Mildly Infuriating | Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 3

The next morning was no less entertaining. Harry woke up somewhat delirious from a night full of planning. An alarm charm rang in Harry's ears and he wrenched his eyes open with great effort to the blurry ceiling of the Hufflepuff dorms. The yellow and black aesthetic wasn't his favorite,  but it was bearable considering he spent most of his time in the dorm unconscious. "Tempus," thought Harry and the numbers 6:45 am appeared before him. He read the letters with squinted eyes before remembering he had glasses for a reason. Harry ruffled his hair making it more disheveled than it already was taking an extra second to make sure that hair covered the nape of his neck. He'd have a hard time explaining why he bore the symbol of the hallows something only a master of death should have. A shower was in order.

A cold shower really wakes one up in the morning. It took guts to walk under the frozen stream of water and the sensation was akin to a mild form of torture, but it sharpens the senses and was quite bearable after some time. Harry wanted to be wide awake for his encounters with Riddle today and unlike every other human being on this planet, Riddle was an early-riser. That meant Harry had to be out of bed before 3 pm, quite the feat. 

Harry shampooed and conditioned, running his hands through his curls until a sufficient amount of bubbles formed, before allowing the cold water to run down his body. 

When he was done showering, Harry wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed another towel to manually dry his hair. He could spell himself dry, but for some reason, his hair would become even more unmanageable after the use of the spell. Harry likes to describe his hair as controlled chaos as well as the rest of his attire. He was no fashionista as suggested by his poorly fitted robes or the lack of thought for the material of his wear. Being out of the public eye for 200 years had somewhat skewed his idea of what was publicly acceptable clothes.  Harry liked to believe he cleaned up well.

Harry strapped his wand holster to his forearm and flicked a wrist to float his textbooks in his bag and casted a featherweight charm onto it. Years of wandless magic and nonverbal magic needed to be rewired in his brain to wanded and verbal magic. They were definitely not things he could explain as a 6th year Hogwarts student, when well-respected and elder wizards could perform no such feat. Although not everyone got to be the Master of Death for 200 years. 

Harry looked at his sleeping dorm mates and slipped out of the common room and headed towards the Great Hall, knowing that Riddle always got to Breakfast early. Harry unconsciously made his way to there while his mind wandered the Riddle timeline. Riddle is currently in his sixth year, he opened the Chamber of secrets in his fifth year, meaning he already had his first horcrux the diary from murdering Moaning Myrtle and would get a second one next year with the gaunt ring from murdering his father. 

Just as Harry expected, Riddle sat in the middle of the Slytherin table in all his pristine glory between Malfoy and Nott. Eating a croissant is no pretty sight, Harry would like to believe it was one of the more messy breakfast items as it was virtually impossible to not leave a mess of crumbs with every bite. There were only two solutions, accepting the fate of your robes being reduced to a mess of crumbs or being Tom Riddle. The grace with which he ate the croissant with no crumbs reinforced the idea that Riddle wasn't human in Harry's mind. Then again being the Master of Death didn't really make Harry one hundred percent human either.

Harry took his seat at the table behind Riddle savoring a piece of crispy bacon. He didn't suppose he could pull the clumsy food spill on Riddle again, but he was very tempted. Two days in a row was too conspicuous, perhaps it could be a monthly thing. 

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Tom sat in the mostly empty Great Hall with two of his followers accompanying him. The only other people were excitable first years who probably did not sleep, pathetic the lot of them. Tom's attention was drawn to the entrance as Harry Evans entered the hall. His disheveled hair looked like he'd just played quidditch during a hurricane. Evans would probably look like a wet dog if it weren't for his somewhat handsome features. Of course, Riddle made this judgment objectively although his baggy robes and glasses marred his appearance. 

Tom was surprised at Evans' early attendance at breakfast, Tom had hoped Evans would get lost in Hogwarts maze-like structure or trip down the moving staircases, but seeing him in one piece was a bit of a disappointment to say the least. Evans took a second to look around the empty Great Hall and unfortunately for Tom, Evans chose the seat right behind him. 

There was absolutely no reason for Tom to waste precious time or brain power analyzing the psyche of the newest dead weight to the Hogwarts population, however an enigma he was. For someone who supposedly just lost his family to the war with Grindelwald, he was unusually happy even going as far to commit sound pollution with his dreadful humming as he buttered his toast. Evans immediately drops the butter knife into a bowl of soup creating a splash and thankfully, the only victim of Evans' stupidity is Evans himself. Tom watched from the corner of his eyes as chicken broth stained Evans' shabby attire and some of the tablecloth. 

However what happened next surprised Tom. There was a slight movement of Evans' fingers before the stains disappeared. No wand. No incantation. Evans then promptly froze. He spun his head around the Great Hall in a slight panic. Left, Right. Then at Tom himself, who quickly pretended he hadn't been watching him in his peripheral vision for the past ten minutes. Evans let out a small breath before picking his knife out from the chicken soup and continuing to humming his horrible tune between bites of buttered bread. 

It would seem there was more to the boy than Tom thought. 

As if sensing Tom's thoughts, Evans leaned back a little too far in his seat while laughing at a joke from a first year and fell on his back, like the clumsy dolt he was. It was a coincidence. There was no way someone as pitiful as that could perform high level magic. Perhaps Dumbledore cleansed the mess from the teacher's table. 

Tom's thoughts returned to his table where he was discussing the political platform of minister candidate Leonard Spencer-Moon who was running for a second term.

"He's an idiot!" said Malfoy to his right, "I simply don't understand how someone could be so stupid. That tactless prick thinks he can put a ban on Samhain and Yule, sacred wizarding holidays, for Halloween and Christmas to cater to the dull-witted mudbloods polluting the magic bloodline and tradition." Abraxas then stabbed his treacle tart with his fork in anger. 

"You wonder why people like Grindelwald exist when you do barmy stuff like this," Nott added. 

Riddle hummed in agreement and looked up as more students trickled into the Great Hall. 

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Towards the end of breakfast, the professors stood up and made their way to their respective houses and began handing out schedules for the year. Riddle gave Slughorn a polite smile as Slughorn handed him his parchment before running his eyes over it and immediately committing it to memory. 

"Tom, my boy!" Slughorn exclaimed, "I took a little peek at your schedule and it seems you have your first class with me again! I look forward to witnessing your brilliance again this year. I just know in a few years, everyone one will know your name with your skill." 

"Yes Professor, I too hope I can get my name out there," Tom murmured with a more genuine smile.

Please vote and comment! Next Chapter coming about Tom and Harry's classroom dynamic.