Chapter 11

The Professors

The first thing Harry did the next morning was head up to the Great Hall and look for the Weasley Twins. Some of the Gryffindors gave the boy weird looks, wondering why he was on their side, but the boy ignored them. Instead, he found Fred and George sitting with a friend of theirs, and smiled. "Fred! George!"

The two turned to look at Harry. "Hello Po—I mean Harry," Fred said.

"Whatcha doin' over here?" George asked.

"I actually want to ask you some things, if you don't mind," Harry said sweetly, giving them a comforting, innocent smile. "Do you mind if I sit with you two?"

"Course not!" Fred said a little too quickly. The twins made room for Harry, who slipped between them. "Harry, this is our best mate Lee Jordan," George said, introducing a black boy, who shook Harry's hand. "We were just telling him about some stuff we got over the summer."

"Hello," Harry smiled. "Um Fred… George… I just want to ask you some things."

"What is it?"

"Well… you two knew that I'm Harry Potter just by my scar," Harry said. "How is that? Only Daddy and my friends at home know about it, and my friends are all muggles and, well, Daddy's a bit of a recluse." Harry frowned a bit. "I know that Daddy wouldn't ever tell anyone about my scar… so how did you hear about it?"

"What? You mean how we heard about your disappearance from that night when You—"

"Fred! We promised Mum not to tell—"

"It's okay," Harry said. He moved so he was closer to Fred. "Daddy told me all about that night my mum and dad died… and about Lord Voldemort—" The twins gave a shriek and jumped scared while Lee Jorden looked as if he was going to fall off his bench—"sorry! I mean You-Know-Who," Harry said quickly.

"It's… it's alright Harry," Fred said. "Well… let's think… it's weird, we've grown up with tales about you, yeah? Your house being destroyed and your body missing. It wasn't until like… I don't know, four years ago that news that you're living spread like wildfire and that you have that scar… which, may I add, looks very nice on your forehead." Fred smiled awkwardly.

"Four years ago…" Harry said to himself. "When I was seven?"

Fred shrugged. "I guess so," he said.

Harry frowned. "Who told you these stories, Fred?"

"Well Dad mostly, he told us what he heard in the Ministry," Fred said.

Harry nodded. "Thanks… do you mind if I tell my Daddy?"

"Go ahead," Fred said, his awkward smile turning into something else. Harry returned the smile and stood up. "Thank you Fred, George," he said, and he returned to the Slytherin table, sitting next to Blaise Zabini.

"What was that about?" Zabini asked.

"Just needed to ask them something—got a quill I can borrow?"

Blaise gave him a quill, and Harry wrote a quick note. When he was done, Draco was sitting next to him. "Good morning, Harry," Draco said.

Harry looked over at Draco and regarded him for a moment before saying, "How did you know about me? Who told you?"

"My father did," Malfoy said.

"And who told him?"

"He found out from the Ministry—look Potte—er Riddle, it's pointless, stop worrying about it," Draco shrugged.

"Stop worrying? As if," Harry snorted. "You try to not worry when the whole wizarding world knows your name and scar on your forehead."

Malfoy just rolled his eyes. Harry gave an annoyed sigh and turned towards Blaise. "Blaise," he said, "how did you find out about me? Who told your parents—"

"Parent," Blaise said. "Only have a mother. "And like Draco said, she found out through other people—Draco's mother in fact if I recall correctly. So I'm guessing that someone told someone in the Ministry and it spread, or maybe a person from the Ministry saw you directly."

"So either way, the Ministry of Magic knew about me?" Harry frowned.

"Seems like it," Blaise shrugged.

"Why does it matter now? You're at Hogwarts, people were going to find out about you eventually," Malfoy said. Harry gave him a sharp look.

"I lived with my Daddy all my life. I didn't openly see anyone else until I was seven when I bullied my Daddy to allow me to go to school. Whenever we had to go outside, Daddy would make sure that I always had my head down, and that was a last resort if we could prevent it. So sorry Malfoy that I am concern about who told the entire world about me when I was only actively in it for four years!" Harry said hotly.

Malfoy, surprisingly, looked a little apologetic. "Sorry Po—Harry," he said.

Harry just made a noise. More Slytherins crowded around them now. Harry looked around and found the cow-looking girl, as well as a girl that looked like a pug. Without thinking to filter himself, Harry said, "So do Slytherin girls normally look like cattle, or are they the exception?"

Draco and Blaise started choking on air. "Ha—Harry!" Draco coughed.

"You can't talk like that!" Blaise said.

"Why not? Look at them," Harry said. "They're like animals!" Harry pointed to the two girls.

