Novel & Cerita Harry Potter Professor Of Potions

Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern. I should feel something sympathy, worry but all I can think is: Now who’s going to tell me my art is empty? The dean gestures to the stranger beside her. "This is Mr. Laurent. He’ll be your substitute instructor for the remainder of the semester." And that’s when I finally look at him. Jerome Laurent is not what I expected. Young too young to be a professor, maybe late twenties with tousled dark hair and a sharp jaw shadowed by stubble. He’s dressed in all black: fitted slacks, a rolled sleeve button down, boots that look like they’ve seen more than just a classroom.

His shoulders are broad, his dark hair is perfectly messy and his eyes scanned the students once before he spoke. "Professor Harlan, thank you for the warm-up," he said with his deep and smooth voice. "I'm Professor Adrian Knight. I'll be taking over this Literature course for the rest of the semester." Whispers spread across the hall and Juliet stared. He looked too young to be a full professor, maybe early thirties, but his presence filled the room. He set his bag on the desk and turned to the class. "Forbidden love," he continued, picking up right where they left off. "The kind that destroys careers, families, even lives. Why do we keep writing about it? Why do we keep reading it?"

Mara opened her mouth to reply, but the door opened and everyone quieted down. The professor walked in, but his back was facing, so I didn't see his face at first. He had lean broad shoulders that filled out the white button-down sleeves rolled to his elbows. He had dark hair and a strong posture. A few girls whispered and giggled. Mara leaned over. “Damn, the new prof is fine.” I laughed under my breath. “You’re ridiculous.” Then he turned to face the class and my laugh died in my throat. Grey-blue eyes. The same angelic jaw. The same mouth that had been on me last night.

“Anyway..” The professor tapped the brim of his violet hat with a theatrical bow. “Professor Viorell, at your wide-eyed service~” he chimed, spinning on his heel. “I teach Magic Theory and—oh!—a dash of Ethics.” He wagged a finger. “Which you clearly skipped, fire boy.”. “See you in class, you two.” The professor winked. He clapped once. Puff! A swirl of violet smoke spiraled outward like confetti—and he was gone.

Feeling wet and uncomfortable, I don’t focus on most part of the lesson as my eyes are glued to this man. Professor Quinn? Standing tall in front of the class in a pair of classy black dressed pants, square rimmed glasses that makes his nose pointier, and his beard. Everything about this man screams wealth and dangerous mixed together. I should focus, but I find it hard when my Professor is the same man who had had his fingers rubbing my panties until I cum shamefully, screaming profanities at the same time. With rosy cheeks, I lift my head from my desk to face this man, and I gasp when I notice his eyes on me.

Joseph was rich, handsome, and young. That was why I had no idea he was Joseph Evergreen. I was on pins and needles. I slept with my Professor? My favorite writer? And thought he was a callboy? As he scanned the room, his gaze met mine. But as quickly as he looked at me, he looked away. Maybe he didn’t recognize me. I was sitting kind of far away and I was wearing different clothing. “I am Professor Joseph Evergreen, a fantasy novelist. I’m sure you are eager to get started. Firstly, I’d like to start off by explaining that I only accept the best writers and those who work the hardest to participate in this course.”

When he never gave anything, he wanted to profit, not donate, even so, he managed to convince his father and aunt that he needed vacation reinforcement, due to the fact that he had difficulties in potions, even so, he made life easier, due to his potions teacher, being friends with his aunt and uncle, they attended school together during their years of study. Teacher, Yatagarasu Wángzǐ teaches potions, which he is often remembered for the fact that he was his godfather, as well as tutor and took him as his disciple, this and all the other problems that led to him being frequently charged with having at least attention in said discipline.

“I tried, but he insists. He says it’s about Ms. Hunt.” “Send him in,” I agreed, releasing the speaker button. Augustus’s head fell back with a groan. “I can hear the slurs coming from a mile away.” My muscles tensed in anticipation. Like most, Professor Draven was a pureblood enthusiast, but to the extreme, and unfortunately, Delilah had him for Literature. I toyed with the idea of preemptively transferring her out of his class, but didn’t want to be too hasty. My door swung open, and Professor Draven barreled in—broad shoulders, hulking form, and severe scowl.

I reply. “Yeah, right.” Harry laugh. “He’s probably prepared what to say to make a good first impression; it won’t last; his sort never does.” “I think he has potential,” I explain, and Harry laughs more. I hate other professors sometimes.

After a few seconds I heard the Professor's voice booming in class as he resumed his boring talks about the boring lecture in such a boring tone. I hate him. Professor Martin is not like other staffs. he's strict and not so friendly with students who always keep his face up and talk in the air. can't blame him, he must be at least fifty and the age itself allows him to be grumpy and ill-tempered. his thick and square glass will be on his nose all the time. It's been a month of me being in this college and not even for once I saw him smiling. He's hard to impress and to deal with. no one, i repeat no one would dare to stand against him because he exactly feels like some evil character of a mo