The Professor In Narnia Novels & Stories

Professor Morsa's face was still quite pale and mentally tired. Professor Morsa is the one who teaches the subject Of Werewolf Magic Analysis. Because they hadn't received new books and modules, Hana, Henry, and Jackson didn't carry any items. Even so, Professor Morsa didn't say a word to them until the end of the session. They don't know how Sir. Powen convinced Professor Morsa, but he hadn't accepted Hana, Henry, and Jackson's presence in the class. The first class at D.Ruck ended in boredom and frustration.

Nara asked, sneaking a few glances at her face while pretending to sort through his own things. Nelsy only shrugged. “Other than the first meeting? He’s never coming to this class again.” Nara lifted a brow. “Why’s that?” “The professor likes him,” she said with a sly grin, lowering her voice. “And I mean likes him.” Nara instantly caught her meaning, though he couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the way she leaned closer as she said it. Her perfume hung in the air between them. “Oh,” he murmured, nodding as if that single syllable could hide his distraction.

This time I stop to get a bouquet, his room needs a little color, and I have no idea what kinds of things he likes so I get different kinds of pastries. The nurse I meet is different, but she also has a welcoming smile on her face. “He’s a bit groggy today, and chose to stay inside.” “That’s okay.” The Prof. is reading one of his magic books, and takes his time lifting his eyes. There’s a brief moment of confusion in his eyes before recognition sparks to life. “You’ll have to forgive me, I had to read the lines a couple times before I understood what that means.” he shakes his head,

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."

What’s the point? Before I can spiral further, the door swings open and the room falls silent. Dean Whitmore strides in, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. Beside her stands a man I’ve never seen before. "Everyone, listen up," the dean says, her voice sharp. "Professor Langley was in a car accident last night. He’s stable, but he’ll need time to recover." A murmur ripples through the class. Jessica gasps, clutching her chest like this is a tragedy meant just for her. Jack pats her shoulder, his face twisted in fake concern.

Really stupid jerk! I took five chalks from the box and approached him. He held out his hand and I angrily laid the chalk on his palm. "Thank you Mam!" he said with a smile and left again. Why ... Why is he jolly now? How long has John been in heaven? He has been my professor for years! He never treated us like his new students. He was really laughing while we were. Pure recitation, when not answered automatically five. "Mam, you and Sir are fine" said one of my female students.

I hear charcoal scratching the paper, he’s already drawing. I take my underwear down, step out of them, and I’m completely naked in my professor’s studio. “Sit on the stool in the stage.” I climb the two steps, the wooden stool pressing under me. The spotlight is bright, exposing. I cross my arms over my breasts, dying of shame. “Drop your arms.” “Mateo…” “Professor Sandoval.” His tone is sharp. “In this studio, you call me Professor. And you follow instructions. Arms down.”

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.

Professor Nathaniel Cross was a middle-aged man with slightly frizzy brown hair streaked with gray, sweater vests, and fancy little leather-bound books he said he used for ‘notes’ as he gave a presentation from them while our professor for the course manned a slide show. He was quirky, he was strange, he was absolutely fantastic, and knew what he was talking about. Was he in the know or was he just an enthusiast though? That was much harder to tell than you'd think when some people were obsessed with the idea of the supernatural. Halloween was more than enough to show that, but still. The professor spoke about things he’d have to have done his research on to get such an accurate conclusion,

They were engaged in some boyish chatter that was disrupting the peacefulness of the hall. That idiot. He's the reason I'm in this mess. “Look, there's your prince charming,” April giggled, nudging me. I ignored her. We sat down and I brought out my books, ready for a class. The professor came in. I tried listening, at least to half the things he was saying. Finally, the class ended. “Nathan Hunt.” The professor called. “See me after class.” His minions cheered. What the heck was exciting about that? These morons.