"Harry… does um… does your father know that you—"

"Talk like this? Nope," Harry said. He looked at Draco and gave him a childlike smile, "Logan and his brothers teach me the best things," he said. "Though, of course, Daddy doesn't know any of it. To him, I'm just his innocent son who loves his Daddy very much, which I am. I love my Daddy more than anything in the world. However, that doesn't mean I tell him everything. Shawn taught me how to spot a dog or cow when I see one, and there they are." Again, he pointed at the two first year Slytherin girls.

Both Blaise and Draco shared a sort of horrified look as Harry began eating his breakfast. What sort of life had he been living? Their thoughts were quickly dashed away as Professor Snape stood up along with the other Heads of Houses, and began handing out their schedules.

The classes in Hogwarts were different from what Harry expected. Every Wednesday at midnight he had to go and study the night skies with his telescope and learn the names of different stars and the movement of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology with Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi and found out what they were used for.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was taught by a ghost named Professor Binns. They did not go over any dark wizards or wars or interesting stuff like that. Instead Harry had to fight sleep as he tried to learn goblin names like Gobbligook or Goblegook… though Harry wasn't sure if those were goblin names or just gibberish he heard in his mostly-asleep mind.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand a pile of books to see over his desk. When he reached Harry's name on the first day of class, he gave a little squeak of excitement and fell out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Harry was right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. Harry surprised everyone on getting the most progress on his fifteenth time; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a joke. He was skiddish and could barely go through a sentence without falling over it. Harry thought this would be the perfect class to talk with Ron, but Draco and Blaise practically escorted him to a table at the beginning of class. Harry was more than relieved to get out of the class, only to see that Ron was nowhere in sight. Which was sad, really. He wanted to befriend all Weasleys.

.

Voldemort wasn't surprised when their owl, Arc, arrived holding three letters. Two of them looked to have been written at the same time, while the other seemed to be added on either a day later. Voldemort took the two letters addressed to him, and read them. He opened the bigger one first, making a small mental note to himself that Harry had also written to Logan. He was glad to see that his son had gotten into Slytherin, and it amused him slightly at Harry's choice of description for the sons of Crabbe and Goyle. All in all, Voldemort was pleased to see Harry, apparently, already making friends, but a small twinge of guilt and annoyance surged through him as he read Harry's request for the man to not become a recluse. Still in Hogwarts, and all he worries about is me, Voldemort thought for himself. It's true that Voldemort would rather stay at home with the snakes than bother with the muggles outside… and that that was enough socialization for the man, but to Harry the snakes do not count enough. I suppose I could give Malfoy a visit, he thought. Though… I have to wonder, how is it that everyone knows my son as Potter?

He began reading the second letter immediately, and saw that Harry was having similar worries about his fame. If the Weasleys heard from the Ministry, then a visit to Malfoy is only inevitable, Voldemort thought. But first… I have to play Harry's mailman.

Grumbling to himself at the torture of having to deal with Mr. McMann and his spawn, Voldemort dressed in a fashionable suit, a striking purple color, and headed out the door with letter in hand. It took the man half an hour to walk to the home of the McManns, but after some silent spells, he remained sweat-free, and suit nicely crisp and proper. It might be smugly petty of him, but Mr. Riddle liked making sure that he always looked better than anyone else when he is forced to venture outside. And it was always easy to look better than the hulkish Mr. McMann.

Today it was Shawn who answered the door. "Mr. Riddle! What are you doing here? We never thought you would be buying chocolate… the store's that—"

"I have a letter for your brother from Harry," Mr. Riddle said. "I trust if I leave it with you, you will keep it sealed until your brother comes home from school?"

"Y-Yes sir!" Shawn stuttered. Mr. Riddle gave a cold smile.

"Good. … Also, I would like a box of your finest chocolate to be made for Harry—don't look so shock, of course I knew that he comes here to eat chocolate," Mr. Riddle drawled. "I would like it ready by Thursday so that Harry can have it for the weekend. If you have any messages or wishes, you may add them to the package."

"Alright sir… this is very strange, people don't normally go to our home to make an order—"

"I will give you double the cost if you make sure your father does not touch any of Harry's chocolates with his disgusting grubby hands," Mr. Riddle said.

"Yes sir!" Shawn said, suddenly very enthusiastic at the thought of money.

"Good. And remember, Mr. McMann… do not open that letter."

"I won't sir… goodbye!" Shawn smiled widely. Mr. Riddle gave a small humming noise and turned to leave. He made his way back home and checked on the time. It was around lunch, and he was feeling slightly peckish.

So, without a thought, he apparated directly into Malfoy Manor. Breaking whatever defenses or privacy charms, the family had was laughably easy for the Dark Lord. He appeared directly in the front foyer. House-elves were scrambling to fix the charms Voldemort just broke, but the man did not care. He snapped at one, "Where are your Master and Mistress now?" he asked.

"I-I-In the dining room eating!" the house-elf squeaked.

