harry's tiles

9

Owl’s Landing

Introducing Owl’s landing a Hogwarts themed chain restaurants. This was a random quick build idear, lol.  Base game build with CC from links below need moveobjects on and check Modded on the Gallery, UserName: Rycreezy.  Plan on using it with Dine Out.

 Mostly all the cc was made by the awesome @brittpinkiesims

Brittpinkiesims Hogwarts Stuff Pack [HERE]

K-Hippie Posters [HERE]

LadyVeneraSims Harry Potter Tile [HERE]

Harry Potter’s life isn’t so bad, really.

Sure, he was orphaned at a very young age, but he was too young to remember his parents, so their deaths–while he has always wondered about them–didn’t have so great an impact. Relatives still took him in, raised him (somewhat), fed him (mostly), and while he might not be going to a fancy boarding school like his cousin Dudley, it’s not as if the public schools in England are all that horrible.

No, his life isn’t all that bad–but it certainly isn’t all that good, either.

“You missed a spot,” Dudley sneers at Harry as he passes through the kitchen, shoes tracking mud all over the newly-mopped linoleum tiles.

Harry stares at the dirt with the mop still in his hands and briefly wonders how many days it takes for a missing-child-report to be investigated by the police.

When he’s finally done with his chores on the last weekend of Christmas holidays that he’s barely gotten to enjoy–much like every vacation–Harry quietly retreats to his room upstairs, ignoring his aunt and uncle sitting in the living room. By this point he’s used to doing these things without so much as a thank you.

Inside his bedroom he collapses on his bed. It might not be as big as Dudley’s room, but it’s his, and it’s the only place he has some peace of mind from the Dursleys. 

‘They could’ve been much worse,’ he reminds himself, but it is of little comfort to his sore muscles. Face-down on his pillow, he shifts his head a bit and looks over at the old desk sitting in the corner, on top of which a bag of school supplies his aunt and uncle grudgingly bought for him as Christmas presents.

New things always have a way of cheering him up. Forcing himself to move from his bed with a grunt, Harry gets up and meanders over groggily to the plastic bag, grabbing it and turning it upside down, unceremoniously emptying its content onto his desk.

Standard items, all of it: pens, pencils, erasers, various notebooks to write in, all stuff he’s sure to lose by the end of the school year. The notebooks, of course, are an exception; he’s rather diligent about his schoolwork, mainly because it’s his only reprieve of this mind-numbing hellhole and his only ticket to a life of his own, free of the Dursleys. He still even owns all his old notebooks, each filled to the brim with notes and homework assignments from previous years, neatly marked with his name.

Harry grabs a random journal out of the pile, flipping it open and looking at the cleanly-lined, white pages. Might as well start marking them now, in case Dudley gets the bright idea to try and steal some from him again. Why on earth the fat idiot thinks it necessary when he already has so much stuff of his own, Harry will never understand. 

Taking a pen from the heap, he turns to the inner cover, writing in big bold letters:

PROPERTY OF: HARRY JAMES POTTER  – 1/3/2010