Harry Potter Rejects Magic Fanfiction Novels & Stories

"I lived as a Rogue after my mate rejected me because I was below her standard as a warrior in her fathers pack and she got him to banish me" "An Alphas daughter rejected her mate and even got him banished, that is ludacris! why didn't you report this atrocity to the council?" "Because even though she rejected and banished me, I could never do anything to hurt her, it is what it is to put it simply" "You're ever so passionate about this mate thing aren't ya Harry"

"You can't resist. Come, Henry. Come find me." My legs moved without permission, each step an agonizing betrayal that sent panic skittering through my chest. The instinct to resist screamed in my mind, but the magic's hold tightened with every step, making me feel like a puppet dancing on frayed strings, helpless and afraid. Invisible threads of magic coiled around my muscles and dragged me forward against my will. Each step dragged me toward the door, my will splintering with every footfall. I gripped the doorframe, forcing myself to stop. My breath came in short gasps, sweat beading on my forehead.

He shrugged. “Will it be awesome if you become a puppet of someone’s hand and have no thoughts of your own? Be in their control and do whatever they say, even if it’s against your morals and conscience? It’s not cool or as awesome as you think, it’s sick and that is why this kind of magic was forbidden,” Zahir looked upset. “Cool down, man. It’s not like I have magic or something. To naïve people like us, even sliding a glass of water on a table without touching it, is awesome,” Morfan said, easing down.

For a second, the light wavered, thinning just enough for me to see his hand more clearly through it. I could almost reach him. Almost. Then the hum deepened again, solidifying. He sighed. “You’re not ready.” “No,” I admitted softly. “I’m not.” The words lingered in the air, heavy and final. We both sat there, on opposite sides of something we didn’t understand, separated by choice, by magic, by heartbreak. And still, when the wind carried his scent toward me, warm and familiar, a part of me, the foolish part, wanted to break the rules and run through it.

"You don't even know the half of it. At first, she thought you'd been forced to leave by Timothy or your parents. She made a huge scene at your family's house. Then, she found out your dad rented you a small apartment. "She waited there for over half a month but never saw you once. In the end, she hired someone to force the door open, only to realize no one had ever lived there in the first place. "Thinking that your parents had lied to her, she retaliated by pressuring their company. Your parents even went bankrupt because of her." As Erika recounted all this, I listened with eyes gleaming with interest. Honestly, this was probably the most satisfying thing I'd heard in my life.

I write: *What I would say:* *The rejection is the beginning of the correct story. Not the beginning of your recovery from a wrong story — the beginning of the right one. The door that closes is the door that was between you and your actual life. On the other side of it: a city that knows your name. A corner table. A leather bookmark left without explanation. A man who asks what matters before anything else. A brother who points at you in approval and then goes to find bread. A woman who keeps records for forty years so you will have what you need when you arrive. A building with a map in its stone that has been waiting for you specifically.*

“I am here.” I closed my eyes and frantically reached into my core, calling my magic, willing it to the surface. I couldn’t go into this without knowing that I tried every other way possible to heal him. I touched one hand to the small patch of skin left on his lower back and the force of my magic almost propelled me backwards. I planted my feet into the floor pushing against the barrier with every ounce of strength I could muster, to will my power into him. It’s not working. The magic is just bouncing from his body and coming back into me. “That won’t work anymore until you complete the coupling process. Your magic is being rejected to force you into completing the binding.”

"What?" He sighed again, putting a finger under my chin and looking closer at my neck. He was looking at the scars, I just knew it. I shrunk away from him and shoved his hand away, my eyes wide as my chest tightened. "All the pain and suffering you endured, you didn't deserve any of it. You are extremely special and your mate should have treasured you. His decision to reject you was a reflection of him, not you. I hope you understand that." I was crying before I could even process his words. "He only rejected me because I was an omega. If my parents were still alive, I would have been an alpha," I gritted out, my voice cracking with emotion.

I was rejected! I had to kill to survive, it doesn't matter who. I turned out to be a merciless leader that steps on the cruel and crush them with my feet. I am going to destroy all of the packs with the rogues, and then Derrick is all mines. He caused my greatest pain. He looked down on me even when he knew we were meant to be, because he couldn't suffer the humiliation of mating with an omega. He turned his back on me when I felt I had found hope again. He sent me away and into the wild. When the war is over with

"Your scar, Mr. Potter, contin, indeed, a piece of corrupted alien magic in it. And the headaches that you had are the result of said corrupted alien magic 'hammering' the protection. It has something to do with who that piece of corrupted magic belongs to." Erik replied, with a tone of 'enigma' in the end, waiting for the boy to link the dots. And he did. "Voldemort?" Erik nodded at the boy's almost whispered name. "Can it be removed?" Larry Potter asked, looking very seriously at Erik. The idea of having a piece of Voldemort's magic in him disgusted the boy to another entirely different level. "It can. Do you want me to do it?" Erik replied and asked back to the boy, looking directly in hi