Chapter One: Riddle
Harry Potter ran into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom just as the class was scheduled to start. In his sixth year of Hogwarts, this was not the first time he had barley made it. He ruffled his jet-black hair, and sat down next to his best friend, Ron Weasley. He took one look at his friend, and started to snicker. Ron's twin older brothers, Fred and George, had dyed his normally red hair purple three nights before. Harry's other friend, Hermione Granger, glared at him from Ron's other side.
Before Harry could respond, the teacher appeared in the front of the room. Hermione, the smartest of the class, raised her hand hesitantly.
"Excuse me, Professor, but I thought that it was impossible for someone to Apperate on school grounds."
"How do you know that I am the teacher? I could be a Death Eater," was the teacher's sharp reply. She had startling black hair, perfectly straight and down to the small of her back. Her eyes were emerald green, knowledgeable yet cold. She was wearing black jeans, a black tank top, and a black leather cloak. All of the students would have told that she looked familiar, yet none knew where from.
"My name is Professor Kimberly Riddle. Yes Miss Granger, Professor, though you should never assume. I want to get to know each and every one of you, so we'll play a little game. Starting from the back, you shall each state your name, age, one thing everyone knows about you, and one thing few know about."
So they went around the room, each taking his or her turn. The students each stated their information. Hermione's turn went smoothly, but when it was Ron's turn, the class broke into giggles and snorts. Ron's face turned as red as his hair had been.
" My name is Ron Weasley and I'm sixteen years old. One thing everyone knows is I have naturally red hair, and what they don't know is that my older brothers did this to my hair."
"Thank you, Mister Weasley. Harry Potter, age sixteen as well, correct? Tell us the rest of the info, please." Professor Riddle looked Harry in the eyes, and as hard as he tried, he could not read any message. She held his gaze for a while, and then broke the connection.
"Everyone knows I'm an orphan, few know that my godfather just died." Harry muttered.
While Professor Riddle looked up, she spoke as if nothing had happened.
"Thank you, Potter," she muttered. "Now you, the class, may ask me anything you like"
"Is your hair naturally black?" a Slytherin girl asked.
"Yes," was the curt reply.
Questions and answers flew by, but as class ended, Harry raised his hand.
"Last one, Mister Potter?"
"Are you related to Tom Riddle?" Harry asked sharply.
"Yes," Professor Riddle whispered, "He's my father."