Ginny Weasley Drawings Novels & Stories

He flipped one open, scanning the lines of text, but his eyes weren’t really reading. Every few moments, his gaze drifted toward the couch—toward her. And each time, he told himself it meant nothing. That it was just habit. Instinct. But his jaw tightened anyway. Elena knelt on the rug, watching Draco’s small hands move with careful concentration. He had drawn a house first—crooked but detailed, with a little chimney puffing smoke. Now he was adding people. “That’s you,” he said, pointing to a stick figure with long hair. “And that’s me.”

From the way she described the picture of the creature, even I felt a goosebumo creeping underneath my skin. I listened to everything she was saying and not once did I interrupted her. A black fog come out and with it....the wizard followed. He stepped forward with his staff and a glare in his eyes. "Describe the creature for me." He said immediately. Again, Lyra begins to explain. This time I took out a piece of paper and a pen. I was skillful I'm drawing and even sketching out some of the details she had described. Once I had finished drawing, I turned the paper around and showed it to the wizard.

“But I do need to show you something.” She takes my hand and leads me to her desk. Opening a drawer, she pulls out a small stack of papers. She holds them out to me, and I take the stack. They’re children’s drawings in crayon. “I found those in Bryony’s room,” Willow explains. Our three-year-old daughter's drawing isn’t a concern. It’s the subject matter in her drawings that makes me pause. There are drawings of wolves in cages, a bloody wolf on the ground with a knife sticking out of its neck and a black sun with a smaller blue circle inside of it.

Maybe years. And then I see the drawings. Taped to the walls, scattered across tables, covering nearly every surface I can see. Sketches in charcoal and pencil, some detailed and finished, most of them half-done like he started and couldn’t bring himself to continue. All of them are the same person. A girl. Young, fourteen or fifteen maybe, with long dark hair and this smile that looks like it could light up an entire room. In some of the drawings she’s laughing at something off the page. In others she’s concentrating hard, her tongue stuck between her teeth the way kids do when they’re focused.

“He tries to look all stern, but inside he’s still my baby brother. The cub who used to hide under the table whenever Father raised his voice.” Gwen smiled at the image, mixing dried herbs into steaming water. “He takes a lot on himself. You can tell.” “That’s our Baby Bear.” Lila sighed fondly. “Always carrying the weight of the world on those broad shoulders.” Before Gwen could respond, one of the children — a freckled girl with chestnut curls — piped up. “Miss Gwen! We made something for you!” The boy beside her, just a little older, grinned wide, holding out a crayon drawing. “See? That’s you!”

The boy dropped his crayon and turned to her, eyes bright and smile wide. Bellatrix returned the smile and ruffled his hair. "What is my baby drawing?" "It's mommy and me." He said, pointing at the drawing. She followed his finger and her eyes settled on two figures, a large and a smaller one, holding hands. "See? That's me and you." He said, pointing at each figure. Bellatrix felt her heart warm for a second, the panic she felt completely disappeared. "That's really cute." She said. "Really?" Charlie inquired. "Then, would you like to see the other one I drew l?"

Ginny had gathered a few really nice collectables on the wall, an old Hawaiian picture frame, a nice Persian rug which she hung up on the wall and a beautiful pendulum that was not quite functional but aesthetically pleasing. "Yes, she's very kind, and I think I take undue advantage of that kindness sometimes," I replied. It was my honest thought. Sometimes I wish I could find a way to at least pay her back in some form. She was just too nice to Alvin and me. Speaking of Alvin, he was not here, Ginny was not with him, and I could not hear his cries from the living room. I decided that he must have been asleep then, but it was too early for him to, seeing as he slept soundly the whole night.

We need witnesses, records; anything that ties her directly to this. Annabella smirked. "So, a little digging, then. Lucky for you, I've got a knack for finding things people don't want me to see.” Ginny threw her a look of appreciation. "We'll be needing all the help we can get." Later that night, Ginny snuck into Lucy's personal study, rummaging through drawers and files as her heart quivered with every sound. The room smelled vaguely of lavender and cigars, a soothing yet concerning scent.

Another light flashed and another row of canvasses made appearance. Those are mine too. It was in my primary school,I drew some of them for my friends and a lot for Cayden since he never approved me as an artist. I drew more to prove him wrong. Another light and there is another row. Those are all the sketches from my highschool. There is my school, the man I hate the most with two horns, my favourite teacher, my favourite food and my crescent locket which is a birthday present from Cayden. I even drew my mother's death to always remember that it was me who is responsible for that. I drew Cayden's departure. His back is to me. He has a big trolley and a sling bag. I drew my mom's beautiful s

Like the puppets in the friday puppet shows at school. I locked the door behind us making sure our parents would not be able to check up on us while we are out. We walked to the glass window, it was pouring outside like the shower when it is tuned to the highest. It was like a waterfall. I started to draw something in the frost on the window. "What are you drawing?" Lily asked. I drew two broomstick girls holding hands. "Me and you outside. Imagine how fun it would be to adventure under the rain!"