Harry Potter Chats Novels & Stories

Maybe it was the loud snoring from the old man in the next bed or just his own restless mind, but Jedediah felt an urgent need to talk to someone. Without thinking, he opened the chat with me. He typed cautiously: [Are you there?] A second later, a red dot appeared, followed by the prompt: [You haven't added her as a friend yet.] Jedediah clenched his phone, while I looked at Georgia's latest post, bursting into laughter. The caption read: [Refuse to be an emotional trash can.] I liked her post, and she started a chat with me. Gigi: [Ugh, I'm losing interest in my crush.]

I snorted "So you want us to suddenly act like we're best of friends that can stay in the same room without fighting?" "No, I want us to act like adult" He corrected "Let's just talk in private where there are no distractions or anything anywhere, just the two of us" He unconsciously bit his pink tongue in a sexy manner, staring at me for some seconds before he continued "And maybe.....I can tell you the things on my mind" I blinked, replaying his last sentence in my head: 'I can tell you the things on my mind' Harry wants to talk about the things on his mind?

Darren said, cutting me off. "What?" "I don't like Nutella." "Are you serious?" I asked, eyeing him incredulously. "No, I'm Darren. And I don't like Sirius Black, the dude's creepy." I just gave him a blank stare. "Who is Sirius Black?" I asked, scrunching my brows up in confusion. "Who would have that sort of a name?" "He's in Harry Potter," He said, shaking his head at me. "You wouldn't know." "Oh," I said. I only watched the first movie of the series and I didn't like it. So I didn't watch it's subsequent parts.

I challenged him, though I knew who was going to win. “Fucking Brit!” he spat out, laughing carelessly. “Carry on, Harry Potter. So, what will get if I win?” “Anything, Kardashian.” I shrugged, extending my hand with determination. “I can’t believe you know all these shits.” “Blame it on Clyve. He didn’t stop talking about shits since he started producing a morning show.” “Wow! Good for your bro, mate.” “Now, what if I’m going to win?”

The night around the area had slowly quieted down. Harry stared at his phone screen, scrolling through the group chat that had gone silent an hour ago. He took a deep breath, muttering under his breath, “I’ve got plans to go shopping with Delilah tomorrow. Maybe I’ll ask her to have dinner too.” He took one last drag from his cigarette before crushing it on the ground. Then he dialed a number. “It’s me. Harry.” The woman on the other end sounded surprised, and a little too pleased. “You? Calling me this late? I thought you said we shouldn’t talk in private anymore.”

One thing he learned about being famous online is that it’s easy to disregard people, they won’t bug you if you don’t let them. The developer on the screen continued, “Private chats are classified into three tabs: Requests, Chatmates, and Blocked. Requests are those you’ve never replied to, Chatmates are those you’ve replied to, and Blocked are those you would never want to reply to again. Right girls?” The women inside the mall cheered loud this time.

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.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any girl in this class with silver hair.” “Huh?” The word slipped out before I could stop it. I glanced back at John, then leaned forward. “My son—Harry, he’s in this class and he swears there’s a little girl with silver hair. He said she sits by the window and he even tried talking to her, but she wouldn’t respond.”

Chancellor Hollister squinted at the Babble chat window on the screen, then looked at the group of students seething with righteous fury in front of him. He turned to the head of admissions beside him, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and bewilderment. "Gerald, have scam apps really evolved to the point where they can hand out university spots now?" The director of Admissions, Gerald Whitmore, looked like he did not know whether to laugh or cry. He cleared his throat and raised his voice.

he whispers, looking at Blake and Jacob. "I know they're not Layla and Gaddie! I don't even know people by that name! I used to but they're not around anymore. You better watch who you're shouting at, you might be in the safely of the police now but you won't he forever! When I get my hands on you that's it, over for you!" He shouts so loud they thought the speakers on the phone were gonna blow "now I'm gonna go and take my girls on a little outing, watch you're back ink" he laughs, before the phone hangs up. Ink looks at the two men before running towards the bathroom to throw up, Blake and Jacob just look at each other.