Novel & Cerita Harry Potter Book Drawings

My fingers run along the scribble feeling how hard he must have pushed the pen into the paper. When I flip the page, my jaw falls. “Harvest Moon.” Then there is a horribly drawn picture of what I’m guessing is a red wolf. My eyes water, thinking back over what memories I’ve gained with the help of the witches. It isn’t anywhere near enough though. I need Skip, in front of me to get answers. The next few pages are somewhat nonsensical, but a puzzle I’m determined to break. I take the book back out to the living room area, where I pace the room staring at the pages.

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.

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.

But that wasn’t what he was drawing today. There was a picture of two girls—rendered crudely in crayon, but still identifiable as girls. One of them had short blond hair and the other had long brown braids. Their hands were on their faces and their mouths open in screams. David had drawn these as big black circles. A huge black shadow hovered before them, a shapeless body with red eyes and clearly defined hands. The hands looked like long silver knives. There were many drawings before this one. Lauren wondered how long David had been at it.

He guessed that the book would have some contents of magic. “Don't touch anything.” Hadrian yelled at Aiden when he tried to reach for the book. Hadrian took a chalk from the box, he looked at Beckham who nodded before he started to draw a circle, he inscribed another circle, and then he pictured smaller circles between the big and small circles.

The way the waters dance with the waves and how the sea makes the crashing sound as soon as it reaches the shore are profoundly miraculous when it comes to finding calmness and peace with your bothering thoughts. I have finally finished the sketchbook that I was supposed to give to Harry but I ran out of time and wasn’t able to give it. I finally finished filling everything in with the memories that I have spent with him and it makes me sad yet it makes me cherish those times we were together. I even included the eerie dreams I have had a week ago and I don’t think I will ever forget those horrible nightmares because it never felt so real when I woke up from it and how my heart felt tremendo

Opposite and sides of the room sat tall shelves carrying textbooks, all medical. He was always studying. I stopped at the table, looking over the papers. Then I took interest on a particular white sheet of paper sticking out of a large red covered book. On the paper's protruded side was a drawing of some creature. I hate to admit that it actually looks like a werewolf but it did. Picking it out from the book and up to my face, I could clearly see the picture now. It's an image of a werewolf, it's body parts fully labelled.

"I'm not one of those stupid romance novel heroines who dies for some cursed alpha. Fuck that." I needed to get out. Get back to my parents. To Jade and Zaya. To people who actually gave a shit if I lived or died. I searched the room. Looked for another exit. A window I could climb out of. A key. Anything. Nothing. I was about to start trying to pick the lock when I spotted something under the bed. A book. No. A sketchbook. I pulled it out. There were Pages and pages of drawings. Creatures. Wolves mid-transformation, but wrong. Twisted. Their bones breaking in ways that shouldn't be possible.. Notes scribbled in tight handwriting.

It was the second time I burned myself with my cup of tea. I had recently bought it when I discovered an internet store about literary articles, and I instantly fell in love with the Harry Potter-themed cup that only required the coat of arms belonging to the book when it was filled to the top by a smoking liquid. Most of the time, I just filled it with water just to have the pleasure of seeing the dark color giving way to the brightness that contained the drawing of the most famous magnificent witchcraft school in the literary world.

She said: I will mention it seriously. She did mention it seriously, in the next call with Clare, who was quiet for a moment and then said: The child drew the events of the book in parallel as they happened? In a portfolio? Clare was quiet again. That is the most remarkable thing I have heard in twenty years of working with books. Let me think about it. Clare thought about it. She came back two weeks later and said: The publisher wants to see the drawings. * * *