EDIT: Thank you to ChevreJaune for pointing a plot hole. I just fixed it :D
Teaching History (is Old News)
14 - As a Teacher
Tom stares at Potter for several moments, trying to process the implications of what he heard. The last time Tom heard Potter mention that prophecies can be self-fulfilling, he had been posing as a snake…
"You know that I am an animagus."
"It was pretty obvious. You have the same eyes as a snake. Besides, you didn't try to bite me," Potter shrugs. "Most snakes would be pretty hostile to be caught by a human. Except Nagini, she's a cutie."
Tom isn't sure if he wants to throttle Potter first or tie him down to demand more answers. No witch or wizard could just guess someone is an animagus because they have the same eyes. It's preposterous! Potter is a seer, end of story.
"You made me wear a sneater."
Potter's face brightens. "Rainbow spots suit you!"
"You cradled me in your arms and then cooed about how adorable I would look in a purple top hat."
"But you're so good looking as a snake!"
Instead of cursing Potter as he so dearly wishes, Tom points at him and hisses, "I know what you're trying to do! You're attempting to distract me with this pretense of idiocy so I won't question you about your Sight, but I know you, damn what Dumbledore says, I know you better than I know myself. I will make you tell me the truth, Potter, if it's the last thing I do!"
Then, not because Tom is petty, but to weaken Potter's resolve, he conjures up some pickled eggplants and levitates them into Potter's face.
:
Unfortunately, when Tom wakes up to discover his bed has turned into a literal giant marshmallow that has stickily melted into his skin and pyjamas, the eggplant attack became (what Potter interprets as) an invitation to a prank war.
Tom narrows his eyes. While normally he wouldn't partake in such activities (he has a reputation to maintain), he needs to make Potter crack.
But first, he burns the monstrous marshmallow bed and cleans up his appearance. Let the trash burn where it belongs.
:
At lunch, Potter bursts through the doors, wearing a white-button down shirt and tie (to the horror of many students, who have started panicking about the apocalypse.)
"Tom!" Potter yells, waving several cut-up sweaters in the air. They look like ruined flags advertising yet another muggle zombie apocalypse movie. "Did you do this?!"
"Oh my," Tom practices his best sincere expression. "Are those claw marks? Are you certain that your familiar didn't decide to ruin your… unique… wardrobe?" He stares at how well-fitted the button-down shirt is. "You should dress this way more often. You actually look presentable."
"That's not the point! This is my life's work! Do you know how many hours I spend knitting these?!" Ah, so Potter is the one Tom has to murder for creating these colourful monstrosities. If only Tom knew a way to murder someone twice and bring them back to life again. He doesn't want to imagine someone like Potter with a horcrux. "I was going to sell them on Etsy—"
"No one would buy them," Tom mutters.
"I would!" Flitwick says unhelpfully.
"—and now I have to start all over again! Hours of work! I can't even use reparo on them because of this damn anti-reparo ward on them, which I know you did, only you're smart enough to cast wards this strong! What is wrong with you?!"
"I had no part in this."
Potter narrows his eyes. "You want a prophecy, Tom? I'll give prophecies."
He stomps away, a trail of burned yarn following him. Tom allows himself to smile. Neither of them notice the Weasley twins giving each other mischievous grins as an idea occurs to them… After all, if their beloved (and not so beloved) professors are involved in prank wars, why can't they…?
:
When Tom goes to his afternoon class, he notices a terribly drawn poster on his door. Professor Riddle's future, is written at the bottom of the poster, while the center features a horrific looking snake-like man with blood red eyes and death-white skin. Tom scoffs at Potter's trivial creativity and tears the poster down.
Only to find another poster underneath, this time of a llama dancing on a marshmallow.
Tom narrows his eyes and burns that poster.
Another poster (this one of the snake-man fighting an army of flamingoes) appears instead.
His students, all waiting behind him to get into the classroom, start to murmur to each other in worry.
"Um, Professor?" the student Tom recalls being named Thanh Tran says, "Why do you keep burning that dueling club poster? Does it have the wrong date on it?"
Tom screams internally in rage. "Yes," Tom grits his teeth, leaving the snakeman-and-flamingoes poster in place, "I will have to discuss this… dueling club with Professor Potter later at the staff meeting tonight. Come in, we'll be learning about cutting hexes today."
Tran nods nervously, ducking close to her friends, but Tom ignores her.
How dare Potter make a fool of him, charming that poster so only Tom can see the insulting results!
:
"Potter," Tom seethes, dumping the latest poster in front of him. "What is this."
