Gilderoy Lockhart Novels & Stories

Martins gushed as he carefully tucked the handkerchief into his suit pocket. "So are you going to introduce me to your students, Principal Martins?" "Oh, yes, yes…" he turned to face the class with a bright smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, a God sent directly from heaven, a mighty CEO himself…the wealthiest and most famous man in our-" "Mr. Martins" I coughed lightly. "Did I say something wrong Mr. Leonard? You're indeed a God sent from the heavens to bless us, you are-" he paused on his words when he saw my expression darken.

He said, and Morgan continued his way out of the room without wasting time. Old Master Gerald was delighted he had exposed his grandson to things too gruesome and horrible for a child at such an age, causing him to become such a person with a heart of stone. To see Morgan's heartlessness, even when he was right in front of him, made him proud and satisfied. Yes, this was the boy he raised.

he went quiet except for the swallow of whiskey. "Draven, the Dean at the school, he's one of them, he's got every camera in the place linked to his office," I said, glancing up at him as the tension in his jaw tightened. "He's the one that tried to unravel the cloaking spell before the alligator, he's a necromancer, and he likes to fuck with other peoples spells." I offered with little explanation.

she said, as she curtseyed, and then disappeared out the door. Lockhart gave me a kind smile, thick rimmed glasses showing dark blue eyes, a white beard ending just the end of his red robe. He looked at all of us, eyes landing on me, concern on his face. He did some hand gestures, and then Alder ran over, a stray black curl covering his dark brown eyes. He cleared his throat, smoothing out the wrinkles of his blue tunic. "Hello, sirs, and Lady Cecilia. We've traveled a great distance to greet you. I", Alder pointed at Lockhart, "am Lockhart, and my student Alder is here to interpret for me." the cheery boy said, reading the hand gestures.

Not that he hadn't wanted to be, but I'd convinced him I had a plan. But today's breakup plan sucked big time. The original plan had been to break up with Isaac Monday, but when the moment had presented itself I'd pulled a G-roy. That's what my best friend and I called an uber coward who didn't deserve to live. We'd coined the name after the character Gilderoy Lockhart in one of the Harry Potter movies. I swallowed loudly, self-disgust like heavy slime in my throat.

he clears a throat. I tilt my head up, only to my surprise; right in front of me is an elderly man. It's no average man with no average height, but a huge man. I mean, this man is more significant than a giant. He wore white and gold clothing, had long white wavy hair and a beard covering his whole chin, and had golden eyes, but he was different from Dominic. This man's eyes shine like the sun. It's like looking at Albus Dumbledore from Harry Potter.

Everyone was mesmerized by the breath-taking beauty of the chalice that glowed under the yellow light of the chandelier. Harold Hearst sat in what looked like a den adorned with many kinds of crystals, an assortment of precious stones, mirrors and vials containing colourful potions. He loved spending time in this hideout as it reminded him of a peaceful life that he once lived. He was the oldest elf sorcerer alive and also the Warlock Alpha.

"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.

Oliver's voice pressing through the pack bond, mind linking me. I don’t hesitate to answer him, I’m done with what I came here for. “Yes, Oliver,” I answer him. “I know I said I wasn’t going to bother you. I have everything under control.” “Then why are you mind linking me?” “We caught a rogue.” “Take him to the dungeon then. You know what to do Oliver. Why call me? Do you need my permission or what?” “Arthur, it’s your father.”

I turned sharply. A man… no, something more than a man, stood in the doorway. He had a presence that made the room shrink. His long, indigo robe shimmered with moving patterns… runes, glyphs, alive and glowing across the fabric. His eyes were violet, too bright, too deep, and his silver-streaked hair fell to his shoulders like threads of moonlight. “Who are you?” I asked, barely able to speak. He smiled slightly. “I’m Professor Rhyel. A teacher from the School of Ardent Magic.”