Professor From Harry Potter Novels & Stories

He answered then pushed it to my face as I glared at him. Fuck!. Way to go Hera, first day and you do stupid shit. "Thanks," I whispered then grabbed the bag from his hand. "Oh, the ladies are at it again." He said softly when he looked at the ladies ahead. "At what?" I asked. "They are a specific fan group of professor Ronald, the man is more famous than a popular celebrity. Rumour has it that he willingly quit from his former university because of the female students that were a great bother, he couldn't even teach in peace." He answered as I frowned.

I walked slowly towards the bearded man. From what I see. Looks like, he's been waiting for me all this time. I saw a lot of wrinkles on his face. His beard was so long and white in color. Her hair is white too. If you've ever seen the principal in the Harry Potter films. Well, that's what it looks like. Big and creepy too.

We then looked at him who was staring at us angrily. “You Mr...?” The Professor pointed his marker to Harry. “Harry. Harry Wilson.” Harry replied. Then the Professor looked at me and I said “Stella Jones.” “Yeah! Mr. Wilson and Ms. Jones! Am I disturbing you?” He shouted. “No professor carry on.” Harry replied. I looked at him with widened eyes. The professor grew angry and shouted “Mr. Wilson! Out of the classroom. Now.” Without saying anything, Harry stood from the chair and started leaving the classroom. But before he left the classroom, he turned to me and shouted “Stella! Come out. You said the class was boring.”

Even if it meant not being able to see him when I pleased. The door was pushed open, the sound of footsteps agaisnt the wood floors made me snap out of my head as I glanced towards the entrance, watching as The professor walks in elegantly. He takes him time to stroll up to me and I just gape at him in shock. For some reason I expected the professors to be old. His long frosty hair was braided into a low ponytail, his spectacles propped gently on the tip of his nose. His strong features were tight and stoic like that of a soldier's. I got up, feeling uneasy under his gaze.

I couldn't speak immediately after what he said; he remembered what I said in the library. "It's not just because of that that I have a reason and I can't tell the story because it's complicated. Just don't be attracted to the chismis of creatures with blue eyes; not all of them are kind and care about people like us, as if they were politicians," I answered and straightened up when I heard our professor's voice. I saw that the professor just nodded at Harold who was just entering the classroom and reprimanded my classmates for making noise. "Shut up! Harold, even if you are a good sorcerer and help someone like me, please respect my class schedules." The professor just said to Harold and he

She was serving as their liaison. "Yes..." Elinor answered and Stella looked at the professor again before they started walking again. "That's Professor Henry," She said, "He teaches History and Tactical geography here," She added, "It's probably not him. I must be getting obsessed with this to start hearing his voice everywhere. Or maybe it was a similar note of tone to the one I already know." She said with a smile. Stella frowned for a moment then nodded. And Elinor realized that she was going to investigate it anyway.

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.

"Hmm… I'm not too sure either. Maybe you should ask Professor Black." Professor Black is one of the most popular young professors at our school. At 26, with blond hair and a sharp, handsome face, he has the kind of looks that catches everyone's attention. Known for his warm, gentle personality, he always wears a crisp white suit that gives him a polished, almost elegant look. He seems to have a certain glow when he stands in the sunlight, which is probably why so many people in the school admire him. I hesitated, then said, "I don't know, but I always feel the way Professor Black looked at me is a little... strange."

At age forty-five, Professor Cal stood at over six feet, and was more handsome than eighty percent of the male population. The sprinkle of silver hair on his beard only seemed to add to the man’s erotic appeal and mysteriousness. But he was an a*shole. The man she must take down in the next twelve weeks. She heard a boy whistle, and some girls whisper among themselves as they watched her with awe, envy, or disgust. But she only had eyes for the Professor, who was now squinting at her with interest. “You’re the transfer student?” He spoke up in a gentle, deep voice.

I found myself watching him, grateful for the easy energy he brought, even as I felt my own nerves still pulsing beneath the surface. “So, get this,” Harry started, grinning as he leaned forward. “Last week, in School, we pulled off the best prank yet. You know that professor who’s always going on about discipline and professionalism to be successful?” Neel raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “The one with the really boring voice?”