Professor From Harry Potter Romane & Geschichten

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.

“By now you must all have noticed that we’re welcoming a new staff member here with us. From now on, he will be a part of your higher learning to hone your magic-wielding ability. Professor Kendrick.” He motioned his hand to point at the salt-and-pepper-haired man with rectangular-rimmed glasses, the one whom the girls from earlier were squealing at. Professor Kendrick smiled, showing a flash of brilliant white teeth. “He’ll be your Charms and Relics teacher. And all of you will be meeting him no matter which class you will belong to.”

Daffodil felt a warmth enter her body at the friendly expression of the man. She waited for him to walk over. “Hello. Would you like some help? We’re yet to get someone to take over responsibility of the library. I’m Professor Theodore.” Daffodil blinked and fumbled with the sleeve of her shirt, hoping her Dream Acorn stayed hidden. He didn’t show any traces of Half-Myth up close except his scent and Daffodil wondered if she was confusing herself. The professor’s gaze shifted down to her fumbling hands and then back to her face.

The man was dressed in a hooded cape, dark-green, with long, dishevelled, slightly grey hair. “We got to the other side ... or as we call it, the Enchanted and Unusual Land of the renowned Elmbridge School of Magic, where you will learn about magical transformations, spells and special and unusual incantations. Here, I am Professor Eadan Knudlac. And, among others, the director of the Elmbridge School of Magic. Besides, I am the one who teaches the courses of ...” Anyway, the professor was interrupted by a young lady, with gracious voice like the merry song of a mermaid:

That is nothing but a piece of fake news. "When you concoct a brew for healing, you have to know at what level it becomes toxic. Any warlock or sorceress has to have the same knowledge as to know how the potions that they concocted have to be effective enough to heal but not potent enough to harm." Professor Huges explained to her class using a flat tone, all the while adjusting the frame of her inch-thick reading glasses so that they would snug perfectly on the fridge of her nose. At the same time, she also makes good use of this time to roam inside the classroom.

Author Pov "You can't do this to me, professor." The young man cried out slamming the papers on the table as he looked at the principal with a blazing gaze. The principal looked up and sighed heavily shaking his head. He leaned on the chair before once again throwing a venomous comment at the young man. "You should have thought about it before doing such a grave sin, Mr. Kale. You are such a genius boy then how? What you did Mr. Kale will never leave you to have one breath of peace." Harry threw the papers on the floor in anger.

By the time class was over, I had already filled out a couple of pages of notes and I was ready to tackle the next class. Introduction to Magic with Professor Ivy. This was an interesting class, and I came to find that it was mostly a class of witches and wizards with only a few shifters. Professor Ivy was a beautiful and vibrant professor with a smile that practically lit up the room. Like Professor Santina, she wrote her name, class, and textbooks on the whiteboard and I wrote them down, making a note to go to the school store to get these books.

Who in their right mind is late for this class? Me. Apparently. Mr. Harry, the Calculus lecturer is attractive. There, I said it. It’s probably inappropriate to describe my twenty-nine-year-old professor that way, but I would be lying if I said other students don’t say worse. He has piercing steel-gray eyes, dark brown hair, an almost angelic smile, and broad shoulders. Sometimes I am convinced he doesn’t belong in the real world. Honestly, I’m sure most girls are putting themselves through Calculus torture just for him. There’s one admirable and extremely annoying—thing about him though.

he nodded "Then how about Edward?" I asked "No, he doesn't. I've in Paris since so many years and recently came back home, I came back the day before we met at the bar." he told me. "Hmm. Exactly. That's what I'm thinking , how came a young boy like you can become a professor?", I teased him. "Yaah! if I want then I can be your permanent Professor, you know na how smart I am.", he again started praising himself but this time I have to admit he's really smart.

Surely I was seeing things. Was his cocky attitude haunting me now? I shook my head hard but it didn't erase the fact that Art Wilson was one of my professors? How on earth was he professor? He was only 28. His eyes lingered on me for a second longer before he continued his lecture. His words mumbled into gibberish as all I could scream in my head was no...no...no. I collected my things, and sprinted out of that class, not caring about the murmurs it stirred. I was probably deaf until I drove out of the campus.