A/N: Charmy and Chicka here! Probably about time we updated and we hope you enjoy. Don't forget a review!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, A Christmas Carol belongs to Charles Dickens and Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, so that leaves Chicka and I with nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch.

Charmy and Chicka arrived at the theatre the next day to find all the actors waiting around tapping their feet impatiently.

"We've been here for half an hour! What took you so long?" Snape shouted when he spotted the two directors.

Charmy rolled her eyes and pointed at Chicka. "She made me stand around and watch some lame rabbit in a top hat dance."

"But they said it was an once-in-a-lifetime show! How could we miss it?" Chicka pouted.

"It wasn't even dancing! You could even see the guy pulling the strings!" Charmy argued.

Chicka looked ready to retort when Harry shouted, "Will you two stop arguing? Some of us have more important things to do!"

"Like what?" Charmy said derisively "Beg for the Barry Trotter people to give you the part of Barry?"

Harry looked around nervously "Um, no..."

"Harry! I'm so happy you got me the part!" Ginny interrupted and hugged him, so tightly that he could barely breathe. Deep down inside, Harry was thinking, "Nuts! Why did I ask to give her the part? I just dumped her!"

"Okay then, first thing is first," Chicka said. "Fred! George! Come here!"

"What?"

"Come here!"

"What?"

"Come here!"

"What?"

"Come here, or I will rip out your throats with a toothpick!"

"OK," they said meekly and came over.

"It appears there has been a mix up with the scripts," Charmy said. "Chicka here, got the idea to do this movie from watching Sesame Street – "

"No it wasn't! It was the Muppets!"

"Oh well, same thing!"

"No it's not!" Chicka protested.

"Shut up! Anyway, there are no Marley brothers – there is only one Marley in the play. Unfortunately one of you shall have to resign from that part," Charmy explained.

"What? So one of us will have to quit? What will happen to them?" Fred asked.

"Er… they can play stunt double," Chicka said.

"Ooh, stunt double," George mused.

"That ought to be fun. You get to jump off buildings and smash into walls and stuff," Fred agreed.

"Er, great! So that's fine between you two then?" Chicka asked.

"Yeah sure," they said.

"Which one will be the stuntman?" Chicka asked.

"I will!" they cried.

"Nuh uh, I will." Fred shoved George.

"No way!"

"Uh huh!"

"Well that went a lot easier than I thought," Charmy whispered behind the twins' backs while they were arguing.

"Yeah, they are such idiots! We don't even need a stuntman!" Chicka said. Little did she know that the Weasley twins were using their extendable ears.

"Hey Fred, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" George asked.

"Yep," Fred said. "That miniskirt looks terrible on Hermione's as – "

"Ewe, you were checking out our little brother's girlfriend's butt – Whoa! That does look terrible."

Whilst the Weasley brothers were discussing Hermione's buttocks, Charmy and Chicka looked over their script for problems. That was when they discovered they needed a priest.

"What are we gonna do?" Chicka asked, surveying the actors milling around the theatre. None of them looked remotely holy.

"I'll do it!" Malfoy cried for a chance of fame.

Charmy and Chicka exchanged glances. It was looking bleak.

"None of them will make a good priest! We're doomed!" Charmy cried emphatically, sinking to her knees.

"Jeez, calm down! I've got an idea!" Hermione levitated a light bulb above Chicka's head. "Let's go grab some random priest-like dude from the street!"

They went outside to scope out a priest-like dude. They managed to find one quickly outside of a church.

"You, how would you feel playing the priest in our play?" Charmy asked.

"But I am a priest – "

"Well too bad, you're gonna play the part anyway," Chicka said and snatched him up, unaware he didn't protest in the first place. 'This girl must be possessed by the Devil!' the priest thought. He began to struggle furiously against Chicka.

Okay. It was now nearly night and the first part of the play was going to be put into action. Needless to say, there was high excitement running in the air.

"Our movie is gonna be SO much better than that third Harry Potter movie. What was the director? Alfonzie Curious or something?"

"Who cares? All I know is that it won't have that guy in that movie who plays me!" Ron exclaimed. "His hair looks terrible."

"I'm so excited about this movie that I could almost wet myself!" Draco Malfoy squealed.

"Almost wet yourself?" Harry asked questioningly and looked down at Draco's crotch.

"Come on people! Places, places. Ew, Draco, find some clean pants! All right. Lights!" Charmy shouted.

