Harry Porter Novels & Stories

Always the attention seeker, but this time he entered with a stranger beside him. A very hot one. Scratch that, smoking hot. Like I could see the smoke around him. My foggy brain was doing wonders on my eyes. "Good morning, class." Mr. Dale greeted, "We have a new student." He announced. "Tell the class your name." He said looking at the ‘Hottie’. Yes, I've nicknamed him. "I'm Valentine Fox," Hottie replied in a deep voice. I was certain that more than half of the girls in the class orgasmed at the mere sound of his voice.

After parting the curtain a little in an unnoticeable manner, Harry peeped to see if he could recognise anyone. At first, all he could see were three teenage boys in a hoodie. Later when he began to pick words from the conversation, he realised there was only a masculine in the trio; the others appeared to be feminine. This was vindicated when one pulled her hoodie off her head, and shaked her hair. It was a short bub, and Harry couldn't remember where he'd seen this person, but he was sure the face was familiar — he just couldn't place it right.

Then back at her. Absolutely not. Harry was my younger cousin. Twenty-three. Rich, reckless, and had the attention span of a goldfish. He’d been kicked out of two colleges for fighting, and last I heard he was “investing” in crypto by day and racing motorcycles by night. He flirted with anything that breathed and left a trail of crying girls behind him. And Shula, my Shula, who blushed at the word ‘virgin’, was practically vibrating at the sound of his name.

Lizzie reminded him with a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s a good point,” he conceded. “But we all can’t be Harry Porters, can we?” I dropped my fork. Reed looked over at me. “You all right, sis?” “I’m fine, I’m fine,” I assured him, and I furrowed my brow at him for a moment. “Sorry, did you just say Harry Porter?” “Yeah, what about him?” he asked. “You know him or something?” “Yeah, actually, I do,” I replied. And this time, it was Lizzie who practically dropped what she was holding.

"Brother, although Severin is powerful, it’s not good to accidentally hurt this kid.” "Besides, we are both royal paragons. Even if I win, it will be disgraceful!" Harry was eight feet tall, with a leopard head and eyes, a swallow's chin and a tiger's beard, and a body like an iron tower. He was majestic. His presence made people feel the majestic power of energy and blood rushing towards them. Although he was tall and seemingly reckless, he was actually very thoughtful. How could a distinguished guest from Grandiuno Sacred Land come to visit and cause such trouble?

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any girl in this class with silver hair.” “Huh?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I glanced back at John, then leaned forward. “My son—Harry, he’s in this class and he swears there’s a little girl with silver hair. He said she sits by the window and he even tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t respond.”

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.

Thanks to all of them, everyone lives happily ever after. Ohh! I almost forgot to tell you that the PA found his mate after all. He was the second chance mate of the Head warrior's widow. Peter's father was dating a human from the nearby town, where he took the bread the pack made to sell. Dark and Agnes had a child. He was half a witch and half a vampire. He could feed on both blood and normal food. Since he was six months old, he has shown that he has magic, making his toys float, but that is a totally different story.

my mother says without looking at me before opening the door for me. I swallow my fear down and walk inside, repeating her words: you can do it, you can do it. Damon and Aiden are seated at the table and I can feel their eyes on me as soon as I enter, but I don’t pay attention to them yet. My eyes land on the man who stands up with a smile to greet me. Harry. Forty-five years old. A tall and athletic body, warm amber eyes, neatly styled light hair and a face that belongs in an action or superhero movie. Harry is still as handsome as the last time I saw him, but that’s no surprise.

What is he saying? Mrs. Logan places a hand on her waist, glaring at Harry. "And you are?" "Harold Topher Ellis, ma'am." "Harold...Topher...Ellis?" "Yes, ma'am." Harry nodded. "That guy in Zenith!?" I heard a girl inside the room screamed. "Holy! The youngest of them all!?" Another has shouted, as the rest of the girls in this classroom had pulled out their phones and flashes of camera had greeted the celebrity.