Harry Potter Drawing Book Novels & Stories

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.

he completes for me in a smug tone, and I roll my eyes. "It's really, really good," I say, but it seems like that isn't what he wants to hear since he snatches the drawing from my hand, scoffing and walking away. What a miscreant. "Okay, Daniel. Come show me yours." I say, and my boy comes closer to me with a shy expression. He hands me the paper, and my jaw drops. It's a wolf. Not just any wolf; it's Harry's wolf. The black fur, the hugeness, the eyes.

It had always been a thought. Mum’s expression earlier flashed through my mind. I pushed my pink frame back in place as they slipped down my nose. Damn Sally. I sighed and walked to the other side of the room, picking up the book I had tossed earlier. It was a Harry Potter series. One of my favorite books of all time. I hugged it to my chest. “I am sorry.” I whispered, then slid it back into the shelf. I buried my face into my pillow and gave out a quiet, muffled scream.

He sat down, opened his notebook and started sketching. What he was sketching,he didn't know but his hands moved over the paper. His pencil just drew something he didn't know and wouldn't know until he was finished. He also couldn't see that his eyes were now glowing blue. How could he? At the end of his sketch, he looked at his work. It was the sea dweller. A perfect image of Cordelia with a crown atop her head. He flipped a few pages. The book was filled with previous sketches of Cordelia, a princess, A queen, A captain and a few other characters. The topics of Harry's dreams.

So I just started from the beginning. There were sketches in the book of what the King and Queen looked like as wolves. And they were big and magnificent. They were creatures to be respected. But the drawing showed them in battle. It was done by a brilliant artist showing the battlefield and the King and Queen right in the middle of it. They were winning, obviously. No one could beat them. They could not be challenged. We had read a few chapters of the book and I was starting to get a headache. It was a huge book which outlined the lives of the whole royal family. Which meant all of their 10 children as well. So we decided to stop after a few chapters because I needed a break.

"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.

Shards of broken objects which I suspected to be clay pots or so lay on the floor and I saw an old toothbrush beside her bed. “Wow! You sure you’re not a werepig?” I asked and she rolled her eyes. “What do you want ? !” She hissed. “My map book!” I said and she thought for a moment before pulling open the drawer on her desk and I saw a glimpse of the drawings she was making. How cute. “This one?” She held up the small book that was now missing its front cover and took it from her impulsively as if she would rip it up some more right in front of me.

Everything that inspires me ends up in one of my sketchbooks. On one hand, I'm excited to show my "lovely" boss some of my drawings because I'm proud of what I've put into each of my sketchbooks. On the other hand, I'm terrified of putting myself out there, of being judged. Art isn't for everyone. I started drawing mainly out of boredom. I was in that fangirl phase obsessed with Harry Potter, convinced that soon a owl would fly through my window to deliver my Hogwarts letter. I didn't know how to pass the time, so I decided to try drawing Hedwig, and that's when I discovered I was incredibly good at it.

I'll surely pass out, then pass away. As he left, I took a sweep across his room, biting my lips, wondering how he would pull it off, you know, getting my stuff. Did he even know where I kept them? Gosh. I stood up and began to look around, then saw a drawing book. He drew? Curiosity got the best of me and I began to go through it. I smiled when I saw the wonderful drawings he had, but stilled when I came across one. I saw a picture of my eyes. Why did he draw them? It was clear that it was me, so why? Was he that obsessed?

He drops his gaze to the books beside me, I take them in my lap, jerking my hair out his hands. I go through the pages and most of the answers are okay, just not excellently described. I close the books and set them aside, picking up my sketch to add more detail to the daisy considering it's the only part of the drawing that I have full confidence is art, the rest of the drawing? I think it will earn me an A- as usual. Wait, what if the snake shades it's skin as it slithers through the skull like the daisy shaded it's petals?