tom riddle imagines

21: professor (c.c.)

imagine:
there's a new defense against the dark arts professor.
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"This day could not get any worse," you groaned, hastily picking your books up from the floor. You were knocked down by a younger year, and you hadn't even received a single form of apology. To add to your hectic morning, you were already five minutes late to your first Defense Against Dark Arts class of the year. As you grabbed the last book on the ground, a narrow figure shadowed upon you, standing still. Slowly gazing up in confusion, you found yourself glancing at a young man towering before you, his arms crossed judgmentally. A snarly expression plastered on his face as he glared down at you with pure judgement, as though you had commited an unforgivable sin.

"What's your problem?" you growled, rolling your eyes.

You anticipated an answer, but he simply stood there in silence, the judgment in his eyes flickering red. You startled at the glistening red swirling in his blue eyes, but his mere expression was vexing you too much for you to care about his eyes. You scrutinised every inch of his body, questions forming in your head at every glance upwards to his face. Why wasn't he wearing the school uniform? Why did he look older than nearly every student in school? Was that a bloody briefcase he was holding? Questions doubled abundantly, but the mere sight of Professor McGonagall trampling around the hallway from a distance had you quickly on your feet with your eyes widened.

"This school used to be so... sophisticated," the man exasperated, his fingers gently running through his curly black hair that fell to his neck.

Oh, those fucking alumnus, you thought disappointedly.

"Really? What happened to you?" you snickered.

From that, you earned an unsettling glare, his blue eyes tinting a sinisterly red glow. Your eyes narrowed, stepping closer to the towering man as you took a closer look into his eyes. Before you could ask him, you were abruptly interrupted by Professor McGonagall, causing you to flinch by her unexpected presence.

"Miss Y/N, what are you still doing here?"

And I'm fucked, you thought.

"I'm off to class right now, Professor! Nothing to worry about!" you chuckled awkwardly as you juggled your thick books on your arms hastily, panting.

"Now, now! We're all together now so might as well introduce you to-" she began, but before she could finish, you were dashing on your feet to your Defense Against Dark Arts class before your professor could get the opportunity to send you off to detention. The cold wind crashed upon your sweaty face as you bolted by the wandering students of Hogwarts. Your head turned down to your watch and back to your surroundings anxiously, your speed slowing down by the second.

Ten fucking minutes, you cursed in your head, stomping your right foot furiously.

Standing before the closed doors of your classroom, you inhaled sharply as you shut your eyes as tight as you could. You were finally here. The massive, wooden door creaked open, revealing a room filled with students gazing forward. You hadn't the time to approach your teacher, so with everything it took, you sneaked by the corner seat silently and settled down without a care about who stood before the classroom with the upper hand.

"Miss Y/N!" you heard your name announced in front of the class, your last name echoed to the very ends of the classroom. With your widened eyes, you slowly turned around.

Your utter doom; the very annihilation of your dignity stood meters before you with a prideful smirk plastered on his face. The man you had encountered before, holding the utmost power to commence your ruination, was the very first person you had vexed on the very beginning of the school year. And you were certain he knew that as well.