(Harry Potter Fanfiction) But Title Erased For Security Reasons

Prologue

Hogwarts Castle, the Scottish Highlands

"And that ends the discussion on Cursed Artefacts. I expect your essays at my desk on Thursday, along with a detailed study on The Axe of Ragerous and why it is considered one of the deadliest artefacts to exist. Class dismissed."

Riddle set down the chalk and closed the text book. He watched the class scramble out, and glanced upon two lanky boys.

"Mr Potter and Mr Black. I suggest the two of you pick up all the dungbombs you have left inside my classroom, if you don't want to spend detention scrubbing the trophy rooms this evening."

He left the two troublemakers to clear the classroom and headed to his office. Teaching sixth-year Gryffindors was a headache, to be honest. Chiefly because of four pesky-, ah, what was it that they called themselves?

'Marauders', he remembered.

Fitting.

"Good afternoon, Tom." Riddle turned in annoyance to see Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Riddle had never liked the man, ever since the ginger (now white) bearded man attempted to persuade the former headmaster, Armando Dippet, to reject his application for the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

"I hope you are not too tired for an afternoon tea with me." Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. Riddle plastered a false smile on his face.

"Of course not, Headmaster."

He followed the wizened man up the gargoyle staircase, into the Headmaster's study.

"I have had several people ask me, why a brilliant and talented mind like yours is limiting itself to teaching at a school, when you could have such great prospects at the Ministry of Magic." Dumbledore smiled benignly.

"I'm sure you've had the same question directed at you many more times, Dumbledore." Riddle smiled stiffly, he knew where this was headed. The headmaster had called him to this office at this particular time of the year far too often, for him to not understand what the wizard needed. The headmaster suspected him of something dark, and was desperate to get him sacked, as he had always been, since Tom Marvolo Riddle first set foot in the school.

"Ah, Tom. I am but an old man, who has made his share of mistakes, seen his share of the world. I will be at ease imparting what little knowledge and wisdom I have gained through my experiences, to young minds. But you-"

"I'm not that young either, Professor." Riddle cut him off.

"But to an old man like me, you will still be that little boy I met in Wool's Orphanage, London."

Riddle winced at the memory of that infernal place. "Hogwarts is my home, Professor Dumbledore. I believe you have never received any complaints about my classes, yes?"

"No, but I do doubt the means you have used to keep it that way." Dumbledore said with a sinister undertone.

"You flatter me, Headmaster. I'm not that accomplished." Riddle laughed dryly and set the teacup down. "If you are done, Professor, then I will be taking my leave."

* * *

"Impudence, that's what it is! Which essay is this, Mr Pettigrew?"

"Uh... Um... The properties of the Axe of Ragerous?"

"If so, why is it titled 'The Properties of Asphodel in Brewing'?"

Pettigrew froze. Black patted his back sympathetically. Professor Tom M. Riddle was not prone to anger often, but when he was, it was not happy news.