"Camera!" Chicka said.

"Actio – " Fzzz! The lights went out. After a light technician came in and fixed the problem, Chicka said, "Lights!"

"Camera!"

"Action!"

The curtains swung open to reveal Snape. One audience member screamed.

"It's the Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

"No, that's Scrooge."

"Oh. Well this fellow certainly is ugly enough to play the part."

Snape remained standing there, undaunted. Hermione began to read:

"Marley was dead. Well, seeing as he was no longer breathing, of course he was dead. You don't need signed papers to know you're dead – "

"What are you doing?" Chicka whispered tensely.

"I'm changing the script. No one here is going to understand the language of the nineteenth century – "

"That's not the point! Stick to the script!"

"No!"

Bump! Thump! Crack! Ouch! Could be heard through the speakers. Several members of the audience exchanged curious glances. The curtains were quickly shut on Snape's face and Charmy stepped onto the stage.

"Er, we're experiencing technical difficulties –"

"Oh fine, I'll stick to the bloody script!" Hermione shouted. The curtains were quickly pulled back and the play was about to recommence. Charmy was still stuck onstage.

"Er…" was all she said and stood there for an awkward moment or too, then quickly scurried off it. Hermione continued to read:

"…The firm was known as Scrooge and Marley… Blah, blah, blah… nobody cares about this bit…ah, here we go: But a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone was Scrooge! A squeezing, covetous old sinner! The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed noise, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue."

Snape did look very cold on stage indeed. But no one else knew that was because the air-conditioner broke and was running on the level of 'Antarctic Storm'.

"Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle, no – Ah screw it, you get the picture! He was mean and nobody liked him! Anyway, let's get to the beginning of the story, shall we?"

Before Chicka could run up and interfere with the script reading, the set changed and Snape sat behind a counter while Hermione continued to read – properly, this time.

"Once upon a time – of all the good days in the year, upon Christmas Eve – old Scrooge sat busy in his counting house-house. The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. So, in other words, the bastard threatened to fire the clerk, Bob Cratchit, if he asks for coal, which is really mean, isn't it? I mean he's just going to freeze to death now!"

"Hermione!" Chicka hissed.

The audience, who had been looking questioningly at each other for the last few sentences, sighed in understanding.

Mr Weasley/Bob Cratchit sat at his counter, also terribly cold due to the broken air-conditioner. Suddenly, Harry waltzed in.

"A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!" he cried. Secretly, he was thinking, 'May you perish in hell.'

"Bah!" said Snape/Scrooge. "Humbug!"

"Christmas a humbug, uncle!" Harry's teeth grated tensely at the word. "You don't mean that, I am sure." 'Oh, yes you do,' Harry thought.

"I do," Snape answered. "Out upon merry Christmas! What's Christmas time… uh…. line?"

"What's Christmas time to you but a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer," Chicka hissed.

"Ah right, yes." Snape turned back to the audience. He blinked. The line was too long to remember. "What was that line again?"

"What's Christmas time to you but a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer," Chicka hissed.

Snape turned back and promptly forgot the line again. "Er, what was that?"

"What's Christmas time to you but a time for finding yourself a year older and not an hour richer!" Chicka yelled at Snape in frustration.

"Right," he turned back to the audience. "What she said." He jerked his thumb towards Chicka.

"I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time as a good time, a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time –" Harry began.

"Yeah, yeah, I get the picture. Can you shut your yap already and get out of here?" Snape asked.

"Wait, I haven't given you the invitation yet!" Harry said and flipped out the card. It read: Playboy's Membership Card.

"Oops, wrong one," Harry blushed and pulled out the other card. That one read: We invite you to Fred and Clara's Christmas Party! Free drinks and pole dancing!

"Ooh, pole dancing!" Arthur/Bob Cratchit said, looking interested. With a look from his wife who was watching backstage, he quickly said, "I mean, uh, that's very wrong! Very wrong indeed."

"What the?" Harry looked at the card more closely.

"Well, I think it's time to kick you out now," Snape said, grabbed Harry by sleeve, turned him around and kicked him in the butt out the door. In the process, he also invited the priest in.

"May God save your souls!" he cried.

"Hey, that's not in the script," Charmy said and consulted it. Funnily enough, she found "May God save your souls!" in the script. Someone must have altered it.

