Dark

Chapter 5: A Riddle

"SLYTHERIN!"

There was silence for a good 10 seconds and Dumbledore looked at him with an unreadable expression. His little protégé was a snake. Snape's face was, as always, blank, but you could practically smell the confusion and surprise of everyone in the room.

Ignoring it, he said a mental 'thank you' to the Hat and started his walk towards the Slytherin table. Cheers began from the table in question, though their cheers were decades more polite than the Gryffindors. Then, for some reason, it went back to an awkward silence. He sat at the end of the table, next to a girl with jet-black hair, and Malfoy opposite him.

The next student's name was called and it went somewhat back to normal, glances being sent at him every five seconds.

Once the Sorting was over, a prefect led the first-years to the common room. Harry recalled his undercover mission involving Polyjuice Potion and laughed internally at Granger's feline escapade, one that the Professors thought to be a botched attempt at an Animagus transformation. The walk in the dungeons was cold and, to several Slytherins, uninviting. To Harry, it felt like home.

The common room was almost the opposite of what it was outside. It was warm and the furniture was cosy and inviting. The walls were a warm silver and the seats and couches were a deep green.

Knowing that eleven-year-olds had no filter, he needed to get his dorm as soon as possible before people could get to him. He wasn't in the mood to deal with kids right now. Soon enough he found it, not that anyone wanted to help him, and found that he was sharing with none other than Draconian Lucius Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. It was a sick joke.

Cassius, who had been wrapped around Potter's forearm asleep, uncoiled herself and went into the boy's nightstand's drawer, where they claimed their territory.

According to the prefect, he was to report to the Common Room in about ten minutes because their Head of House, Snape, wanted to make a speech. Knowing the man, he probably just wanted to scare the feces out of the kiddies.

Nevertheless, it was mandatory, and so after packing his stuff away, using his new wand, he tucked his wand away into his sleeve, and made his way to the Common Room.

When he found himself in said room, a small congregation had already assembled, made up of the very same First-Years, though now, altogether silent as one Professor Snape loomed above them, in front of the fireplace.

"Welcome to Slytherin," he started, his eyes scanning the lot of the students, who seemed to cower before him. "We are snakes so don't be a snitch, or you'll end up in a ditch. If you need to settle something with another Snake you settle in with a fair duel. I am Professor Snape, Potion Master. Don't bother me unless someone is dying. Good. Night."

Mood.

That was the Snape he remembered. He shot a glare at him and made a futile attempt at his Occlumency Walls. Harry raised an eyebrow and the man backed out.

Legilimency against his students? There had to be a rule against that, probably a law.

Interesting...

***

The next morning, Harry woke up at 4AM, hoping to get in a morning run before breakfast. In hiding, he got bored and so he kept himself relatively fit. This fiasco had undone all of his work and so he needed the exercise.

He changed into a simple sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms before heading outside of the castle. The perimeter of the castle was quite lengthy so he made a full round before retiring to his dorm. The air was unparalleled, not the air itself, but the sensation of breathing it in. The aged and worn walls provided a comfort that no other place seemed to possess, and it was a comfort that seemed to amplified now, with his ability to sense the magic that held it all together. It turns out his stamina was no where near acceptable, however, and so he returned sooner than he wanted.

When he got back to his dorm, Malfoy and Zabini were stirring, so he took a quick shower and changed into school robes. They had a school day ahead of them, anyway.

Once he was done, he headed straight down to the Great Hall for an early breakfast. Only Minerva and Filius were there and so he didn't have to deal with students just yet. He waited soundlessly for Snape to get him a schedule and once the man had the audacity to show up, he nodded in acknowledgment and headed out of the Hall.

The first class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Quirrel-mort; the time he had been waiting for.

Once he arrived at the classroom, half an hour early, he took a seat at the back of the class and waited. The man himself wasn't there yet so he needed to wait before discussing certain things...

The entire class was him going over the curriculum of the year; the class tried to listen but honestly, they couldn't understand a word he was saying.

Was the stuttering really necessary? Some people wanted to get a job, you know?

Even Granger was struggling to take notes. Harry tuned the class out best he could, and made a mental note to learn more about Occlumency, so he could tune it all out. It was quite interesting, though, seeing how the most feared Dark Lord of the century teaching 11-year-old kids.

Throughout the entire class, he tried to avoid eye contact; his scar still hurt when he looked at his turban. He may have had more power than he once did, but that didn't stop the very real searing pain in his forehead.

Halfway through the class, he felt someone probing his mind nad the magical signature obviously belonged to Voldemort. It was a wonder how Dumbledore hadn't captured the man. Perhaps that was just part of his plan, to endanger the life of a little kid, so that he could be eased into killing, said Dark Lord.

He shoved Voldie out of his mind and Quirrel looked as if he stumbled over a rock. More like a Boulder. The entire class burst out laughing while Harry simply raised an eyebrow.

"C-class I-is d-dismissed," he called out.

Students packed up their things, tallking amongst each other about how they couldn't understand a thing and Harry waited patiently for the class to file out before heading to the table where the 'teacher' sat.

"The stuttering is a bit much, Riddle," he said plainly, looking into Quirrels eyes as if to say 'Try Me'. Although it was quite a bit more frightening than he'd previously imagined, staring his supposed nemesis in the eyes, a man who'd kill his first chance he got, it was revitalising, like a breath of fresh air.

The man's eyes seemed to ponder for a moment, as the stammering Quirell seemed to fade, before his eyes flashed red, "How did you know?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson."

With that reference even Riddle couldn't get, he left without another word being uttered.

Professor Riddle smirked.

If there was one thing that Harry learned about Tom, it would be that he loved a Riddle.