"Good. Take me to them, and prepare a third plate," Voldemort said. He did not wait for the elf to finish bowing before starting to walk off towards the dining room. He could sense Mr. Malfoy's magic, which was pitiful compared to his own. Out of the foyer, Voldemort walked down a corridor until he reached a set of double doors, which he opened himself. To say that Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were shocked at his appearance would be putting it lightly. Voldemort ignored their gob smacked looks of fear and shock, both adults petrified in their seats as the Dark Lord walked towards his own. He waved his wand, and a wine glass floated in the air, followed by a bottle of red which opened itself and poured the empty glass full before returning to its original spot as the now full glass floated to Voldemort's open hand.

"Seeing as how our sons are now dining together in the Great Hall, and rooming together in the Slytherin Dungeons, I have thought that the proper way to celebrate their new friendship was to share a meal," Voldemort said, sitting down and taking a small sip of his wine. "However, it seems that your son is proving less than satisfactory for my dear Harry, hanging on a point that shouldn't even exist in the first place. So please inform me Lucius, as it seems that I am at a complete loss, how is it that the entire wizarding community knew that my son was Harry Potter for several years? And that he had a scar for four?"

Both Malfoys were still stunned silent. The Dark Lord waited, he had learned patience from Harry, and his lunch appeared in front of him. He looked between them, and frowned slightly. "Well, Malfoy?" he asked simply.

Finally, Mr. Malfoy seemed to have found his voice. "My Lord…"

"Where exactly in the Ministry did you hear about my son?" Voldemort continued.

"P-Potter, right…. There were rumors everywhere, stories of his triumph and your downfall—"

"And you did not seem to think of bringing it to me at the times these rumors were spreading?" Voldemort asked. "You left myself and my son alone in the dark, forcing us to deal with these stories separated and with little time to prepare." His voice slowly dipped into a cruel coldness as he stared at the two Malfoys sitting in front of him.

"My Lord they were just rumors… I had no idea—" Lucius' voice was suddenly gone. Mrs. Malfoy gave a shriek, but stayed in her seat as she looked, petrified at the Dark Lord. Voldemort ignored them for a moment, choosing instead to finally touch his food. The only sounds in the room for a minute was Mr. Malfoy's silent gagging and Voldemort's knife and fork scrapping on his plate.

"Rumors," Voldemort said, taking another sip of his wine, "only lead to more rumors. Some of them can be outright cruel and dangerous. You should have told me the moment you've heard about my son's scar. Or… perhaps… you've fallen to some rumors yourself."

The Dark Lord chuckled darkly as he stared at the two. "You thought that I was dead, both of you," he stated. "No need to deny it, I will know when you're lying. It saddens me, Lucius, to see your loyalty waver so. Perhaps you should have gone to Azkaban, stayed a few years in there to prove your loyalty to me… however… I suppose that there is a way for you to redeem yourselves."

"My Lord—"

"Go fetch the book," Voldemort said. And he turned his full attention to his wine, which he finished in one long, graceful drink, and his food. He had hoped that it would be an easy and quick task, that Lucius would know where he had left the relic that Lord Voldemort himself have trusted him with. But, unfortunately, the man was slow, too slow, so that by the time he finally returned holding the small black-leathered book, Voldemort was already done with his lunch.

"Pity…" Voldemort said. "To think that my faithful servant had forgotten about me…" He took the diary from Lucius and looked at both of them. "You better hope that your son befriends my dear Harry or else you will face full consequences."

Voldemort allowed his threat to hang in the air for a moment, taking slight pleasure at the look of horror on the Malfoys' faces. "When next I see you, Lucius, I hope for you to remember the source of these rumors."

He left the Malfoys with his threat hanging in the air, seeping into the man's brain as the Dark Lord took his leave. He figured that for the rest of the week, he was going to prove his son wrong. He wasn't a recluse. He was a very handsome single father who cared for his son very deeply. So with that in mind, he figured his next stop would be the Ministry of Magic and try to find the source of all these bloody rumors.

.

"Logan! Oi! Logan, you got mail," Shawn yelled as Logan walked in the door from his first day at school.

Logan looked a little confused, but his confusion went away immediately when he saw who had written to him. "It's from Harry!" he cheered.

"Yeah, so just take it already," Shawn muttered. "The Dad came here and scared the shite out of me when giving me the letter."

"Thanks Shawn," Logan said, and he took the letter. He ran to his room and closed the door before opening it. The first thing he noticed was a small box falling out. Curious, he placed the box to the side and read Harry's letter.

He couldn't help but laugh at his descriptions that Harry made, and glanced at the box. "A chocolate frog?" he said to himself. He momentarily placed the letter down and opened the box. There, looking as if it was ready to pounce, was a piece of chocolate that looked exactly like a small frog. Logan picked it up and made a small scream when the chocolate frog started squirming. "It's alive!?" He closed his eyes and brought the frog to his mouth, eating it whole. It was good.

