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Ghosts of Christmas Past
Nov. 25th, 2012 07:12 pmGilderoy loves this time of year. Everyone's so jolly, and guests come to visit the floor on which he resides. Even if he doesn't know them, it's always fine to see them and give them autographs. And, oh, the fairy lights and the greenery, the smiles on his carers' faces, the puddings! It's grand.
He's wandered through St. Mungo's halls looking at decorations and saying hello to people. And how delightful, he's found the tavern once more. Sometimes he completely forgets which door it's behind and looks high and low.
But here it is, and there's a tree with fairy lights (that don't move like the ones he knows) and gifts under it. He will have a butter beer. Or perhaps an eggnog! 'Tis the season.
He stops in his tracks when he sees the glowing woman.
An angel? whispers a voice inside his head he does not recognize. He hears it now and again, and sometimes he even pays it mind.
"Happy Christmas!" he says, smiling. What else could one possibly say?
He's wandered through St. Mungo's halls looking at decorations and saying hello to people. And how delightful, he's found the tavern once more. Sometimes he completely forgets which door it's behind and looks high and low.
But here it is, and there's a tree with fairy lights (that don't move like the ones he knows) and gifts under it. He will have a butter beer. Or perhaps an eggnog! 'Tis the season.
He stops in his tracks when he sees the glowing woman.
An angel? whispers a voice inside his head he does not recognize. He hears it now and again, and sometimes he even pays it mind.
"Happy Christmas!" he says, smiling. What else could one possibly say?
