Professor From Harry Potter นิยาย & เรื่องราว

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.

"Welcome to English Literature. My name is Professor Alabaster, and for the next semester, you’ll be under my watch." His eyes scanned the room, sharp and authoritative, and when they passed over Belle, she thought she saw the briefest flicker of something, something dark and heated. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the professional, unyielding facade of Professor Alabaster. Belle shifted uncomfortably in her seat, trying to focus on what he was saying. He moved around the room, talking about the syllabus, the expectations, and the importance of participation. His voice was steady, his words calculated, but underneath it all, Belle felt the tension between them building. Every time

In a hurry, I pulled away and got up from his lap. “I can’t!” Kylan furrowed his brows, confused. “Rumor is we have a hot visiting professor tomorrow,” I said quickly. “And if that’s true, I need to find something nice to wear!” He rolled his eyes, exhausted, as he got up from the chair. “Don’t tell me you’re also obsessing over that mystery professor,” he muttered. So the rumor had reached him too. “They say he’s a sorcerer, so who knows?” I shrugged playfully. “Maybe he will take interest in me.” I tilted my head, pretending to think. “One who doesn’t have the devil inside of him.”

Because I was struggling to find it hard to believe that he just appeared here. “Oh my gosh it’s professor Grey, but what’s he even doing here doesn’t he teach philosophy? Why is he now interested in dance?” The nearby chattering and whispering voice of some girls managed to reach my hearing that it didn’t occur to me when my foot dragged to their presence. “He teaches philosophy? That means he’s one of our professor in this department? Is that right?” My tone reduced, probably from anxiety. One of the girls shook her head, “He’s actually one of our professor, but he isn’t grounded in the art of dance, it’s normally professor Harry.”

Every other thing would fade into nothingness whenever she was in the room. I distracted myself with my phone, and I scrolled aimlessly through TikTok. I soon got engrossed, and I didn't notice when the class quietened down until a deep voice that commanded attention said: “Good morning, 2025 Freshmen, welcome to ***** College. I'm Professor Stephan King, your lecturer for IHS 101: History of the unknown world.” I looked up, and my world tilted over in the most horrible way possible. Because standing on the podium and introducing himself as the lecturer of the most important course in our 100 level was the man I hooked up with yesterday, the one I rode with reckless abandon.

I can see each muscle as she flexes, her calves high and tight as she balances on her four-inch heels. Just as I am sure one more step will make me fall over dead, the professor makes one last turn before stopping before a solid wood door. On a brass placard placed at about eye level, the word with the name 'Dr. Delilah M Davis is engraved. The number 225 is listed just above it with smaller, matching bras. Pulling a key from an inner jacket pocket, she jams it into the lock, twists, and with a quiet little click it swings open. Without saying a word, Professor Davis disappears inside.

I chipped away at the golden image everyone saw. But now..now she was slipping through my grasp again. She had the janitor looking at her like she was worth protecting. Like she was the only one worth saving. And worse…the professor. That man. Professor Black. I noticed it. The way his gaze darkened when she entered a room. The way his voice dropped when he spoke her name. That wasn’t a teacher’s look. It wasn’t discipline. It was something primal, something dangerous. Something I wanted for myself.

He was my professor, a public figure and expecting him to act all lovey dovey was far fetched. “Professor Marison, I came here to make complaints about your class.” I paused and he nodded once. “I’m sure you’re aware of the massive failure from our class and we feel your assistants aren’t helping.” “How are they not helping? What they teach in class is what I give them. Are you trying to say my notes are not efficient for your class to understand?” I gritted my teeth. I was angry, very angry and he needed to act as if he was not being dense on purpose.

The student's eyes lowered to the name of the professor for the course. Theodore Ashford, PhD Department of Psychology Professor & Dean for College of Social Sciences Isa let her hands glide over her keyboard for a quick G****e search. Something had to be off for a class like this to not be full yet. What she found was a world-renowned psychologist with dozens of publications, two uploaded TedTalks, a New York Times interview, and... To say the professor was just hot would be much less an understatement than a blatant insult. Through just the aggregates of pixels on her screen, Isa could sense the poise and presence the man carried with him. And, God, was the man attractive.

His deep voice reverberated and they sounded sincere enough. But something hold Maya that this man was not sorry at all. "My name is Doctor Alexander Grey but you can call me Professor Grey." He pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose, looking at each student in turn. "We only have a few minutes before this class will be over so I'll try and rush things."