Harry Potter Becomes One With Magic Fanfiction Novels & Stories

At that moment, I knew he was under my control as his body involuntarily shuddered at my touch. Leading him towards a nearby room, I closed the door behind us, creating a private space where I could carry out my mission. The air was thick with anticipation as I studied him, tracing my fingers down his chest, savouring the sensation of his muscles tensing beneath my touch. Though he attempted to resist, my magic held him firmly in its grasp. He was gradually succumbing to the enchantment I had woven.

He wanted to leave a mark. I felt like screaming, crying, and breaking his face. My magic snaked through my bloodstream. It peeked out at my fingertips, hoping to end it all. When I was about to ruin it, I heard over the mental link, “Hang in there, doll. I’m looking at you. I won’t leave you alone. Hold on just a little longer and this will all be over. I’m about to rip his head off.” Hearing that he was close to me made me automatically block Harry’s breath on my skin. I blocked out all kinds of emotions that he provoked in me. I became a real doll. “Okay, honey. I will resist.”

As I touched his skin, he fell under the enchantment, and I began to manipulate the situation, creating a narrative. What Henry believed was happening was me tearing off his clothes and kissing him intensely, allowing him to fulfill all the fantasies his distorted mind projected. I sat in the corner of the room, watching the comical scene before me, where he touched himself, thinking it was me. “Alpha, we need a word!” Harry's voice, the beta, echoed through the door. I bit my lips in anger; the magic was delicate, and any change could break the spell. I messed up my clothes and hair and threw some water on my body, pretending to be sweaty. Furthermore, I stayed close to Henry, who seemed to

"Bring him home sometime. You speak so highly of him. I would like to meet him." * * * "Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike." — Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix * H U N T E R J O N E S | The Lovestruck Bad Boy It had been a really good day. I had gotten to spend time with Mey, helping her with homework and telling her my life story. I let out a dreamy sigh, which made me look like Ron after he accidentally drank the love potion. Except that I didn't need a love potion to be crazy about Mey.

The coven screamed but kept chanting as Harry used his magic to keep me pinned to the table. "If you don't stop, Harry, you'll die with her," a young woman next to him warned. "I'm willing to make a sacrifice," Harry said as the woman's eyes welled up with tears. "But our child requires you," she begged. I saw the life this child would lead if he didn't have a father and shifted human once more, relinquishing control. I couldn't get out of here alive, no matter how hard I tried, but Harry could. As tears streamed down my cheeks, Harry looked at me with wide eyes. I was in excruciating pain as the witches continued to chant and Harry's face filled with confusion.

Author Pov Rose entered her apartment breathing heavily. She clutched the side of her waist as she again burst out in tears of helplessness. Now she understood the depth of pain that man had gone through. He had changed so much. She had turned him into utterly a different man. Harry. The innocent sweet boy she used to know has turned into a vicious rugged man. His body proportion. His height. Even his aura had turned him into a scary adult. His rugged muscular body can easily empower her anytime he wants. His cold scary aura can kill her just by his presence.

The world around me, already a distorted blur, begins to spin faster. My vision tightens, narrowing to a pinprick of existence. I barely even hear her voice anymore, just the insistent thrum of her magic inside my veins, a dark, rhythmic beat that matches my own frantic pulse. There’s nothing left. No anchor to reality. No name that can call me back. Just the hypnotic rhythm of her mouth, the pervasive pulse of her spell, consuming me, dissolving me. BOOM. The world explodes.

AURORA’S POV I couldn’t have imagined such a death even in my darkest fantasy; suspended in the air, surrounded by candles with weird fragrance. My death meant the return of someone very evil. It also meant the death of my little girl. I tried to use my magic but it was all in vain. My body was drained of all strength. Despair had taken root in my heart and had grown like Cuscuta engulfing my heart; draining it of the tiniest bit of hope that was left.

I ran up to him throwing my arms around him. “I thought you were dead, how is this possible. Where have you been?” I ask as tears fall. “It’s just a magic screen sweetie. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I wanted to surprise you. One of the warlocks in my coven knows a spell. He can transform an ordinary person into someone we wish to see most in the world. This person will appear as the loved one looks, the way they talk, and will almost be like the person truly is there. However, to everyone else, they are a different person all together. I knew you wanted your dad to walk you down the isle so I thought…”

The Wicked Oracle would enchant one of the Centaurs, take control of its mind, and manipulated it to kill the warriors. The wicked Oracle has been watching them from his coven and seeking ways to stop them from advancing in their journey to get the Magic Bean. Because the Centaur wasn’t itself, it was missing its shot as it began shooting at the warriors randomly. It’s as though the Centaurs are trying not to yield to the manipulation of the wicked Oracle who wants to take over its mind and use it to kill all the warriors. The black pigment in the Centaur’s eye has turned green because of the enchantment. This is a clear indication that the Centaur is not in full control of its actions.