Dolohov Harry Potter Novels & Stories

ELIJAH I settle onto the bench beside the tree, stealing a glance at the book nestled in his lap. Harry Potter. Perfect. "Who's your favorite character?" I ask, trying to sound casual. He glances up, his dark eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment before diving back into the book. Well, that's not surprising. He doesn't know me, after all. I’m just another stranger. "I like Dumbledore," I blurt out, hoping to spark a conversation. Not my most smooth move. I am going to fail today.

It made torture become ecstacy and pain a tool for excitement. " Let him in," Apollo said, sipping from his cup. His lips flattened at the sight of his visitor. It was him. Henry the wife of the last witch-of-a-confessor's-touch, a druid whose tone spoke of war and chaos. He sang mischief like a lullaby. " What brings you to Humulin, druid? " Apollo asks, staring deeply into Henry's green eyes, not blinking. He tried his possible best to read his countenance, but he couldn't.