Masquerade- Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Recalibration

    The fallen autumn leaves evaporated into snow; swirling in streams of cold. The months were ladened with homework and lectures, so it was no wonder that when the day before winter break came, the students were balanced on the edge of their seats. A few students did not even care; looking out the window with undisguised longing. Will was one of those people. Three seats left, Tom was diligently copying notes; his brow furrowed in concentration. He was a model student, to say the least. However, it seemed as though Professor Dumbledore didn't care, he simply walked past Riddle and started explaining about the fundamentals of being an animagus, and the restrictions that have been placed by the Ministry of Magic. 

    I sighed, doodling a picture of a snow owl on my parchment, while Izzy threw me a disapproving glance. The room suddenly quieted. I looked up. Professor Dumbledore was standing in front of me, his half moon spectacles glittering in amusement. "That is quite a beautiful picture, Miss. Robins," he said, making me stiffen slightly. This was the first time he had spoken to me face to face. 

    "Well," I said, my mouth unhinging, "I do try my best, sir." A few laughs rang in the classroom, as Dumbledore smiled broadly. 

    "Indeed," he said with a perceptive look, "please stay behind after class, please." 

    Turning, he went back to the board as if nothing had happened, and resumed his lecture. Sometimes, he was as bad as Professor Binns. Tom Riddle had been staring at me earlier, but now, he too was bending over his parchment once more. His hair fell unstyled, over his eyes. I suppressed a groan, as I waited and watched until the bell rang, and the students all piled out of the classroom. Izzy gave me a sympathetic glance, but she and Will abandoned me; heading with the others out into the snow. Tom Riddle was the last to leave, as he bade Dumbledore a good afternoon, before swinging his bag over his shoulder. The air turned cold as he walked past me. 

   "Please, have a seat, Miss. Robins," Dumbledore said, waving his wand, conjuring a chair out of nowhere and placing it beside his desk. I swallowed, but I trudged over to the seat, trying to compose myself. I sat. "I understand that your parents have passed away a few months ago," Dumbledore said, pouring me a cup of hot tea. He looked keenly at me. "I do understand your pain, Miss. Robins," he said, folding his hands, "but I am not going to speak to you as fellow wizard, I am going to speak as a teacher. Your grades have slipped, and I am afraid that with the midterms coming up after break, you will be unable to catch up." I was quiet, my fingers tapping against the desk. 

   I realized that he was waiting for a response. "I understand," I said blandly, "I will try to be more diligent in my studies, Professor Dumbledore." For a moment, Dumbledore studied me with those pale blue, intelligent eyes, as I felt a course of fear run through me. Was it possible that he could recongnize me? No, the odds were infinite. There was no way. 

  Then, he asked me a question that took me aback. "What are you aiming to be when you grow up, Miss Robins?" The question was genuine, and I was shocked at the honesty behind it. He was truthfully curious. 

   "I'm afraid I don't know sir," I said, after I recovered, "perhaps in the Ministry of Magic?" Dumbledore took off his spectacles and wiping them carefully, he replaced them on his beaky nose. 

   "A wise choice; after all, with the war that Grindelwald is currently waging, there would be no shortage of employees needed in the workforce," he said pleasantly, "very well, I expect you to work even harder then to accomplish your goal." He stood up, waving his hand goodnaturedly, "Go, then, and do whatever you kids are fond of doing in the snow. I dare say it is quite the perfect weather for a snowball fight." The ends of his lips crinkled into a smile, but I hesitated.