A/N: I'm not an expert on everything Harry Potter, so please forgive me if a potion or chapter or whatever else is not being taught at the proper grade level in this story. I've tried my best to do as much research as my attention span will allow. I hope that you all will enjoy this chapter, and please let me know in a review what you liked or disliked. Thanks. :)

Harry Potter is the Property of JK Rowling.


Seeing the Great Hall from this new point of view was like seeing it for the first time all over again. The hundreds of flickering candles suspended in the air, the ceiling which reflected the starry night sky, the pale ghosts that glided through walls and tables– they were all the same as they'd been before, yet from this angle it felt as though they all radiated a new light. Tom's stomach clenched as he remembered that rare feeling of happiness as he was sorted into Slytherin, that quiet moment within himself while all the rest were cheering. He blinked away the vision of that fateful night as if batting away the fog of a silly dream.

There were murmurs among the students in the Great Hall the night of the start-of-term feast, and Tom knew that quite a few of them could be attributed to his presence at the professors' table. Some of the older female students stole excited glances at him, while others openly stared. He hid a smirk from the few male students that sent him glares; no doubt they were expecting to never see him again.

As the first years were sorted, he once again suppressed any reminiscences, inwardly sneering at the uncharacteristic sentimentality. It was almost a relief when Professor Dippet finally stood from his throne-like chair to give his speech. "Welcome, everyone! Congratulations to all of the students who were sorted tonight; I hope you all will enjoy your time here at Hogwarts. I'm sure you will find that there are many interesting things to learn in and out of the classrooms! As usual, the Forbidden Forest remains forbidden, and students are to abide by their curfew, or else they shall receive detention." Dippet clasped his hands excitedly then as he continued, "I'm sure many of you have noticed that we have a new addition to our staff. I am quite proud to present to you our very own Professor Thomas Riddle, who will be replacing Professor Merrythought as our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He beckoned for Tom to give them all a little wave, and the young wizard did so quite charmingly. "And now, with that out of the way, I bid you all a good night. Enjoy!"

Tom did not miss the deeply troubled look on Dumbledore's face at the mention of his name. Satisfaction spread within him, and he couldn't help grinning at the old wizard's expense. While he ate, his dark eyes surveyed the four long tables of students before him; this would allow him to gauge the behavior of several prospective Knights. As he was watching Orion Black laugh with his Slytherin friends, Professor Slughorn clapped him heavily on his back, shouting cheerfully, "Riddle, m'boy! So good to have you with us!"

Quelling the deep desire to hex the man beside him, he turned to the Potions master with a seemingly delighted countenance. "Professor Slughorn! Indeed, it's quite a pleasure to be joining the staff."

The stout older man leaned in conspiratorially, saying under his breath, "It's always good to have another Slytherin, eh? Best of the bunch, wouldn't you say?" He winked at Tom before downing the remnants of his drink, his cheeks flushing.

The corner of Tom's mouth curled in amusement, his eyes twinkling at the sight of the intoxicated fool. The man certainly wasn't drinking pumpkin juice. "Of course, Professor. The best."

"Oh, do call me Horace, Tom. After all, we are colleagues now!" Slughorn interjected, nudging Tom rather roughly. The latter's hand twitched toward his wand. "Ah, looks like dinner is drawing to an end. Best head off to bed and get yourself a good night's rest– have a long day of teaching ahead of you and all."

Tom rose from his seat with the rest of the staff. He pretended to be nervous as he said, "I hope that I can teach the students well. I know I'll never be quite as good as you, though..."

Slughorn's cheeks, if possible, flushed a bit more. "Nonsense, m'boy! You'll be fine." His large hand clasped Tom's shoulder. "But should you ever require my...scholarly advice...you'll know where to find me, yes?" He chuckled heartily and gave Tom's shoulder a good shake. Tom grimaced.

Once in his private quarters, the young Dark Lord was able to relax a bit. His black outer robes were discarded before he sank into a high-backed, cushioned chair by the hearth. Long, pale fingers rested against his temple. The fire was reflected in his gaze, the two eyes turning into twin flames, and the harsh shadows cast upon his angular features caused his usually angelic face to look grotesque. It was as if the guise of a kind, charming young man was not only figuratively, but physically left behind at the door– leaving him bare in all his evil disfigurement.

