Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter and all such distinguishing characteristics of the Harry Potter stories belong to J.K. Rowling, despite many attempts by me to buy them off of her. Not mine. I freely admit that this is fanfiction, and thus has nothing to do with the "canon" storyline of Harry Potter. However, if I do end up being caught and sued, I have the airtight alibi of sleepwalking (sleeptyping?). So don't try, please.
Author's Note: Yes, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction. I got the idea for this story while reading one of the books, where Ron and Harry yell at Professor Snape for making fun of Hermione Granger. I thought, "what happens when the student doesn't just yell?"
Author: Seiryuu
Summary: Instead of disappearing after graduating Hogwarts, Tom Riddle instead attends a famous Wizarding University. One day, he is pushed over the edge. Dark.
Title: Just Another School Day
July 31, 1945The worst time in a class was when the teacher forgot that he was still in front of the students, even though it was the sign of a very... devoted... teacher. It was hardly fun for the students, as they all struggled to look interested in the horrible, boring subject. It was not an easy task; the more feeble-minded in the classroom let their heads bow, jerking occasionally in their throes of sleep. Some, as they were later embarrassed to find out, drooled.
One of the students, Tom Marvolo Riddle, sat in the front of the class, growing angrier by the minute. He was a master at hiding his feelings; keeping a cold, emotion-less mask over his features, but the History of the Dark Arts class was so horribly mistaken! He could hardly bear to waste time listening to the old, fat idiot when he could be in the privacy of his room, poring over the ancient texts he had managed to rescue from a library raid by the Ministry of Magic…
He shook his head. No need to lose your focus, Voldemort, he thought to himself. You can't afford to lose the façade that you've been keeping for so long… He looked around the class. He was safe. More than half of the class had already dropped off into sleep. Despite his self-control, Tom snorted.
In his opinion, he was stronger-minded than the rest of the piddling fools that surrounded him. Unlike most of the fools who followed tradition and attended the renowned York University of Wizardry, he knew what his life was destined to be. He was the only one who saw the truth behind the rules and regulations set by the Ministry of Magic; he saw it, and passed it along. His dream of Lord Voldemort took one step closer of becoming reality with every new listening ear and whispering mouth.
Tom waited, a bit impatiently, for the lecture to be over. Out of things to do, Tom just sat and listened to the mumblings of the teacher, Professor Edward Hospice.
"… and a very curious thing about the Dark Arts: even though they are secretly coveted by a great many dark wizards and witches, very few manage to survive the experimental stages of learning curses. In fact, it is as deadly to the learner as it is to the victims of Dark Magic. It is my earnest belief that even though the Unforgivable Curses are extremely harsh when used properly, studies of the various remedies and shielding charms are much easier to learn and utilize."
Tom couldn't help it, he started laughing.
Hospice stopped his lecture, looking up from his notes. He stared at the hysterical student who sat in front of him. He checked the seating chart that was magically charmed to show everything and everyone in the classroom. The circle where the laughing student was sitting was labeled Tom Marvolo Riddle. He looked back up, annoyed.
Meanwhile, Tom kept laughing, falling off his chair in his mirth. It aroused the students near him in their sleep, and all the classmates stared at him, in shock. No one laughed at Hospice. Although he was a dull teacher, his temper was infamous in the school. It was local legend that Hospice had forced three students into a mental institute, whimpering and crying for the rest of their lives.
"Are you quite done, Mr. Riddle?" Hospice's tone was noticeably chilly.
Tom finally stopped. "Yes, sir. I apologize for interrupting the education of this classroom." He still smiled at the absurdity of that statement.
Hospice walked toward Tom from his podium, taking deliberate steps. The smiles of some students near Tom, which had risen from his infectious laughter, were erased immediately. Hospice stopped directly in front of Tom, and crossed his arms across his chest. Tom stood up from the floor and stared down at the professor, towering over the angered man.
"In my class, Mr. Riddle, students do not speak out of turn. Also, Mr. Riddle, if I were in your place, I would not be so defiant. There are ways in which a promising career in— your major is in Law Enforcement, is it not?— Law can be stopped. Ways to make sure a Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle never gets beyond the janitorial spot in the Ministry. Ways to send you back to the type of piss hole your childhood home was."
