Welcome to A Christmas Carol Troll, a Dark Parody!
This story takes place after JKRowling's book six (Unlike my other books that start after book 4.) and a mix of Harry Potter and Dicken's Christmas Carol. I did use a couple of original, previously developed characters as cameos and also to fill in a couple of parts; the parody of Belle/Elizabeth (depending on whether we're speaking of the actual short story or play of CC) will be played by Jennifer, and 'Tiny Tim' (No, not the ukulele dude! The kid-in-distress-about-to-die dude!) will be filled in by Essie and Corey Willowby. But...you don't need to know their backstories for this, simply that I put them there because nobody among the JKR characters really fit for those rolls.
I had originally wanted this to be light and comedic, but the serious tone of book six and the darkness of the original Christmas Carol led me down a much different path. You'll find Christmas Past is super different than the Dickens, because I thought it was more important to play to Snape in that chapter. Anyhow, enjoy. It's my first parody through this medium :)
A Christmas Carol Troll
A Forward by Harry Potter
Of all the years of my tumultuous youth, none would be so dark or so memorable as that last year of Hogwarts; no matter how greatly I have wanted to forget most of it. I had not wanted to go back to school any more than I had wanted to return to the Dursley's as I had promised. That was, of course, before the Ministry decided, as usual, not to listen to reason and committed what I thought then was the dastardliest crime imaginable; appointing Severus Snape to the Headmaster position, despite all of the 'allegations' of murder. I knew what sort of danger we would be in if we went back, but at the same time, how could we stand by and not go when all of our friends would be in jeopardy?
It had been nothing short of surprise and terror when we learned that Arthur and Molly Weasley still planned to send Ginny there; it was only after events unfolded that I realized it was so they could play their own part in the terrible ending of that year. But this is not that story, nor have I ever any intention of telling that story for myself when so many are more than willing to tell you about it. Instead, I will tell you a story that had, honestly, very little to do with me, although it did very much have an impact on the events in my life after the fact; an event that led to my only moment of light during that dark and desperate seventh year. -Harry.
I
God Rest in Peace You Gentle Mans
Let nothing stop dismay!
Remember us the Carol Trolls
Have come on Christmas day!
To save yourselves you give us stuff
Den we will go away!
Oh, Tidings of discomfort and boils,
Discomfort and boils,
Oh, Tidings of discomfort and boils!
"My ears! My ears!" Ron said. After stuffing them with cotton and covering them with earmuffs, Ron had grabbed his wand and pointed it at himself. But Hermione arrived and smacked it away before he deafened himself permanently.
"You want them to stop singing? Then help me!" Hermione demanded, handing him a list.
"Hermione, what is that? Stop who from singing?" Harry asked, still having a pillow curled around his head.
"Carol Trolls, of course! I'm helping McGonagall organize the scavenger hunt, just gather everything up, and don't forget to let a Professor know what you're taking," Hermione said, shuffling through papers in her hand and holding two out. "Here. Now hurry up!"
"Anything to stop this racket!" Ron grumbled, taking one. Harry took one as well, and Hermione hurried out of the dormitories.
"A pair of ice skates? Sled? Exercise Equipment? A throne fit for a Troll King?" Harry read off, forced to shout as the rowdy Trolls broke into song again. "What is all this?"
"Surely you've heard of Carol Trolls, Harry! You know, troll the ancient yule-tide carol?"
"You have got to be kidding!" Harry said.
"This is part of their bribery list. All we need to do is find worthless junk that can be used for those jobs and they'll take it. Come on, let's get away from these windows!" Ron begged, and the two of them headed out into the stairwell, where all of the paintings were holding their hands over their ears as well.
"So, where are we supposed to find this worthless junk?"
"Wherever. Dustbins and the like. See, Carol Trolls used to be scavengers that live on mountain tops, but people began giving them stuff to stop singing, and they realized they were getting a good deal. So every winter they come out of their hidden villages and harass people by singing until they give them all sorts of broken junk to use in their villages. Father says there's no point in driving them off…there really isn't anywhere for them to go, and they do get rid of a lot of broken stuff nobody wants anymore."
"A new meaning to recycling," Harry agreed, following him out to the Quidditch Pitch. "Have something in mind already?"
"Remember those Bludgers that Seamus 'accidentally' disenchanted during our first game? I think Madame Hooch still has them. They'll work for weights, I think," Ron said. "Hey, is that old door to the boat shack still laying down near the docks?"
"Don't tell me, the sled?" Harry grinned, matching Ron's quick pace. "Think Hagrid might have something for skates? Maybe a pair of his brother's boots, or something?"
"It won't be fun going around those bellowing brutes to get there, but it's not a bad idea," Ron agreed.
As they gathered the items, they saw several other teams, mostly staff members, gathering their own collection. McGonagall and Filch were both busy raiding Filch's supply closet for everything from broken sconces to empty painting frames, and even a sullied mop was thrown into the pile. Even Flitwick was carrying pieces of broken equipment and several hazy telescope lenses he had tied up with wire to form makeshift magnifying glasses.