Slughorn, as usual, was wrapped around his finger. Good. The oaf, though quite nauseating with his incessant fawning and bragging, had thus far been quite useful to his plan. He'd simply have to grin and bear their time together if he was to further gain any information from the Potions master.

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending up a few sparks. Voldemort's thoughts drifted to the Knights of Walpurgis. There was a handful of seventh year Slytherin boys who would serve him well, and the first one he planned to approach was Black. The young wizard seemed to be better suited for the Dark Lord's plans than his older cousin Alphard, who had been deemed unworthy long before then. Soon, the rest would follow. His flock of pseudo sheep.

The fire had long since warmed the room, and the heat drew Tom from his thoughts. As if only just realizing where he was, his eyes shifted around and he breathed a sigh, standing and heading to his wardrobe.

Before settling into his bed, he waved his wand absentmindedly over his shoulder, dousing the fire and leaving the room in darkness.


A few rays of sun shone through the clouds high above in the enchanted ceiling the next morning. Only a handful of students sat spread out amongst their respective house tables, most of them huddled in groups as they chatted about the new semester. Despite the sound of voices and chinking of silverware echoing through the hall, it was fairly quiet, and this was why it was always Seraphina's favorite time to eat her breakfast.

She sat alone, of course, at Gryffindor table. This had become quite normal over the past couple of years, so the other students paid no mind to her. She poured herself a steaming cup of tea and stirred in a bit of cream, gingerly holding the heated cup between her palms and breathing in the scent of the brewed leaves. A quiet calm settling comfortably within her, her hazel eyes gazed out of the large glass window to see a bird soaring through the morning mist.

"Good morning, Tom. You slept well, I hope?"

The sound of Professor Dumbledore's voice caused her to look over at the staff table just as Tom Riddle came sweeping into view, looking perfect as ever. "I slept quite well, yes," he replied, his eyes boring into the old man's. "And you, Professor? Or shall I call you Albus, now that we are colleagues?" His tone had an edge to it, but Dumbledore's eyes simply twinkled as he smiled softly.

"I haven't had a good night's rest since I lost my favorite pair of woolen socks, I think," was his reply, and Seraphina had to hide her smile behind her steaming mug; she didn't want anyone to notice she was eavesdropping. Tom seemed less amused by the response, smiling tightly and sitting in his seat. His sharp eyes flicked up at her and she quickly looked down at her timetable, pretending he hadn't just caught her staring.

May as well look this over, anyway, she mentally sighed.

Of course, that's when her dorm mate, Opal, decided to drop her bag down on the table. She hesitated to sit down in the seat across from her. "Do you mind?"

Seraphina gave her a small smile. "Not at all. Sit." She set down her tea as Opal flopped unceremoniously into her seat and heaved a great sigh. "That was very ladylike," Seraphina teased gently.

Opal made a face at her as she reached for some jam. "I see the routine hasn't changed this year." She bit into her toast and raised a brow at her friend.

"Now, why would I break tradition when it's our last year of school? That would be bad luck!" Seraphina replied, deciding to have a strawberry.

Opal shook her head, mumbling, "Whatever suits you, I suppose. I, for one, like to sleep."

"At least I don't have to trouble myself with ridiculous pins and curls and whatever else."

Opal subconsciously touched her dirty blonde curls. "It is the fashion, Sera!" she nearly gasped in offense. "And anyway, you should consider it, yourself," she added, eyeing Sera's long, reddish-brown waves.

"A muggle fashion," Sera attempted to say in her best impression of a pureblood Slytherin. Opal caught her eye and they both shared a quiet laugh.

"So tell me your schedule, then!" Opal said enthusiastically, leaning forward to peer at the paper in front of the brunette girl.

Sera set down her teacup rather loudly as she murmured, "Oh, right!" Snatching up the paper, she paused to toss a look over it at the other witch, to whom she said, "See how you distract me?"

Opal made to protest, but was cut off as Sera proceeded to read off her classes, "Advanced Herbology at nine o'clock– that ought to be nice...fresh air... N.E.W.T. Level Potions after lunch– can't wait– and... Defense Against the Dark Arts is my last class of the day."

