Novel & Cerita Voldemort Books

Erick and Alina’s Great Escape Alina “I am so done with this!” I slammed the humongous book shut and would’ve thrown it across the room if I had the strength to lift the damn thing. Emiel pushed his spectacles down his nose to witness my tantrum before burying his nose back into another book. He didn’t really need the spectacles, vampires being unable to have any diseases unless they were magically induced, but Emiel apparently likes to look nerdy.

But this was not what Caitlin wanted: she needed to heal Scarlet, not kill her. As she finished yet another book and slid it aside, with still no mention of healing anywhere, she began to feel a sense of despair. She lifted the final book on the stack, a small, leather-bound volume with a red spine, entitled De Fascino Libri Tres by Leonardo Vairo. Caitlin summoned her knowledge of Latin, and knew that translated to: Three Books of Charms, Spells and Sorceries.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing she could do. Six vampires rolled forward a huge, iron cauldron, bubbling and hissing, mounted at the top of a ladder. They put it in position, right over Sam’s head. Sam looked up at it. And the last thing he saw was the liquid leaving the cauldron, bubbling and hissing, and heading right for his face.

“Don’t you understand? That book... is a gold mine of knowledge!” “Er...” “That’s Vevila’s Grimoire! Her witch’s bible!” I dropped the book in shock. ________________

Maybe I should take advantage of it and write some stories? I opened the book and started writing, " A girl who's in despair of her friend's death is finally trying to come out of it by taking the first step in attending her funeral. In the past week alone, people had lost their families or friends, and yet she managed to find the strength to do something, despite it being hard. " I continued to write, adding more details as I went along until I got to an entry about her favourite colour. green.

Countless books lined the shelves. Leaning forward, I picked up an old, rusty spellbook. After brushing off the dust and cobwebs, I opened it to find potions, magics, and spells of all kinds. “But how do I know which is the right one?” I wondered aloud. A brief silence followed. Then, a noise came from the back. My heart skipped. Moving closer to investigate, I spotted a small, aged book on the floor. Picking it up, I skimmed the first few pages. The book focused mainly on werewolves. Opening it further, my eyes widened—there, written boldly on the middle page, were potions, spells, and a cure for werewolf illness.

My heart skipped. I moved closer, scanning the titles until one name leapt out at me like a struck nerve. Dead Viles… The moment I read it, my stomach twisted to nausea. I pulled the text free and opened it, my fingers trembling despite myself. Unlike Lunareeth, this book was filled with dense writing, diagrams etched in faded ink, and warning seals pressed into the margins. Dead Viles. A deadly, ancient poison. I started reading about it, and the more I read, the more my heart shuddered with a cold chill…

The books here were faintly covered in dust. As he reached out to the top shelf, his eyes fell on a familiar thick black book lying on the floor. The Art Of The Body. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flicked up and locked with Scarlett. She didn't look away, but a deep blush gradually spread across her cheeks. That book brought back memories, and for a moment, he forgot the unspoken tension between them. He looked away finally and pulled out several dusty books from the shelf. Two were about old werewolves, one about vampires, and the last one was about witches.

--- The great hall was filled with wolves when we reached it. Vidar stood on the platform, his arms spread wide, his voice rising. He was speaking of Stellan—of his weakness, his betrayal, his death. He was speaking of the half-blood who had killed him, who had brought destruction to the North Star lands, who would bring destruction still.

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.”