*All characters events, locations, and things, belonging to the Harry Potter world, are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling. I am just borrowing them to write these stories of mine. Everything else, is my creation.

UPDATED: 6/21/2016 for spelling and punctuation errors.

This is a one-shot comedy/parody. Hope you enjoy.


ONE-SHOT PARODY #1:

A BOY AND HIS AUTHOR

By B.G. Potash


"Welcome, welcome, to a world of wonder, were brooms fly, and so do….uhm….oh… hum, what..." The Author sits down and scratches her head. She looks at her computer screen and thinks for a minute, muttering to herself. "What rhymes with wonder? Slander? No…rounder? Stupid….hum…flou-aund-der. Flounder?"

"What are you doing?" Harry enters the room, chewing on a liquorice wand.

"Hey, how did-? Never mind what I'm doing, none of your business."

"Ha," Harry says, sitting on the chair next to the Author. "Writing one of those stupid fan fictions about me again."

"No." The Author covers the computer screen with her hand, and turns on her chair to block Harry's view.

"Yes you are, let me see," he says, trying to push the Author out of the way, "come on, what is it about?"

"Nothing, if you don't let me get on with it," she tells him, pushing Harry back, away from the screen.

"Fine, have it your way, but I won't cooperate. See how it goes with an unruly character running a muck." Harry stands up offended, and stomps out of the room, leaving the Author bewildered.

After a couple of minutes, she drops her face to her hands, "shoot, that teaches me to mess with the characters."

"You really shouldn't have pushed him. He's the chosen-one, you know?"

"I know, I've read all seven books," the Author says, turning to look at Ginny, who is sitting on a black couch against the other side of the wall. "He didn't see you?"

"Nope, you hadn't written me in when he was in the room."

"I had… he never pays attention." The Author turns back to her computer screen, and puts her hand to her chin, forming her face to a much thoughtful expression.

"Much thoughtful expression? What are you writing?"

"Stop that." The Author spins her chair around to look at Ginny who is laughing.

"Stop what?"

"You're reading my words."

"Whatever. I'm going down to the kitchen, want anything?" Ginny asks, standing up, and walking towards the door that Harry had just walked out of. The Author had already spun back to look at her computer screen, and was again deep in concentration.

"Cherry Coke," the Author says, not paying much attention.

"Okay." Ginny walks up to the door, and is about to walk through the threshold, when the Author continues to speak.

"Oh, and combos," Ginny stops and looked back with an arched eyebrow. "No, no, wait, not combos. Can I have some of those fruit gummies with the happy face on the box? But the ones in the purple box, not the red ones, I don't like those. They taste kinda weird, and their not gummy enough."

"Oh, one of those. Sure, I'll go right to the shop and get you the gummies with the happy face on the box, but not the red one's. I'll make sure I go get the purple ones," Ginny says, mimicking walking to the shop.

"Thanks," the Author says nothing, as Ginny's mockery goes unnoticed.

Ginny rolls her eyes, and walks out of the room, leaving the Author to scratch her chin in concentration. What could she write about? She had gotten Harry angry at her.

"More than angry!" Harry calls from somewhere in the house. "Stop using my name to develop plot!"

What a wiener.

"Am not!"

Shoot, he can hear my narration?

"Yes I can…so stop it, it's hard to snogg while someone is narrating out loud!"

snogg?

"Not snogg," calls Ginny from the same area in which Harry's voice seemed to be coming from. "Snack, it's hard to snack."

A couple of minutes later, Ginny rushes back into the room. She's holding half a can of cherry coke, and a package of what seems like stale Doritos.

"They're not stale," Ginny assures the Author. "Beside, I couldn't find the gummies you wanted, so I got these," she says, pointing at the Doritos in her hand, a smile on her face. The Author noticed Ginny's hair was a mess, and her lips were a little red, probably from snogging Harry.

But now that she saw Ginny fixing her hair, an embarrassed blush on her face, she had decided to write in that the characters could no longer hear her narrating, just for the sake of her sanity.

"Thank God, finally!" Harry yells. "Ginny, can you…uhm…help with these….shoooo….es, yeah, these shoes." Ginny holds in a giggle, throws the Author the bag of stale Doritos, which spill all over her desk, and then, unceremoniously hands her the half can of cherry coke, before rushing out of the room to help Harry with his *clears throat* shoes.

"I don't even know why I keep characters around, they do what they want." The Author sighs.

"Or maybe," she says with a light bulb going off above her head. "Shoot, I hate it when light bulbs go off near my head," the Author says, reaching up to grab the light bulb, and tossing it into the trashcan near the desk, which already held a few light bulbs from the last couple of days.

