Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything relating to it. I do
however own any characters you have not heard of before in the books. I
also do not own Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" it was my inspiration...
thankyou Charlie.
A/N: It occurred to me on a late Saturday evening that I, The Fruity One, was not quite living up to my fruity name. I decided I needed a little laughter spread. So then I heard an empty knocking on the hollow of my head and who would was it? Yes, it was a fan fiction all nicely formed, begging me to write it. Smiling I obliged, and so it entered the abyss and filled my mind with jokes.
It was about time too, as my stories have only really been serious (to read them click on the authors link up top.) So here it is, I bring to you the story of...
A VOLDERMORT CHRISTMAS CAROL.
Chapter 1- The Ghosts of Warning.
'Almost there,' thought the Lord Voldermort in his mind as he wandered down the halls of the Ministry of Magic. He reached with his hand for the black door, which would lead to the room of prophecies. Soon he would have his and Harry Potter's prophecy and he will be ever powerful...
He sat up with a jolt. Damn. Potter had woken up, disconnecting himself from Voldermorts mind. Voldermort sat up from him chair with a frown. Exactly how many nights would it take for Potter to open the DAMN DOOR? With a sigh of exasperation, he visualised Potter skipping around with his little school friends enjoying a free life, while he Voldermort was stuck in a dingy little shack next to the garbage dump. It was midnight and he could still hear the rummaging of the garbage dump hobos, as they talked around the fire.
Looking up at a calendar by his chair he noticed it was Christmas Eve. Bah humbug. It would be three hours before midnight summoning the horrid hobo carols for Christmas Day.
He settled back in his chair, staring at the fire.
Rattle rattle.
He stood up out of his chair again.
What was that?
Rattle rattle.
Again. He spun around to descend his stairs, but tripped over himself, remembering he had no stairs, an there was only one room in the whole shack. Bah Humbug. As he dusted himself off, he jumped back in shock. There drifting in an eerie way were the chained ghosts of the Potters, Lilly and James. Harry's Parents he had killed fifteen years ago. Great, now he has to kill people who are already dead.
"Voldermort," groaned James, "Voldermort, VOLDERMORT!" He was stopped abruptly by a smack from Lilly's chains. "Quit moaning and get to the point you git," she grunted. Rubbing his arm, cursing and glaring at Lilly, James glided closer to Voldermort. "What do want?" asked Voldermort irritably. "We are the ghosts of James and Lilly Potter," chorused the ghosts. "Oh course you are! I'm not stupid!" exclaimed Voldermort. "Err... sorry," apologised Lilly, "I thought that since you've killed so many people you might have forgotten who we were." Composing themselves after the brief interruption they continued. "You killed us, and now we have come to warn you..." they rasped, "warn you of the visitors you will be having this midnight's eve." "Well, my transparent friends, you can tell them advance to go away. I hate visitors," said Voldermort with a huff. "Sorry, mate that 'can't happen," informed James, "It's a non-refundable deal you see. Kill one million people, get a visit from three ghosts." "Yes, you will be visited by the Ghost of the Past when the clock strikes twelve this night," sighed Lilly fed up of the scary act they had been pulling. "Err... ok..." muttered Voldermort with a note of doubt in his voice. "Well now that we've done our job, we'll be taking our leave mate," bowed James. "But before we go, I have something for you," smiled Lilly. She promptly floated over and kicked Voldermort in the groin, but being a ghost only passing through it. "Your just lucky I'm see-through jerk!" she shrieked indignantly, "That was for killing me." Grinning sheepishly James took another bow and told Voldermort to give his regard to Harry when he kills him.
With that they were gone and Voldermort was left alone in his little shack, with the howling wind.
A/N: So what so you think? Lame? Corny? I don't particularly care either way. I'll keep writing. Review and tell me what you think so far. I won't follow the Christmas Carol storyline entirely, that would be boring.
Review please.
The Fruity One.
A/N: It occurred to me on a late Saturday evening that I, The Fruity One, was not quite living up to my fruity name. I decided I needed a little laughter spread. So then I heard an empty knocking on the hollow of my head and who would was it? Yes, it was a fan fiction all nicely formed, begging me to write it. Smiling I obliged, and so it entered the abyss and filled my mind with jokes.
It was about time too, as my stories have only really been serious (to read them click on the authors link up top.) So here it is, I bring to you the story of...
A VOLDERMORT CHRISTMAS CAROL.
Chapter 1- The Ghosts of Warning.
'Almost there,' thought the Lord Voldermort in his mind as he wandered down the halls of the Ministry of Magic. He reached with his hand for the black door, which would lead to the room of prophecies. Soon he would have his and Harry Potter's prophecy and he will be ever powerful...
He sat up with a jolt. Damn. Potter had woken up, disconnecting himself from Voldermorts mind. Voldermort sat up from him chair with a frown. Exactly how many nights would it take for Potter to open the DAMN DOOR? With a sigh of exasperation, he visualised Potter skipping around with his little school friends enjoying a free life, while he Voldermort was stuck in a dingy little shack next to the garbage dump. It was midnight and he could still hear the rummaging of the garbage dump hobos, as they talked around the fire.
Looking up at a calendar by his chair he noticed it was Christmas Eve. Bah humbug. It would be three hours before midnight summoning the horrid hobo carols for Christmas Day.
He settled back in his chair, staring at the fire.
Rattle rattle.
He stood up out of his chair again.
What was that?
Rattle rattle.
Again. He spun around to descend his stairs, but tripped over himself, remembering he had no stairs, an there was only one room in the whole shack. Bah Humbug. As he dusted himself off, he jumped back in shock. There drifting in an eerie way were the chained ghosts of the Potters, Lilly and James. Harry's Parents he had killed fifteen years ago. Great, now he has to kill people who are already dead.
"Voldermort," groaned James, "Voldermort, VOLDERMORT!" He was stopped abruptly by a smack from Lilly's chains. "Quit moaning and get to the point you git," she grunted. Rubbing his arm, cursing and glaring at Lilly, James glided closer to Voldermort. "What do want?" asked Voldermort irritably. "We are the ghosts of James and Lilly Potter," chorused the ghosts. "Oh course you are! I'm not stupid!" exclaimed Voldermort. "Err... sorry," apologised Lilly, "I thought that since you've killed so many people you might have forgotten who we were." Composing themselves after the brief interruption they continued. "You killed us, and now we have come to warn you..." they rasped, "warn you of the visitors you will be having this midnight's eve." "Well, my transparent friends, you can tell them advance to go away. I hate visitors," said Voldermort with a huff. "Sorry, mate that 'can't happen," informed James, "It's a non-refundable deal you see. Kill one million people, get a visit from three ghosts." "Yes, you will be visited by the Ghost of the Past when the clock strikes twelve this night," sighed Lilly fed up of the scary act they had been pulling. "Err... ok..." muttered Voldermort with a note of doubt in his voice. "Well now that we've done our job, we'll be taking our leave mate," bowed James. "But before we go, I have something for you," smiled Lilly. She promptly floated over and kicked Voldermort in the groin, but being a ghost only passing through it. "Your just lucky I'm see-through jerk!" she shrieked indignantly, "That was for killing me." Grinning sheepishly James took another bow and told Voldermort to give his regard to Harry when he kills him.
With that they were gone and Voldermort was left alone in his little shack, with the howling wind.
A/N: So what so you think? Lame? Corny? I don't particularly care either way. I'll keep writing. Review and tell me what you think so far. I won't follow the Christmas Carol storyline entirely, that would be boring.
Review please.
The Fruity One.