Hogsmeade Village Novels & Stories

Hazel's eyes immediately started to scan the place they were, when they appeared at somewhere else. It was a vast land and there was nothing in sight... "Is this the place?" She asked, and Gwen nodded... "You can't see it yet," She added... Caroline and Hazel watched as Gwen started to mutter something under her breath. Her eyes were closed as she did, and slowly, their eyes became open, and they saw what Gwen was talking about... they were no longer standing in the vast but a place which looked like a small village... "Welcome to the Southern Coven, otherwise known as the Coven of Dark Witches" G,wen said and Hazel started to become a bit nervous when she saw the dark witches come out of th

I looked up to see the place he brought me to. As we got closer I could make out a small village. The entrance was hidden behind a thick curtain of leaves, creeping vines and trees which probably served as a protection against other clans and wildlife. The village was divided into different chambers and corridors. I saw different werewolves in their wolf form as we walked past and men, women and children going about their daily routine.

The road wound back further away from the street, and then I saw it. The building was massive and resembled an old school built in the early 1800s with wide steps and pillars out front and wings on either side. I wondered what in the world the council of mages needed all of this room for, but then, Maggie answered my question for me. “Welcome to Ecole de Sorcellerie,” she said, turning to look over her shoulder. My eyes were wide as I stared blankly at her. “What’s that mean? In English?”

“And how will you seduce such a powerful King?” “Oh, I have my ways.” Smiling to herself she strutted confidently ahead, leaving Zarek to smirk at her backside. Soon enough the gate to the inner village came into view. The gate was a massive stone structure in the middle of a stone wall that surrounded the village, the castle at the very back along the tree line. A steel portcullis was hidden away between the rows of murder holes above as they both passed beneath.

"And with the celebrations, no one will be watching for an attack." "Should I gather our men?" "No, first I need a wolf." "But how?" "Magic." Henry frowned, rubbing his hands over his face but he said nothing as he followed me into the silent streets. The houses started to thin out as we reached the edge of town. Trees crept closer obscuring the few houses that loitered this far out. Weed sprung up between the cracked cobblestones. This far out, away from the protective walls of the castle, the town was more woods than town.

We agreed to keep it as an option and headed north. There were no sounds of merriment. We came over a slight rise and looked down on the village. There were thatched roofs with smoking chimneys, whitewashed walls and pretty little gardens. And in the middle was a square with a green. There were three piles of wood, each stacked around a stake in the ground, and three girls tied to each stake. Our girls.

“They will never even realize they turned by the time they’re away from the island.” “Huh, that’s cool.” I look at the castle off in the distance. As it gets closer, I realize just how big it is. Of course it’s big. It’s a castle. “Welcome to Hogwarts,” I mumble to myself. “Hog what?” Puma asks. “Hogwarts,” I repeat. “What?” “You know,” I say. “The school from Harry Potter.” “Who’s Harry Potter?” I narrow my eyes as I look at him.

The village was nestled deep within the dense woods, hidden from the prying eyes of the outside world. Agnes followed the seer through the narrow, winding paths that led to the heart of the village. Small huts made of wood and thatch stood in a circle, their smoke-filled chimneys billowing into the air. The villagers glanced at Agnes with curious eyes, sensing her arrival was not an ordinary one. As they reached the center of the village, the seer gestured towards a humble hut, adorned with various mystical symbols. “This is the witch doctor’s dwelling,” he said, his voice hushed in reverence.

Now, I have found out he’s alive in a village I’ve never even heard of. Lazlo brushes his hand against mine as he passes me the last of the packs. Together, we lead the horses toward the narrow path that winds downhill through the trees. The village waits beyond the next ridge, smaller than I imagined, just a handful of cottages pressed into the hillside, smoke rising from stone chimneys, the scent of baking bread and damp wool thick in the air. Children chase each other barefoot through the grass. A pony whinies once, sauntering off to follow a stray goat into a makeshift barn.