Very good.

Logan looked at the Wizarding Card and saw a miniature old man with white hair and beard that seemed to go down to his ankles and the name Albus Dumbledore beneath him. He placed the card to the side and read the rest of Harry's letter. He chuckled at Harry wanting regular clothes and grimaced slightly at the thought of what his brothers would do. Probably send the boy Logan's own underwear and panties… Logan had to will away the blush that threatened to creep to his cheeks. He was not supposed to think of his friend in that way! Though, the ending made Logan feel uneasy. He put 'love' instead of 'from.' Why would he do that?

Though, Harry was right in one regard. There was no way he would allow his brothers to see this.

.

It was Friday, and Harry was going to have his first Potions lessons. He learned some elementary Potions from his father, simple stuff like what ingredient does, and how they should properly be mixed. Daddy mentioned a few poisons he personally used throughout the years but told Harry that he would not be learning how to make them. Potions was taught by a bat-like man who wears all black with sleek oily hair named Professor Snape. He was the Head of Slytherin and for some reason took an instant dislike of Harry.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape started class with a roll call, and paused at Harry's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new…celebrity."

When he was finished with roll call, he said, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He spoke in barely a whisper, but they caught every word—like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will barely believe this is magic. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldrons with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, betwitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't a big bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry glanced over at Blaise and Draco, both of whom looked to be completely enraptured by Snape. "Potter!" Snape said suddenly. That isn't my last name. "What would I get if I added powered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was shocked for a moment. I know this, he thought. "A sleeping potion?" Harry said questionably.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut-tut… it seems that fame clearly isn't everything, is it Potter?"

"Let's try again, Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"A goat's stomach," Harry said. Or yours. Stop calling me Potter! It's Riddle!

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape sneered. Bull! I got it right!

It was at that moment that Harry noticed that Hermione Granger had her hand up. Was it up the entire time? Why didn't he ask her then.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry Sir but aren't they the same plant?" he said.

Snape looked livid. "Think you can be cheeky, Potter?" he snapped. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. I said all that, Harry thought to himself angrily. How bad Harry thought he had it, it was worse, however, for the Gryffindors. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to like.

"You just have to be good at this Harry," Malfoy whispered smugly at Harry as they were pairs.

"Bull," was all Harry said. He didn't really know what the phrase stood for. He knew it wasn't referring to the animal, that was just obvious to Harry, but still Logan and his brothers kept saying it when people were lying to them or bad things happened so, naturally, the small innocent Harry picked it up. "I'm as good as you are, and he's criticizing me."

Malfoy just rolled his eyes as he began to stew his horned slugs when clouds of acid smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. A boy named Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to melt his partner's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Look at that idiot," Draco snickered. "Longbottom. Heard of him Harry? I heard that's he's barely a wizard. And an idiot on top of that!"

Harry just stared at Malfoy, frowning. "I have a very thick snake that hates me, but I'm sure I can convince him to eat a part of you if you don't shut it," he said. "That's not a very nice thing to say about Longbottom—he could be dreadfully hurt!"

"Who cares?" Draco snorted. His laughter grew as Snape turned to yell at Ronald Weasley. Harry's frown grew as Ron's angry face turned to him and Malfoy, who was still snickering to himself.

A/N: Draco… that's not how you make friends. EDIT: Fanfiction, please fix your shit and allow the extra spaces that I put on Word to stay so that the POV switches doesn't confuse everyone because I am forgetful and did not put the stupid dots. (This is why I like AO3 better than you).

Wander Night: Well… point is that it's going to be a love triangle with Logan and Draco "fighting" for Harry Riddle's love. There's going to be times where Logan is in the lead and others where Draco is.

Slytheringirl5:patience is a virtue.

Anna: Thanks.

Shine Mizuki: Thank you for reading and loving this. Now for punishment of reading this instead of studying, any Drarry/Harry/Logan actions will be delayed by one chapter. And you are correct: Voldemort is, in fact, the best Daddy. Especially when it's a Harry/Voldemort fic lol

AnnaMerteuil: Well… they don't have circle jerk sessions like Hufflepuff but I guess Slytherin is also good as well.

Gime'SS: Oh fine the secret is vanilla! They put vanilla in the chocolate! God you guys are all dirty pervs thinking the older brothers put jizz in there… have you TASTED jizz? It does not go with chocolate at ALL! But it is the name of the music played in the Cantina in Star Wars. Seriously, look it up.

Aiden Clearwater: Well we'll only be seeing the first half of the year before a nice jump cut to forth year and hunky Viktor!

Gurgareneth: thank you!

Hazel-faerie: But then the reviews become nothing but responses to my responses and not about the chapter at all. Case in point, your review.