Tom raised an eyebrow. He answered, his tone low and threatening. "Is that a threat, Ed?"
Hospice narrowed his eyes. "How dare you use such an informal tone to me! Get out of my classroom now! You are expelled from my class!" He shouted directly in Tom's face.
Tom wiped the spittle off his face with the back of his hand, and suddenly slapped Hospice in the face with the same hand. Hospice staggered back, shocked. Tom smiled and walked toward his professor slowly. He ignored the shocked gasps that arose from behind him.
Hospice drew his wand with a furious swing, and pointed it at his wayward student. "You hit a professor of York University of Wizardry?! I'll see you locked in Azkaban for this, you fool! From this moment on, you have signed your own death warrant, Thomas Marvolo Riddle!" The wand in his hand shook with fury.
Much to everyone's confusion, Tom smiled. I was getting tired of this lie anyway, he thought to himself with glee. He spat in Hospice's direction. "Sod off, you arse of a man."
As Hospice started shouting in anger, Tom swiftly drew his wand and interrupted Hospice's ravings with a calmly stated "Petrificus Totalus." And while that stopped the professor's yells, it did nothing to stop the screaming of the horrified students, who could all see Suspended! in their immediate future. Almost lazily, Tom waved his wand and said, "Silentium." Immediately, the screams stopped. With another wave, and "Claudo Exitus!", the doors slammed shut and locked themselves.
Tom walked over to his teacher, and drew him up to a sitting position by grabbing him by the collar. Hospice's eyes frantically looked for a way out, and Tom laughed. "Can't find a way to escape this situation, Eddy? Are you sure the Dark Arts are so easily countered?" He pointed haphazardly to a girl who sat in the front row. "You. Front and center, please."
The girl, too frightened to say no, got up on shaky legs and stood in front of the mad student. "Ah, very prompt. I like that in a girl," Tom said, and winked. Straightening his legs, he kicked Hospice's wand out of his hand, hurting the professor in the process and set Ed Hospice free from the Total Body Bind.
Professor Hospice looked up at him. "You are a madman, Riddle." Tom cut him off.
"No, Edward, I am not Riddle, child star of Hogwarts." He raised his voice until it vibrated off the walls of the classroom. "I am Lord Voldemort, and I will show you all my powers!"
With his last words still reverberating in the class, he
turned toward the professor, who had been trying to inch toward his wand. Tom smiled.
"Teach her your strongest shield, Prof, and we'll see if it's very
effective or not."
Despite his wishes, Edward's voice trembled. "Impedos prevents all curses and anything that is intended to harm the person encased in the bubble."
Tom nodded at the girl. "Now, what's your name?"
The girl stared back at the madman. "I'm Sandra…"
Tom bowed mockingly. The rest of the class stared at him in disbelief, more than a few slowly inching towards their wands. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Sandra." He took her hand, and kissed it. He looked up, a twinkle in his eyes, and smiled. Suddenly, his face contorted and he snarled.
"Well? What are you waiting for? Do it!" He shouted.
Sandra's voice was thin and high: it was apparent she was on the verge of breaking into tears. "Imp-e- Impedos." A flash of blue surrounded the girl, and disappeared immediately.
"That's it, eh? Let's see…" Tom said, pretending to think. He smiled.
"Oh! I know!" Pointing the wand at the trembling girl, he whispered, "Avada Kedavra," pausing between the two words.
A flash of green light blinded all in the room and Tom waited confidently. Everyone, including the professor, leaned forward to see if the spell worked. No one it seemed was surprised at the flagrant use of an Unforgivable Curse. They already knew that Tom Riddle Jr. was no longer a good wizard.
Poor Sandra stared at everyone in fright and apprehension. A moment passed.
She coughed. Blood appeared like magic on her shirt, slowly spreading outwards like the rippling of a disturbed lake. She coughed violently, continuously; no longer able to support her own weight, her legs gave out and Sandra collapsed on the floor.
