Harry Potter Book Written Novels & Stories

Memories of me and Ethan sprawled on my bed or my bedroom floor reading books together, guessing each other’s Hogwarts house. It was Friday afternoon. As the classes were over before noon, I had called Jake over to help me pack all my stuff for the move. Anya would have helped, but she was in her office and had called in to make sure Jake and Andrew were behaving. “Is that Harry Potter?!” Andrew exclaimed, rushing into my room and leaning down to see the books with his big brown eyes. I grinned at him and let him see the books. “My mom gifted it to me when I was ten.”

I pushed it open and slipped inside. The room was surprisingly small: a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a single window overlooking the moonlit forest. On the desk lay a leather-bound book—a journal. My hands trembled as I picked it up. The pages were aged and yellowed, filled with handwriting that shifted from neat to frantic, detailing dates, names, and places. Then, I discovered it. A drawing. A young girl, perhaps seven or eight, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a solemn expression. Beneath it, a name: Ella.