Harry Potter Fanfiction Harry Scars Novels & Stories

Aiden looks like he might be sick, while Jasper and Marcus both look pissed. I turn back to Zahra just as she stands up straight, and I finally see what they’re staring at. Her back is covered in angry red and white scars, crisscrossing into a horrible lattice over her skin. My stomach churns at the sight. I knew her father had hurt her, but this is the first time I’m seeing the damage with my own eyes. I watch the realization dawn in her expression, and the look on her face nearly breaks me. Stepping forward, I try to ease her anxiety, wanting to brush this off for her sake. “Hey, little one. It’s good to see you enjoying yourself after this morning. How are you feeling?”

“I can’t put her down, you know why.” Scar snorts coldly, finally looking up from under her messy hair. Jack must have slapped her really hard, to mess up her hair like that, as well as leaving a scarlet red palm print on her cheek. “Excuse me,” Scar says with a clear but cold tone that I’m not familiar with, “coming through.” I stopped Ava by the door. I frown, hating the sarcasm in Scar’s eyes. She knows why I misunderstood and she is mocking me for it. Every time I even just stood close to Ava she would come up and break us apart.

However, the young girl then replied to him in a firm and unmistakably natural tone as she stated, ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. But Nene, if you knew where my scars came from, you would probably think of me as the chief of all evil, just like everyone else. Harry closed his eyes. Those bloody fights seemed like a dream in retrospect. They had been long gone for many years, but what never disappeared was the invisible black mire behind him. The gravitational force inside was pulling him in little by little. One day, he would be pulled and dragged, and then trapped until his demise… Harry turned sideways.

The pressure was gentle, but the warning was crystal clear: "Remember why we're partners. It's about destroying the Ferraris, nothing else. Don't go where you don't belong." "I can fake someone's death, but I can also make it real." My breathing hitched for just a moment. Then I smiled and covered his hand with mine. "Of course, Mr. Rosetti. We're the perfect team." He hesitated, then released me: "My private doctor says your scars are treatable. Start preparing—we'll schedule the surgery soon." My eyes lit up. As he headed for the door, I called out: "Your face—why don't you consider getting yours fixed too?"

“I’ve been in your shoes before. I was naive, stupid—delusional, and it didn’t end well, Liz. It didn’t end well.” I stared at her. “Wait—what?” She nodded, eyes glossing over again. I knew the Blackwells wouldn’t accept me overnight. I knew it’d be hard. But the fear in Hazel’s voice? It shook me. “Haze… I get it, I do. But…” I grabbed her hand. “I still wanna try. I love him. Please, support me on this. I need you on my side.” She looked away. Ran a hand through her hair. And that’s when I saw it—again. The scar—the one on her neck. The one I’d always seen but never had the courage to ask her about it.

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

Still hers. She trailed her fingertips his arm, as the morning light danced over the bruises and healing wounds as if trying to make sense of the pain etched into his skin. Battle scars. Every one of them earned in the fight to get Sophie back. The war might have been over, but peace hadn't yet settled down in her heart. Grayson stirred beside her. "You ever going to stop watching me sleep like a serial killer?" She smiled faintly. "Probably not." He cracked one eye open. "Creepy and sexy. That's very on-brand for you."

Supressing my anger towards this mindless assistant of mine. "I'm sorry, Miss Siren. But I won't allow anybody to do wicked things to Young lady. I am Harry Spencers. I made a vow to myself that I will protect you in all ways that I can. I am just doing my oath." He's refusal make me wanna blow his head with a pan. He badly needed a good beating later. "This guy looks high on himself. Seems like he's been really in love with this witch." Claudia's mocking look gave me an impression that I want to skinned her alive right now. I'm wondering if she's not that smart enough to think about what Harry said.

Ariadne doesn’t respond; instead, picking out a bottle of rum from the mini-fridge and mixing it with a can of coke. The water finally shuts off with a squeak. A moment later, Harry appears, clothed, with wet hair that he tousles dry with a towel. “Alright,” Ariadne hisses. “Speak. We gave you way more courtesy than you deserve.” Harry takes a seat without a snarky comment. He looks tired, not in the way that rest can solve. His skin is mottled and lifeless, and his eyes are dark as graveyard soil. There are two hideous scars where his scent glands used to be, and without them, he seems to be a wolf no longer.

“The spark between us.” My chest got tight. “You’re imagining things.” His smile curved faintly, dangerous but patient. “Am I?” Harry stopped just a breath away from me. Close enough that I could see the faint scar across his jaw, like a story he wasn’t planning to tell me yet. Close enough that the scent of smoke and something darker stuck on him, making it impossible to think clearly. “Step back,” I whispered, pressing my hand forward, even though my voice betrayed me.