"Only three classes? That's so easy!" the dirty blonde witch exclaimed.

"Hardly. Notice the 'Advanced' and 'N.E.W.T.' before each subject," Sera retorted flatly. Opal rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I suspect I'll be finishing my N.E.W.T. courses in either second or third term. Can't remember what it was last year..."

Opal downed the last of her orange juice. "That's why I am taking over my mother's dress shop."

"Whatever makes you happy, Opal dear." Sera reached over and patted her friend's hand. "My father, however, wishes nothing more than for me to be the docile wife of some rich Slytherin pig. He thinks it's absurd that I'd want to be a healer."

Opal's lips formed a hard line. "That old goat. Wasting away the family fortune because he feels sorry for himself, and he expects you to sacrifice everything to make up for it. If you don't mind me saying..."

Sera sighed. "No, you're right. Our relationship just hasn't been the same since–"

"Oh! Sorry, I've just realized I have five minutes to get to Divination!" Opal hastily rose from her seat and slung her bag over her shoulder. "See you later?"

Sera smiled weakly. "Yeah."

With a half hour left until Herbology, she decided she'd take a short walk before heading to the greenhouses. Slipping her timetable into her bag, she stood and headed out of the Great Hall, which had become much livelier since she'd first entered it.

The sound of her steps on the flagstone floors made her heart flutter. She'd missed Hogwarts. In all honesty, it had become more of a home to her than the house she'd grown up in. The castle didn't feel like a cage; it felt like a sanctuary for her to spread her wings, instead. Sure, at times the other students could be quite bothersome, and the school had become quite a dangerous place during her fourth year, but she loved being there nonetheless.

The morning sun lit up an outdoor corridor, the stone Gothic arches looking lovely beside a courtyard saturated with the hue of lush green grass. Sera breathed in the scent of the air, feeling invigorated and optimistic, and soon her steps led her down the sloping lawn toward the greenhouses.

"Ah, so glad to see my most devoted students back for one final year!" Professor Beery cheerfully greeted once all of the students had arrived for class. "Most of our time today shall be spent going over what is required for your N.E.W.T. exams, and then we may get around to our first assignment." Clasping his hands in a dramatic fashion, the professor continued, "I am very excited about my plans for this term, and I am quite confident that you all will do well. Also, you will be very interested, I'm sure, to hear that special tasks will be assigned to each of you during our time together."

A Ravenclaw girl with thick glasses raised her hand. "Sir, what exactly do these tasks require of us?"

With perhaps too much enthusiasm, Beery clapped the poor girl on the back. Her glasses askew, she peered up at him as he replied, "I have permission from the headmaster to send you all on separate missions to procure several specific plants that can be found anywhere on the castle grounds or in the Forbidden Forest!"

"The F-forbidden Forest, sir...?" the Ravenclaw girl queried.

"Indeed!" Professor Beery beamed at the students. When he noticed their doubtful expressions, his smile faltered. "Not to worry! I'll not have you traveling too far into the woods. I've found all these plants, myself! Professor Dippet certainly wouldn't have agreed, either..." he added under his breath.

The bespectacled girl beside him seemed to sag with relief, and the herbology teacher decided to move on to a different topic.

Later, as they all retrieved mooncalf dung for growing valerian, Sera thought about everything Professor Beery had said. Despite the obvious danger of the Forbidden Forest, she was actually very eager to receive her assignment. It was a chance to see if she could easily identify different plants in their natural habitat– something that could perhaps be very useful to her one day.

With visions of dark woods, wild centaurs, and mysterious plants dancing around her head, Sera ambled back to the castle for lunch.

Potions was, of course, Sera's favorite class. The sounds of bubbling, hissing potions and the sight of different colored smoke curling into the air made her feel at home. In order to enjoy these things, however, she had to pay a price. A rather...rotund and obnoxious price. Horace Slughorn.

The Potions Master had been unabashedly recruiting her for his Slug Club since she had proven her skills at potion making– and maybe because of her last name, as well. This occurred every year, yet Sera continued to politely turn him down. Did he not understand that she wasn't interested in socializing with the Slytherin elite?

