Professor From Harry Potter Romane & Geschichten

Ryan looked up again and now saw a gray boxer. Little by little, she was getting nervous about what she saw. Gulping, she lifted her head more and saw his face - Professor Harry. He is the math teacher who is known as a terror on the whole campus. It was only then that Ryan realized that when she jumped from the cart, she grabbed Professor Harry’s pants and pulled them down. Between the professor's legs, Ryan saw Slyvester and Vincent standing in the distance gaping. On the other side, he could see the students inside the classroom who witnessed what happened.

It was like it shows that the one the Ancient Vase chose is really strong that could kill a mountain of people. It didn't take long and I saw the Professor who's talking to the screen earlier, he has this gloomy aura. He has a big black circle around his eyes like a panda, he was a professor for magic inventions. He invented equipment that could be used in the daily life of a person, she wonders if he sleeps? "What kind of game will they play if they are chosen?" She whispered to Dianna.

I didn’t need her in here making her snide comments. Professor Luca looked the polar opposite of what I expected him to look like; when Miles mentioned him, I had pictured an older man with a graying beard and a receding hairline who dressed in a semi-formal dress attire; a version of how young Dumbledore was portrayed in The Fantastic Beasts moving.

“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.

He turns around, about to answer the student and our eyes meet. My breath stops. I can’t believe my eyes. Because standing in front of the class is the man who kissed me like he owned the night, the man I left in a hotel bed this morning…is my professor, the new visiting professor. And he looks just as shocked as I feel. Then his expression changes, it hardens. Like recognition is the last thing he wanted. And I know… my life is about to get even more complicated.

The heavy thud of the door at the front of the room cut through the chaos. Professor Hecateus strode in. He was an older man, his robes a chaotic mix of all four house colors, his beard long and tangled with bits of dried herbs. He looked like he hadn't slept since the late nineties. He tossed his satchel onto the mahogany podium and looked out at the riotous classroom. "Why is that girl from Terra sounding like a clogged drain?" he asked, his voice a rasping croak. "Professor!" a Terra student from the front row shouted. "It's Lumira! She cursed Ivy! She didn't even chant! It was a silent spell!"

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.

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.

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.