"Seems like everyone's getting into it," Ron said as they huffed down the main corridor, dragging the Bludgers and a pair of huge hide boots with bent fireplace pokers on top of the broken door. "Everyone but Snape. I'm surprised he isn't out there toasting them or something."
"I don't think he's in the castle at the moment, and he can stay away all break as far as I'm concerned," Harry said, stopping to take a breath. "I'm sickened enough by the fact he's still here, let alone how he runs the school."
"At least he's done a better job than Umbridge," Ron muttered under his breath. Harry stopped short again and stared at him.
"By all rights he should be dead by now, or at least in Azkaban!"
"Well, don't turn on me. I know that, Harry!" Ron said. Ron wasn't about to back down to his friend's temper. "I'm not sticking up for him, it's just stating a fact. I don't think he deserves it any more than you do, and I'm all for seeing him shackled to a dungeon somewhere. But how are you going to prove it when Snape's got them all convinced that you were seeing things because of 'the tragedy of the death, compacted with a delusional spell that was apparently forced upon you during the encounter.'"
"What a load of…"
"I know, Harry! Would you stop turning on your friends, or don't you have enough enemies yet?" Ron challenged him. Harry sighed.
"Sorry," Harry muttered, pulling the door a few more yards. "Any thoughts to where we're supposed to get a throne fit for a Troll King?"
"One," Ron admitted, and then paused again at the doors of the Great Hall. The doors were open, and his eyes automatically focused in on the Headmaster's chair.
"Ron, I hope you're not thinking what I think you're thinking," Harry murmured, staring at it as well.
"Why not? You're the one that always says he doesn't deserve it. In fact, I recall you saying it made you ill just thinking about him sitting in Dumbledore's chair."
"True, but…"
"But what? Afraid we might get expelled?" Ron said impatiently. Harry gazed at him for a moment.
"Good point," Harry said. "Let's do it. But you get the job of leaving Hermione our Last Will and Testament."
"I've already got one written somewhere. I wrote it after last year," Ron admitted.
No one was in the Great Hall, but the two of them ran down it; partially afraid of getting caught, but even more afraid they wouldn't get away with the deed. There was something emotionally satisfying to Harry about being able to deny Snape any privilege at all of his ill-gotten office, despite being such a tiny fraction of what Harry would consider appropriate justice. Still, even being able to meld together two splinters of glass of the millions that existed in Harry's shattered heart did a lot to improve his outlook on their situation. So, with little fanfare, the two of them chucked the Headmaster's chair onto the door and hurried it outside, adrenalin pumping as they raced past the others gathered there and right to the feet of the Carol Trolls, who paused their song as they were momentarily aback by what was laying on top of the pile.
"Dis is wot I call a 't'rone for a Troll King!" the largest one said, picking it up and trying it out. "Youz others get the rest back, I carry dis one myself."
"Harry!" Hermione said, her eyes widening as Ron proceeded to explain to them what the other items were supposed to be and were readily accepted by the eager trolls. "There's no way you got that checked off by a Professor!"
"Oops, we must have forgot," Harry said cheerfully.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Weasley!" They turned to see Professor McGonagall stammering behind them, her face whiter than the snow beneath them. "That's not…it's not…"
"It's a throne fit for the Troll King. At least it's more fit for him than the current Headmaster," Harry said viciously.
"That chair has seen the presence of several dozen Headmasters! How could you have done such a thing? What a horribly selfish and thoughtless act! I cannot even begin to express myself!" McGonagall began, still sputtering.
"Perhaps we can ask for it back?" Hermione suggested hurriedly. But just then there was a notably loud CRACK as one arm came off of the ornate chair.
"It OK," the troll said. "It roomier this way."
Ron was quite sure that McGonagall would have fainted dead away if the only one around to catch her hadn't been Argus Filch.
Flitwick quickly went over the scavenged goods then, going over each one with a fine tooth comb before handing them over. Never had Harry seen McGonagall quite as furious or as speechless as she was in that moment. Even Hermione, standing nearby, looked particularly unhappy. But Ron and Harry merely looked back defiantly, neither of them remotely regretting what had just occurred.
"Go to your rooms at once, and stay there until the Headmaster returns! You can be sure he'll be hearing about this!" she finally got out. "With everything going on, with the future of this school and countless lives on the line, the two of you have to revert to children when I am counting on you to act like adults!"
"He doesn't deserve the position…"
"It is not your place to say, Harry Potter!" she snapped, pointing. "Inside! Now! Before I truly lose my temper!"
"Glad she didn't 'truly' lose her temper then," Ron muttered in a low voice as they turned to head back to Gryffindor Tower.
"How could she of all people possibly say that? Why is she even still here helping him?" Harry wondered out loud. But to that, Ron had no answer, nor were there any easy ones to give him had he known the full truth of the matter.