Alchemy professor at Hogwarts

Chapter 157 Rozier Manor

"Sorry to disturb you."

Hardy was standing on the edge of the campus flower garden, looking at an art sculpture, when a tall female student approached him.

Turning his head, he nodded and smiled politely, "Hi, ma'am, what can I do for you?"

"Oh—you're so interesting—"

The tall female student covered her mouth and smiled, "Am I that old-fashioned? No one has ever called me a lady before."

She stepped on her boots and walked to Hardy's side, and a faint smell of rose water came over her face.

"Interesting fragrance that adds some special ingredients that are associated with boosting hormones."

Gently sniffing the fragrance from the opponent, Hardy judged in his heart.

"Hello, my name is Catherine, a librarian major. How about you, an outsider? Never seen you here," said the tall female student.

Hardy looked at the other party intentionally, "There are a lot of students at the University of Manchester, do you know each of them?"

Catherine covered her mouth and laughed, she shook her head, folded her hands deliberately under her chest, "Oh, no, of course it's impossible."

"I mean, I should have known handsome boys from Manchester University, but you are an exception."

Smiling slightly, Hardy spread his hands helplessly, "It seems that you guessed it right, I am indeed not a student here."

"Is there anything I can do to help you? I don't know your name yet."

"Hardy, Hardy Ollivander."

Walking side by side with Hardy on the boulevard, Catherine asked: "What are you looking for? I noticed that you stop and go here for a long time. Do you want me to show you around the campus?"

"Thank you very much, but I don't need it at the moment." Hardy politely rejected the other party. "To be honest, I'm here this time to meet Professor Charlie Rozier."

"I'm his relative. Although the blood relationship is far away, it's rare for me to come here, so I still want to visit."

When Hardy claimed to be a relative of Professor Rozier, Catherine was obviously surprised.

"Oh, it's beyond my expectation, it's not obvious at all, really," she covered her mouth.

Hardy raised his eyebrows slightly, "Is there any problem?"

"Aha, I can't talk about the problem. Professor Rozier is a guy with a rather weird temper. Few students like him."

"Also, his history course was so dry that it didn't take our students' experience into account at all, and many of them failed his course."

"Can you say more? I never knew this distant relative," Hardy asked.

With one hand on her chin, Catherine consciously approached Hardy, and she said, "Let me think about it."

On the boulevard, Catherine and Hardy walked side by side.

Many female students who had just finished class passed by in small groups, and all of them cast curious eyes on Hardy, a handsome young man.

Catherine, standing beside Hardy, captured these very keenly.

She lifted her chin triumphantly, as if being able to laugh with Hardy up close was something to brag about.

"Oh, by the way, except for those incredible things just now," Catherine seemed to suddenly think of something, with an interesting taste: "I heard—really just heard—Professor Rozier is quite rich."

"It is said that he owns a huge private estate on the outskirts of Manchester, and," she paused, "some say he is also the school's director."

"That's a good explanation why a guy like him who has a terrible teaching result can still stay in school unharmed."

According to Catherine, Charlie Rozier never cared about the students' feelings in class.

His lectures are haphazard and spontaneous, and there is never even a designated study material.

If it was a fine day, he might give lectures on the hidden unrecorded history of England.

But if the pouring rain outside the classroom affected his mood, he might not say more than five sentences for a whole class.

"Teaching history is just one of his hobbies."

This is the apt evaluation of the old man Charlie Rozier by the students of the University of Manchester.

Led by Catherine, Hardy came to the teaching building of a church building.

It was approaching noon at this time, and a large number of male and female students were pouring out of the public classroom one after another. The huge space was filled with noisy discussions and footsteps.

And amidst the crowds, Hardy saw a short old man with a sullen face.

That indifferent look was exactly the same as that of Professor Snape.

"I won't go there, I wish you good luck." Catherine stopped at the stairs in the corridor.

She skillfully opened the notebook in her hand and wrote down her phone number, then tore off a page and stuffed it into Hardy's hand.

Shaking and pinching into a phone gesture, she showed a charming and seductive smile and said, "I've helped you, remember to call me at night and listen to your arrangements."

After speaking, she brushed her hair more skillfully, and disappeared into the shadows of people coming and going.

"Well, quite a skilled way of courtship."

Hardy looked at the phone number in his hand and shook his head helplessly.

He was quite used to the situation.

Handsome, sometimes it is really a burden.

"Professor Rozier!"

Hardy squeezed through the crowd pouring out of the public classroom, and chased after the short old man who was about to leave.

But the other party didn't seem to hear his shout, and walked to the other end of the corridor without looking back.

When Hardy broke away from the crowd and followed Charlie Rozier to a secluded corridor, he found that the other party had disappeared.

What appeared in front of him was a dusty abandoned corridor, full of debris such as oak crates, desks and chairs.

"Gone?"

Hardy had a puzzled look on his face.

According to President Grant, Rozier is just a squib, and it is impossible to have the means to disappear out of thin air.

But at this moment, he had indeed lost track of the other party.

Slender fingers jumped, and the wand appeared in his hand.

As Hardy pointed the tip of his staff on the stone brick wall, a large piece of brilliant white light immediately spread along all the cracks in the bricks.

With a "crack", the wall under a piece of waste wood suddenly sank.

An extremely narrow secret passage appeared in front of Hardy's eyes.

"Is this a custom-made mechanism for mechanical construction?"

Rubbing his chin with his fingers, he raised his wand and immediately apparated down the dark passage.

The wall illuminated by the pale light quickly retreated beside him.

By the time Hardy landed on the ground again, he had already reached the ground of the University of Manchester.

A huge air-raid shelter was excavated here.

At the end of the red carpet not far away, an old-fashioned Ford car that has long been out of production is waiting for the short old man who is about to board the car.

(End of this chapter)