Harry Potter Owl Letters Novels & Stories

Annie blinked, giving him an odd look as she didn't quite understand what was going on. "I'll go start up the car and make sure we have everything Jack told us to bring," he said to her, leaning forward to peck her cheek. He left the room, leaving her with the envelope. Annie, curious, sat down on the end of the bed and carefully opened the letter. Dear Annie, Perhaps this has been a long time coming. It's not the first letter I've wrote you and it surely will not be the last. I would write you a letter every single day just to remind you how much love I have for you. I look at you and still feel stunned, so lucky that I get to call you mine.

Everyone froze. Liam instinctively pulled Emma behind him. Victoria slowly removed... Another envelope. Old. Yellowed. Sealed with red wax. Emma's eyes widened. "The last letter..." Victoria smiled. "No." She held it higher. "This is the first letter." The room fell silent. "What?" Emma whispered. Victoria's smile became colder. "The letter you've all been chasing was only half the story." She looked directly at Emma. "Your mother wrote two letters." "You've spent months searching for the last one."

__________ . . . ~ ~ ~ O L I V I A ~ ~ ~ . "Monkey is not going to be happy that you left without meeting her," I told Harry as he wrapped his arms around me, lifting me off the ground and giving me a shake before putting me back down. "I will come visit. I really need to go this time." He mumbled as he stepped back. "Give her all the gifts. I tell her I sent them, not that I was actually here. Thanks for having me."

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. Yours sincerely, Benny bean, Deputy Headmaster. Jordon turned the letter over, expecting something on the back but that was it, that was all the explanation given. "What does he mean our owl?" Jordon asked, his eyes flitting to the two owls perched on the coffee table, bored of the cake and preening their feathers with the odd shriek. "The Jenny woman said that too. Do you think they expect us to send a reply back with them?" he asked, pointing at the owls with a furrowed brow. "Why not just send a message?" he muttered.

Picking up the letter, he walked over to his fireplace and tossed the letter into the temperate flames. *Pssh* The letter burned swiftly, as it should, for was paper ever a competitor of fire? Once the paper was fully burned, a face appeared in the fire. Engulfed by smoke and ash, the face was not fully visible, but Professor Huckleberry recognized it all the same. Bowing before the face, he offered his greeting. “7th Sword, Huckleberry, greets the Ogre.”

he asked as he saw Thorne moving around, finding something. “I’m looking for a curtain! We need to cover the wall! I’m starting to get goosebumps from all of those birds.” Thorne stated as he rubbed his arms, even though the birds outside didn’t do anything, he was uncomfortable with their gazes. “Such a scaredy cat!” Dorian teased, which led to a never ending bickering. Lucien who remained silent didn’t bother to listen to their chaos and observed the dead owl. He unfurled the letter, his eyes scanning the contents. His expression was neutral, the words were crisp, the ink dark and fresh against the pale paper:

Good Luck my girl. “Okay, well, I have my work cut out for me then. What do you think I should start with first?” I look back at Oliver who is rubbing his forehead. “What’s wrong?” “Everytime I tried to read over your shoulder, I got a splitting headache. Is that a normal thing when you get a letter from a witch?”

Erik could confirm that the sum of a hundred and fifty years of galleons robbed by the Board of Governors was a very big number. Erik folded the letter back with a mental command and put it back inside the original envelope, leaving it to the side. He saw that Mitsy had already delivered the newspaper of the day and could read the headline of the first page in big and bold letters that read 'LORD OF HOGWARTS IS BACK!'. Erik had a small smile on his face after reading it, but let it be to read it after the last letter.

Paper cuts hurt more when they came with your name carved into them. The tray of letters was worse. At first, I thought they were formal notes—diplomatic condolences, perhaps. But the moment I opened the first one and saw the smeared ink and jagged script, I knew better. “You fooled him once. Let’s see how long it lasts.” The next letter had no greeting, just a warning: “You’ll hang the moment his spell breaks.” The one after that didn’t even use words—just a child’s sketch of a wolf being hunted, burned.

My wolf was just as anxious, whining and scratching at my insides, urging me to *do something*. It was the evening of the fourth day when the letter arrived. I was still pacing in our bedroom when a loud caw startled me. A large black crow perched on the windowsill, its dark eyes gleaming unnaturally. Tied to its leg was a sealed scroll. My hands trembled as I untied it. The moment I unrolled the parchment, my blood ran cold. The letter was written in elegant, cruel handwriting: