Harry Potter Flowers Novels & Stories

I wasn't about to wreck a home. "So dumb." I wipe my eyes on my knees, but the tears don't stop. I look up and can see people making their way through the trees towards me. I sniff and rest my chin on my hands. My eyes trail down, and through my blurry vision, I can see dozens and dozens of flowers blooming around me. I furrow my brow, wiping at my eyes again and moving to sit on my knees and crouch over the flowers. I hadn't wiped my hands on the ground, but they were still blooming. Pink ones, purple, white. Still smaller than a quarter, but slightly bigger than the last ones I made bloom. And there were a lot more of these too. They continued to appear around where I sat as I watched.

I called out, finally having some of my strength back. "Those flowers…" she turned to face me, her jaw clenched. "Black dahlia and poppy…they are the harbinger of evil; a symbol of death. And they were cursed. How did you get your hands on them?" "I-I…" I pressed my hands to my throat, feeling like I hadn't had water in ages. Sarah got up from her side and handed me a glass of water, which I took gratefully and drank it all in one go like I had been parched for centuries.

I breathe, carefully taking them with both hands. His smile is soft, proud. “I hoped you’d like them. I grow them in the greenhouses the witches maintain. They're called hellebores. That one’s Fire and Ice, and the other’s Onyx Odyssey. I figured you’d want something different—something no other guy’s ever given you.” I grab a vase from the cabinet, fill it with water, and place the flowers inside. Then I turn, walk up to him, cup his face in both hands—and kiss the hell out of him.

However, I can't help but keep returning to these flowers. Oh my God, I have to handle these bouquets. "Oh my my. I'm unaware of your intense love for flowers, which led to the transformation of your office into a garden." Harry came into my office and started making fun of me. "Shut up; don't annoy me anymore." To contain my rage, I tightened my fist. "He looks to be truly repentant of his wrongdoing. I believe you must pardon him." After reading the notes he found in the bouquet,he looked at me.

The little girl pushed Harry away and said softly, "Harry, why are you here?" Harry happily said: "Because I promised Olivia I would definitely go to the same school as you! Olivia, did you know, we were placed in the same class!" Harry took Olivia's hand and pulled her aside, then he took off his book bag, took a rose from it, and gave it to Olivia. “Olivia, this is the flower I picked in my garden, for you. Olivia enjoys admitting the flower, smiling as fresh as the full moon, “Thank you, Harry, I love it! Harry did not know that roses symbolize love, but felt that the flower was very beautiful, so he wanted to give it to Olivia.

"My friend, as you will say, my days on this dear earth are already numbered. What is eternal life going to give a man that is dying?" "Well, then Jasper, you shall be healed from whichever illness it is that you possess. But I am afraid that I am going to have to push you for an answer. I, too, do not have much time to save my wife. So what shall it be?" "What does this flower look like?" "It is a deep pink; it has the elegance of a lily but holds the classiness of a rose. Morgana said that one should know once you see it." "Morgana? Like Morgana, the wizard?"

I didn't respond. "Perfect family, Perfect job. Perfect ways to get away with anything" I look her dead in her eyes and she glanced at me once before looking down and giving me beads and flowers to start the crowns.

he walks off and kneels next to a small patch of Crimson Beebalm. Crimson Beebalm is a stunning flower. The petals are long and slender and they come out of a hairy looking center that is connected green leaves that look like they support the bud and a long smooth green stem. Best of all, it’s edible so I’ll be collecting some of it for the camp. Wait, what did he say? “It’s obviously either red or yellow, I don’t know of any grey muted colored flowers, the center even looks black.”

“If it’s another dead animal, I’m lighting you on fire.” “Lesson learned,” I muttered, then revealed the flower. A single flamepetal, its orange-red glow still faintly pulsing. “Rare, sacred to witches, grows only during solstice droughts. I had to hike halfway up Blackthorn Hill to get it.” She blinked. “You brought me a flamepetal?” “Well,” I said. “I didn’t climb a hill for my health.” She crossed her arms. “So is this flirting or apologizing?” “Both,” I said without missing a beat.

My body was already fragile, worn out from the emotional and physical toll of the past days, and now someone was toying with me? As I reached for the doorknob again to close it, something caught my attention. A sharp, peculiar scent. Sweet, yet spicy. Oddly familiar, but...wrong. My eyes fell to the porch, and my breath hitched. A bouquet of Moon Flowers. Only, they weren’t the crystal white ones that gently glowed in the dark. These were black. Deep, glossy black, shimmering under the pale daylight like polished onyx. They didn’t just sit there—they loomed, almost alive in their stillness.