"Miss Rosier, I'm surprised you aren't Slytherin! I suppose the Sorting Hat does make mistakes, sometimes..." was something she had heard more times than she'd like to count.

Today was no different, the head of the Slytherin house making remarks here and there about her family and how much of a black sheep she was. She simply held her tongue, for she knew this was common for the start of term; soon, he'd lose interest, and she'd be able to do what she loved best.

Of course, it was easier said than done.

I ought to be used to it by now, Sera thought to herself at one point; she could feel her face burning after some rather embarrassing and excessive flattery from Professor Slughorn. She spent the rest of class after that completely tuning him out as she read through her textbook.

It was with immense relief that she bolted out of the dungeons and headed up to the first floor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. As she passed students on the stairs and in the halls, books in hand, she was able to return to the beautiful feeling of starting a new year of school. Oh, how she'd missed it!

The classroom's large windows faced the courtyard, the dim light of the overcast skies weakly shining through. Sera chose to sit at one of the desks in the very front, where another girl from her house decided to sit next to her. As more students filed in and took seats, the sound of whispers grew and grew. It was only when they silenced that Sera looked up from dating her parchment and realized the reason for it all.

He reminded her of a raven, surveying the students from his perch. Or perhaps some dark, otherworldly being standing sentinel over the class. His dark, glossy waves and robes of shadow contrasted with his pale skin in an astonishing way. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as they gazed up at him, while his eyes trailed with interest over the room.

"I am Professor Riddle, and I will be teaching you all Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts," his smooth, baritone voice traveled across the room. A Slytherin girl at the next desk over practically swooned. Sera, however, felt a disturbing chill.

The tall, svelte figure began to descend the stairs from his study. He continued speaking, "I think it is safe to assume we all know each other one way or another. Let us start class, then, by opening the text to chapter four." With a flourish of his yew wand, a piece of chalk began to write the chapter's title on the blackboard in elegant script.

Each word Riddle spoke seemed to drag from the depths of her consciousness some nearly forgotten memory. A vignette. Some blurry scene. That smooth voice echoed in her head, whispered into her mind. Sera suddenly felt a bit light-headed. The sound of quills on paper reminded her to start taking notes, yet she couldn't seem to focus. The class discussion was something about Ashwinders, but she barely scratched down any information onto her parchment. His voice. That handwriting. The tall, graceful figure. In her mind, she could once again see that yew wand pointing threateningly at Abraxas Malfoy's throat, trailing closer...and closer...

"Are you well, Miss...?"

Startled, Sera looked up at Riddle.

His expression was one of concern, yet his eyes seemed to flash upon seeing her face. Sera wasn't quite sure if she had seen it right. "Rosier," she managed to breathe out.

There was that look in his eyes again.

"You have not taken any notes," he said, in a much different tone, one Sera couldn't quite discern. It was obvious that students were listening in while they copied what was on the board. Tearing her eyes away from his, she glanced down to find that her parchment was indeed blank, save for the date etched in the top corner and the title of the chapter.

"Sorry... Professor... I don't know what came over me." She met his eyes once more. "I'll try to write quickly–"

"I'm afraid you'll have to do that on your own time, Miss Rosier," he interrupted swiftly, then turned to the class. "Class is dismissed for today. Tomorrow, you must hand in a foot long essay arguing whether or not Ashwinder eggs are worth the risk of using in potions. You are all dismissed."

As the rest of the class rose from their seats and began to exit into the corridor, Sera started to put away her ink and parchment. However, the tip of a familiar yew wand stilled her hands.

"Miss Rosier, I do hope that you will be more attentive during the next class."

Sera tried to mask her frustration with a polite smile. "I can assure you, Professor, I will give you my undivided attention from now on. Just need a bit of sleep, I suppose." With that she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder, turning to leave.

"Oh, and Rosier?" Riddle's use of her name sent an odd shiver down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder at him. His dark eyes appraised her for a moment. He smiled, suddenly. "I'm pleased to have you this semester."

Her lips parted. She couldn't seem to manage a response, for some reason. With an awkward nod of her head, she briskly left the room.

Perhaps she only imagined it, but she swore the faint echo of a cold laugh chased her down the corridor.