Scriptorium Hogwarts Legacy Novels & Stories

Hugo scanned the grounds and spotted Stella standing still, her gaze fixed on the field. "Where’s Taylor?" Hugo asked, following the direction of her stare. "He’s over there," Stella answered, her voice tinged with worry. "He said he wanted to train with the Lycans to get stronger, to be better suited to stand by the king’s side. I just hope he doesn’t get hurt." Hugo turned his attention to the scene, watching Taylor spar with the Lycan. With his seasoned eye, he could tell Taylor’s opponent wasn’t particularly well-trained, but he had to admit—Taylor was holding his own impressively.

I enter the mini bathroom I had in my office, washing and scrubbing the freaking smell off my body before I go insane. I wonder why I asked for Jimmy's help in getting me a potion that permanently removes the smell of a rogues blood from mixing with mine, "something that simple? It wouldn't even take my aunt a minute to prepare for just a little token." Those were his words and yet he brought something totally unacceptable, instructing me to make a little cut in my skin and rub the concoction there and also underneath my armpits which would help stop the blood scent from mixing with mine. Yet since yesterday I have followed his instructions, making sure to follow them the way he said I shoul

It was my Underboss, Andrea Lombardi. He looked extremely concerned as he said, "Donna Costa, why are you still outside? It's late. Your Nonna's waiting for you to go home." They turned to stare at Luca and Sofia in confusion. "They're…" "Two madmen. Chase them out of Sisse. They're banned." "Yes, Donna Costa." The Soldatos pulled them back. Sofia cried, but it didn't draw my attention at all. I took the gun back from Salvador and slipped it into my pocket. Ignoring Luca and Sofia, I got into the car.

The liquid dribbled down onto the floor, creating a puddle by his leg. Theonardo shook his head, sighing, his Ronen's apple bobbing up and down as he turned his face away from me, looking anxious. "No, the middle-aged bald human scientist did. He's here. He's working with the witches." His words seemed to go through one ear and out the other, my mouth hanging open in shock, bile rising in my throat, the taste making me gag. My brain couldn't comprehend what he had just said, the words sounding like gibberish for a few seconds. "What? Lucas? No, that's impossible. He's dead."

We'd have to make this fast. A large, fenced-in warehouse stood across the road. The metal siding tattooed in faded graffiti, and the windows were dark rows staring out at the sea. Poe had brought us almost exactly where we needed to be. I'd have to ask him how he'd managed that. I would have been too afraid of the Witches sensing the residual magic from the portal. "Ok, seriously. What are we going to do now?" Liam asked. I pointed at the warehouse. "We've got to get in there."

He looked around, and finally looked at the thick scroll in his hand, before using it to apply pressure on my wound. “Ah!” I screamed, as the scroll burned. Then Lucas tipped the bottle of the invisibility potion into my mouth, and did the same.“I forgot about this. If I had, this wouldn't happen to you.” He said, looking at the hags, who screamed around, shooting the arrows recklessly, hoping to hit us by accident. “Ah, it burns!” I exclaimed, pushing the map away from me.

Two Hours Later – Royal Investigation Council Chamber The torches burned low in the stone chamber, casting long shadows over the obsidian war table where the kingdom’s highest tacticians and magical scholars sat in grim silence. “It wasn’t just a mark,” muttered the War Caste’s commander, fingers gliding over the magical traces left behind on the prince’s skin—now etched into the blood-glass sigil projected above the table. “She laced it with bloodruned fury. Precision-carved. Not a rage mark—this was controlled. Ritualized.”

THIRD PERSON’S POV Marcus tore the parchment open with shaking claws. The seal cracked like thin ice. Isabella’s handwriting stared up at him—sharp, unyielding, signed with that crescent scar imprint that mocked him more than any insult could. He read the words twice, then crushed the scroll in his fist until ink bled between his fingers. Alliance denied. They were coming.

“Lena, you know who you are. You don’t need to hear it.” I shivered, struggling to keep my thoughts to myself. “They’re—" My voice cracked. “They’re inside me.” Jameson swore. “That’s it. I’m getting my exorcism kit.” Soraya seized my shoulders, her hands hot with magic. “Look at me, Lena. Look at me.” I tried. I tried. But the shadows were curling at the corners of my vision, dragging me in deeper. Images passed through my mind. The first Guardian, her dark eyes piercing mine, her voice booming beneath the ruins.

It arrived at the old Grayson mansion and perched on a window, letting out a loud caw. "You did well," Talia commended, then the crow's eye returned to normal, and it quickly flew off. "Noticed anything unusual at the Coliseum, Mistress?" Ighor asked. He was with Talia in her room. She sat on a chair facing out the window. "Other than the new twist to the opening game, everything else seems normal there," she replied. "A new twist?" Ighor furrowed his brow. "Lord Xavier and Caden have outdone themselves," Talia said.