Harry Potter And The Goblet Of Fire Novels & Stories

The little woman’s petite body with her red hair tied into pigtails with flour and oil stains on her face and apron hugging the tall muscular man in his impeccably black tailored suit was too eye-catching. “You were cooking?” Morgan had already put two and two together and realized what might have happened. “Hm,” Alexa nodded, looking at Morgan shyly. “It's just that I don't know what happened, and then the food started to burn, and when I wanted to take it off the stove, the rug caught fire, and then there was smoke everywhere,” she explained seriously. Morgan smiled at Alexa, making the two men look at him in awe. Morgan's cold face was illegally handsome already; combined with the added s

If I could just get to safety— The trees ahead of me exploded. A monstrous figure stepped through the flames. I barely had time to register the sheer size of it—easily fifteen feet tall, its body made of coal and molten fire. Its glowing ember eyes locked onto me, burning with something far worse than rage. Purpose. A deep, distorted voice rumbled through the clearing. “The time has come.” The air turned heavy, crackling with unnatural energy. My wolf recoiled, instinctively knowing we were facing something beyond our world. "We shall claim the Helm of the Gifted."

He paused briefly, then gestured toward the parchment in Raven’s hand with great reverence, “This is the only thing we retrieved, an ancient book made from animal hide, preserved through extraordinary means. We didn’t dare open it carelessly and brought it straight to you.” Raven lowered his gaze, fingers tracing the coarse surface of the book, his eyes flickering with both suspicion and curiosity. To his surprise, the handwriting on the aged pages remained sharp and clear, the ink as dark as though it had been freshly penned. Not a trace of fading or decay, surely preserved through some unique method. “Magic Array.” That was the book's title. Inside, each page revealed intricate drawings, t

I breathe my fire ahead of me, ready to take out every one of these elves. “Bring her down!” an elf says and I recognize thaevoice. King Eldarion. “Daichi! The harpoon is earthen made! See if you can destroy it!” I yell, blowing my fire over the ground. As I fly over the elves, I hear another ‘thunk’. I scream, twisting quickly and feeling the air of the harpoon as it scrapes the tip of my wing. I blow my fire on it before slicing my fire through the air and back down to the ground. I continue blowing my fire, but there are a LOT of elves and they are working together using their earth elements to protect each other.

The hollow lay in ruin. Smoke curled from shattered stone, drifting upward through the cracked ceiling where moonlight filtered in thin, ghostly beams. Moss that once carpeted the floor lay burned to blackened threads. The blood of wolves soaked into the earth, dark and steaming. Witchfire embers hissed against the damp roots, sputtering out one by one like dying stars. The ground still trembled faintly, recalling the storm Selene had unleashed — fire, frost, and raw magic braided together in a force the world had never seen.

Hell never stayed the same long enough to get bored. Which was good. Kaelith hated being bored. The ground beneath him cracked open again with a loud, satisfying snap, spilling molten fire upward like it had something to prove. A creature with too many limbs crawled out of it, shrieking like it had just discovered existence and already regretted it. Kaelith glanced at it. “Yeah, same,” he muttered. The creature lunged at him. He did not move at first. He let it get close. Very close. Close enough that it thought it had a chance.

Stories I couldn't read. At the center of the main chamber, a fire burned. Not a normal fire. The flames were blue and silver, casting no smoke, making no sound. They rose from a stone basin carved with more of those ancient symbols. And beside the basin stood a figure. Tall—impossibly tall. Cloaked in furs that seemed to move of their own accord. Its face was hidden in shadow, but its eyes... its eyes burned red. "Welcome," the figure said in that rumbling voice, "to the place where your journey truly begins."

Every flicker of his storm-gray eyes in my direction when he thought I wasn't watching. "Competitors," Vera's voice echoed. "Enter." The doors swung open. The Council chamber had been transformed. The thirteen thrones still stood in their arc, but the center of the room was cleared. A large stone basin sat on the floor, its rim carved with unfamiliar, ancient symbols that seemed to pulse with a faint, reddish light. In the center of the basin, a fire burned—not orange or yellow, but red, the color of blood.

She squeezed it two more times before dropping it in the water close to her chest. Leaning back and relaxing, she let her hands drop on either side of the bath tub. Her left hand reached out for the bottle of wine which laid just below the tub and she lifted it up. Deciding not to bother refilling the now empty glass, she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head backward, gulping the red liquid down in a rush. She choked and coughed, placed the bottle down and chuckled sadly. "Omar, I'm really sorry." Hiccup. "I'm really really sorry. But I needed this break, at least I thought that was what I needed.... Bit I miss you terribly...."

She then flicked her fingers and a crackling ball of fire formed in her hand, hovering a few inches above, burning yellow and bright. My pupils dilated and my mouth hung open as I stupidly stared at that fireball in her hand which had appeared out of nowhere. My hand went to my head and I leaned back in fright. "Gosh, what is happening? Am I dreaming? Or did I get transmigrated to the world of Harry Potter?" I couldn't peel my eyes off from the fiery ball. Grandma and Mom slightly chuckled seeing my reaction. While the former put out the burning sphere with just a wave of her hand, the latter patted my back. Trying to relieve the shock I had received.