Hermione Granger Owl Novels & Stories

“Whatever’s gone on between the witches and werewolves of New York is none of my fucking business. What’s important now is how to stop The Owl.” “Let’s say we believe you,” I said. “What the hell is The Owl?” “Not what,” she said. “Who.” “The Owl is a person?” I asked. “Yeah. A warlock. A very, very powerful warlock.” “And how do you know all this?” Nathan asked. “Because…” she said, looking away, “I got the vision of everything.” Her voice trembled, and I heard the fear in it. I didn’t want to buy into whatever she was saying, but deep down, I already believed her. She was telling the truth.

My voice is pure gravel, scraped entirely raw. ​The door creaks open. Ophelia's scent blooms first—mugwort and sage, a healer's balm cutting through the decay of the room like moonlight through fog. She stands in the threshold, her grey hair pinned loose under her kerchief. Her lined face is etched deep with worry, but her oracle-deep eyes hold a quiet, commanding fire. ​In one hand, she balances a steaming bowl of venison stew. In the other, a muslin-wrapped poultice, glowing faintly green with silverleaf paste.

Asher hollowing deep in the back of my mind. “AAHHH!! What the fuck is that!?” Hunter almost falls into me as he backs away from the metal guardrail. I turn and see a large barn owl perched on the metal, completely unaffected by our presents. It was so unusual to see an owl this close up and so random. The colors of the feathers were unusual as well. They vaguely looked familiar for some reason. The owl flapped and preened its autumn color feathers as it continued to stare at each one of us. Its large yellow eyes glow against the moonlight. I breathed in and could faintly smell the most perfect scent in my life. The wonderful smell of spiced cider and orange. My heart raced wildly in my ches

Elizabeth Clementine looked at Jason with disdain as he stepped into the werewolf gathering. She thought it was extremely disrespectful how she was particularly denied access to his mating ceremony but as soon as crisis came knocking, he remembered that she existed. She was a young witch, with shirt blonde hair and clear Hazel eyes. She was petite in stature, around 4 '10 and pretty much everyone here towered above her, especially the Halem Moonlight Alpha that looked down at her like she was nothing.

I looked down at him, and saw the admiration shining in his eyes behind this glasses, and my heart squeezed. When I looked back at Jeremiah, I found myself smiling. "Yes. This is Chuck." Jeremiah's face suddenly became warmer, he crouched slightly to Chuck's level. "Nice to meet you, Chuck." He said, stretching his hand for a shake. "That's a great shirt. You a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw kind of guy?" Chuck's entire face lit up like fireworks. "Ravenclaw! But I really like Luna Lovegood, and everyone says Hermione should've been in Ravenclaw too because-"

Her eyes were not the typical dark obsidian of her species; they were a piercing, luminous crystal-blue, gleaming with a terrifying, ancient intelligence that felt entirely human. "Rebecca, meet Moon," Maeve murmured softly, using her thumb to gently stroke the soft, downy feathers beneath the owl's heart-shaped face. "She flies faster than the wind, she cannot be tracked by elven glamour, and she knows the paths through the Fae borders better than any living soul."

"Hold up, I'll stop you there uncle, I'm sorry. Ehm, you called her owl-something and akwshinis, did I get that right?" "No. And you cut me off again. I'll explain just once, so listen- so I can get back to telling you the whole story. Owlignus is their specie, they are shapeshifters but mostly owls. They are witches, old witches, and we all know ancient witches are very powerful. They feed on owls, which is weird because of what they are, but legend has it that they get their powers from owls, so every Friday night, they feast on owls. They are evil, of course, and they are good too. Just like human beings, some of us are kind while others are sadistic. And Akwanisis is a title for the chos

“Longer, miss. I’ve worked here as his housekeeper for the last five years. I’ll get you water!” “Oh, what’s your name?” I asked, liking her chatty nature. I could make friends with her and get to know a lot about my captor! “Stella Hawkes! I know you’re Hermione Averoff!” I gasped at the way she pronounced my full name. I hated it. “Please call me Hera. I hate my full name!” “Why? It’s so exotic, a symbol of intelligence in our era! Hermione was the daughter of the Greek messenger God, Hermes. I’m sure you know that already!”

Adelaide let her eyes move over the people that filled the pristine white space as their eyes all turned to look to her. Familiar faces stood out from the crowd next to Theo and she quickly made her way over. The tall female was dressed in traditional wear that stood out from the crowd that had gathered and her hair was auburn and long, reaching to her lower back. Her eyes were blue and wild, full of the wolf that lounged beneath her skin. The wilderness clung to her skin and was a drug to her senses, like a song pulling her back to the true nature of their kind.

“I can smell him on you and your dog.” “Wolf.” I corrected again and she rolled her eyes. She and Mabel act very much the same. She turned around to look at the area around her. She was taking everything in. “You know Hermione. This is not just a field. It’s overflowing with power. You don’t know this because you’re too busy bothered about that uncle of yours and sleeping with Bernardo-” “Whoa! Stay out of my damn business!”