PART 4
(BEFORE: 1995-1996)
Tom was excited. He had set a rigorous course schedule, but the kids needed it to catch up after years of sketchy teaching methods. Slughorn had bought him a briefcase for graduation and Madame Pince had given him money for three new pairs of professional robes, both of which he was thankful for. He never needed to go back to Wools ever again. He was free and he was home. The only problem was the troll – Umbridge.
After Grindlewald's attack, the Ministry was on height and alert. Fudge was feeling the pressure from his more conservative supporters and thus sent an Inquisitor to Hogwarts in an attempt to look like he had control of the situation.
It was first period – fifth years – and the class had just settled down.
"Good morning students. My name is Professor Riddle. I hope you all of had a pleasant summer. However, now it is time to learn. Here is the syllabus," he sent out the packets of parchment through the air to each student. "Which includes how my grading system works, the various spells you will learn, and the major projects and papers you will have." Around him, the students mumbled nervously – no one had ever really been so organized or strict in their teaching for this subject.
Suddenly there was a high-pitched cough from the back of the room – Umbridge. Tom stared at the frog-like woman in utter disgust, and when he did not introduce her, she continued to cough. "Ma'am, I suggest you seem Madame Pomfrey about that cough. People will think you have something to say." A few of the students snickered, but most of them remained frozen in their seats in utter shock.
"Good morning, children." She tilted her head and battered her eyes at him. Tom had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.
"Obviously, many of you are most concerned about your end-of-year exams-" She interrupted him.
"Ordinary. Wizarding. Level. Examinations. O. . More commonly known as OWLs. Such a pleasant name, isn't it? It is the most important thing that will happen this year. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be-," she paused to shrug and giggle, "-severe."
He ignored her and kept speaking. "There is no need to worry about that, at least, not for this subject. Why? Because I will cover everything on that exam in depth, as well as material outside the scope of that test. Tests can only do so much for you, and it is my fullest belief that these defensive spells will not only prepare you for the outside world, but could also possibly save your life one day."
"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which, after all, is what school is all about!"
Tom glared at her "And how's theory supposed to prepare them for what's out there?"
"There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children, like yourself?" His vision turned red and he griped the corner of his desk. How dare she insinuate he was a child to whom she could speak down to!
Tom took a deep breath and returned to his lesson plan. "Now, if you could turn your books to page 9, I'd like to start with-"
Umbridge giggled from the back of the room. "They won't need those textbooks. They're far too . . . dark. It would be much better if they had the Ministry approved textbook, Dark Arts Defence: Basics for Beginners."
"Ms. Umbridge-"
"I'd prefer to be called 'Professor' Umbridge."
"Well, Ms. Umbridge. This is my classroom, and I ask that you please respect that." In the second row, Hermione turned back towards Umbridge.
"Mam'm, the text you've suggested mentions nothing about using defensive spells."
"Using spells? Ha-ha! Why I can't imagine why you would need to use spells in the classroom!"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron questioned from the other side, making eye contact with Hermione. Hermione darted her eyes away – they hadn't spoken since the Yule Ball.
"You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free."
"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class."
Under her breathe, Hermione muttered, "It's not your class, you ignorant cow."
"The Tri-Wizard tournament wasn't risk free," Harry Potter quipped next to Ron.
"Accidents do happen to those who play games, Mr. Potter."
Tom was fuming. "So you're saying Grindlewald killing one of our own was an accident?"
"Now let me make this quite plain. You have been told that a certain, dark wizard is at large once again. This. Is. A. Lie."
Neville Longbottom spoke up. "It's not a lie! We saw him kill Cedric!"
"LIES!" She shouted.
"How is it a lie if we all saw it?" Hermione shrieked.
"He simply died."
Irritated, Hermione asked, "So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?"
"Cedric Diggory's death was of a tragic accident."
The Gryffindor stood up. "It was murder! Grindlewald killed him! You must know that!"
"ENOUGH! See me later Miss Granger for detention."
"She'll do no such thing," Tom declared as he strode towards her desk to stand between Hermione and Umbridge.
"If she wants to stay in school, she will."
"Only Dumbledore has the authority to remove students, not the Ministry, and certainly not you. You have no power in this school. You are meant to observe and report to your boss, making decisions only with his approval. That does not give you the right or ability to place yourself in every situation and try to take over!"
"I'm not taking over, I'm merely assisting your teaching," she smiled through forced teeth and beady eyes.
"I'd rather die than let you 'assist' or teach in my classroom."
"Be careful what you say, Mr. Riddle. I'm writing staff reviews, and the Ministry will learn of this!"
"Good, then they'll know he's doing something right," Hermione piped in.
"Your job hangs on a very thin thread, Thomas," she hissed at him.
"So will yours after I report you." He smiled heartlessly down at her. She babbled for a few seconds in shock before waddling out of the door. He inhaled deeply, ran his hands over his lapels and smoothed his hair down before calmly walking back to the front of the room. "Please turn to page 9; we're going to start with the disarming charm."
