Professor Snape Page 394 소설 & 이야기

Helen yelled after him, “You can’t go in there!” But it was too late. Snarl was already racing into the room. He slammed through the doors, almost breaking them right off their hinges, and came face to face with a thick wall of smog. Coughing and spluttering against the acrid scent, he wafted his hands all around the room in an attempt to clear his vision. When the room finally began to clear, Snarl could see the witch leaning over the desk. In front of her a large, wide-rimmed bowl was still filled with sparkling purple flames, but as he watched, the

Again the parts of a song… I’m leaving on a jet plane I don’t know when I will be back again Oh babe I hate you go... Mrs. Hillary, who is included in the ranks of killer teachers, is not only fierce but also famous and sadistic. If Mrs. Anna math teacher is Voldemort. So Mrs. Hillary is Professor Snape in the famous School of Witchcraft and wizardry book series, because of the sadism. When a student is do something wrong, it's over. It happened one day that almost all the kid of 11-7 were expelled from class for not doing homework. The remaining 11-7 residents are only a few people like Alfred and several children who are classified as diligent in doing homework. Smart children are not nece

Dorin nodded at them and proceeded to the middle of the examination room. There were no windows in the room. There were 4 people seated at the long table at the far end; 2 women, a man, and a person in a cloak. There were metal plates in front of them, telling their name and position. The first from the left was a Professor Belladona Dimitrio, head of Magic Flora Studies. She was old with long purple hair and looked at Dorin with interest. Next to her was the another woman, this one looking about in her late teens. Professor Kylyne Rose Raevers was written in front of her, under which says Head of Charms. Beside her was possibly the only male in the group, Professor Randale Morell, head of A

I tossed my briefcase carelessly onto the couch before leaning heavily against my desk, pressing both hands against my face in an attempt to steady myself. When I lowered them again, my attention immediately caught on something sitting at the center of the desk that definitely had not been there before I left for class. A folded piece of black parchment sealed with dark red wax. Stamped into the center of the seal was the crest of a snarling wolf wrapped in thorned briars. The mark of the Lycan Elders. The temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly. My posture straightened automatically, every trace of the university professor disappearing beneath the colder instincts of the prince I h

We stopped as Ron looked back and said-" We are here. Are you ready?" I looked at Felix once before nodding my head and heading inside the chamber. Professor Dunston's chamber was full of books and papers. It was a long time since I am coming back here. There was a big seated swivel chair. The desks are full of notes and small glass bottles of magical potions. Also, the room was not much tidy giving us an absolute vibe of an old professor's den. Soon Ron exclaimed in joy-" Found it" Our attention went towards him as we saw he was holding a small key in his right hand, showing it off to us. he said-" Come, We must hurry"

"Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike." — Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix * H U N T E R J O N E S | The Lovestruck Bad Boy It had been a really good day. I had gotten to spend time with Mey, helping her with homework and telling her my life story. I let out a dreamy sigh, which made me look like Ron after he accidentally drank the love potion. Except that I didn't need a love potion to be crazy about Mey.

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 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.

"Miss Sinclair." His voice cut through the noise like it was made only for her. She looked up and Professor Knight stood at the front of the now almost empty hall. The last few students were walking out. "A word about your essay," he said. "Now." Juliet's stomach flipped hard. She picked up her bag and walked toward him. Her heels clicked softly on the floor and when she reached his desk, she stopped a safe distance away. "Yes, Professor?" He leaned back against the edge of his desk and folded his arms. The white shirt stretched across his chest and up close, he looked even taller. His eyes were darker than they seemed from the third row.

or how far Isa would let him go. Isa made her way to the seat in front of Theodore's desk, immediately crossing her legs and adjusting her jacket to display some professionalism. Theodore was too busy flipping through the pages of Isa's assignment to notice, periodically underlining and making a note in the margins. Isa took the time to look around the professor's place. The overall architecture relied heavily on dark, mahogany wood emphasized by the desk and bookcase behind it. Isa spotted a few authors amongst the otherwise academic books, from Albert Camus to Gabriel García Márquez. Opposite the door were large, paned windows that overlooked other lit-up collegiate buildings. Lastly, ther