Harry Potter Scar Costume Novels & Stories

A scar. A faded slanted line starts from the edge of his left eyebrow, over his eye — damaging his once black pupils, turning them grey — and then the scar continues down his cheeks, ending at the bridge of his nose. Asides from his scar, he has dark eyes the exact color of black blood and curly, black hair sitting atop of his head. Everything about him is black. His Castle is pitch-black with a single line of fire torches to aid the eyes to see. The walls are painted black. His clothes are all black. Maybe this has been done to shield him away from daylight.

To honor me, he was giving his speech. "All the enchantresses including Celestial, they had to perform an urgent ritual to save her life. She even got a scar on her face for life. But she did not care. For some of you, that scar is hideous, but for me, it is the mark of our victory. It is a mark of honor and bravery for me. So today, on her eighteenth birthday, I would like to gift her this armor of the she Wolf warrior. It has been a century since this armor has not been passed towards the next warrior. But the day she fought to save our territory, I made up my mind that I will give it to her once she is eighteen. And today is that day." He said and everyone started clapping for me. I was w

All I wanted to do was draw back, but my body was still there, not willing to make any moves anytime soon. The next second, I growled as I felt a sharp but small pain in my arms. He had cut me. Harry came forward and tried to drag him backward away from me, but it didn’t seem like he wanted to. He didn’t seem scared of me like the rest did from the woods, and I wasn’t going to attack either, even though he had just hurt me. He gasped as he continued to stare at the place he had cut, his extended claws dripping. When I glanced at them, they dripped with silver.

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

It had to be the fear, searching for familiar ways to find comfort and stability in the cage that was swiftly closing around her. When she finally stood before him, Stanley reached out and took her hand in his own, raising it to his lips for a chaste kiss. "My lady," he said softly, his voice like silk. "You look lovely this morning." "If it were up to me, I would have come to the wedding wearing rags, but the goblins insisted I wear this." Scar sighed, gesturing to the gown of carefully arranged leaves, meticulously drained of color and enchanted with some kind of magic. "But I suppose this will have to do."

"Didn't know she would murder my parents? Didn't know she would steal my entire legacy? Or didn't know she would humiliate me in front of the world?" Clark was speechless. "Or," I continued, "did you know all along and just chose to look the other way?" "No! I really didn't know—" "Then what about this?" I turned my back to him and unfastened the top of my tunic. A gruesome scar ran from my left shoulder to my right hip. The eclipse curse had turned it a sickly silver-black, and it still seemed to writhe slowly, eating away at my life force. Clark's breath hitched.

Her chest vibrated against his when he roughly pulled her dress down revealing her slender shoulder. She was ready to feel his harsh attack on her again but nothing his body was frozen over her. She flinched feeling him pulling his hand away from her thigh and tracing his cold fingers on her revealed shoulder. "What is this?" His uneven deep voice reached her ears making her snap her eyes open as realization started drilling in her mind. The scar. There was a scar on her right shoulder which didn't fail to freeze Harry. The scar looked painful and quite old. He stared at it for a long time as she finally answered.

Ding, ding, ding, we pull away to see Silvia standing on the stage. “Can the birthday girl please come to the stage.” Silvia says and I feel Octavia stiffen in my hold, she knows what’s coming. We walk up to the stage and our dads come through the side door attached to the stage, holing her cake; a Harry Potter themed three tier cake, the bottom layer is Green (Slytherin), dark chocolate devils’ cake, the middle layer is Blue (Ravenclaw), milk chocolate mud cake and the top layer is the Marauders map, with a silver wolf howling on the top, it’s a white chocolate and raspberry centre sponge cake. There is black frosted roses and other HP symbols positioned around it.

The middle witch said. "Do it," He said again. "My Lord, this spell is too risky for me. There are chances I might lose my life in doing so-" "Name your price," Draco said coldly. "A couple of diamonds would suffice my Lord," She whispered. "I agree, now do your work. If possible give all of her scars and pain to me," He rasped as the witch nodded, instructing him to remove his shirt. She made a circle in the room with red magical powder requesting him to stand in the middle. Once he stood in the middle she dipped four of her fingers in a red paste before marking his chest like the claw lines.

After my scars were fixed, I started accepting invitations to high-society events. Before, I'd avoid every gathering possible, and when I couldn't get out of it, I'd wear a veil to hide my face. I'd spent so long covering up that I'd almost forgotten what I looked like without the scars. Rosetti didn't give a damn about appearances. He'd show up to every party like nothing was wrong, totally ignoring all the "Beauty and the Beast" comments people made behind our backs. What I didn't know was that while I was on Rosetti's arm at these events, someone else was always watching from the shadows.