Harry Potter Artwork Book Novels & Stories

Most of the books had scribbles but I really didn't mind as long as I could read. Something caught my eye behind a stack of Enid Blyton's books on the upper shelf. Something shiny. I wheeled back, trying to get a good look at the mysterious cover. Holy. Macaroni. Was that Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? I just had to get that book.

“Oh my god! You got me the Harry Potter Series!” I rushed to the bookshelf and grabbed a copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire’. It was the only book I had read in the series and I had fallen in love with it. I had promised myself that I would buy more but I never got the money. “Yeah, girl,” she said smugly, “and I got you some others you might like…” I saw the other books and my jaw dropped. It was almost all the books on my reading wish list.

There are also artworks, like paintings of enchanted forests and mythical beings that I swear seem to wink at me in the flickering candlelight. Over in one corner, there's a big fireplace crackling away, spreading warmth throughout the room, and above it, you'll find bunches of dried herbs and flowers, giving off an odd scent mixed with hints of sandalwood and incense. We take our seat on some of the plush velvet sofas and armchairs which are surprisingly super comfy and they make me want to instantly fall asleep. That has got to be the herbs. Right in the center of the room is a big wooden table holding all sorts of magical things – think crystal balls, little cauldrons, and stacks of old s

"That was before he got involved with King Xavier and vanished from the coven. All these books are his; he wrote them himself. Some spells would make your hair stand on end, while others simply change your hair color." That made me chuckle. I could easily picture asking Adira to use such a spell to style my hair for a ceremony. "I see," I said. "But what does this have to do with us?" Adira stood up and pulled a dusty book from the shelf. The pages were yellowed and brittle. She set the book down on the coffee table, snapped her fingers, and opened it. With a wave of her hand, she turned to the page she needed. The page displayed a drawing of a black medallion along with some scribbles.

A temporary hiding place before we inevitably end up where we always do contemporary and queer romance. Our natural habitat. I pick up a book with a massive dragon painted across the cover and slowly rotate it in my hands. Fantasy covers go hard. The artwork is ridiculous in the best way. Every scale on the dragon has been illustrated with obsessive detail. Blue melting into green, green into purple, purple streaked with gold. The colors swirl like magic itself spilled across the page. It’s so beautiful it almost hurts to look at. My lips wobble slightly. “I like him so much,” I whisper.

His presence was tense, as if he was waiting for something to move in the shadows. “Black magic,” he murmured, reaching for a book with gold-edged pages. The cover had a strange sigil, one that pulsed faintly under the dim lighting. I frowned. “This place… it doesn’t feel right.” It wasn’t just the books. There were jars placed on a nearby table—each containing murky liquids and unidentifiable objects floating within. Some looked like dried-up hearts, others like small, shriveled hands. I swallowed hard. Hades exhaled sharply. “It’s worse than I expected.”

He sets it on the counter and opens it; it's full of first-aid and other medical supplies. Once he seems to be done picking stuff out, I lift the hinged lid back over to see the artwork — wolves all gathered under a full moon, some sitting, some standing, and one on its hind legs. I run my fingertip along the thin groves of the wolf on its hind legs. Someone clearly handmade this. "Is this old?" I ask as Harvey works on himself. "Probably," he says while discarding the old bandages, "There's a lot of stuff like it in the house."

It was this stupid thread in my chest that tied me not only to my love but to other people who I don’t even freaking know, let alone should care about at all. I felt fucking stupid. I shoulder open the metal door to the bookstore which was located in the same building as the dining hall. The bookstore consisted of everything we’d need for a successful school year. Which included the backpack Xaden had gotten for me. There were also journals, notebooks, pencils, erasers, and oddly enough, art supplies. I didn’t even know art was a class that could be taken here. There were also small ‘emergency wands’, first aid kits, fur coat shine, claw buffers, crystal balls, and tons of different charms,

He scratched his head as he answered, "Not really. But I'm working on it." "Oh, really?" I lifted one brow, looking at him in disbelief. "Which book are you reading now?" I couldn't help but wonder if he was reading the right book. He held the books in one hand as he used his other hand to reach behind. In one quick motion, he pulled a book that he has been hiding in his back and showed it to me. "This one." It was Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban. No wonder he hasn't figured out the curse yet. "Why didn't you start with the first book?"

I said to him in walking around his room, I turned my head to him in waiting for an answer and he quickly shook his head from one side to another. So he hadn't any family members. But from disgust smell, I smelled something else. He had drugs there, he kept them in a book. I went by the bookshelf and took the third book. "Harry Poter? Are you for real?" He kept in a children's tale drugs. Pages were cut in the middle of a book and placed drugs instead. He paled from my question maybe he was afraid that I liked his book and he destroyed what I like. No, I didn't like this nonsense, but... I shook my head in thinking drop it, Jack.