Harry Potter And The Dark Wizard Novels & Stories

“You still think you’re in control. You have no idea what’s coming.” That was when I noticed the man standing behind him. He was tall and thin, his skin pale like he hadn’t seen sunlight in years. His eyes were black, so black that there was no line between the iris and the pupil. A strange dark mist seemed to cling to him, moving like it was alive. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who he was. I knew. Malakar. The dark wizard my mother had told me about when I was a little girl. The one who had tried to take Anna’s powers when she was pregnant with me. The one everyone thought was long gone.

The doors close right as she screams. “See?” I say, looking down at Scott. “This is what happens when you cross me.” I’m trying to sound tough, but I know the shock in my eyes is anything but menacing. I have no idea what I did. I had no idea I could even do that. Transfiguration is complicated magic. I spent some time studying it during my university years, but my main focus was on conjuring. The same magic that causes werewolves to shift goes into the basics of transfiguration, and a spell gone wrong can result in serious disfiguration or death.

Him. Elara crawled to a small hollow at the base of a rock, tucking herself into its shadows. She pressed her palms to the ground, letting her magic sink into the earth. Her heartbeat slowed, but the memory of his crimson gaze refused to leave her mind. The Dark Prince—Kael—was real. He wasn’t a threat from a storybook or a nightmare. He had found her.

Gods. He was too close. Towering over me, silver eyes burning with hunger. A dark, wicked chuckle rumbled from his chest as his strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard body. My breasts pressed against his chest, my nipples hardening instantly beneath the sheer fabric. “What’s wrong, Evelise?” he laughed softly, the sound low and evil. “You look shocked. Did you really think I would let that old man have you after I claimed you? When I said you were mine… did you think I was just talking?”

We push against the darkness, reclaiming our territory and standing against the North pack's tyranny. As the battle rages on, I can feel the energy of our allies surging around us, bolstering our efforts. The North pack warriors falter, their confidence shaken as they realize the strength of our magic. With every enemy we crush, I can feel the tide turning in our favor. The Black Faes retreat, their dark forms flickering as they try to escape the light. But just as we seem to have the upper hand, Betty hands over a maleficent potion to Harry who drinks it promptly and disappears for a moment. A chilling howl then cuts through the chaos, freezing us in our tracks.

A pair of arms wrapped around me, and I instantly settled into the familiar embrace as both of us watched the sun set over our kingdom. I couldn’t help the squeal of delight that escaped my mouth. I had finally completed my book, 1001 Dark Tales. The look on my editor’s face was one of disbelief when I announced I was stopping all other books to focus solely on that one. I guess writing 1001 Dark Tales takes a long time, four years to be exact. Still, I had written enough books with the help of my quill that I had more than a steady income.

Dawn Smith was the little sister she never had. “Great!” Dawn said, happily “ooh, Harry Potter!” she added as she flopped down onto the bed, her black and purple striped hair fanning out over the bedspread. She snatched the book from Lena’s hands “I prefer Goblet of Fire” she glanced up at the older woman “it had dragons”. “So does Philosopher’s Stone”, Lena pointed out. Dawn blew a raspberry at that. “Hardly. It has an itty bitty baby dragon named Norbert but that’s it”, she said “nothing like the badass Hungarian Horntail” Dawn rolled over onto her stomach “hey, you do think dragons are real? That would be so cool”.

I stared at the window, watching people walking down the street, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I wondered if any of them were a wizard or a sorceress, and if so, if they had to do what I did - to always run away from something and be careful about everything they do - are they as homeless as I am? I sighed and took a sip of my cup of coffee. After looking out the window again, I saw a tall, well-built guy, about 19 years old, with dark eyes and black half-long, wavy hair, falling slightly over his left eye. His complexion was milky white, which was quite strange, as his features suggested that he was rather Italian. This young man wore dark navy blue jeans and a white shirt with

It was as if he had conjured up the dark side of her character and it was insidiously taking her over. Her skin heated, disturbing recollections of an hour past filling her conscious mind, and so real were those images that Lara could feel the touch of his hands on her flesh, feel the hot, hungry onslaught of his mouth on hers. With a trembling hand, Lara poured herself another coffee, mortified by her own lack of mental discipline. It was time she got herself back under control... but just how easy was that going to be with him calling all the shots? Perspiration dampened her eyebrow.

The dark surface seemed to swallow any light that struck it. On top of the table sat an urn fashioned from the same black material as the table. The round bottom of the container was almost a foot in diameter, while the neck tapered to an opening no more than two inches wide. Faint movement could be seen through its opaque sides, and a low hum seemed to come from inside. The Necromancer’s three followers watched him silently, each unwilling to draw attention to himself by speaking. Viktor was pretty sure he knew what was going on, while the two apprentice wizards had no idea.