Harry Potter Smoke Novels & Stories

As the trapped wolves struggled, more thick black smoke emerged from the darkness of the night. It twisted and danced in the air, carrying an ominous aura that spoke of ancient magic. The smoke, as if imbued with a consciousness of its own, travelled towards the ensnared enemies. The atmosphere crackled with a combination of dark energy and primal forces. The smoke seeped into the thorny vines, weaving through the dark tendrils with an otherworldly grace. It enveloped the attackers, their struggles intensifying as the magical smoke permeated their very beings.

Without wasting any more time, I uncapped the vial of potion and inhaled its contents. Almost instantly, a thick smoke filled the car, swirling around me. I watched in awe as the smoke formed shapes and patterns, guiding me towards my destination. It was as if the potion had unlocked a hidden path that only I could see. With the smoke as my guide, I started the car and followed its trail. The smoke led me through the city streets, weaving in and out of traffic, as if it had a mind of its own. I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as I followed its mysterious path.

I capped the bottle and silently whispered a spell, then melted wax over the stopper. Once, I was done. I snapped my fingers. The air in the room changed at once. The dusky reddish purple smoke that had been thinning re-coalesced, twining across the floor like murky overflow. The light through the window got darker. Daemon stiffened at my side, knowing what was about to happen. I turned to face him, my eyes gleaming with the joy of an evil secret. “Wait a minute. Don't tell me that you? Oh no. You're not gonna…” Daemon’s head snapped in my direction and his eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious?”

"Want a smoke?" "No, she doesn't like the smell of cigarettes." Harry shook his head in refusal, pushing the offered cigarette from Charles a bit away with his index finger. Charles stored the pack of cigarettes inside his vest pocket, casually leaned back against the car, and took a deep drag. He lifted his head to gaze at the pitch-black sky, devoid of moon and stars, remaining silent as time passed without uttering a word. Harry crossed his arms over his chest. The waft of cigarette smoke in the air made him slightly furrow his brow, his deep voice resonating, "If you've got something to say, say it out. I still need to get back to deal with some work at the company."

Did his sense of smell burn away the day he first smoked this vile herb? Poor forgotten Hazel quickly ran up towards the alcove and took my hand firmly. “We should go,” she said urgently. She gave a curtsy to the werewolf, and half-ran, half-dragged me out of the room. I turned back to look at the werewolf with fine features. Wisps of smoke surrounded him, giving him the look of some sorcerer deep in his witchcraft. A sly grin was on his face, and he continued to lazily exhale smoke rings.

He opened his palm and a purple smoke ball hovered above it and with the snap of his finger, numerous purple balls of smoke disintegrated from the one smoke ball and were shot in high speed towards Giselle which she dodged gracefully. To those who were looking at them, it would seem as though the wolf danced past through the smoke storm. The wizard went furious seeing the sight and constantly kept throwing the spell induced smoke balls towards her. When he realised it won't work, he decided to play dirty. This time instead of aiming at Giselle, he aimed at the heavily injured fairy couple but...the spell he threw towards them was the death spell– infused of dark energy that can kill most mag

As London played with her pussy, a smell of smoke wafted through the room. Her hand stopped moving and she looked down to see thick black smoke creeping in from beneath her door. London panicked, thinking there was a fire until she saw the peculiar way the smoke was circling above her head. Thick clouds of blackness entered the room and collected above her body, hovering there, forming a solid mass before her eyes. London tried to reach up and touch it, but two long appendages shot out from the mass holding her arms to the bed.

his chuckles only intensify my agitation. “Just hurry up Dorian, stop wasting my time.” He cares little for my annoyance, only raising a brow to me, before his focus trains onto the potion. Holding the bottle with one hand, whilst the fingers on his other slowly curve, as if holding a ball. And from the palm of his hand, a sooty spiral of smoke slowly emerges. It dances gently in the air, before swaying down into the bottle, infiltrating the liquid and swirling with the solution. It makes my cure fizz for a couple of minutes, before the potion settles back into stillness, and Dorian’s magic eventually disappears as if it was never there.

I wondered what would we be doing right now if Higgins didn't interfere earlier, I closed my eyes, reminiscing about his cock, and the way he pounded into Higgins from behind that day on his desk, his muscular torso, the natural creasing of his lips, his. What is that smell? I opened my eyes, sniffing the air, "Oh God, the contract!" It was on fire, Smoke was flowing from the sides and I didn't know what to do. I yanked the electric cord from the socket, as I choked on smoke. "I...I can't breath," I clasp my hand around my throat, gasping for air. I began to feel light-headed, I was getting weaker and weaker, I staggered towards the door, grabbing hold of the doorknob, swinging it open.

My stubborn wolf refused to reply. Finally the ingredients were lined up by the stove. The witch sobbed pathetically as she tossed them all in to the inky black cauldren. The potion inside bubbled. Putrid grey smoke rose from the cauldron, stinging the backs of our throats as it filled the small cabin. Henry threw open a window covering his mouth with his sleeve. He still wore his crisp white cotton shirt and his dinner jacket from the night before. A choked cough caught in his throat.