Romans & histoires Harry Potter Books Leather Bound

Empty. Good. No whispers. Just rows of books that smelled faintly of dust and old leather. I drifted between shelves, trailing my fingers along worn spines. “Herbs of the Southern Marsh,” “Defense Spells of the Fifth Era,” “Principles of Alchemy.” My guards hovered like anxious statues. And then— I stopped. My hand froze on a spine I hadn’t seen in years. The leather was scuffed, the gold lettering half-burnt, but my heart recognized it before my mind did.

There were so many books that all the bookshelves were full, and some of the tables in the center of the library had books piled on it. "We will need to add more bookshelves~." Susan commented and looked back at Madam Pince, who had some tears forming by her eyes' corners. "So many books…" Madam Pince said while taking one hand to her mouth. "Here." Susan spoke, drawing the attention from Madam Pince to her, and picked the big red leather bound book from the little bookshelf under the lectern. She showed the front cover to Madam Pince, who could read on it, written in golden letters engraved into the red leather cover, 'Hogwarts' Library: Book of Records'. Susan then put the book on the lect

Not for them. For me. I stopped when something caught my eye, my fingers hovering over a familiar section of the shelf. The same place I had taken the herbal book from before. My hand moved without thinking, pulling another book free, the leather cover worn and aged like it had been waiting far longer than I had been here. I wiped a thin layer of dust from it with my palm, my eyes scanning the title slowly. Binding. The word alone made something in my chest tighten slightly. I stared at it for a moment longer before opening it carefully, the old pages shifting softly beneath my fingers. The scent of aged paper filled the air as I flipped through the first few pages, my eyes moving over the w

I swallow the lump in my throat and descend. The air down here is cooler, thicker with the smell of leather and dust and secrets. Torches have guttered out, but faint violet light clings to the edges of things—my new sight, maybe, or the contract’s gift. The shadows dance ahead of me, playful almost, skipping along the shelves until they reach a particular bookcase. One tendril stretches, points. A heavy black tome launches itself from the highest shelf and thumps into my waiting hands. I stagger under the weight. The book is bound in leather so dark it drinks the light; no gold leaf, no embossed sigils, just smooth, inky blackness. The title is etched in silver that seems to shift when I ti

The sixth register was smaller than any of them expected. Octavo-sized, the kind of book that fit in one hand, bound in the same worn-honey leather as the others but with a different quality to its age this one had been touched more recently, handled more carefully, as though whoever had held it last had understood what it contained and had treated it accordingly.

"You've been suppressing it for too long." She shook her head. "That's impossible. I'm not that strong." Kael crouched in front of her, his expression serious now. "You're not supposed to be. Not unless you were born with bound magic." She stared at him. "You keep saying that. What does it even mean?" He studied her wrist again, the mark still glowing faintly. "When two powers-demon and witch merge, they create something called the Bloodbound. A fusion. The last one nearly destroyed three realms."

Looking back, I’m glad I thought ahead, because the dread inside me refuses to leave. As I am searching through the library, I see a very old leather bound book. I hadn’t noticed it before. It looks a little dusty but I see the word ‘Witch’ on the binder. I zero in on this book and reach for it immediately. With the book being so dusty, it’s no wonder I never saw it before. It seemed to have blended in with the rest of the shelf. I sit in my chair next to Mary and the boys are in there bouncing cradles.

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.

Taking a breath, I pushed the door open wider, glanced back to ensure no one was watching, and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. The room was steeped in the musty aroma of old paper and leather, a scent that spoke of years, if not centuries, of accumulated knowledge. The interior was unexpectedly breathtaking, with books crowding every shelf, desk, and corner. An upper floor was visible, its railings lined with even more shelves crammed with books. I was amazed by all the books. The room was surrounded by so many books. Staring at them, and the thought of trying to absorb even a fraction of the knowledge stored here was dizzying. How was I supposed to get anything out of thi

“When I was young, I’d hide up here because Jason didn’t know about it. In fact, until about six months ago, I always knew that I was safe up here.” Boy, how much didn’t I want to know the answer to this, but still… “What happened six months ago?” Alex shunted an old collection of Harry Potter books to one side (and no surprises why he’d had to hide stories where the wizard was the hero), and wriggled his hand through to a large blanket box.