Was Dumbledore In Gryffindor Mga Nobela at Kwento

When he was attending the magic academy of the Northern kingdom—before the academy closed its access to pure-blood witches and was now only intended for mixed-blood witches—he always got a D score for his potion class. This was despite taking four retests, all of which ended with the same result. His professor, who had given up on teaching him potions for the fifth time, decided to let him pass the class. So it was clear, his knowledge about the potion was nearly zero. No. It was precisely zero, Albert muttered to himself deep in his mind, as he regretted the fact that he did not take the potion class seriously. "This will help make you feel better," Daniel then put the bottle on his desk.

I end up crossing my arms. Lennox tilts his head, eyeing me up and down. "Blanca wanted me to. She didn't think I belonged in Gryffindor." Apparently, this time he got Ravenclaw. My mom freaked out, and now she's ordering him some Ravenclaw scarves to complement the Gryffindor paraphernalia she bought him years ago. I nod. "Cool." I unbutton one of the buttons on my collar, my bowtie already undone.

He was one of those wizards who spent years inside the tower, day in and day out, studying dull magic texts. The words of mockery he had gotten when he initially came out were unending, yet here he was today, a senior wizard of the red tower. Only someone with the courage of Dior dared to mock him in person. Dior grinned as she cast a sneering glance at Alfred's way. 'Would you dare to fool me?' Alfred was unfortunate because he didn't know anything about heroes. He had no idea that heroes could see other people's statuses. [Alfred Hunt] [Class - Elemental Mage]

More importantly, what were going to do with my men? A clue to my question came sooner than I expected. Two men, who were obviously werewolves, dragged us out in a ruthless manner. We came to what looked like an Hogwarts dining hall. The difference was no exquisite cuisine to nurse the taste buds, no ghosts, no smiling faces, and definitely no witches. But we’ve got a Dumbledore, only younger and clean shaven, sitting at the head of the table with a smirk that had me trembling to my toes. The room was full of werewolves, those not sitting around the table stood and watched me stand at the raised stage.

It was when she excused herself to go to the bathroom that a pretty girl who was about his age had walked up to their booth. "Excuse me," she had said, waving her hand in front of him to get his attention. Adnan placed a finger between the pages he was reading before he looked up at her. "Can I help you?" he asked. "I would just like to know whether you think Professor Dumbledore was right in always showing preferential treatment towards Gryffindor house while he virtually ignored the other houses," she said, pointing towards the book in his hands. Adnan blinked at her, not really sure what to make of this strange girl.

Hagrid then talked about what he had known about the man. "I-I don't know too much about him. He was a Slytheryn, two years ahead of me. He was prefect, and a Head-boy when I was in my 5th year. Top marks student, seemed to have the other Slytheryns in the palm of his hand." "Anything more, Hagrid? Anything can help." Hagrid fidget a little more. "Nothing more. Slytherins and Gryffindors didn't mix much that time. But Professor Dumbledore can help you, he was the transfiguration's teacher that time."

he clears a throat. I tilt my head up, only to my surprise; right in front of me is an elderly man. It's no average man with no average height, but a huge man. I mean, this man is more significant than a giant. He wore white and gold clothing, had long white wavy hair and a beard covering his whole chin, and had golden eyes, but he was different from Dominic. This man's eyes shine like the sun. It's like looking at Albus Dumbledore from Harry Potter.

Not only were they popular, they were the most handsome of all the guys in Gryffindor. To think they where my brothers. I shrugged it off, like it was some forbidden thought. "Gryffindor is made from a long line of royalties. It's like a generational thing." I told her. "I'm mostly confused about it myself." "I'm sure I won't get confused." She replied, doing the high plank . "You've met walker?" I asked her. "I have. We technically bumped into each other in the worst ways ever." She replied. I grinned, knowing what walker was capable of.

“What is so funny about Harry Potter?” “Do you know how much your mother loves Harry Potter? Those are her books.” She sets the book down and looks at me with disbelief. “No they’re not.” “Ask her. I promise you. I can tell you she is house HufflePuff and her patronus is a wolf. And she knew that before she knew of the magical world.” “Mine is a dog,” she replies and goes back to reading.

Hermione Granger sat cross-legged on the floor of the library, surrounded by piles of books as she pored over ancient texts in search of a rare potion recipe. The silence was broken only by the soft rustling of pages and the occasional creak of a floorboard underfoot. Lost in her studies, she didn't notice the tall, dark-haired figure approaching until he was standing directly behind her. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Viktor Krum's deep voice rumbled, causing Hermione to jump and spin around. The Bulgarian Quidditch captain loomed over her, his piercing gaze fixed on her face. Hermione felt her cheeks flush under his intense scrutiny.