Death is an Angel

Classes with Riddle

It's the end of the day and I'm sitting on Tom's bed, finishing up my DADA essay. Pressed up beside me is Tom. He has Nagini wrapped around his shoulders and is currently in a the middle of a heated discussion of whether rats or rabbits are better. Nagini stubbornly thinks rabbits taste better while Tom disagrees and says that rats are more prevalent. I had taken the side of Lizards until Nagini and Tom teamed up against me and pushed Lizards out of the race (Nagini said, Lizard blood is horribly stinky! while Tom said, Lizards are sacred creatures for the Maori, Ari!). It has been the first week of school and tomorrow is the week-end. Most of the Heads of House insist that students spend at least one of the days of the week-end outside. Luckily for us, Slughorn doesn't make that mandatory so most Slytherins go to the Library or hang out with their friends near the Black Lake. 

Even if Slughorn did make it mandatory, I'm sure Tom would have been able to talk his way out of it. Seven days into the first semester of first year, he's got all the teachers wrapped around his pinky finger. Except for Dumbledore. Here's how classes went:

Potions:

Professor Slughorn walked to the front of the class and proceeded to introduce himself and his expectations. He then told the first years that he would be giving them a preliminary test. It did not count toward their grade but was merely so that he could see the level at which each student was. The instructions were to make the most complex potion one could. 15 minutes before class ended, he came around to check on the students' potions. Most of the first years has messed up their potions so horribly that it was absolutely unrecognizable. A girl named Margot Droope had somehow made her cauldron disappear, yet her potion (being a gelatinous substance) had stayed in the shape of the original cauldron. I myself had made an adequate Draught of Living Death, using my previous experiences with Professor Snape. I had originally considered making the Polyjuice Potion, but soon realized that, having made it in second year, I had forgotten most of the ingredients. My Draught of Living Death, however, was just a shade darker than was necessary. When Slughorn got to my potion, he praised me. Although, that was probably because I was the only one so far to have made a recognizable potion. Then, Slughorn came to Tom, who was seated beside me, and he was blown away. Tom had concocted a perfect Felix Felicis potion (Luck potion) as it was the perfect shade of shimmering gold. By the end of class, Slughorn was praising the ground Tom walked on. 

Charms:

A younger version of Professor Filius Flitwick was teaching the Charms class. He was newly hired but was more than adequate. He started class by teaching the students how to do a levitation charm. This brought back many fond memories of my own first year with Hermione and Ron. I had many flashbacks, especially when Orion (who I had met via Cygnus a few days prior to the class) couldn't pronounce his Wingardium Leviosa and Walburga had to help him. However, Flitwick's method was different. He gave the class 5 minutes to try to learn the spell and then went around the class, individually correcting them. During the practice time, Tom and I were the only students who weren't practicing. When I was called, I did it perfectly, owing to my time with Hermione. Then, Tom was called. The whole of Slytherin House watched him discreetly due to his being the new favorite of their Head of House. He lifted his wand and proceeded to levitate it perfectly. Then, near the end of his minute, he muttered something else under his breath and the class gasped as the feather zoomed around the classroom, emitting shimmering green-and-silver sparks. Then, it settled in directly in front of Flitwick and burst into a mini firework display before Tom directed to completely unharmed feather back to his desk. It earned Slytherin House 50 points and made him Flitwick's favorite as well. I was also one of the students he favored. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA):

When I walked into DADA, I was half expecting to see one of my previous six teachers until I re-realized that most of them hadn't even been born yet. The Professor who walked in was wearing deep purple robes with silver stars on them. She introduced herself as Galatea Merrythought and that she believed in a practical approach to Defense. For the first half of class, she demonstrated the stunning spell (Stupefy), the dancing feet jinx (Tarantallegra), the pumpkin-head jinx (Melofors), and the Disarming Charm (Expelliarmus). Then, for 15 minutes, she let each individual practice on dummies which were set up around the room. I already knew all of them -Expelliarmus especially, for it was my go-to curse when dueling. Finally, 15 minutes before the bell rang, she paired the students up for a mock-duel. Of course, Tom and I were paired together. I had gulped for I knew just how powerful he was and also that he had been more powerful when he was younger. Well, voila, here he is -the younger Voldemort, that is. We watched some very boring duels before our turn came. I decided to start slow and cast Stupefy on him, which he deflected easily. However, the duel began to become more heated and more complex spells were exchanged. I cast Expelliarmus, which he dodged. He began to become more lax and I took it as a chance, yet I knew in the back of my mind that he was playing with me. His face was not concentrated, instead, he danced around me in a playful manner until I nearly got him with Tarantallegra. In retaliation, he made a sudden slashing movement with his wand and a streak of purple flame leapt toward me, singing my robes. Playing with fire, Riddle? I had asked. I proceeded to direct Hermione's signature periwinkle blue fire hex at him but he deflected it. His face was now clouded over and I knew this was it. I was going down. Fiendfyre, he had hissed, and I had stilled. No, I had thought as the color drained from my face. A wall of black flame reared behind him as I cast my own spell. But he seemed more experienced and his black basilisk of flame crushed my fiery red stag. At just the right moment, he cast the stunning spell on me and he had won, quickly blowing out his Fiendfyre. He had grinned and whispered in my ear, You're the first good competition I've ever had. Good game. I hope we'll try that again; it was fun. I had grinned and eagerly nodded as he helped me up. Merrythought had worshipped Tom from that day forward, with me in a close second. 

Now, those were only just the first three classes I had had with Tom. Transfiguration had been frustrating for him (Tom, I mean). If I had known the kind of snide verbal slaughter I was to watched in class, I would never have come that day. But, as it is, I didn't. Dumbledore would ask a question and Tom's hand would shoot up. No one else would put their hand up for fear of receiving a death glare from Tom. So, Dumbledore would have no choice but to call on Mister Riddle, who would proceed to give a long a detailed representation of and answer to the question at hand. Dumbledore would say that the answer was correct and would give an even more detailed answer. Tom and Dumbledore would exchange remarks, almost like a competition. At the end of class, Tom was fuming. To most, though, it looked as though he was just as calm and collected as before, but I, having been in the same position before, could see through him. 

When we went down to the dorms that night, I joined him on a long rant about Dumbledore. 

Anyhow, at this moment, Nagini slithered onto my shoulders (as she had taken to both myself and Tom. She called Harry 'Arling' and Tom 'Tomling,' although she occasionally called Tom 'hatchling' as well). 

Who won? I ask her

Tomling did, but I still think rabbits are better.

Tom snorts and retorts, 

No, rats are!

Lizards are, I mutter.

NO!

The two of them hiss at the same time. 

Tom and I crack up as Nagini spouts a series of small hisses that sound like laughter. 

          "Okay, Ari," Tom says (he has taken to calling me 'Ari' instead of 'Arius'), "Do you need help on that essay? Dumbledore's mean."

I grin bashfully at him. 

          "Uh, yeah, actually. That'd be great."

A smile graces his lips as he slides down next to me on the bed and leans over my shoulder, taking my quill in his hand. 

          "Let's start here. No, Ari, the Knockback Jinx. Use the correct term, not just the incantation 'Flipendo.'..."

I grin to myself. 

Who knew the future Dark Lord could be this nice?

Then I remember. 

....He broke when Arius died.

Seems like Fate really is out to get me. I mean, I've died once already; Why do I need to do it again?!

Geez, Fate, you're a meanie-poo.