Harry Porter Novels & Stories

It was the second time I burned myself with my cup of tea. I had recently bought it when I discovered an internet store about literary articles, and I instantly fell in love with the Harry Potter-themed cup that only required the coat of arms belonging to the book when it was filled to the top by a smoking liquid. Most of the time, I just filled it with water just to have the pleasure of seeing the dark color giving way to the brightness that contained the drawing of the most famous magnificent witchcraft school in the literary world.

To wait before you were able to get to what you needed. I didn’t turn to face him. My eyes were fixed on the old book in front of me. My mother’s book. I smiled at the sight of it. It was the one thing that I had of her. At least, I believed that it was hers. As far as I was concerned, she had no magic. She had no need for these recipe books. But I did not care. They served me well. And I was going to use them, hers or not hers. The potion shimmered as I stirred it, thick and red like wine mixed with blood. The scent rising from it was faint, flowery, innocent. In my opinion, completely stupid. The signature scent of the one woman I despised more than anyone else in this world.

I walk out of my last class to meet with the girl I tutor. She was like Mackenzie, only less nice and likes black much more. Her name is Sydney, the one who told me to say that word. Honestly, her grades are only low because she doesn't care about her grades. "Yo!" She calls from a table waving me over to her. I nod my head acknowledging her before going over and sitting down. I place my bag on the floor against the leg of the table, opening it to find our revision materials.

One stupid woman even said she would willingly give herself to him and make babies with him if he just gave her a glance. I also found out that he was the infamous Morgan Wright, the CEO of Wright Corporation and the heir to the Wright Empire. Before my uncle finished making his call, the whispers around me had already given me a vague impression of the handsome man, and I had also come to the conclusion; he was an arrogant jerk.

Harry's answer caught my attention. Harry talked about Sora's aura. He was the only one who could talk about it so openly without asking for anything in return. Harry was a hybrid, born with the power of a werewolf and druid mixed together in his blood. I turned around to look at him. “What do you mean? No one's aura can change. Didn't you say that when we were in the academy? You said it to her when she was convinced that she could change her aura by training hard.” I asked Harry, my tone was laced with my anger.

“Does that make me a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff?” “Gryffindor.” Dean smiled at him. “They are courageous, chivalrous and determined. Plus, holy shit, the special effects.” JD laughed and hugged her to him. “I didn’t think that Harry was your type of movie. But I guess the special effects make it your type.” “Yeah. Especially the parts that aren’t done completely CGI. I mean even then; you have your place holders. And of course, there’s a forest named after me.”

"Well, fortunately, Harry has no idea that wolves are actually people." Tbc

Day job as a cataloging library assistant. Harry Potter House Gryffindor, Patronus White Stallion, character match Hagrid. Supernatural Team Dean. Game of Thrones Team Jon Snow and Tyrion Lannister. The Walking Dead Team Daryl. Outlander Team Jamie Fraser. Teen Wolf Team Stiles. Avenger Team Thor...or Hulk (can’t decide). Justice League Team Flash. Arrow Team Stephen Amell. Stranger Things obsessed. Heard Laurel, not Yanny. Started out reading with the Baby-Sitters Club. Then moved to Sandra Brown, Linda Howard, Julie Garwood, and LaVyrle Spencer in high school. Now all over the place with her romance reading tastes.

Hunter crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at me annoyed. I ignored him and turned the cover. Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. "Well, this is a secret, alright. I didn't know you're a Harry Potter fan." Hunter took a few steps and took the book from me. "You know nothing about me." He opened the book, flipped through the pages until he found the page he was reading. "I know you for a year now. I think I know one or two things about you. One of it is that you don't read, especially a book." I picked up the bottle of beer from the ground and took a sip.