My sister and I came up with some scenes from Harry Potter, if the series had been written by other authors instead of by the incredible JK Rowling. Can you identify the author or genre? And - I'll bet you can do better than we did. Post your efforts in my comment section. Can't wait to read them!
Lord Voldemort stroked the silk of Hermione's gown. "Such a young lady to attend a ball all alone," he breathed in her ear.
She drew back, incensed. "Lord Valdemort! How dare you! " she said, twitching her gown from his grasp.
Some yards away, Sir Weasely put down his glass of firewhiskey. Languidly crossing to where Lord Voldemort stood, he picked up his lorgnette and gave the bald duke a long stare through his glass. Finally he allowed it to drop. "Your servant,Voldy," he murmured. "Can't say I like your waistcoat. Ah, Miss Granger, I believe you promised me this dance?"
Putting one arm around her waist, he swept her away onto the dance floor.
Hermione was struggling to make her way out of Diagon Alley with her shopping. She had found the one gem of the season, the Bill Blass Hogwarts robe, made every year with simple but flattering lines. It had cost her a month's wages but it would be worth it to see Ron's face when he caught her wearing it!
As she stepped onto the busy London sidewalk a limousine pulled up and a familiar silhouette leaned out of the back window.
"Victor!" she cried in surprise and shock.
Ginny began exclaiming, "Hermione, your hair! Who put a spell on it? McGonagall? I must dash. And your robes! And your eyelashes! Oh, it is unfair, you are so lucky to be you."
Harry was walking to class when he heard Professor Trelawney call out behind him, "Oh, em, em, Mr., eh..."
Harry made his Caught By A Death Eater Cruciatus Curse face, curling over his stomach and popping out his eyeballs and tongue, before turning around to face her. "Good morning, professor," he said in way he hoped sounded pleasant.
Hermione shouted and hit out at Ron as Scabbers crawled up her leg. "You know I hate your beastly pets!" she yelled.
Meanwhile, Harry sat munching his Choco Frog, looking at Hogwarts in the distance. "I always think food tastes so much nicer outdoors," he thought.
I leaned back, propped my feet up on my desk, and sighed. Last night at the Three Cauldrons had left me with an ache in my head and a stomach that churned like a grindylow in a muggle's washing machine.
That's when she walked in. Tall drink of water with blond hair and radishes for earrings. "Name's Lovegood. Word around town says you can help a dame in distress," she breathed.
"Word around town doesn't mean anything, dollface," I replied. "We are out of business."
She reached in her purse and pulled out an object I never thought to see again. A Timeturner.
I put my feet on the ground and reached for it. "Not so fast," she cooed. "Are you going to help me?"
"Name your potion," I said. "Snapes' Detective Agency just reopened."