Harry Potter Professor Of Potions Novels & Stories

As I sat down, I felt calmer than I had ever since I’d come here. The professor walked in moments later. He was tall and thin. He had silver hair that was pulled back neatly. His eyes looked observant. He started the lecture without wasting time. “Today,” he said, “we will discuss advanced magical theory and creature lore. Specifically, the balance between magic, instinct, and survival.” I leaned forward then opened my notebook.

“Nope.” Jake’s eyes narrowed, and I could see the gears turning in his dumbass head. He leaned closer, voice dropping low. “Wait. Don’t tell me… you fucked your specialist. The professor.” I froze for half a second, then glared at him. “She’s not our professor. We graduated. She wasn’t even at the school when we were there.” “Doesn’t matter, man.” Jake laughed, stretching back. “She’s got that look, strict, smart, way too hot for her own good. If she was around back then? Every guy on the team would’ve lined up for a shot.”

"Everyone saw you in the first class, when you snuck in from behind. Plus, Professor Ravencrest mentioned you in the General Introductory class I happened to attend today." He moved closer and something about his presence calmed my racing pulse. “He wouldn't stop talking about you, saying you had particularly insightful perspectives on folklore." "He talked about me?" Heat flooded my cheeks. "Don't worry, all good things only." His laugh was easy and comfortable. "Though, according to the rumors I've heard about him, I didn't expect him to be so... intense about a student." "What do you mean?" I feigned innocence as though I haven't noticed it also.

“Sure. What do you need?” “I’m interested in Professor Elena Thompson’s lectures,” Ren said smoothly. “She gave a fascinating talk this morning, and I’d like to know if she’s teaching any upcoming seminars or classes that are open to visitors.” The man smiled, clearly pleased by the interest. “Professor Thompson does have a talent for captivating an audience,” he said. “She’s leading a seminar on comparative mythology next week. It’s a bit niche, but if you’re interested in folklore, it’s worth attending.”

The halls are a bit quiet, with only two to three students pacing the corridors. "Four." Azalea peaked inside, noticing the semi-empty classroom. She's sure she counted about ten students. Her eyes then landed on her professor. He's dressed like any other male professor. Khaki pants, white button up, circular glasses, all the usual. Only thing that's different about him and the others is that he's got just a few strands of grey and he looks like the gym's best friend. He set the marker down and turned to the class. "So when you here about Alberto Dephonso you think-

“Is there a problem with that, Professor?” “It just happened, or your father is putting important people around you?” He asked, his voice having a hint of anger in them. I opened my mouth to speak but he cut me off with a slight shake of his head. To my surprise, he came forward, cursing under his breath when I took one step away from him. “Is there any form of favoritism in this school, Melissa Ravenclaw?” “Why would you ask such a ridiculous thing, professor…” “Ridiculous?” He demanded, chuckling at my choice of words. “Why then did I ask a random student to go call you and she was so scared, telling me I was sending her into the lion’s den.”

I shook my head and turned to my table to bring out the new biology textbook Keisha had gifted me a while back. “Our topic for today is Excretion. Now….” I trailed off when the door opened and someone walked in. Shock glued my feet to the floor and I would have almost dropped the book on the floor but a professor has gotta maintain her Steeze in front of her students. Even though I didn't drop the book, my jaw was definitely on the floor as I stared at the guy walking into the door with a grin. “Good morning miss,” he greeted with a smile, and that voice sent shivers down my spine, “I'm a new student.”

One had to be precise when enchanting them, which just so happened to be the one thing Henry was not. Professor Merriweather swept into the room on a cloud of gardenia scented perfume. Her long hair was the color of cinnamon, bound in a thick braid that trailed halfway down her spine. I didn’t mind the professor, but she had a penchant for running off the rails with her lectures, inevitably leaving the class stumped. “Good evening, everyone!” She sang, then proceeded to launch into a recap of what we’d learned last class. Afterwards, she flitted to a nearby supply closet to retrieve what appeared to be an ordinary occult textbook.

She had not meant to be so vulgar but the memory had come to her so suddenly. “I would not say it like that,” the professor said, dipping a hand in his pocket. “Sex was a form of worship for those devotees.” He was staring in her eyes again now, and all the feelings that had taken backstage for the past few minutes came alive again. He produced a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and raised it to her face. She plucked a stick from the bunch, without breaking their gaze. The Professor slipped one out too, and raised a lighter between them.

The air hummed with energy, the scent of ozone and dried herbs thick in my nose. Three instructors stood at the front of the room… Professor Veyra, a sharp-eyed woman with silver-streaked hair and a no-nonsense demeanor; Professor Dain, a broad-shouldered man with a voice like thunder and a knack for breaking down spells into their most basic components; and Professor Liora, a lithe elf with fingers that moved like she was weaving the very air around her. Their presence alone commanded respect, but it was the way they moved… precise, fluid, controlled, that made it clear this wasn’t just another class.