Hogwarts Drawings Easy Novels & Stories

But her drawing was so abstract that it took me a long time to distinguish what looked like a human figure. "Hedwig, did you draw all these?" "Yes! Mommy, look! This is Leo that I drew. Does it look like him?" Hedwig immediately took out her proudest work and asked me. I could hardly hold back my laughter. "Don't laugh, mommy. Don't laugh at me! I worked so hard to draw it." Hedwig was devastated, and her face flushed with anxiety. I had to hold back my laughter and said seriously, "Baby, these are great drawings. You can show them to Leo in a while and explain the meaning of your drawings to him."

Chris laughed awkwardly, “not as much hidden talents, as working at a school and having to do art projects when I started. I can draw some animals. See if you like them?” I shrugged, “let’s see what you fucking got.” Chris went to draw some animals on a paper to show me, while the rest went to work and painted the room pink. April said it was a light pink or what ever the fuck the color is called. It was pink. Suddenly Kane came up with the brilliant fucking idea to look up templates on the computer. “What about like butterflies? Or ladybugs? Or dragonflies? Those much be easier than a whole animal?” Kane said.

He accepted things so easily, with the quiet understanding that came naturally to children. Juliette, however, wasn’t quite ready to let him go back to colouring just yet. "What are you drawing, Cade?" she asked, leaning closer to get a look at his creation. Cade glanced up at her, then down at the colourful, abstract shapes he had been scribbling onto the paper. "A dragon," he said matter-of-factly, though the image looked more like a tangled rainbow. "But he’s invisible, so you can’t see him yet."

It was folded into a small square. "I drew a picture," he said. "Did you?" Aurora took it. She unfolded it carefully. It was a drawing of the penthouse. A tall black rectangle. At the top, in the windows, were four stick figures. A tall one (Papa). A medium one (Mommy, with a circle tummy). A small one (Ethan). And another tall one with a hard hat (Uncle Marcus). But around the building, Ethan had used his black crayon. He had pressed hard.

He sat down, opened his notebook and started sketching. What he was sketching,he didn't know but his hands moved over the paper. His pencil just drew something he didn't know and wouldn't know until he was finished. He also couldn't see that his eyes were now glowing blue. How could he? At the end of his sketch, he looked at his work. It was the sea dweller. A perfect image of Cordelia with a crown atop her head. He flipped a few pages. The book was filled with previous sketches of Cordelia, a princess, A queen, A captain and a few other characters. The topics of Harry's dreams.

Leo cheered, skidding to a halt beside my chair and thrusting the paper right into my lap. I looked down at the drawing, a soft, involuntary smile breaking across my face. It was drawn in bold, vibrant colors. In the center was a stone castle with blue flags on the turrets. Standing in the grass out front were three stick-figure people holding hands. On the left was a figure with black hair in a red dress labeled Mommy. On the right was a broad figure colored in black crayon labeled Mr. Tyson. And right between them, holding both of their hands with a yellow smiley face, was a smaller figure labeled Leo.

Peter's POV Draco walked in front of Enzo and me as we made our way to the underground torture chambers. The journey that normally took about 1 hour took just 35 minutes to complete. Draco's deathly aura when he entered the van indicated he was in one of his worst moods, which was very surprising considering he had been with the lady boss just a few moments ago.

He held it out. Daniel took it. He unfolded it carefully. Inside were four drawings, pencil on the folded paper, the lines confident in the way of children who have not yet been told they might be wrong. Two floor plans — one familiar shape that was probably their house, one larger shape with rooms that did not map to any house he recognised. And two sections — the inside views, Owen had called them. Vertical cuts through imagined buildings, showing the interior in its full depth, the rooms stacked and adjacent, the walls thin lines and the spaces between them the actual subject.

" Are you feeling good down there?" " I am," I peeked at my drawing. Inspecting the somehow horrifying image. Okay! To get this straight...I drew something which almost seemed to look like an eagle...it had wings so long that it occupied the entire space of the paper. The wings had symbols that I saw as designs. I made its eyes wide like that of an owl but its peak was like that of a raven. It was flying, and behind it, I drew a small moon at the corner of the paper, beneath the eagle's feet was a trace of reflecting water.

Every free moment, he scribbled into his notebook, as if trying to remember something his brain refused to let go of. The drawings got worse. At first, they were crude—crayon lines of a tall house with crooked towers. But soon, each page was darker, more detailed. The boy no longer used colors, only black and red. Blood dripped from every window. A woman stood in the attic, her mouth open in a scream. Her eyes were hollow. The teacher called his name again. "Matthew? What are you drawing?" He didn’t look up. His hand moved quickly across the paper, sketching what looked like a spiral staircase leading into a pit. The teacher reached out and gently touched his shoulder.