The priest continued, despite the stares that were saying, "What the hell?"

"I am the messenger of God! The messenger of light! And I have come to you for your redemption! For I see that all of you have sinned!"

"All right! It's true! I have sinned!" Harry cried and kneeled down at the priest's feet, bawling his eyes out. "I'm sorry for looking at those dirty magazines!"

"Er… ok then. Well it's good of you to confess your sins but I was talking about the black magic stuff."

"Oh." Harry quickly scrambled up to his feet. "That's old news."

"Yes, well it's evil! And you shouldn't follow it! And it's, erm… it's evil! It is the devil's way of luring you to hell! You are being led there by this horrible fiend!"

"What, me?" Harry asked as the priest pointed in his direction.

"Yes, you!" He turned and spoke to the audience. "Don't fall for his tricks! Stop following in his footsteps! For he is a demon who will lead you to your doom!"

The audience looked at Harry. He just looked like an ordinary boy to them. Suddenly, two red horns protruded out of his head.

"Cool! I want horns like that!" A little boy in the audience yelled.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrgghhh!" the priest screamed and ran out of the theatre.

"Did I do something?" Harry asked. His devil horns shrank back into his head.

"What are we gonna do about the priest?" Chicka asked.

"Way ahead of you," Charmy said, finished stuffing Draco into the billowing priest robes and shoved him on stage.

"Hi Mummy!" he yelled and started waving.

"Oh boy, couldn't you have gotten anyone else to do that?" Chicka asked, her hand covering her eyes. "I can't watch this…"

"Well he was the only one willing, ok? Leave me alone," Charmy replied snappily.

Draco walked up to Snape. The robes were slipping off his shoulders. "Would you like to donate to the charity? It's what people with hearts do at Christmas."

Snape scowled at Draco. He shrank, making the robes slip further down his shoulders. Charmy whacked herself in the head for not thinking of putting a shirt on Draco underneath the robes, but there simply wasn't enough time – and she thought Draco would know how to put on a shirt. But she had been wrong – he needed his mother's help for that daunting task.

Snape said, "What for? They're all bums –"

"Hey!" a bum in the audience yelled.

"– Why should I give my money to some lazy bum who doesn't work, eh? Best to ship them all off to prison."

"Er…" Draco didn't know what his lines were. "I dunno. How much can I put you down for?"

"Nothing! Now get out of my office!" And with that Snape literally kicked Draco out the door. He landed right on top of Harry and they both got entangled in the giant tent that was the priest's robes.

"God bless you merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay!" Seamus Finnegan sang horribly as he floundered up the street. Every window he passed shattered.

Snape grabbed a conveniently placed bucket of water and shoved it on Seamus' head. Except, due to the badly running air-conditioner it was no longer water. It was ice. Seamus dawdled out of there like a drunk. It wasn't the fact that he was singing a Christmas carol that peeved Snape off – it was the fact he sounded like a cat run over twenty times and then set on fire that peeved him off.

"At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With and ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his stool, and admitted the fact to the expectant clerk, who instantly snuffed his candle out, and put on his hat."

"Weasley!" Snape hissed. Ron, Ginny and the Weasley twins turned around to look at him.

"No, not you lot! Arthur! Blow out your candle and put on your hat!"

"Oh right," Arthur quickly did as he was told.

"You'll want the whole day off then?" Snape asked.

"If convenient, yes," Arthur replied.

"It's not convenient or fair."

"But it's only once a year –"

"Bah! Humbug! But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier next morning!"

Arthur nodded and left. Snape stayed a little longer counting his money and then he too, left. He locked the office behind him and turned around.

"Aaaaarrrghhh! Ghost!" he screamed.

"Sir, it's just Harry and I," Draco said, his voice muffled by the robe. They still hadn't managed to untangle themselves from it.

"It's not what it looks like!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, right," Snape said and walked off. Hagrid and Seamus pulled at the ropes so the scene would change to Scrooge's room. Unfortunately, Hagrid was far stronger than Seamus and the side he was pulling flew up into the air. Then he went to the other side to help Seamus pull it up. Seamus didn't have the common sense to let it go and ended up clutching at it for dear life as he was hoisted above the stage. "Help!" he cried. No one paid any attention to him.

Snape walked up to his door and looked at it. He gasped. "That's horrible!" A badly done paper Mache mask stared back at him. Its nose fell off.

