd never see them again. The minute hand on the large wall clock clicked again, three minutes.

The conductor let loose the high-pitched squeal of the train's polished gold whistle, announcing the approaching intention to depart from London and all those still standing on the platform. Neville's twiddling fingers had now been replaced by a nervous fidgeting. Something must be wrong for her to be gone for so long. It was then that worry for his gran, anxiety, and desperation took over and Neville decided to take action. He left his trunk where it sat waiting and, fighting against the current of people, made for the magical brick barrier.

Neville had always hated this part. Having to run into the magical brick wall between platforms nine and ten had been proven quite a painful task on more than one occasion and he was sure this would be no exception. Stepping back to take his running start, he tried his best to believe he could pass though.

Without another moment's hesitation, Neville began a fast pace straight toward the wall and quickly picked up speed as he set off in a cautious run. The wall was coming closer, the bricks looking more and more solid with every stride. He closed his eyes in attempt to block out the idea of running straight into a unyielding brick wall and concentrate more on the idea of passing through successfully and unharmed. Though his eyes were closed, Neville could tell he was only a few steps away from the magical barrier that would bring him to the muggle side of King's Cross Station. He clenched his teeth together and shut his eyes as tight as they would go and took one last running stride before he would make contact with a solid brick wall.

However, it wasn't the brick wall that brought his journey to a painful halt, it had been a human. Another human who had, at that very moment, decided to cross the barrier from the other side in attempt to reach the magical side of the train station. Neville had only caught a glimpse of his victim when she cried out in surprise as she was sent in reverse into the magical brick wall barrier she had just crossed and disappeared back into the muggle world.

He now sat on the cold cement with a rather sore backside directly facing the brick wall in which he had unsuccessfully tried to pass through and watched to see if she would attempt to cross again. A few seconds later, a mass of curly, jet-black ringlets and a pale, thin face cautiously poked itself through the barrier. Dark eyes searched around for signs of her attacker and before Neville could react to her appearance, she had disappeared once again into the brick wall. She soon returned—back end first emerging from behind the brick wall followed closely by a head, arms and legs, and a trunk that she was attempting to pull along. With her rather small frame, she was straining to use all the weight she possessed to force the trunk to move against the cement.

Not really knowing what to do, Neville hastily stood to make amends for his assault. He stretched out a hand to her shoulder to get her attention, "Are you all right?"

Breathing heavily, she turned up her dark eyes to him but didn't cease her efforts to pull the heavy trunk toward the train. "I'm fine," she answered simply and returned her attentions to moving the large trunk.

"At least let me help you with that—" he moved to grab the other leather strap handle of the trunk but she but she hastily cut him off.

"No thanks, I can get it."

Neville, though not really understanding, backed off and obeyed her request. He tried repeatedly to issue an apology but she half-heartedly waved it off as an accident and she obviously didn't mind being plowed over by somebody three times her size. "Why didn't you get a trolley for your things?" he indicated her absurd attempt to pull the heavy trunk.

The girl snorted a bit of laughter, "They were all out," and nodded her head toward a rather large collection of empty trollies sitting along a far wall. "It seems that every September first over half of the station's carts just disappear for a few hours and nobody can ever find them…but they always end up returning eventually. The guy in the uniform told me if I waited about an hour I'd be able to get one, but until then I was out of luck. Thought by then I'd be a little late and decided to just take care of it myself."

He understood what she meant and felt his conscience tug at him. He looked over to his own Hogwarts trunk sitting neatly on a trolley awaiting his return while this girl who was only a third his size was physically hauling her own trunk and refusing help. The large clock on the wall clicked again, one minute. When he looked back to the girl, she was already a good distance from him and making good time toward the front of the train.

His intentions to follow and assist whether she liked it or not were cut short when he heard his grandmother finally calling out his name in a noisy, familiar voice. As usual, in her vulture-topped hat and horrible green cloak, she bustled over to him and took him by the elbow to where his trunk stood waiting.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Neville Longbottom," she said in her loud, clear voice. "I crossed the barrier ages ago and couldn't find you. I looked everywhere on the platform, on the train—nobody had seen you, I was so worried."

Neville heaved a great sigh and didn't bother to argue the fact that he'd been standing right near the barrier the entire time. Instead, he did as he was told and began loading his trunk onto the train. The conductor let loose the piercing train whistle a final time before a large cloud of steam hissed from the pistons and Neville jumped onto the train just as it began moving, leaving all of London behind in a puff of steam. His grandmother stood on the platform waving a slightly moist kerchief at him as he left for Hogwarts. Finally.

