Chapter Text
"Albus, I failed my Divination OWL - AND I'M NOT A SEER, FUCKING HELL - "
Tom Riddle exchanged a partly confused, partly amused glance with Abraxas Malfoy, who was sitting next to him on the blue colored couch in the Divination Room - his ear towards the door as they listened to Professor Dumbledore and the new Divination teacher argue.
"My boy, I assure you, I have taken a note of your abilities and seeing as your explanation is clearly inaccurate, you must be a se - "
"I TOLD YOU, I'M A TIME TRAVELER - MERLIN, I CAN'T TEACH DIVINATION - "
Tom sighed. Another nutter, then. The door swung open abruptly and the man entered - green eyes blazing, dark hair looking like he just shagged somebody in the wind. Infact, he looked extraordinarily like -
Both he and Abraxas swung their heads towards the back of the class simultaneously - where Fleamont Potter was gaping at the teacher too and suffering the entire class's attention on him.
He stood in the centre of the class, awkwardly - glaring at Dumbledore who was smiling his I know everything, and you're all just peasants smile.
"Well, alright class - this is third year, isn't it?" he said, his voice surprisingly even for somebody who looked so uncomfortable. "I am - " he stopped, his nose scrunching up in disgust, "Professor - er - "
"Smith," Dumbledore supplied from the door.
"Evans," the man continued smoothly - as people muffled laughter. "I'm Professor Evans. And like I already said," he scowled at Dumbledore, "I'm not a Seer, or a Divination Professor - "
"Yes, you are," Dumbledore coughed, his eyes still twinkling.
"No," Evans said, firmly. "I am a Time Traveler, and I'm here completely by accident - "
"Oh you are, are you?" Abraxas said, snidely from his side. "You're a time traveler, really?"
Professor Evans snapped his gaze back to him, raised an eyebrow - and just as snidely as Abraxas, said, "I'm sure when you're dying in bed with Dragon Pox, you'll remember this, Mr. Malfoy."
There were disbelieving laughs, and a few considering looks as Malfoy paled a little but maintained his you stink like a pleb expression. Dumbledore beamed, like Evans had just proven a point.
"Coming back to the point, Divination is a useless art for those without the Sight so I hardly think I need to - " he said, sweeping his gaze across the classroom before it locked with Tom's own.
He blinked once, twice - then blanched, face contorting in horror. Tom refused to give in to the urge of twitching - as Malfoy and Lestrange turned to Evans with glares.
"You're Tom Riddle," he croaked, finally. "Right," he nodded - like he was making up his mind. "Right. Okay - "
He turned to Dumbledore, who was blocking the door like he expected Evans to flee. Surprisingly - he did. Tom entertained the notion of him being an actual time traveler who knew of him in the future - as the guy ducked under Dumbledore's arm and ran out, with a yelled,"I hate Divination, Professor, I really am sorry!"