"Hey, I don't look like that!" Fred and George scoffed.

The mask slipped off the door and landed on Snape's foot. It was rather heavy – the craft people decided to use rocks to fill it up rather screwed up bits of newspaper. Therefore, it was understandable that he screamed, "OOOOOWWWWWW!"

"Well I guess that was one good thing about it," the Weasley twins murmured.

Snape, hopping on one foot, went inside. It was dark. Not to mention scary. He quickly changed into his pajamas when the clock struck midnight.

"Mysterious things happen at midnight," Hermione/the narrator said. "Cinderella lost her pretty shoe then. And I caught Draco and his girlfriend snogging then. But what would midnight bring Scrooge?"

"Oogley Boogley!"

"Aaahhh!" Snape/Scrooge screamed and turned around to face the horrible, scary, wetting-the-pants, terrifying – puppy dog.

"Huh?" Scrooge shrugged and was about to turn back around when a voice to the right of the dog said, "Why'd he stop screaming? Oh wait, I'm still invisible!"

Suddenly Marley, his deceased best friend appeared before Scrooge.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" he screamed, even louder than before.

"What in devil's blazes are you doing here? You're supposed to be dead!"

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Yes, but you have to stick to the rules! The dead don't just get up and talk, you're supposed to lie in your cold hard grave and rot! Not that I don't like you or anything..."

"Gee, you sound like Percy! All I wanted was to talk to you!"

"Isn't the traditional saying for a ghost 'Boo'?"

"Yeah, well I got tired of those clichés. There is no such thing as originality these days..."

"Yes, well, anyway, you're supposed to be dead!" Snape pulled out a dictionary. "The Oxford Dictionary defines dead as, 'lifeless and without luster, resonance, or warmth'. And you're doing the complete opposite!"

"So would you prefer it if I just dropped dead?"

"Er…well actually…"

"Besides, this argument is completely pointless. I'm not dead!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

"Uh huh."

"Nuh uh."

"Look at this newspaper!" Snape threw at him.

"Jacob Marley died, saving a chimpanzee, from being murdered by Percy Weasley when it messed up his office. He stabbed me to death with a quill." Fred looked up and said, "Well that makes perfect sense. His entire estate and money went to his ever so wonderful brother, George." He glanced at his twin, who grinned. "He was buried in a ditch in a dress? Who wrote this bloody script?"

He looked at all the crew behind the camera. Chicka and Charmy pointed at each other. "It was her!" they shouted. "Don't look at us! We didn't do anything! Look, someone else edited the script!"

They pointed madly at the script, which had red scribbles all over it. Nobody looked like they believed them.

"Oh come on! That's not my handwriting!" Charmy argued.

"Yeah, no one here writes like that, it looks like a five year old's writing," Chicka said. Fred looked at Ron.

"What? What? Stop looking at me like that! Just because I edited the script sligh – "Ron slapped his hand over his mouth.

"Aha!" Charmy and Chicka cried at the same time. "Stop blaming us for everything! It's probably Ron's fault!"

Ron stormed away, looking upset. Chicka ran off after him to convince cough yell at cough him to come back. Loud shouting was heard in the distance.

"Anyway I just came here to tell you something," Fred shouted over the din.

"What?"

"You know that nightcap on your head?"

"Yeah?"

"It's actually your old underwear."

"AAAAAAHHHH!" Snape screamed, threw it off his head and began vigorously stomping on it.

"Oh yeah, and there's something else I'm supposed to tell you."

"What's that?"

"The next three nights at midnight you're gonna be visited by three spirits so you'll stop being an old hag. Then you won't wind up like me." Fred gestured to his chains.

"Why did this happen to you?"

"Because my sin was looking at Playboy magazines – I mean, not caring about other people was my sin, yeah, that's right." Fred nodded vigorously. "Anyway, my time is nearly over, so don't forget! It's for your own benefit! See ya!" And with that Fred walked backwards, away from Snape, wiggling his fingers and making creepy noises. Unfortunately he walked right out the window. "AAAAAAAHHHH!" Splat!

"Whatever." With that, Snape shrugged and decided to go to sleep.

A/N: And that's that for that chapter! Chicka's writing the next one. Please send a review.

You might be interested to learn that readers can also participate in being in this fic as an audience member. Just send a review saying whether you're interested or not and possibly your gender (We don't want to call you something you're not!)