Drawings Harry Potter Novels & Stories

I glanced at a few of the books, some fantasy novels and a small sketch pad. I opened the sketch pad and looked through it, she was good. Really good. The scenes were mostly outdoors. Forests, waterfalls, mountains. All done with such grace and precision. Each more lovely and realistic than the last. I noticed at the bottom there was a J written as beautifully as the drawings themselves. I got to the last page and there was a drawing of a moon. Bright and beautiful in the sky but there was something else to it. The drawing felt sad. “What the hell.” I snapped as I lifted my hand and wiped a tear from my cheek.

"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." ― Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the Deathly Hallows * H U N T E R J O N E S | The Lovestruck Bad Boy I unlocked the door and hold it open so the girls could get in. After having lunch and getting desserts with the girls, I felt bad for leaving Nat alone at home so we had cut our Christmas shopping short and gone home afterward.

Her perfectly serene doll-like look was ruined however by the tired scowl which decorates her face. Rubisviel Fyaril, the Orchid Butterfly Witch of the Dark Forest wipes the sweat from her brow and huffed after completing a drawing of a Cthulhu symbol inside her circle. Thick black bags hang under her tired golden eyes and her face was paler than usual. Her head hurts like a battle-ax was splitting it open and her shoulders and legs are aching after prolonged hours of sitting on the ground and focusing on drawing the symbols.

On the fourth afternoon, with Heri tucked away in her room for her usual nap, I found myself lingering by the couch where she’d left her sketchbook. Her actual portraits were stunning. They looked like photographs in graphite form. But there was something else in these pages. Her doodles. The first few pages were harmless or seemed so. Just collages of whirls, flowers, odd shapes, and sprawling patterns that seemed to go nowhere. But as I flipped further, the lines darkened. The shapes grew more defined, purposeful. The pages took on weight. Buildings, crumbling towers, archways that reminded me of the photo Ronan had shown me. Beasts that I'd never seen before. I was no expert in the supern

It swirled in lazy patterns with every step I took, making it obvious no one had been in here for years. The stillness in the air felt heavy and untouched, as if the room itself had been holding its breath, waiting for someone to return and disturb it. Drawings covered the walls, some pinned haphazardly while others were curled at the edges where the adhesive had failed. They depicted all kinds of things, but the majority were creatures twisted, nightmarish things with too many limbs, hollow eyes and gaping mouths lined with jagged teeth. Among the creatures were strange Landscapes places that looked warped and wrong, as if reality had stretched too thin. There were also people, some drawn i

As I bent down to pick it up, I realised it had fallen open to a specific page. The illustration staring back at me held me in place like a beast with its claws in my chest. It was a drawing of a monster with long, dried-up black hair, claw-like nails, and prominent fangs. Below the drawing was a single red drop of blood, as if it were dripping from the fangs. I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher the ancient, jagged writing that surrounded the drawing:

“Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Excellent book.” He sits down and begins reading. The first picture I draw is a portrait of uncle Owen’s sister with a wolf howling at the edge of a cliff at a full moon in the background. I make one for his father too. I plan to give them these at the funeral. I do similar ones of Michael to give to Carrie and one for Zuri but with a lion for the family.

“Enough!” I stared at the ceilings blankly, it was boring and isolating in the school's old library. After school hours, Maddie and I were left in here with the supervising teacher. No talking, no phones, do the assigned work (reading). I just flipped the pages and Maddie is doing nothing but crossing her arms. I'm pretty sure Trevor is still waiting for me. We had just 4 days left to take pictures of a city and I haven't started. Gosh. Maddie keeps staring at me giving me side eyes and I give her a grimacing look. “Hey, no gazing.” Mr Harry said, adjusting his glasses. “Focus on your work.” He stood up to inspect. I haven't started yet. Instead he saw what I drew on my paper. A cartoon of M

He stepped inside, eyes flicking automatically over the organized chaos of her desk—journal stacks, a half‑drunk coffee, Park’s latest draft open on the tablet. No stapler. Of course. He turned to leave and saw it. A photo, half‑tucked under a file, edge peeking out just enough to catch the eye. A small hand, smudged with blue and red crayon. A wolf drawing with too many teeth. Curiosity was a reflex he’d never successfully shut off. He reached out and slid the paper the rest of the way clear. Two sheets, actually. On top: the drawing. Three wolves—one with a small, one with bared teeth, one with a crooked leg, and a long line in its paw. Labels in wobbly, determined letters.

The hallways wasn’t as grim as she would thought an ancient castle to be. Chandeliers fills up the ceiling with intricate carving on the wall, old drawings that is quite similar to the ones drawn inside the walls of a pyramid but these drawings looks more medieval with childlike drawings of knights, soldiers, odd creatures or monsters. Along the hallway, the drawings tells a story for visitors to interpret it themselves. Beautiful drawings on the wall including what seems like the former owner of the castle seeing these figures was sitting on the throne fascinates her.