X*X*X
At the end of class, Hermione started packing her bag when she heard him say something.
"Huh?" she asked. He was currently being swarmed by a gaggle of new admirers, but his attention was focused on her.
"I need to speak to you. Right now." His tone was so stern that the girls all but ran out of the classroom. But Hermione stood her ground and continued packing her bag. In a snide tone, he remarked, "I know it's your tendency as a Gryffindor to fight over everything, but it's not worth it with Umbridge."
"I wasn't the only one fighting with her," she reminded him.
"I shouldn't have though. It was in a moment of anger."
"So what? You're just going to deny yourself all your emotions and feelings?"
"Yes, if it means it keeps those who are higher up on the food chain happy! Don't you get it? This whole thing – school, tests, homework, Quidditch – it's not about how well you do, it's about who you're connected to."
"No. No, I refuse to believe that Hogwarts is simply about networking. It is about preparation for the real world."
"And part of that preparation is your connections. You can be prepared all you want, but without the right contacts, you cannot get the work."
"What does this have to do with Umbridge?" She crossed her arms and huffed.
"She's powerful. Stupid and ugly and cruel, but powerful. If you want to go far in life, you'll need to occasionally appease people like her. You can't just tackle every issue head on; some subjects need finesse."
"I guess that's the difference between you and me. You're interested in what helps you win, and I'm interested in what's right."
"You're telling me that there's no sense of ambition in that big head of yours? That the Sorting Hat didn't for a moment contemplate putting you in the snake tank?" She remained quiet. He leaned in and placed both hands on her desk. "Don't tell me you aren't ambitious. You've been trying to prove yourself here since day one – memorizing the answers before the subject is even studied in class, befriending the teachers, taking on extra projects. You had to, really, because you're muggleborn. And that means you have to prove yourself even more. But you're shooting yourself in the foot if you think you're above the purebloods or the Slytherins or anyone else." She scoffed at this, but he kept talking. "Because despite your intelligence, they will always do better than you because they know more powerful people. And if you can't see that, you're an idiot."
She shook her head, "No. You're wrong."
He leaned in and sneered, "Then prove it." Hermione glared into the dark abyss of his eyes and he glared right back at her. They continued their angry silence until she heard the second bell.
"Shit." She rushed to pack her bag, but he stopped her.
"No need, I'll write you a pass." She thanked him quietly and darted off to her next class. But for the rest of the week, she was tormented by their conversation.
X*X*X
The rest of the year was alright. He was a tough teacher but she enjoyed his class. Despite his previous warnings, she continued to argue with Umbridge during her audits, which eventually encouraged more and more students to fight with the Ministry worker.
Towards the end of the year, she was having a discussion with Professor Dumbledore when Tom barged into the office.
"Headmaster! Oh," he hadn't noticed her till now, "I'm sorry. I just needed to ask you about the examinations?"
"Ah, yes. Hermione, would you excuse us? This is an urgent matter."
"Of course, Professor."
"We'll continue our chat at another point in time. Good night!" He called out to her as she skittered out of the room.
"Is everything alright?"
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore gestured for Tom to sit.
"She seemed flustered."
"Oh, well, yes. I would be too if the person I had just been talking about walked in on me."
"May I ask why I was the topic of conversation?"
"Hermione acts as my eyes and ears in the school, just as you did. I believe she'll be Head Girl soon."
"Yes, sir. But why was I being discussed?"
"She was simply giving me a performance report – you've gotten nothing but flying colors, by the way. And I value her commentary especially since…"
"Since what, sir?"
"Well, since Hermione Granger got you your job."
"I don't understand."
"I was concerned about letting you on because you are so young, but she was able to persuade me. She has the highest regard for you." Tom's hands were clamped around the armrests and his knuckles were a snowy white. He smiled and nodded, but inside, Tom was on fire with embarrassment and anger. Just months ago, he had told her she lacked the connections to succeed in life, and yet she had secured his own job. The cruel irony of the whole thing! But more than anything, he felt the familiar prickles of hatred for Dumbledore spark again in his bloodstream. How dare he question his ability simply because of his youth!
"Now Tom, you mustn't tell Hermione a word of what I've said. I think she wanted to keep it a secret, for fear of wounding your pride." Tom bit down on his cheek and tasted iron and thick blood, forcing himself to only nod. "Good. Now, you were saying about the exams…"
The rest of the conversation was short and in quiet, clipped tones from Tom. He left in a determined, manic flourish, and Dumbledore grimaced to himself. He hated to do this to Hermione (invoking Tom's wrath) but he had no other way of truly gauging Tom's intentions and feelings without an observable target he could take his anger out on. Luckily, Hermione had a thick-skin, and she would be alright . . . at least, he hoped she would be.