Harry Potter Book Scar Novels & Stories

I would not accept that. I tore through the shelves a man possessed scrolls spilled to the stone floor I read accounts of wars of ancient hatreds of magic used as a scalpel. I found a fragment a single sentence in a margin of a bestiarywhere a thing is cut the scar may hold the memory of the wound, it was not an answer, it was a riddle a taunt I roared in frustration my voice swallowed by the darkness. Ragnar howled inside me a sound of pure animal loss he was gone too his other half severed the wolf in me was maimed.

“There it is again.” “What?” My voice rasped. She reached, hesitating, then brushed her fingers above my collarbone, where the witch’s magic had slammed into me. Not touching skin. Just hovering. Her fingers trembled. “You’re scarred,” she whispered. “Not your body, but your aura. Something left a burn. A mark.” I felt it then. The faintest chill tracing down my spine. “I thought she was dead.” My voice broke like cracked glass. “I thought the Codex destroyed her.”

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

I ask as I bring his hand closer to touch it and trail it on the scar. "It's from six years ago, the coronation. The guy sliced me with a knife. It left a scar. It never healed. I don't know what kind of knife it was." Harry explains, and my jaw drops as I continue to trace the long scar. "Now you know everything," Harry says in a whisper, and it's the first time I realise that I'm touching him intimately. I'm now sitting at my desk, and we're so close. "Now, I do," I say in the same voice as him.

"Yes..." "If I remember correctly, the book said that it was rare for the daughter of a Karaina not to possess magic." "Are you not listening to me?" Scarlett said, getting increasingly frustrated at Marcellus' suggestion that there was an apex of magic in her. "I told you. I've never been able to handle fire." "But that wasn't fire..." "What the hell was it, then?" Prince Marcellus paused to look at Scarlett, his unnatural eyes fixing on hers. "I'm not quite inclined to tell you because you have that look in your face that tells me you're about to attack something."

’ Irving rolled his eyes at me. Everything about her is perfect. Even the scar she tried to cover. Few werewolves have scars. We heal too quickly unless the injury was from silver or laced with wolfsbane. Otherwise, scars from before our first shift will remain with us forever. And to werewolves, scars showed strength. They show that you survived. And my mate is strong and has survived so much.

This man almost doubled his muscle mass. His dark brown hair had subtle streaks of red throughout. His eyes were green with hints of gold. They were the most amazing things I had ever seen. Looking at him made my heart pound. His eyes were focused on mine as he held my gaze. The scar on the left side of his neck was faded, the sight of it enraged me. I didn’t know why I was so upset about him being hurt. I felt myself begin to get lost in his eyes when my mind snapped me out of it.

I snap, hiding my wrist against my hip. Before she can say another word, I spin on my heel and storm out, shoving the glass door open so hard it bangs shut behind me, rattling in its frame. “Fuck, fuck!” I curse, as I run down the street, the snow slapping against my face, that my cheeks go numb from the cold. I look down at my hand, and there is that stupid scar. How could I have forgotten it all this time? I got a few years ago when I tried cooking dinner for Harry and some of his friends.

His hand was red and raw—I had burned him. He quickly let go, stepping back as I regained my senses. “Scarlett, are you alright?” he asked, his voice a mix of fear and concern. “You set the tree on fire, and your body…” His words trailed off as he looked away, and I followed his gaze, realising with a jolt that my clothes had been completely burned away. My skin prickled under the cool night air; somehow, my magic had flared up while I was lost in that vision, destroying everything I wore. Embarrassment flooded me as I covered myself with my arms, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

"If Damien is still out there... will he try to find me again?" Elena didn’t lie. "He might. But he won’t win this time. I promise you." Rose looked to Sophie, who held her hand tightly. "Then take him down. For all of us." **** That Night – Elena’s Quarters The room was dimly lit, scattered with evidence boards, encrypted tablets, and scattered documents. Grayson sat in a chair near the fireplace, shirtless, wrapping a fresh bandage around his torso. Elena entered, her eyes catching on the scar that crossed his ribs.