Inspired by a delightful piece of fanart, link to follow

CHAPTER 1

Riddle's first class was a batch of sixth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, divided mainly into those eager to learn about the subject (few and far between), those eager to learn about the teacher (he's so gorgeous!), and those eager to learn about the mundane aspects of one another's lives (no, she couldn't have said that!). The trite yet effective cliche of dramatic entry, Riddle decided, must be reexamined and resurrected. It would have the most success in winning over the class' attention, he decided.

The students entered noisily, flinging books onto tables, and themselves into seats, clearly eager to begin the first OWL course of the term. Riddle remembered, almost nostalgically, of those school days, not so very long past. Unlike these immature children, however, he had a fair amount of hands-on practice in the subject of the Dark Arts - he glanced at his ring- that very few, if any, other sixteen-year-olds could boast of.

As he remained concealed in this new office - his office, he reminded himself with a little thrill of joy- mutterings drifted in from the classroom. How could the teacher be late, and on his first day -Lazy, that's not going to look good this soon... if I recall, Riddle was always so..punctual... Oh, you knew him-You would've been a first year-Don't be ridiculous-Yes, I did, the name, anyway, it was on that trophy-He was Head Boy that year...

Without further delay, Riddle flicked his wand, sending the office door flying open perhaps a tad bit theatrically. He crossed the now silent room with a sort of careless stride, stopping at the desk, swinging his cloak off his shoulders dramatically, and directed it, with only an outstretched hand, to a peg near the blackboard. (By this stage, the boys as well as the girls were staring.) A final flick of his wand, and his name -for now, anyway- appeared.

He did so love a good entrance.

"You may put away your books; you will not be needing them today." He smiled inwardly at the instant obedience; the surprised sixth years stowed books under desks and stuffed them away in book bags.

"You will, however-" he added, causing a delightfully instantaneous lull in activity at his words, "-need your wands. Are you familiar with Cornish pixies?" The class nodded. "You are? And how do you like them?" Grimaces. "What if I told you there was a simple way to rid yourselves of the creatures that is both academically oriented and fun?" The class looked confused.

Words appeared on the blackboard: The Unforgivable Curses. The students looked, rather than eager, unnerved and disbelieving, to Riddle's disappointment, but to no great surprise.

"Let's play a game." He released the pixies, and instantly bedlam ensued. The creatures seized papers, flung books into windows and artifacts, and terrorized the students who hadn't taken refuge under the desks. In other words, most of them. "Dispose of them through any means necessary. Any means. I want to see what you're capable of." He jerked his head towards the blackboard and pointed his wand at a pixie. "Imperio!" The pixie seized some of the sharper artifacts in the room and proceeded to terrorize the students, wielding the scimitar like a guilitine blade. "Remember, for your spells to work, you have to really mean them. I would prefer you use nonverbal spells. You get 5 points for each pixie you capture, and ten to the first three who tell me what I've done to this one-" here he gestured to the maniacal pixie- "this one-" using the Cruciatus curse on another, filling the room with a horrible high pitched screaming- "and this one-" killing the third. "And I'll bewitch the others to make the game more...interesting."

He sat on his desk. "You have an hour. Impress me."

The display was rather pitiful, but a few students managed some truly impressive spells, though none attempted an Unforgivable curse. All in good time; there was a whole school year for that. The classroom was a shambles, the students exhausted, and yet only two-thirds of the pixies were recaptured. Riddle raised his wand as the bell rang. "Immobulous!" The pixies froze, suspended in mid-air. "Avada kedavra!" The room filled with a flash of electric green light as he cast the spell. It sounded like rainfall as the pixies hit the desks, the floor, and the students- rainfall in which the droplets were tiny bodies.

"Let's see," he said, walking up and down the aisles of desks, ignoring the aghast faces of some of the students. "I think... sixty points to Hufflepuff, and... eighty-five to Gryffindor...oh, well done by the way," he said, nodding to a boy with six of the pixies captured. "Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong." When there were no objections, he continued. "You are dismissed. Work on nonverbal spells for homework. You'll be asked to partner up in front of the class tomorrow, so if you don't like public humiliation..." He let his words trail off to give them the full effect.

He could get used to this. And he had plenty of time to devote to his research. Who knew corrupting young minds with Dark magic could be so easy?

*I shamelessly copied from HPatCoS. ^^ I just love the idea of a Lockhart-Moody hybrid class, and I think Voldy could pull it off.