Signed Harry Potter Book Novels & Stories

I reached for the shelves tagged Spell Books on Curses and took out one that caught my eye. It was a hardcover book. The cover was black, and on it was a gold imprint of a spell bottle. "Is it not funny how we keep meeting in unexpected places?" Prince Daryl's voice was small, careful not to enrage the librarian whose hawk eyes followed every movement of the students in the library. But even when it was a whisper, it still sent stills of caresses down my spine. "Perhaps you are stalking me, your Highness," I said, struggling to keep a blank face.

she asked, picking up the book. "Pureblooded Potterhead," I replied proudly. "You're looking at someone who's reread Harry Potter so many times that I’ve started cramming what happens on what page." Her face lit up as she said, "You're kidding, me too. I love those books. But Chamber of Secrets is my favourite." “How can you say that?” I gasped. “Deathly Hallows was the best.”

The real Bella. I immediately recognized that familiar looking book. I saw it among Bella's book collection when I first came into this world. It stood out due to its large size. But I had never opened it before. The title of that book was 'The Darkest Art.' I mean, even the title was suspicious. So what do you expect me to do? Call me silly, but I learned from 'Harry Potter' not to open any suspicious looking book. Who knows what's inside? Considering Bella's character, it could be housing the soul of a random dark lord for all I know. So, of course I didn't want to take the risk.

I didn't waste time going toward the doors and they opened revealing the sight of a mini library which was more like a library of potions for I could see weird-looking glasses with liquid or smoke in them and the books were old as well. I avoided the potions, him doing witchcraft wasn't new and I went straight to the books. I picked one up and flipped through the pages barely understanding the weird writing on them and was about to drop it when I flipped to the last page and saw something. I looked at the symbol swallowing and fighting hard against the memories that crammed my head. It was her signature or should I say trademark. The book belonged to her. I searched through the rest they wer

Most of the books had scribbles but I really didn't mind as long as I could read. Something caught my eye behind a stack of Enid Blyton's books on the upper shelf. Something shiny. I wheeled back, trying to get a good look at the mysterious cover. Holy. Macaroni. Was that Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban? I just had to get that book.

(Harper’s POV) “I’m sorry, what now?” I stared at Harry, dumbfounded. He flicked through some more pages of the book and then turned it to face me. I apprehensively looked down at the book. The page was titled “Bloodline” and there was a picture of a wicked-looking blade down one side. The writing was a little faded and handwritten, but despite all that, it felt so familiar and I could read it, like it was something I had read a thousand times before.

Two months went by and we were also a week away from Matt's 18th birthday. The man loves to read, so I decided to buy him the complete series of Harry Potter. He loves the books more than the movies. He couldn't afford the whole series, so this is the perfect gift. And also, the wand. He is a Potter head. I saw him walking to his locker, I ran towards him and jumped on his back. "There she is." He chuckled. "You're almost eighteen." I said while hugging him. He's older than us for a few months.

“When I was young, I’d hide up here because Jason didn’t know about it. In fact, until about six months ago, I always knew that I was safe up here.” Boy, how much didn’t I want to know the answer to this, but still… “What happened six months ago?” Alex shunted an old collection of Harry Potter books to one side (and no surprises why he’d had to hide stories where the wizard was the hero), and wriggled his hand through to a large blanket box.

My blood rushing to warm my skin with her sudden outburst. “It’s not the spell…. it’s who wrote it. She’s a witch.” Sierra turns the book, sliding its heaviness around to face us again and taps at the bottom right of the second page somewhat excitedly; at a little symbol that looks like it was burned into the page with hot metal. It’s tiny, a small flowing L and C surrounded by a vine design that wrap it into one continuous form and is unusually pretty.

Belle sat up in bed, using the buttons on the side to adjust the positioning as the nurse had shown her. The book, white with a pentacle on the cover, described the basics of witchcraft in terms even a layman could understand. Her older sister had been kind enough to drop it off, along with a change of clothing and a box of Thornton's continental—her favourite chocolates. According to this book, the spell Damien cast on her would be returned to him threefold.