Novelas y relatos de Harry Potter Aesthetic Pictures

because the pictures inside were alive, kinda like a harry potter book which make my eyes glued to them. "Yeah! Yeah!!….. Stop Shouting will you!...Who is it?..". (Old man) "Ol' Grim!…is this how you handle your shop?….". (Baroness Lydia) An old man comes out of the door behind the counter, scratching his head in an annoyed tone. He looks like what a wizard should be, with a long white beard and hair, a wise-looking face, and a long grey robe (kinda look like someone cosplaying as Gandalf). At first, he was annoyed as Baroness Lydia was lecturing at him, but secretly he was trying to cast appraising magic at the 3 of us.

A golden scabbard with no rust nor scratch, all pristine and perfect. "Fuck, yeah. Finally found this bastard." he said laying again on the soft mattress for a little rest before he goes on his way back to the forest. The smile on his lips soon faded and was replaced by confusion as he saw a collage on the wall which was formerly obscured by the hideous tapestry. He looked at it inspecting the theme it bore and noticed a huge similarity in all of the images. They were all about the same woman, golden-haired and pretty, wearing fancy dresses or tunics or revealing armors usually in scarlet, crimson, vermillion, or any other variant colors of red. The prince seems to be obsessed with the woman

Then, she suddenly laughed, "I had my eyes on a beautiful painting, but unfortunately, the art gallery refused to sell it to me." "Really? Let's go and have a look." "Alright." Hazel nodded and led me to another hall. Hazel took a fancy to a painting of a young girl. The girl was dressed in a white robe. It was coloured with golden paint, which represented the light of a totem. Obviously, she was a witch. The painting had bright colours, the brush strokes elegant. The woman in the painting was wearing an old-fashioned white dress and had dark coloured hair. The overall painting brought positive energy.

She'd painted stories that had made her childhood happy. There was a rotund yellow bear snoozing beneath a tree, a hive full of honey far out of his reach. The next wall showed a young girl perched on a window seat, white curtains billowing into her room. A distant star above a London skyline shimmered, and the silhouette of a boy who could fly covered part of the window, a tiny fairy above his shoulder. The next wall showed a boy wizard riding in a boat toward a distant castle, a distinctive scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. The last wall showed a sleeping princess and a prince on one knee beside her bed, inches away from giving her love's true kiss.

Sienna stared at him. Harry, who was lying on the bed, raised his brows. He had a half-hearted smile on his handsome face. His beautiful eyes and brows were picturesque. He had a fair complexion, and his lips were so bright that they seemed to be dyed red which was very alluring. Harry propped his head up with one hand under the warm yellow light, and his lazy posture looked like a scene from a painting. If it were any other woman, they would have already been charmed by him, but Sienna was very determined. Aside from being surprised for a moment, she did not feel anything else.

Although Harriet is not wearing make-up, which almost all of the girls do during her age, everyone will agree that Harriet might be the most gorgeous student in the school. Her round hazelnut eyes are like chocolate that was melted in perfection. Every time she blinks, her long lashes appear like fluttering butterflies. She has pointed small nose, cupid natural pink lips and a small face that she can hide using her hands. And her natural brown hair waves along with the gentle breeze of the morning breeze, leaving a lavender scent when she passes by. Zion with Harriet together makes a masterpiece painting drawn by a meticulous artist. They look so good together, and some thought they are act

dream of form in days of thought'—who is it who says that? I forget; but it is what Dorian Gray has been to me. The merely visible presence of this lad—for he seems to me little more than a lad, though he is really over twenty—his merely visible presence—ah! I wonder can you realize all that that means? Unconsciously he defines for me the lines of a fresh school, a school that is to have in it all the passion of the romantic spirit, all the perfection of the spirit that is Greek. The harmony of soul and body—how much that is! We in our madness have separated the two, and have invented a realism that is vulgar, an ideality that is void. Harry! if you only knew what Dorian Gray is to me! You

Wearing his cute kindergarten uniform to his baby pictures, Alice was fully entertained. It was until she flips on the second last page is when she sees Harry at the family fountain. He looks like he was around 6 to 7 when a young girl his age was beside him. Standing and smiling, happy to be beside Harry seeing her eyes was on him the entire time. Caramel-brown hair, baggy but expensive-looking clothes, nerdy exterior... It didn’t take her long to realize that the feature of the girl is definitely... “Is this girl Emily? The one next to Harry? Do you know her?”

But if a seven-year-old wanted to read the entire Harry Potter series in a week, Kiara was not going to discourage it. Kiara’s blue eyes flicked over to where her niece leaned against the trunk of the sugar maple tree with green leaves and small greenish yellow flowers above her. She sat on grass that was already lush and green thanks to the pack Omega’s and city maintenance crews. Unlike her sister’s unruly curls, Marie had straight dark auburn hair that hung just past her shoulders. Her bright warm honey eyes devoured the words on the page in front of her. In her young mind, Marie wore Hogwarts robes that were in the Ravenclaw colors. In reality, she wore knee length khaki shorts and a pu

In one part of the classroom, actually under the blackboard—I resolved to ask Sinclair of its purpose later—there was a fireplace; its flames crackling and dancing merrily as if they were alive. Across it hung a portrait of a stern-looking wizard, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he surveyed the room. The desks and chairs were arranged in a neat row, each one adorned with complicated yet interesting carvings and magical symbols. It had been clear from the start that this was no ordinary classroom, but a place of learning and discovery, where magic thrived and dreams came true. When I had taken my seat, I hadn’t been able to help the feeling of excitement and anticipation, cloaked with a b