Riddle felt a surge of triumph overwhelmed his emotions and he closed his eyes. Why is there no reaction to the death? His mastery of the spell had given him the strength to finally smite the infidels, the ones that dared to stand in his path of ambition. – They should be screaming their fear, shouting their anger – and he realized he had let himself revel in a critical moment when he should have controlled his prisoners-
He opened his eyes to a scene of chaos. Half of the class— heartbroken by the death of Sandra— gathered around her fallen body. Her boyfriend, Robert picked her up in his arms and wept, his cries silenced by Tom's spell. The other half of the class had already formed a semi-circle in front of the madman, all pointing wands directly at him. Professor Hospice, fuming with anger, stood directly in front of Tom.
Tom laughed. "You think that you can stop me when you can't speak to perform spells? Of course, except for you, Professor," he said, nodding toward the man.
Professor Hospice stepped forward. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, waving his wand. Tom opened his hand, and let the wand fall out of his hands.
There was a pause, as everyone gaped at how easy it had been to stop him. The students that had stood near Sandra deliberately walked toward her murderer. Their chance to extract revenge had come, as he was no longer able to cast his strongest magic.
Tom opened his hands and showed them to the class, emphasizing his lack of weapons or wands. But he refused to step backwards in fear, and he did nothing to stop the enraged class from attacking him.
Most of the class, frenzied by the death of Sandra (she had been vivacious and kind, and a favorite amongst the students), beat him brutally. Fists, feet and wands used as clubs all swung wildly near Riddle, hitting him harshly and repeatedly. Tom made no sound of protest, the meaty sounds of flesh being hit filled the air. Some of the few that had refused to join the fight threw up.
Finally, a particularly brutal punch threw Tom against the wall with a harsh crack. He slid down the wall, leaving a bloody streak. The class paused, surprised at their own viciousness, all worried that their rash maneuver had taken them beyond a line. Had the line between justice and vigilantism been broken? As a whole, they looked at the fallen wizard. He looked as if he had escaped a wreck—his nose was broken, and blood poured down his face and over his chest.
He stood on shaky legs. Tom smiled at the ones who had once been his classmates, the ones who had mercilessly taken out their anger on him. It was a gruesome sight- eyes blackened, teeth knocked out, blood reddening his face- and he smiled.
He said, "I've given you a chance to break out of that mold that enslaves you. If you had had logic, and realized that my ways would give you power… but too late. You will all perish. You will all be the first obstacles thrown aside by the might of Lord Voldemort!"
He lifted his hand, palm towards his classmates. A bright red glow appeared as he concentrated, surrounding him and all who still lived in the room. A chanting arose from nowhere, and Tom's victims stood terrified as they rose into the air.
"Perdito!" Tom bellowed into the air. The chanting rose into screams, and the classmates' faces contorted as they screamed along silently, their bodies suddenly wracked with pain. The red glow burned brighter until it hurt their eyes to look at anything. When they closed their eyes, demons and tortured souls filled their vision, filling their minds with terror.
And with a harsh snap, exactly like the breaking of a bone, everything stopped.
------
August 2, 1945
Diagon Alley was a very busy street. Because it was in the middle of London, almost all magical folk had decided to relocate onto it when Hitler's operation of endless bombings terrorized the United Kingdom. Thus, no one really so each other, and no one knew more than a fourth of the terrific beings that paced that community.
So it is no wonder that a young man, covered with a dark cloak and radiating an aura of "leave-me-alone", was able to walk across the length of the Alley without once being addressed by anyone. As he walked by the numerous vendors hawking news, he grabbed a newspaper and threw the owner two Sickles without breaking his stride. And as he waited for the bricks that formed the wall that separated Diagon Alley from the Muggle world to create an opening, he skimmed the headlines briefly.
What he saw pleased him, and a small smile crossed his features. He threw the paper carelessly to the side, and walked out of that alley, not to return for another twenty-five years.
The Wizarding Times
Freak Accident Destroys Prestigious York University
Even Muggles notice the aftermath, Minister of Magic states
The End
A/N: What did you think? Review, leave me notes at Seiryuu_Avatar@msn.com