"Hm?" Potter looks up from his knitting frenzy, bags under his eyes. Tom wonders if he even bothered teaching his class today or made them pretend to be trees again as an excuse to keep knitting. The reborn llama sweater judgingly stares at Tom. "Oh. That. It's your future."
Tom twitches. "Didn't you mention that the flamingos were a false prophecy?"
Potter gasps scandalously. "Did I say that? I meant that they're real. Because that's what you want, right? Real prophecies so you can be paranoid for the rest of your life and keep looking over your shoulder for anything pink until you accidentally curse a poor civilian who just wanted to wear pink because it's their favourite colour."
Tom narrows his eyes. "That was oddly specific."
Potter smiles angelically. "You go bald too."
"I do not—!"
"What a lovely impressionist painting!" Flitwick nods when he sees the atrocious snakeman-and-flamingoes poster.
Tom crumples it up and throws it into Potter's bag, much to Flitwick's dismay.
"Shall we begin our staff meeting?" Dumbledore twinkles at the head of the table, likely fully aware of what he's interrupting.
Tom frowns, taking his seat next to Potter and kicking away the stray pieces of yarn on his portion of the table, while Flitwick sits next to him. The rest of the staff settle in and look expectantly at Dumbledore for the meeting's agenda.
"As usual," Dumbledore claps his hands together, "we'll use the first half hour to address any concerns you have about our students. Are there any students you've noticed struggling, that may need extra assistance?"
Surprisingly, Potter raises his hand. "One of the transfer students, Thanh Tran, seems to be having trouble adjusting to the culture here. She speaks very fluent English, but I think she has trouble with reading the advanced material and she's too shy to ask for help. Do you think we could assign her a tutor to help her with her English?"
Tom stares at Potter in bewilderment. It never occurred to Tom that Tran might have difficulties with the written material, she seemed well-adjusted in public… Perhaps this is another sign of Potter's Sight?
"Yes," McGonagall nods, "I noticed this as well. I was just about to bring it up."
Sprout, Flitwick, and Chang nod in agreement.
Tom fights back a frown. How could he not notice what his colleagues have? He's supposed to be the Dark Lord, to be a better teacher than those muggles ones that scorned him for his 'smart mouth.' If a traitor ever sneaks into his ranks, how will he spot the damn mole if he's blind without legilimency?
He feels Potter nudge him. "Don't feel bad," he whispers, as one of his paper cranes settles on Tom's shoulder, "you were preoccupied at the time, and you haven't seen the Third Year Ravenclaws that often yet."
Tom looks away but he doesn't brush off the little crane. Preoccupied he may have been, with the meeting at Hogsmeade, but he will not make the same mistake twice. He will be more aware of his student's struggles.
"If Ms. Tran passed her English proficiency test when her family immigrated here then I see no reason why we should give her special treatment. She performs as average as the rest of her house in potions, I have not seen a difference in her skill compared to the rest of the uneducated juveniles," Snape sneers.
For a moment, Tom doesn't see Snape. He sees every muggle teacher he ever had at that blasted orphanage, sees how they accused him of cheating because he knew all the answers he could possibly read from their tiny library. He sees every time he was limited by money and status, unable to grow from the muggle education system, unable to thrive.
Education should cultivate, should coax each student to their greatest potential and towards the best possible path. Snape isn't a cultivator. No, Tom remembers how Snape stamped away any of Potter and Longbottom's potential for potions. Snape is a weed.
"Is it really fair to treat all of our students 'the same' when they may come from different backgrounds, and thus, have different disadvantages?" Tom says all too calmly before Potter or McGonagall have a chance to argue. "As educators, should we not make sure that our classes have the same basic background knowledge so they can truly benefit from our lessons? Wouldn't that be truly making every student 'equal'?
"I, for one, would rather teach a class that is willing to learn because they know the basics, rather than wasting my time teaching something they cannot understand because they haven't been given the chance to yet. We will never truly know our students' full potential if we limit them from the beginning, don't you agree, Severus?"
He holds Snape's gaze and smirks when Snape's face twists in loathing.
Dumbledore's claps interrupt the argument. "Well said, Tom, well said. I have to say, I wasn't expecting such a passionate rebuttal, but I agree. We will find a tutor from Ravenclaw for Ms. Tran and assign them to her right away. Filius, will you give me a list of suitable candidates?"
"Oh, yes, Albus! Right away!" Flitwick starts scribbling into a notebook.
Snape doesn't stop glaring but Tom doesn't give him the satisfaction of continuing their staring-match. He leans back in his seat instead and glances over at Potter's work. Only to catch Potter's wide eyes.
