Novelas y relatos de Hermione Severus

Then, clad in fuzzy blue bedroom slippers with pom-poms on the toes, baggy jeans, red belt, and braless, she waited. The sorceress took up the mortar and pestle. In went the deadly nightshade, the wild elephant's ear, the bladderwort, and the stinking smut. Blobs of mercury slid over the powdered herbs as she had carefully poured it from the vail while covering her nose and mouth with her feathered sleeve.

Hermione Granger sat cross-legged on the floor of the library, surrounded by piles of books as she pored over ancient texts in search of a rare potion recipe. The silence was broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a floorboard underfoot. Lost in her studies, she didn't notice the tall, dark-haired figure approaching until he was standing directly behind her. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Viktor Krum's deep voice rumbled, causing Hermione to jump and spin around. The Bulgarian Quidditch captain loomed over her, his piercing gaze fixed on her face. Hermione felt her cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny.

I calmly take in a deep breath before nodding. Few meters ahead and I was standing before the council. Principal Eldor was sitting amidst four strange faces, only one female and Tabitha Crofus -my grandmother is sitting some meters away from them. A sly smile rests on her lips as she looks at me. I return it with my chin up high, setting her aback. "Miss Hermione Crofus, a final year student of Showek's High school is been accused of using her magic wrongly to hurt a fellow student, by name Ketura Crofus..." The man at the extreme end says

"It isn't what you think!" I ignored them and continued following the sound of the voice, and strangely I was beginning to pick up her scent and that guided me directly to a crusty looking door at the farm corner of the house. My hands were trembling violently as I stood outside the door now. "Lilith!" I shouted. A weak voice answered me from inside. "O-Oliver..." Moon Goddess. She was in there. Fear unlike anything I'd ever known seized me, and after warning her to move away from the door, I drove my foot against it with enough force to shake the walls.

She would protect the world she had helped to build. No matter what the old magic threw at her, she would not break. She was Elif Demir. She was the half-blood's hope. And she was just getting started.

When I found out I was going to die, I accepted it with ease. My mate, Simon Knightley, came to me with a sullen expression and said, "Zora, Laila has been in poor health since birth. She's an Omega with the weakest healing ability. "One of her kidneys is failing, and she needs a transplant to survive."

Someone has found the seam. I peer across realms, folding perception between fire and time. And there, cutting through the pines in a sleek obsidian car, is the source of the disturbance. Selene. Actress. Witch. A creature of vanity, power, and old grudges. She has no coven, but needs none. Her magic was always self-fed, like a snake swallowing its own tail.

Whether he was Morgan or Draco, she didn't want him in her life anymore. Morgan raised his hand to wipe away her tears; he just couldn't keep seeing her crying so hysterically and heartbroken. But when she saw his action, she flinched and backed away from him with her eyes filled with fear. His pupils shrank violently as he stared at her. ‘She was afraid of him. Did she think he would hurt her?’ He thought.

“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!”

Of all the beauty, hers was the most divine. Her purple eyes gleamed with her grey armor as she rose from the ashes, did her purple gaze shine with her tears or her enemy’s blood? They were afraid to call her by her name……. Athena. I am Athena Raven Lark, and this is my Story.