Harry Potter Learns Old Magic Fanfiction Novels & Stories

Every story has a beginning, some good, some bad, mine has never been a happy one, no matter who, or how I tell it, nobody will believe me. I can't rely on the people in my life, My parents ignore me, or are cruel to me, my friends are unreliable, and aren't trustworthy either. So what happens when I turn 16 years old, and run away from my problems to another world, only to find myself in the same magical world I played make belief in as a kid? With heartbreak at every turn, and a possible new relationship on the horizon, what could possibly go wrong in this world that hasn't happened to me on Earth?!

“Either help me or leave me alone.” His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. “What are you looking for?” “The truth,” I breathed. “The one everyone keeps hiding from me.” We moved deeper into the files. My fingers trailed over cracked spines until I reached a shelf that pulsed softly with light. I froze. “Do you feel that?” I whispered. His eyes narrowed. “Yes. That’s old magic. Forbidden.” “Then it must be what I need.” I tugged a heavy scroll free. The moment I unrolled it, the air moved. Dust lifted like smoke, and glowing letters swirled across the paper, reshaping themselves into words I could read.

“S-sorcery? Like Merlin or, um, Harry Potter?” “Harry who?” She shook her head. “Certainly like Merlin, or Solomon. If you are taught well your power could be considerable. I can help there, but you really need to practice in the real world. Magic is very easy here, where reality can be easily manipulated.” She waved a hand at the scenery and the room changed from Egyptian bedroom to Medieval torture chamber, complete with the rack that Michael was now lying on. Her own clothes transformed into a leather dominatrix set as he watched, and he was now wearing a small pair of leather shorts. She looked back towards him and they were back in the bedroom overlooking Alexandria. “See? You can't cha

A few letters suddenly appeared. "Mental Aptitude: Above Average." The old magus said. "Just as expected." "Magic Aptitude. Hm?" The lazy smirk on the old noble’s face ebbed, replaced by a frown. He shook his head. "Above Average. This is a surprise. If I knew this earlier, I could have taught you as my assistant, but too bad you're already past the age. It'll only be useless. Maybe, I should test a few more in your orphanage."

Belle sat up in bed, using the buttons on the side to adjust the positioning as the nurse had shown her. The book, white with a pentacle on the cover, described the basics of witchcraft in terms even a layman could understand. Her older sister had been kind enough to drop it off, along with a change of clothing and a box of Thornton's continental—her favourite chocolates. According to this book, the spell Damien cast on her would be returned to him threefold.

"You need to practice defensive spells, Raven. That demon, his name is Beelzebub, and I'm almost certain he wants you dead because you're my mate." I laugh. "I suck at using magic other than my fire." "You're a witch, Raven." Lucy gives me a mysterious smile. I want to kiss his lips. "That means you're more powerful than you think. It might be hard getting into it, but once you stop thinking it's impossible to use spells, then the possibilities are endless." I sigh. "My grandmother isn't letting me join any defensive magic classes. She has made me join the potion-making ones." "So?" Lucy laughs. "Learn how to make explosive potions then."

He remembered a trick his mother had shown him when he was but a young lad; she would always give him a blank sheet of paper at dinner, saying she had written a secret message which was mean for him alone to read, and she will always instruct him that when he gets up to his room he should set the paper above a flame and the ink will reveal the message to him. He decided to pull this trick in this particular situation, with the blank page he found from the book. He picked up the book, a candle he found inside one of the drawers in the room and a lighter which he used to light up the candle. After lighting up the candle, he tore out the page from the book and set it above the flame, slowly the

He said he smelled magic on me, so why isn't this working? "You look like you're having a problem there." He smirks. "Let me fill you in on a little magical lesson. You've been injured, lost a bit of blood, and panicked. You're an untrained witch and can't get past your terror to save yourself. Pity." "Fuck off," I growl. Only inside I'm petrified. They're going to kill me. Drain my blood until there's nothing left but a dried-out body. I shudder, backing away and bump into the tombstone again.

Weeks bled into months. The quiet mountain village became their training ground, a sanctuary nestled amongst the watchful peaks. Professor Thorne, a formidable scholar with eyes that held the wisdom of ages, proved to be a demanding but invaluable mentor. Under her tutelage, Maya delved into the intricacies of ancient magic. She discovered a connection to the natural world she never knew existed. She learned to harness the energy of the sun, to coax life from barren soil, and to sense the whispers of the wind. The key, now a constant weight around her neck, pulsed warmly whenever she focused her newfound abilities. It resonated with a power she was only beginning to understand.

his voice taking an even scarier tone as he got up and dark clouds poured out of his hands, floating around him. Dread pooled in Soraya's eyes as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. Black magic, she realized with terror. This was her first time seeing him like this. Alwin was an old wizard who was like a father figure to her. He had taught her everything she knew about witchcraft after he had taken her in when she was lost and wandering decades ago. He had always talked about how the witches and werewolves used to live in harmony. This fueled Soraya's hopes when she learned about the prophecy. He turned to her, letting down the hood of his cloak. Soraya let out a silent gasp as she