Novel & Cerita Professor From Harry Potter

I looked beyond the professor to Sid. The professor now had his back against the far wall so he could see the both of us. “I don’t care who he is. I saw myself in shackles, in a cell.” “No,” I heard Sid mumble. “It can’t freaking be…” He took a couple steps into the hall, but kept his back to the wall opposite the Professor. He raised his hands in front of him, palms out. “Dr. Emory. By any chance did you ever have a relationship with a witch?”

I could tell she wasn't done with the propaganda, but I didn't expect her to go extreme like she did in the next few minutes. Like an antelope on its heels, the professor skidded to a halt in front of the class, with a sweat covered forehead. His regulated breathing helped him to calm down faster. “ Hello, everyone, how many of you have seen the photos of two of our professors at the gala?” he finished in a breath. Everyone's hands raised in response. “ Great! So, what is the first thought that came to your heads when you saw it?” The girl from earlier pointed at Lisa, who frowned in response. “ She spoke of divorce, but I thought they were just so cute to see.”

Our attention was focused on the young man standing behind the teacher's table. I did not expect that a young man would be our Professor. I was expecting some old grumpy dude but what greeted us was an angelic person. I think he's in his mid-twenties which is very young to be a Professor. "Oh my goshhhhhh! Isn't he Professor James?" James who? "I think so too. Professor James Lennon, the youngest Professor of the academy. Graduated at the age of 18, went to magic tower at the age of 22. We are so lucky!"

"Hunnie is that you ?!" Called someone to my right, coming from the living room. "Hi, it's me. " I stated nervously, as I held this big pot of water infront of me. It was one of the professors that taught at the academy. She's also in charge of our new ascending teens. Professor Plumith. "Aren't we thirsty?" She laughs eyeing the pot of water I held that was filled to the rim. "Always working on spells, aren't cha?" Her face broke out into a wide and proud smile.

The professor asks curiously. "Oh no! I am a sitter for the Dravens." I reply quickly. "Ahh the Dravens." He replies. Professor Hawthorn begins walking in the direction of Draphend Elementary and motions me to join him. I glanced at the man walking beside me. He has short, messy like, brown hair. He is tall with a better than medium build. I've never been able to get close to him let alone get a good look at him. He has a gentle air about him and seems very familiar but I can't place where from.

She had heard about the professor — a master of the occult, a keeper of dark and mysterious secrets — but she had never expected to find herself here, in this eerie, oppressive classroom together with him. The professor looked her up and down, his expression unreadable, "Since you're only the transferee in this class, Ms. Fridays, let me introduce myself to you first. I am Mr. Cresswell Morrigan, your professor in this class where you shall learn the secrets that lurk in the shadows, the knowledge of death, and the hidden macabre truths of this world," The professor said, and with that Ruby nodded in unwanted acknowledgement slowly, trying to take in the advice and her surrounding simultaneo

He looked around and asked me to bend my head so no one could hear us. “Dr Tona got fired.” A gasp fell from my lips and I felt a sick sense of joy in my heart. “Really? What happened?” “Well, let’s just say she messed with the wrong person. Apparently, someone reported her for begging lecturers to change Rami’s grades.” That was absolutely scandalous. “Wow.” I snorted “Wow is right.” Some people just gave women a bad name. “So, who’s taking her course now?” “It’s supposed to be Professor Jared but he’s currently not around.” My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name. I couldn’t help the blush that coloured my cheeks.

I yelled in frustration, turning on my heels sharply as I walked towards him. Professor Faren had his own lecture hall where he taught his pupils the subtle mysteries of magic or some students called it the magic theory. He taught the history of magic, simple magic all the way up to complex battle magic. From what I could tell, he was a very serious person and didn't like his students missing a word of his lectures.

Harold saw sadness. Something, or rather, someone, must have pushed the professor into doing all that he had done to him and his friends—Wilkes and Trisha. ‘Something terrible’, Harold thought, ‘Perhaps, Francis.’ Harold also noticed that his professor was getting old. He had fading pupils which were once hazel coloured, greying bald hair and a wrinkling face and that made Harold wonder even more why the Professor had done what he did, but there was no way he could ask at that moment, lest he blew his chances of learning from him.