روايات وقصص ضمن Harry Potter God Of Magic Fanfiction

Isis’s eyes lit up. “And the mirror shows your heart’s desire. And in the Philosopher’s Stone, Harry only was able to get the stone because he wanted it but not to do evil. So the scepter may also be enchanted not just to appear or be held by the worthy but by someone who would do no evil with it.” Isis grinned. Godric grinned back, turning her head to kiss her lips. It was soft but not quick. “You are brilliant, Goddess.” He praised, pulling back from the kiss. Isis was blushing, biting at her bottom lip under his praise.

You taught me how to pray before, right? Gaymo: Cries… Harry: You have succeeded Mom. Gaymo: What do you mean? Harry: I have grown up to be good and God-fearing. Gaymo: Really? Harry: Yes. I am already a priest. Gaymo: Praise God! When Gaymo said it, she automatically transformed into a white wind, and she disappeared. When she disappeared, a white feather fell on the ground. Harry picked it and kept it inside his wallet. He whispered, “If this is your end my Mom, I am so happy that you have repented. God now has power over you. God is the best. You ought to know that Mario’s family has nothing to do with my kidnapping.”

Sara answered softly, her eyes glued to his as she watched them bleeding out their scarlet color to be replaced by a light silvery blue, the wrinkles he carried in every corner of his face were stretched to leave behind a firm skin filled with youth, the short grey locks extended with their dull greyness turning into lush silverness, and right in front of their eyes, the old demon turned into a young and handsome God who looked barely older than the shadows’ lord himself, surrounded by a halo of wisdom and sanctity. “You have seen it with your own eyes, same as we did, young Goddess, how it is settled even inside the purest of hearts, the grain of evil that is, and how fast it grows once it

"Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it." ― Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and the Deathly Hallows * H U N T E R J O N E S | The Lovestruck Bad Boy I unlocked the door and hold it open so the girls could get in. After having lunch and getting desserts with the girls, I felt bad for leaving Nat alone at home so we had cut our Christmas shopping short and gone home afterward.

“...Fuck you, guys,” He chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender again, “Not today.” Sean groaned, running a distressed hand through his hair, looking like he had already envisioned how poorly this will end up. And knowing just how much he likes to over-think, not impossible, “I just know I'm going to regret this... but how on earth do you honestly intend to gather information about a goddess?” “Let’s try Moogle!” Harry cheered, brightly. “...Research? Uh... how about books–?” was Alastor's unsure response, shrinking in further at Sean's unimpressed glare.

― Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire M E Y W A N G | The Asian Potterhead "I am not your friend, Hunter. I do not think we could ever be friends considering the only reason I made acquaintances with you is so that I could use you." This was not what I had planned to say to him but since the words had come out, there was no point in taking them back. I hated to see the pain reflected in his dark eyes, how his smile faltered until it was gone without a trace.

"I… I had headaches during that year. Every time I was around Professor Quirrell, I felt like a nail was burning and trying to bury itself into my head." Larry Potter made a little pause, and continued. "And it was always in the same region, in my scar." He finished saying. Professor McGonagall was looking at him like a doting grandmother that wanted to hug his grandson, but she was holding back. "Yes, your scar. One of my wives, Joan, the black haired lady with armor, due to the inclinations of her magic and blessings, is very sensitive to corrupted and dark forms of energy. And she told me that she had sensed a student with a piece of corrupted magic centered around his head that was tryin

In her hand was the perfume I had wanted so badly last month but could not bring myself to buy. "You're back?" Keith instinctively pulled his arm away from Caroline. "Today isn't one of the days you're supposed to come home." I had not even said anything yet. Caroline looked at me timidly, her eyes wide. "Silvia, don't misunderstand. I just came to visit my godmother." I glanced at her calmly. "Why are you so nervous? I didn't even do anything. You're making it look like I'm the bad guy." Caroline looked even more frightened. It was the kind of fragile, pitiful expression that made people want to protect her.