Harry Potter Artwork Book Novels & Stories

“I most certainly will, “ I have to. The sheer injustice of defacing books has sparked a passion within me. I can not stand to abide by such a crime. I would never forgive myself. However, I must correct this blunder before true mayhem comes to life and he is lost to chaos. For the sake of all books! I vow and look for my quill. Where could it be? “Oh, he’s drawn you a picture.”Maddie flips the letter for both of us to see. It’s another of Nicoli’s artworks- I see more stick figures. One is brown and the other purple. They seem to be eating. Bread? Or pie? And a rectangular creature, a horse/bear, sits with them. I feel my lips crack into a smile at the sight. It makes my chest grow warm and

he completes for me in a smug tone, and I roll my eyes. "It's really, really good," I say, but it seems like that isn't what he wants to hear since he snatches the drawing from my hand, scoffing and walking away. What a miscreant. "Okay, Daniel. Come show me yours." I say, and my boy comes closer to me with a shy expression. He hands me the paper, and my jaw drops. It's a wolf. Not just any wolf; it's Harry's wolf. The black fur, the hugeness, the eyes.

I moved around the office, looking for something to help me understand who the little boy Harry was talking about was. My heart was beating frantically, as I did not want to discover that what I suspected was true. No, it couldn’t be true. Not giving any thought to what Harry was discussing with his beta, I casually opened one drawer. I walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book with a black leather cover. I opened it and could see that it was a photo album. Did Harry have pictures? Aged black and white photographs and several color ones showed a young Harry with a beautiful woman with blonde hair and big green eyes. They were both holding a little boy whose hair was the same color as the

I say looking over at the one I had made of her and monkey for her birthday. “I’m glad you like it, now open the rest before my body starts shutting down without my coffee fix.” She laughs. I open the rest and I am extremely impressed with how she pulled these off; New clothes, shoes, a personalized number plate for my bike, a handmade voucher book specifically for sexual requests, a voucher for a couples spa day, a coffee mug with ‘Fuck Off’ written on the bottom, a Harry Potter keychain of dumbledors phoenix, the box set of the HP books though I think they were for both of us by look on her face, Gryffindor and Slytherin pjs, the latest Samsung cell phone with a HP phone case.

I ask achingly “After the three days banquet with the king. That will be more than enough time to be able to get the strands of hair, right?” “Yeah, so do you have a dark art spell book for the altering of fated mates? Since dark art spell books are very limited editions and an individual is not permitted to have it, save for an institution or organization registered under the King's government.” I ask cautiously “Definitely Hermione, your grandmother got legs…” She grins, standing up “Give me a minute, I'll go get the dark art spell book vol.0 for you to see.” Grandmother walks to her room.

I can visualize the clock wheels turning in his head, trying to decide if I am capable of understanding the complex poem. I like a challenge! I sit, ignoring the warmth spreading through my body as I lie close to Bryce, opening the tome, and I gasp. The artwork on the page is beautiful and elegant. The lettering reminds me of "The Book of Kells," a real work of art. But I do not have the time to carefully examine the intricate patterns and designs created in different colored inks.

He insisted on going there with me, so I let him. I spent hours going from one book about magic to the next. There was no other way to describe what was happening. It was magic, simple. “What are you doing?” I heard Alpha Moretti call out, making me jump in my skin. I slammed the book I was holding closed, although there wasn't any need for that considering the numerous books that were sprawled out on the table with their titles on display. His eyes settled on the biggest book there, and my cheeks burned in embarrassment. “The Art of Magic,” the topic read.

Everything that inspires me ends up in one of my sketchbooks. On one hand, I'm excited to show my "lovely" boss some of my drawings because I'm proud of what I've put into each of my sketchbooks. On the other hand, I'm terrified of putting myself out there, of being judged. Art isn't for everyone. I started drawing mainly out of boredom. I was in that fangirl phase obsessed with Harry Potter, convinced that soon a owl would fly through my window to deliver my Hogwarts letter. I didn't know how to pass the time, so I decided to try drawing Hedwig, and that's when I discovered I was incredibly good at it.

Sunlight poured in through the open ceiling, making the platform that overlooked the cliffside and its arcane looking circle, glitter like polished opalite. I started scouring the books that lined the shelves, pulling them with both my hands and magic, flipping through pages as my eyes darted between books. With a wave of my hand I sent a book on potion recipes and another on cursed objects back onto the shelves. A slight headache throbbed at my temples by the time I found what book I was looking for. There was no missing that strange symbol, the one Dain had showed us painted on the wall. I flipped to the beginning of the chapter and stared down at the word, ‘Illusion spells.’

Though I wasn’t really vain enough to say my body was fantastic in them, the quality of the photos themselves was undeniable. Arthur truly was an artist. There was this indescribable beauty to the photos, a softness that he somehow captured. I guess I could see now why he was so determined to get these pictures. He really was creating art. As I closed the book, the title shone in gilded letters in the dark. The Nine Muses: A Discussion. A beautiful book, but by no means did it sound interesting. I doubted anyone would bother to look in it.