After what seemed like hours of passing full compartment after full compartment, Neville dropped his over-stuffed trunk in the middle of the narrow hallway and sat on it, his head landing with a light thump in his hands. This was his punishment for being late, it had to be. In the middle of the very narrow hallway, he sat breathing heavily and thought about the girl he'd literally run into at the station. He hadn't seen which train car she'd boarded and after not finding her in any of the full compartments he'd just passed, he began to doubt his reality of actually having "met" her. But now was not the time to worry about her; he'd like to be able to find Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny… heck, even Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas would have been good company if their compartments hadn't been filled already.

Taking a final deep breath, Neville stood and, though expecting to see another full compartment next to him, chanced a glance through the window to spy inside. Not believing his luck, inside were only Harry on one side and Luna on the opposite side by the window. He slid open the door just enough to stick his head inward.

"Sorry, all full…seat's already taken," Harry said uninterested and didn't look up from the book he was reading.

"Oh—right, sorry," Neville said in an overly cheerful voice, though he felt a little put off by Harry's sour reply.

Harry recognized Neville's voice and looked up from his book, "Oi! Sorry 'bout that mate. C'mon in, we saved you a spot." Harry quickly stood up, pulled him the rest of the way inside, and helped to get his trunk in the luggage rack. "We were beginning to wonder if we'd see you."

"Thanks, Gran and I were running late. Who else are you expecting?"

"Just Ron and Hermione," Harry answered. "Ginny's off with her friends somewhere but we didn't want the entire compartment packed full."

He took the open seat beside Luna, "Where's Ron and Hermione anyway?"

"Prefect duties," Luna supplied, not bothering to remove her nose from her book.

"They're a couple now, so beware, and they aren't being very discrete about it either," Harry added with an impish grin. "You know they're using 'prefect duties' as a reason to sneak off everywhere together. It's disgusting."

Luna let out a laugh from nowhere as if this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Between a giggling pause she managed to slip in, "Prefect duties!" Slowly her laughter died down and she began wiping tears from her eyes with a blue handkerchief, then returning to her book.

"Hermione and Ron, huh," Neville said thoughtfully, though still eyed Luna carefully for signs of more laughter. "For some reason I always thought it would be Hermione—"

"Hermione and me," Harry finished for him with an irritated sigh. "I wish people would stop saying that. That's how rumors get started."

A croak came from somewhere within Neville's robes. Neville, having almost forgotten he had a toad in his pocket, drew Trevor out into the daylight. Perched atop Neville's hand, Trevor croaked his distaste for having been forgotten and gave Neville a very unhappy toadish frown. Eventually, the conversation drew away from gossiping about the newest Hogwarts couple and turned to the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that nobody seemed to know anything about and their classes.

They heard a sharp rap at their compartment door and all three heads turned to see a girl's head poked inside. "Do guys mind if I join you? Everywhere else seems to be full." Her hair fell past her shoulders in thick, dark brunette ringlet curls that framed her thin, pale face and dark eyes.

Luna returned to her book, uninterested. Neville, however, couldn't take his eyes off the girl he'd once thought to be a mere figment of his imagination.

"Of course," Harry answered, watching Neville and his odd expression, then looked back at the girl and smiled invitingly.

The girl gave a very toothy smile in response, "Thanks. Thought I'd never find a spot." She struggled to pull her trunk inside but Harry stood to take it from her. "Knew I should have gotten here earlier but my friends and I got lost on the subway…and then I lost my friends completely and ended up somewhere in downtown London."

"You're American then?" Neville commented as he put Trevor on the seat beside him and helped Harry with the trunk. He had noticed her accent while talking to her on the platform but hadn't had a chance to ask her about it.

"Yeah…Thanks guys," she added as they took the trunk from her hands.

Neville felt her eyes watching him but tried to ignore it as they hoisted the trunk over their heads and onto the luggage rack. He'd felt bad enough about plainly tackling her at the station but was almost hoping she wouldn't recognize him—which she obviously did.

"So what brings you to Hogwarts?" Harry asked in attempt to find out more about their new visitor.

"My uncle got a job out here and I had to move too—I'm Valore by the way. Valore Bloom," she held out a hand to Harry, searching his green eyes.

He accepted her hand, continuing to stare straight back at her, "Harry Potter."

"Yeah, I know," she nodded, "you have your mom's eyes."


A/N: Congratulations! You made it to the end of the first chapter!

You made it this far so that means:

1) You like parodies.

2) You're a glutton for epic punishment.

3) You actually read disclaimers and don't run away at the first sign of bad writing. What's wrong with you?

4) There was a disclaimer warning you of impending bad writing? You loved it anyway? You're a trooper!

Whatever the reason, you're still here and so am I and that's not half bad. Reviews are well liked around here; feel free to leave one. Thanks!