"Okay once again…. Or maybe, yes that's a plan."

The Author starts to vigorously type away on her computer, a mischievous grin on her face. She stops, thinks, and then gets on with it. She finishes, and looking around, she pushes her finger down on the period key, finishing her sentence. In the distance a shriek, a thump and scream is heard, the Author starts to laugh. Heavy footsteps walk towards the door, seconds later the door flies open.

"What was that about? That was you, right?" Harry roars, the Author shrugs innocently. "Well, how else would a hippogriff appear in the middle of the living room?" Harry asks.

"I dunno," the Author answers.

"You mean to tell me that at your house, magical creature appear randomly?"

"Sometimes, sometimes magical beings." The Author giggles.

"That's it, I'm leaving. Ginny lets go!" Harry says, stomping out of the room, leaving the Author in a fit of giggles.

After laughing it off, the Author decides it isn't good for business to have the only two characters, so far, leave, so she decides to type that Harry has somehow found it in his heart to forgive her. He also decides that it would be great to bring her some M&M's from the jar in the living room.

A moment later, there's a knock at the Author's door, she smiles impishly.

"Come in," the Author calls with a knowing smile. The door creaks open, and in walks Harry, a sheepish look on his face.

"I've decided to forgive you, out of the kindness of my heart. Also, here are some M&Ms from the jar in the living room," Harry says, passing the Author a handful of the sweet-candy-covered chocolate sweets.

"Thank you, Harry. I do appreciate it. Now, shoo," The Author waves him away, ushering Harry out of her bedroom.

Now back to her story, the Author takes a green M&M, enjoys the chocolaty sweetness in her mouth, before she continues. She frowns in concentration, light bulb–again with the light bulbs. She tosses the new light bulb into the trash, and starts typing.

It was a dreadful morning, nay, an overwhelmingly, uncomfortable morning. One of those in which the sky can't seem to decide between a good day and a bad day. On this; maybe good maybe bad morning; Harry and Ginny sat in the living room, talking about what things would be like if Voldemort had gone after someone else instead of Harry. Would this someone else have survived as well? Would this person be like Harry, and would Harry be any different? Would Harry still have met Ginny, the love of his life? Or would this someone else have taken his place?

Ginny had answered that what she loved about him, was not the fact that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, it was simply the fact that he was Harry. And even if Harry had not been famous, she still would have loved him. Because to her, it wasn't the fact that he had lived, but how he had decided to live that filled her heart with warm love.

"That soooooo corny. I totally like his stardom, and not to mention, the dreamy green eyes," Ginny calls from the living room.

"I agree. I don't mind. I like being famous," Harry says.

"You don't hate being famous?" the Author asks, coming out of her bedroom, and into the living room were Harry and Ginny sit.

"No I don't. What I hate, is being chased by a serial, maniacal killer, but the fame's awesome." Harry smiles.

The Author doesn't get it. Firstly, she thought the characters couldn't hear her story anymore.

"We're magical, we can do things." Ginny says, rolling her eyes.

That was true, but then. What about that whole thing about Harry liking the spotlight?

"What's so hard to understand? I'm rich, got a hot girlfriend, people admire me. I have great friends, and I get to battle evil wizards, not to mention, I always somehow win. What's wrong with that? I mean, yeah, the whole orphan thing is a bummer, but Mrs. Weasley cooks really good, and she also does my wash, so I'm good."

"What, so you don't care? Why would anyone want to read about you?" the Author says angrily.

"Duh… because I'm Harry freakin' Potter. Besides I care, I have a heart," Harry says biting his nail. The Author huffs, and turns around, walking back to her room.

"Doubt it," she mutters to herself as she goes back to her story.

"You doubt it?" Harry–who is strangely standing in the Author's room now, and not in the living room where she had left him–says. "I'll prove it," he tells her as he turns towards the door. "Ginny, call Ron and Hermione! We're going on an adventure to prove that the greatest power a man has is his heart!"

"Okay!" Ginny says nonchalantly, as Harry hurries out.

"I'll show you," he says.

The Author smiles knowingly. Harry Potter might be a brat, and he might think the world revolves around him, but he has a heart.

"You bet I do!" Harry screams from somewhere in the house.

The end…

The door opens and Ginny sticks her head in. "Harry said we'll probably be back for a sequel"

"Fine, now go away," the Author says.

THE END!

"Not quite!" Harry calls.

Harry and Ginny leave, no one else is in the house with the Author. The Author types T.H.E.E.N.D., she eats another M&M, and puts her finger to the period key.

THE END.