Novel & Cerita Why Does Harry Potter Have A Scar

This man almost doubled his muscle mass. His dark brown hair had subtle streaks of red throughout. His eyes were green with hints of gold. They were the most amazing things I had ever seen. Looking at him made my heart pound. His eyes were focused on mine as he held my gaze. The scar on the left side of his neck was faded, the sight of it enraged me. I didn’t know why I was so upset about him being hurt. I felt myself begin to get lost in his eyes when my mind snapped me out of it.

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

I laughed as I turned my sword over. "How the folks take you leaving?" He asked as he dipped his blade in oil. A sizzling sound filled the air. His silver hair was pulled back like mine. I guess that's where I picked up the style for long hair. A scar ran down his chin straight down his throat, his fingers littered with burn marks. I always asked him why he never magicked them away. His excuse was that they reminded him of where he came from and how hard he had to work to get there. He was a nobleman, and I liked that about him.

"Is that why you have a scarf on your head because you're worried that a company employee might recognize you and reach out to those two devils?" She nodded gently. "You're right, Uncle Edgar. But the more profound reason is because of this." She removed the scarf covering her cheek to reveal a huge scar in the shape of the letter X on her cheek. "Jesus Christ!" he could not help but exclaim when he saw the frightening scar on her face. "Don't tell me they did that to you, Arielle?" His expression seemed about to cry with pity as he looked at her.

Harry gasped and Indianna recognised the second person when he fell to his knees. He looked different. His hair was longer and his beard had grown out of control. His skin was covered in marks and bruises, but Indianna could never, ever forget his face. She took a small step forward and froze. Her eyes were wide and focused only on him. Harry was talking to her, but she couldn't hear him. Her vision blurred and she realised she was crying. She was too scared to move any closer to him, scared that this was one of Rogue's sick jokes.

he spat. After he took what he wanted, he left me alone. I guess Belle had to leave early and he didn’t get to have her like he wanted and it was obviously my fault, just like everything always was. I showered and got ready for bed. Scar had begun to heal me, but I had always healed slowly. It was a compromise of having healing capabilities, I guess. ——-

This was because he was going to be the heir of the pack in the future. Hari wondered if alpha Philip knew of all this but he never cared because he wasn't a fun of him either. Hari hated the man for the way he was always unfair to his own son, Ravi. Hari always wished that he was stronger or had the means and he would have taken Ravi out of that house a long time ago. It was a good thing that he was a wolf and would heal faster. At first, when the injuries were minimal, the scars would disappear but with the increased torture and the scars getting numerous each time, he didn't know what happened and the scars didn't disappear even after he healed.

Chapter 54 The Mysterious Scar Harriet stood before the mirror, struggling to slip her frame into the beautiful dress. As she gazed at her reflection, her eyes suddenly fixated on a certain spot. There, just three inches below her shoulder, an inexplicable crescent-shaped scar caught her attention. It emitted a faint white glow under the light. It didn't appear to be a recent injury, nor did it seem accidental. She was certain she had never had a scar there before.

Some sort of tribal Lycan as Madam Yelena had put it. Even gods such as the Moon goddess, goddess of war, god of darkness, and so on, were scared of the man. So I wondered how the scar came about. The man was an unstoppable force on the battlefield. And he never went out to wars. Because of his bloodlust. And of course, the inhumane ways he killed. So what came about the scar? Who had dared to scar him? I knew with the way he wore the scar, it clearly meant something. It was the twenty-first century, facial surgeries were rampant. But he chose not to cover it up. And that meant whoever did it– and whatever happened was a deep dark secret shoved deeper in his closet.

Amara stared back, trying to project a semblance of stillness, refusing to betray the sheer terror gripping her. ​Emiliano stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be assessing her, her fear, her presence in his bed. He slowly walked around the bed, stopping on his side. ​He reached up, pulling his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Amara couldn't breathe. Her gaze involuntarily dropped, taking in the powerful breadth of his chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, and the faint, intricate scars—silent trophies of a violent life—that crisscrossed his left shoulder.