Why Does Harry Potter Have A Scar Novels & Stories

Yet, I was so wrong. When I saw Jackal that day, I saw something in him that made me back out and depart the room. A ray of light, though not a dazzling one, united Scarlet and Jerk. Looking into my clairvoyance, I realised I had underestimated my enemy. Not only was he linked to Scarlet, possibly someone she had known when young, he was also not an ordinary human.

Willa suddenly yelped, frozen in shock. Oops. I sighed with a chuckle. Willa's eyes trailed down my body, following my hand. I was about to laugh at her when she tilted his head and fixed her eyes on my back. She noticed my scar. I had a two inches long scar under my left shoulder blade. Werewolves normally wouldn't have scars on their bodies. Unless their wolf couldn't heal them with soul power in time, leaving them to heal in the human way. The human way leaves scars.

He rubbed her shoulder with his palm and told her that Ronald had been carrying him on his back for the test of his son and him. Therefore, Henric and Stephanie were his children. There was no doubt about that. Slowly, Stacy closed his eyes. She still felt that she was dreaming. "Give me a pinch." Harry lowered his eyes, only to find that there was a scar on her forehead. He was not clear about it. Besides, there was a pink cover on her forehead, so it was hard to find it. He touched the scar gently and gently, with a trace of uncontrollable trembling. His eyes were full of scarlet red. It was the pain of disappearing from her. He couldn't find and protect her in time.

I should have punished her; I shouldn’t have let her go so easily, and yet I did. Ever since I was a boy, I was used to things going my way. Kaida had a strong will; she wasn’t used to doing as she was told, and maybe that’s what I found interesting about her. I was going to teach her how to be a Luna and how to be my Mate. And then I saw her scars. Werewolves heal quickly; scars only remain from severe torture, and I wondered how that could have happened. I didn’t let her know I was curious; But I was indeed very curious to discover how those scars she hid from me came to be.

“Well, he’s a force to reckon with obviously, to be honest. He rarely appears in public or any of the public pack events and many people are afraid of him. There’s this aura of power around him, you know? And that scar on his face… it’s from a battle, years ago,” I leaned in, trying not to show too much interest but my curiosity has been piqued now and I was dying to hear the rest of the story. I’d noticed Kai’s scar, of course – both he and his wolf had it. It was a jagged line that ran from his left temple to his jaw. It did nothing to diminish his handsomeness; if anything, it only added to his air of mystery and danger. “Well…” the girl hesitated “Some say, that he got the scar in a figh

Scarlet watched him for a moment. She had never asked about him—really asked. But then, he was always quiet. He knew everything about her, and had seen her at her weakest. But what did she know about him? What was behind the mask? What haunted him enough to keep him up at this hour? She wasn’t sure if she had the right to ask. But then she saw it. A scar. There was a long, jagged mark across his back. She furrowed her brows. How had she never noticed this before?

"Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike." — Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix * H U N T E R J O N E S | The Lovestruck Bad Boy It had been a really good day. I had gotten to spend time with Mey, helping her with homework and telling her my life story. I let out a dreamy sigh, which made me look like Ron after he accidentally drank the love potion. Except that I didn't need a love potion to be crazy about Mey.

Maybe humor was not her strong suit. Touching the left side of my forehead I felt something. It was a scar. But I couldn't be so bad. I could cover it up with my hair...like Harry Potter. Watch out Voldermort. "Are you the one who rescued me?" I blurted out as she finished up her small examination of me. It have really relieved my stress had she said it was her. But she didn't. "No." "Then who did? " she pursed her lips as if thinking of something to tell me.

Ariadne doesn’t respond; instead, picking out a bottle of rum from the mini-fridge and mixing it with a can of coke. The water finally shuts off with a squeak. A moment later, Harry appears, clothed, with wet hair that he tousles dry with a towel. “Alright,” Ariadne hisses. “Speak. We gave you way more courtesy than you deserve.” Harry takes a seat without a snarky comment. He looks tired, not in the way that rest can solve. His skin is mottled and lifeless, and his eyes are dark as graveyard soil. There are two hideous scars where his scent glands used to be, and without them, he seems to be a wolf no longer.

Scarlett asked, placing a hand on my arm she tried to move me away. We exchanged glares before I stepped back and crossed my arms, taking the time to scrutinise the boy before me. His hair was slightly wavy, with a square jaw, high cheekbones and a strong straight nose. He had a few small faded scars across his jaw and one on his lip that never healed properly. Another two were along his forehead and across his left eyebrow, leaving a small gap where the hair would never regrow. His arched brows were furrowed together. The only thing soft on the boy’s face was perhaps his eyes; deep hazel green rimmed with dark black and those flecks of yellow with thick lashes, but even then, there was stil