Gilderoy Lockhart Novels & Stories

Again the parts of a song… I’m leaving on a jet plane I don’t know when I will be back again Oh babe I hate you go... Mrs. Hillary, who is included in the ranks of killer teachers, is not only fierce but also famous and sadistic. If Mrs. Anna math teacher is Voldemort. So Mrs. Hillary is Professor Snape in the famous School of Witchcraft and wizardry book series, because of the sadism. When a student is do something wrong, it's over. It happened one day that almost all the kid of 11-7 were expelled from class for not doing homework. The remaining 11-7 residents are only a few people like Alfred and several children who are classified as diligent in doing homework. Smart children are not nece

I say, stressing the 'sir'. It is a big wonder, that a warlock is head over the entire school… "Feisty. That I like." Principal Eldor smirks, bringing out his wand. My legs instinctively move backwards, he burst into laughter. "...oh, my my. Little Hermione is scared. I didn't think I'll get to see the day where the Phoenix is scared." He jeers, laughing loudly. Phoenix. Phoenix?!! "How did you...You just called me..." "Phoenix? Oh yes, who wouldn't know?" He smirks, appearing in a flash before me. I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing, only a gasp escapes my mouth.

We said goodbye and I headed to the address Nick had texted me. As I walked into the shop a friendly gentleman greeted me. “Miss Clarke, Mr. Thorn said to expect you.” “He did,” I sounded surprised. “I have the bottles ready for you.” We walked over to the counter, and he showed me the bottles. First was Chateau Montelena chardonnay and the second was a bottle of Macallan 18-year-old double cask whiskey. I nodded, not having a clue. I watched as he boxed the bottles up and placed a gift ribbon around each of them.

Initially an all around commended virtuoso in swordsmanship, he has turned into a joke in the foundation. "Hello, sibling Locke, you're at long last back. So delighted to at long last see you once more… " The greasy who snapped Lorist out from his self agonizing was the head culinary specialist of the hotel, McDuffin. Wearing a mottled blue cover, he battled as he just barely got his enormous midsection through the entryway behind the counter.

Drake kept looking so bad at me that I ignored him. "Good morning, everyone." She’s our professor, Prof. Rose. She's our Spell Professor. She’ in her mid-30’s. She wears a thick glasses, wavy hair, and an elf's ears. Her thick spectacles could not hide the beauty she possessed. She also always carries a thick book where all the spells are. She said that her ancestor entrusted it to her so she did not let it disappear from her sight. Because when it goes in the wrong hands, something may go wrong.

"He doesn't usually do that. In fact, he hasn't, except once about 400 years ago....Consider yourself very lucky... and blessed." Vaerion flickered the chandelier lights as if to say damn right she is. The headmaster turned more serious then, his gaze sharp but kind. "How were your first classes?" "I actually love them," I admitted. "Even the creepy spellcasting dude who hates godbloods couldn't ruin it." His lips twitched. "Ah yes... Professor Thornhall. A necessary evil, I'm afraid." Aster snorted behind me. "Necessary perv is more like it."

Hermione Granger sat cross-legged on the floor of the library, surrounded by piles of books as she pored over ancient texts in search of a rare potion recipe. The silence was broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a floorboard underfoot. Lost in her studies, she didn't notice the tall, dark-haired figure approaching until he was standing directly behind her. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Viktor Krum's deep voice rumbled, causing Hermione to jump and spin around. The Bulgarian Quidditch captain loomed over her, his piercing gaze fixed on her face. Hermione felt her cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny.

“That’s not even a real mage. That’s a vegetable stew.” She ignored me and tried to cast something. “KLAH-ZOOMIA EXPLODIUS!” she screamed, flinging a glowing orb at me. It fizzled. Then turned into a frog. A confused frog, who croaked once and hopped straight into a nearby palace fountain. One of the guards, Sir Helgo—an older knight with half a beard and a big belly—squinted. “Was that a frog spell?” “No,” I said, completely deadpan. “It was revenge.”

--- Breakfast Routine The teachers entered last, their commanding presence silencing the chatter in the room. Unlike the students, they wore robes adorned with silver and gold patterns, their designs hinting at their roles. There was Professor Lysander, the stoic combat instructor, whose piercing gaze could freeze a student in their tracks. Next to him stood Mistress Elira, the enchanting but stern teacher of magical history, her aura exuding wisdom. The headmistress, a tall woman with silvery hair and a mirror-like staff, stood at the head of the hall. Headmistress Aeliana was a figure of both reverence and fear, her mere presence enough to command respect.

Eldrick was tall and on the willowy side, but he was handsome with silver hair and bright green eyes that gave him a timeless look. It was hard to know whether he was twenty or twenty-five hundred. Next to him sat Jordan. He taught the supernatural creatures classes. The man was short and thick with a beard that nearly touched the floor. Beside him was Heathcliff. When he could, he taught potions, but I had a feeling he would have to be replaced soon. His secretive job in Demonland kept him overly busy. Next came Kenmei. He was an interesting fellow of Asian descent who taught about dragons and their magic.