Black Family Crest Harry Potter Novels & Stories

But then, time marched on, and the crown eventually fell to our grandchild, Alphonse Blackfyre. Alphonse was a nightmare. He was a spoiled, rotten king who brought nothing but misery and chaos to the Seven Kingdoms. He was a strange boy. Even though his father, Zayn, had mated with a werewolf, Alphonse was more witch than wolf. He didn't care for the goodness or growth of the pack, he craved the dark side of magic. He began practicing the dark arts, obsessed with the idea that magic would make him the most powerful creature to ever walk the earth.

He watched me the way he'd watched me at the abandoned school with the patient attention of a man who had prepared for this conversation from multiple angles and was comfortable waiting to see which one I'd enter from. I looked at the file without touching it. The crest on the cover was embossed rather than printed. Dark red on black. A wolf's head in profile, stylised like old heraldry until you understood what it actually was. The crest of the Red Hades Pack. My father's crest. My crest, by bloodline and right. I opened it. The first page was a photograph. It was me but not recent, perhaps four years old, taken before I'd built the identity I currently lived inside.

"I used to think it was just a strange birthmark. In the Blackwood pack, they told me it was a deformity. A sign of my weak, corrupted human blood." A dark, dangerous growl vibrated deep within Vance’s chest, the sheer power of his Beta aura making the window panes rattle slightly. "A deformity? That mark is the royal crest of our pack. It is a sacred brand passed down through the Alpha's direct descendants. There is no human blood in whoever has that mark." "But I don't have a wolf," I said again, refusing to believe him. "If I were a princess, if I were a pure-blooded Alpha's daughter, wouldn't my wolf be strong?

"Since even Master Hale has acknowledged the ultimate truth, my mouth might as well tell your ignorant soul, you complete fool. His wolf is not just important—even the most powerful Supreme Alphas of the grand councils would drop their knees to the dirt before his frame. He belongs to the direct Hale bloodline, and he carries the Blood-Eyed Black Dragon right across his bare chest. Do your stupid brains even know what that sacred tattoo signifies under the moon?" Gerard gulps heavily, his throat rattling as he stutters, "W—What does it mean?" Herman closes his eyes tightly, as if gathering the physical courage to speak of something completely terrifying to his inner wolf. He explains, his vo

One day, his father and his aunt called them to clarify the problem, why , he had to call him uncle most of the time, in which he had to keep up appearances, maybe so thanks to his contacts, they wanted him to know that for the time being, his father could not assume that it was his father, it passed only through his uncle. Hikaru was used to spiders, because the closet was full of bottles of venomous things and spiders, as well as geckos and other critters that were raised loose in the mansion, even so, he was terrible at potions, sometimes in each cauldron, he tried to make a simple potion, but out of it came a monster full of thorns, no matter the private lessons. There the man, the beau

When we finally do, in front of us: the 'witch' Betty Nord sitting proud on a black horse and behind her, the Alpha heir of the North pack -Harry- and hundreds of revengeful warriors. The face serious, one could tell a blood bath was about to unfold.

The pain wasn’t just physical, it was soul-deep, tearing through the link between what I was and what I wanted to be. Images flooded my vision, not dreams, not memories, but something in between. Lucien’s face, eyes wide with fear. Fire is consuming the Ironclad Hall. My father fell to his knees, blood dark as ink. And then, a mark carved into flame: a black crescent moon devouring a star. The Blackmoon Crest. My heart stuttered. The same crest had been on the seal of the rogue letter Kael mentioned days ago. A connection. Between the rogues. Between my fall. Between this pack.

There were at least five of them, all in black, each bearing the crest of a serpent coiled around a wolf’s skull. The mark of the Blackflame Clan. Everyone knew that name. They were loyal only to one creature, the Hybrid Alpha, Draven Blackflame, the beast of two worlds. Half wolf, half dragon, all destruction. I’d heard stories of his power, how his fire could melt stone, how his roar could split the skies. But those were just stories… until now. The soldiers spread out, sniffing the air. “She was here,” one growled. “I can smell the blood.”

It was ours. Six different origins converged at the center of a snarling wolf’s head, sharp-eyed and regal, the strength of Hawthorne running through it like iron. Behind the wolf’s head, a pine tree, tall and unbending, to honor Bloodpine. Curving runes below, old and knowing and carved with the fierce resilience of Runebound. Sweeping above, a crown wreathed in flame, acknowledging the lost legacy of Aurelian and the blood Nora spilled to begin anew. Bat-like wings unfolded behind the crest, wide and shielding, the mark of the Nerezza clan. And beneath the base of the whole thing, the book open wide, pages burning with light, the symbol of Everly’s coven.

The guys exclaimed and helped the new guy to his feet. “They are here. We have to leave immediately." Azriel spoke just in time as a massive black dog emerged from nowhere and stepped on the frame of the broken door. Its eyes were the deepest shade of black, like peering into an abyss, and its fangs were jagged as he licked them while glaring with a malevolent stare, its claws were the sharpest and didn't belong to a dog because this wasn't a dog; Roxie realized she was staring at a bloody wolf.