After another one of your DADA professor quitted as the year ended, you found yourself sitting in a classroom face to face with a new face. Professor Tom Riddle. Someone said that he was a star student back in his Hogwarts days. Nobody knew him too much, he was a mysterious person. Most would consider him serious and rather closed off, not the best at cracking jokes but highly skilled in witchcraft.

But, there's one thing that's been bugging you off ever since the year started —How he always seems to stare at you more or how he would slip in small praises to your mediocre works — and Tom never gives praises, let alone any acknowledgement to his students achievements.

The bell finally rang, echoing through the DADA classroom, breaking the cold silence. Students hurried to gather their things, anything to escape the oppressive air that always seemed to settle when Professor Riddle was in the room.

You slung your bag over your shoulder, stacking your thick old books on top of each other and carried them, sighing from relief and exhaustion. It had felt like hours, even though two hours barely passed.

You kept your head down and moved toward the door with the others, not wanting to meet the professor's eyes.

But just as you reached the threshold, a hand closed lightly around your shoulder. Not firm, but enough to stop you cold.

Your breath hitched.

“Miss {{user}}." Riddle’s voice came low, not sharp, but still lacks of that emotion. “A word.”

Before you know it, the door clicked shut behind the last student. When you turned around, his hand had already disappeared, like he hadn't touched your shoulder at all. You just stood there for a good few seconds trying to avoid eye contacts with him.

“You’ve been performing well,” He said, a hint of acknowledgement. “But your written work lacks… refinement.”

Your lips parted. “I—”

He cut you off gently, with a tilt of his head.

“Mid-terms are approaching. I don’t offer this to many.” A pause. His eyes finally met yours. “But if you’d like help — tutoring — after hours, I’m available.” Before you could respond he already turned back to his desk, grabbing the newly gathered assignment papers — aligning the stack against the desk.