"What is it," Tom hisses.
"Nothing, nothing," Potter starts to smile. "I'm just impressed, that's all. That was really cool of you."
Resentment begins to pool in Tom's stomach. "Contrary to whatever you believe of me," he hisses, "I do care for my students' growth."
"I know," Potter says warmly, "you've always been a good teacher. I've always believed in that."
Tom… doesn't know what to say to that face. His followers have looked at him with awe and fear, the respect given to their superiors. Classmates have always looked at him in admiration. But Potter's eyes, right now, they're… they're fond. He doesn't look like an idiot, for once, he looks more like a teacher and a…
At that moment, Tom remembers why he's avoided Potter for so long. He turns attention back to the meeting, feeling like someone who has looked too closely at the sun.
:
"…Oh! One last item before we retire… remember that we have a social happening tomorrow in the Great Hall at seven in the evening. It's our annual Founders Celebration."
Several of the teachers (specifically Madam Hooch and Chang) groan.
"Do we have to go, Albus? I can't stand another year of standing around entertaining politicians and pretending that I agree with their opinions. Let's do a—what do muggles do to raise funds in America? Oh yes—a bake sale instead!" Hooch insists.
"Unfortunately, our school's budget greatly depends on the generosity of our sponsors… even the less agreeable ones. I trust you all have research to impress them. And you never know, this year's celebration may be more entertaining than the last!"
"I hope there's vodka," Hooch tugs Chang towards the doors. "Lots of vodka."
"There, there," Chang pats her back.
Tom, unlike the others, is looking forward to this opportunity to make connections. Besides, he has a year's worth of research on magical creatures and artifacts from his time abroad to talk about. He's also interested to know what his fellow colleague's areas of research will be. Speaking of colleagues…
"Are you going to set up a booth for palm reading then?" he asks Potter.
"Nah. I might hand out muffins. They'll turn different colours based on people's emotions. Mood muffins."
"That is the worst idea I have ever heard," Tom grimaces, wondering who in their right minds would each a substance that could change from green to purple. Then again, the wizarding world is unfortunately filled with wastes of innovation. How Potter can throw away his potential on such things baffles Tom… "About that poster—"
"Getting along well, I see!" Dumbledore pops up in between them. Urgh.
"No," Potter frowns at his yarn.
"Yes," Tom kicks away the bag with the crumpled poster. Merlin knows what Dumbledore would see instead of the snakeman-and-flamingoes image.
"Excellent news," Dumbledore beams, ignoring Potter's reply for once. "Then your plans to run the dueling club together will still proceed?"
"What." Potter's knitting needles clatter to the floor, nearly hitting several panicked paper cranes.
"The dueling club! I was informed by many excited students that you two would be running it together next week!"
"Oh really…" Potter glares at Tom.
"Well, you did advertise the date on that lovely poster you created," Tom keeps his face blank.
"Wonderful! I look forward to the first meeting! I'll be there to cheer you two on!" Dumbledore skips away.
"Aren't you pleased we'll be spending more time together, partner, because of your brilliant idea."
Potter throws the poster back at Tom's face.
:
When they return to their office together, Tom spots Tran walking by herself in the corridor. "Ms. Tran," Tom calls out, seeing her jump in surprise.
She looks at him fearfully.
"I must apologize for the abrupt way I treated you last week. I hope you can forgive me. If you still require help on the material in class, my office is typically open after dinner for two hours. If those times don't fit into your schedule, we can arrange another appointment."
Tran's eyes widen before she starts bowing her head frantically. "Oh you don't have to make a fuss about me, Professor, I'll reread the textbook—"
"I insist," Tom says firmly.
Slowly, Tran nods. "Um. Alright. Can I come in the day after tomorrow?"
"Just let me know the hour."
After that conversation, Tom turns around to see Potter looking at him fondly again. He starts to wonder if all the times he obsessed over Potter being Dumbledore's spy, Potter had been looking at him like… like that.
"I was merely correcting my mistake."
"It was sweet," Potter nods happily.
"I am not sweet."
Potter laughs, and his laughter gives Tom the same symptoms as that strange fond smile. "You are! When you want to be. I like you best when you're being a teacher. You're not so insufferable then."
Tom scowls, trying to chase away the strange feeling in his stomach. "You'd be less insufferable if you acted and dressed as professionally as you did at the meeting!"
Potter just looks at him in surprise again, that shade of green as piercing as death. "Yeah," he admits, to Tom's disbelief, "maybe I would be… but then the world would get too loud."
He enters their office without giving Tom a chance to say a word.
EDITED CHAPTER - Nov 15, 2019