Harry potter
Christmas Carol.
Every one knows this story, this is my Harry Potter version, and I explain what im doing in the first paragraph.
Disclaimer- Story belongs to Charles Dickens and the Characters to J.K.Rowling enjoy read and review, it is Christmas after all.
Welcome to the story of the Christmas carol. My name is Harry Dickens. This is not my own original story; it belonged to a genius nineteenth century novelist. Mr Charles Dickens. I am going to tell the story to the Wizarding world of Hogwarts here on his cold night using characters and people you shall recognise.
So gather round young Hogwarts students and listen to the brilliant Christmas carol.
It begins with a cold harsh man, living in nineteenth century London.
Severus Scrooge was an evil twisted shrewd potions master of London, he was a lonely greasy haired man, who hated all but money, greed and deceit.
He owned a potion apothecary, in the darkest corner of London. He once had two partners who were now dead; both dying on the stroke of midnight two Christmas Eve's ago.
Fred and George Marley were to Wiley, destructive old men who like Severus loved only the evils of the world.
The potion apothecary stood alone. Cobwebs covered to windows like a thick velvet curtain, and a dirty brass plate, declaring Scrooge and Marley potions apothecary, hung like a lead weight above the door.
Severus had never bothered to change the plate. Changing it would cost money and Severus and money did not like to be parted for such trivial things as a brass nameplate.
His potions were of an extortionate price, so the poor and homeless could not purchase them, even though Severus knew plainly that they were a necessity in daily life.
He was a twisted hand of the grindstone Severus, a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, clutching, covetous old sinner.
Nobody spoke to him, Beggars never bothered him, and children fled from him.
Severus carried his own low temperature with him, instantly turning the place his presence resided into a cold stone area.
Even after the death of his partners upon Christmas, Severus despised the holiday, to others it was a time of peace, love and understanding. To Severus it was frivolous and a harvest time for his business.
It was upon the night of Christmas Eve that his life changed drastically. A night he would remember for the rest of his time on the earth.
Christmas Carol.
Every one knows this story, this is my Harry Potter version, and I explain what im doing in the first paragraph.
Disclaimer- Story belongs to Charles Dickens and the Characters to J.K.Rowling enjoy read and review, it is Christmas after all.
Welcome to the story of the Christmas carol. My name is Harry Dickens. This is not my own original story; it belonged to a genius nineteenth century novelist. Mr Charles Dickens. I am going to tell the story to the Wizarding world of Hogwarts here on his cold night using characters and people you shall recognise.
So gather round young Hogwarts students and listen to the brilliant Christmas carol.
It begins with a cold harsh man, living in nineteenth century London.
Severus Scrooge was an evil twisted shrewd potions master of London, he was a lonely greasy haired man, who hated all but money, greed and deceit.
He owned a potion apothecary, in the darkest corner of London. He once had two partners who were now dead; both dying on the stroke of midnight two Christmas Eve's ago.
Fred and George Marley were to Wiley, destructive old men who like Severus loved only the evils of the world.
The potion apothecary stood alone. Cobwebs covered to windows like a thick velvet curtain, and a dirty brass plate, declaring Scrooge and Marley potions apothecary, hung like a lead weight above the door.
Severus had never bothered to change the plate. Changing it would cost money and Severus and money did not like to be parted for such trivial things as a brass nameplate.
His potions were of an extortionate price, so the poor and homeless could not purchase them, even though Severus knew plainly that they were a necessity in daily life.
He was a twisted hand of the grindstone Severus, a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, clutching, covetous old sinner.
Nobody spoke to him, Beggars never bothered him, and children fled from him.
Severus carried his own low temperature with him, instantly turning the place his presence resided into a cold stone area.
Even after the death of his partners upon Christmas, Severus despised the holiday, to others it was a time of peace, love and understanding. To Severus it was frivolous and a harvest time for his business.
It was upon the night of Christmas Eve that his life changed drastically. A night he would remember for the rest of his time on the earth.