Harry Potter Imagines Novels & Stories

“Even if elves can’t have kids the normal way, what if the Queen made them to store part of her energy?” I leaned over and shouted over the rush of wind, “It’s elfs, not elves.” He ignored me. “She might be keeping herself protected by not having her energy all in one place.” “You mean like a lich keeping its soul in a jar?” “Sort of. I was thinking more like a Horcrux.” “Whore’s crotch?” “Horcrux.” “What’s that?” I asked, not sure I’d even heard him right. “You know, like in Harry Potter? What Voldemort did.”

He pulled Grainne's hand and said, "Mom, let's go to the contest then! Harry already knows what to draw today!" Grainne asked: “Is that so? So what is Harry going to draw today?" Harry shook his head, raised his hand to his mouth, and snorted, then said mysteriously, "It's a secret, mom will find out soon enough!" In the final contest, the children participating in the contest tried to show their imagination, drawing all kinds of fantasy fairy drawings.

I shook my head squinting my eyes. “Look, I’m guessing you’ve read Harry Potter books right?” I nodded my head to the question thrown by Rilley, “It’s written by JK. Rowling right?” I nodded again,” This world is not her creation, it already exists. She wrote the book according to her experiences in this wizarding world, all the characters and places are real. Those books themselves are only that our timezones are different” “But how did she get in there? Through the barrier in Kings Cross Railway Station?” I asked.

He articulates, and I nod. “Alright, do it.” He urges with a smile. I close my eyes and I indulge in his fantasies. I pretend to wade through a stream in my mind, looking for Silas, and when I do find him, I pretend to hold on to him as though he’s a thread in my brain, one that can fade away quickly, but nothing happens. I open my eyes, disappointed, “See, magic isn’t real.” “Maybe,” He shrugs, and devours the pancake.

“But I’m not sure that’s enough anymore.” Kael sat down beside me, his arm brushing mine. “We’ll make it enough,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way.” I nodded, but unease. Because deep down, I already knew—Harry wasn’t waiting for us to make a move. He was already moving. At night, the dreams came again. But this time, they weren’t just dreams. I stood in a hall full of mirrors, endless reflections of just staring back at me. Then, one by one, the reflections shifted—becoming Harry. His smiles, his eyes, his hand stretched towards me.

“Hope is all an old man like me has left. I don’t need much. One child from them… that would be enough to bring this house back to life.” Jimmy nodded solemnly. “Then I’ll continue watching over them from a distance. Who knows… perhaps another surprise awaits.” Mr. Hans smiled. “Oh, there will be. I’m sure of it. And if not… well, I do have a second version of the potion. Stronger. More… persuasive.” Jimmy chuckled softly and bowed. “Very well, Mr. Hans. I’ll support you—as long as it’s for Master Harry’s own good.” As Jimmy disappeared into the shadows of the garden, Mr. Hans gazed out across the quiet greenery, as if imagining the laughter of a child echoing through the lavender fields.

“I’m not touching that. I’ll get tetanus or something.” Harry glanced over at me with a flat, unimpressed look. “And you think I’m going to touch it?” I tried to stare him down. “I’m not doing anything. You’re the one who wanted to be the hero. So go ahead and be the hero, Harry. Open it. Don’t let me stand in your way.” Harry looked at the knob, then at me, then back at the knob, and the devil grinned. I expected something stupid like ‘open sesame’ or ‘alohomora’. But nope, he had to be dumb but piss me off at the same time as well.

Well, it was a good thing I already know the story, I have read it about a hundred or more times. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. What could be better than all the fantasy, action and thriller all in once? Trying to concentrate onto the words of the book and let my imagination disrupt my thoughts, I didn't even realise I managed to walk straight into something hard and strong. I gasped as I was almost knocked out off balance.

I shrieked as two smaller versions of the armchair started to chase me. I didn’t know what to do, so I did the only thing I could think of. I kept hacking at the chairs. Every hack caused them to multiple. Fucking hell. When everything started doubling, I felt like I was in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. This is how I’m going to die. I’m going to drown in my mind in a room of small armchairs trying to kill me.

It’s dangerous yet I find myself wanting those captivating eyes to never look away. It frightens me to my core and I panic. “My real name is Harry and I come from a hidden world known as Hogwarts. My grandmother is Gandalf.” I sound stupid, I’m so stupid. The fumbling words leave my mouth before I can control them. I expect confusion from him, or maybe he’d look at me like I am some weirdo, but…he laughs. He laughs out freely. The laughter stems deep from within him, rich with real cheerfulness. As always, I’m entranced by it. The wind picks up the sound fast, playing it in the air.