The Star Student

Albus has always enjoyed the first week of school. The students are back from vacation and, while they've forgotten even more than they managed to learn, they're newly motivated. Laziness and worries and stress will come at a later date, but these first days of reacquainting are always blissful.

This is the first year – in almost twenty since he started teaching – that doesn't start with the same uplifting feeling.

"Albus," Brigita cheerfully greets him at lunch. "Lovely first years this time around. But you must know – young Tom Riddle speaks so highly of you. And quite a bright student he is!"

"Ah, Albus, you felon!" says Herbert when he's walking up to his afternoon class with the sixth years. "Scouting young talent even before the school year starts," he laughs. "What are the rest of us to do?"

"Albus, good evening to you," says Galatea on Tuesday at dinner. "Oh, I'm in a great mood – first time in more than forty years of teaching that a first year manages an incendio on his first day! And he's a fan of yours, too. I say you've yourself a lovely apprentice on the way."

Albus pinpoints this as the exact moment he starts to get uneasy.

It does get worse.

"Albus, what a brilliant child, Tom Riddle." Tressa says on Wednesday as they run into each other. "Asks quite a lot about you."

Tressa teaches Arithmancy, and last he checked the subject was a third-year elective. How Tom had a question for her after two days of school is a mystery to him.

"Ah, Albus, come in," greets Armando from behind his desk. However, instead of asking after his first-year Gryffindors as he would normally do, he says, "I met the most charming young man this morning. Found him waiting in front of the Gargoyle. I invited him up, of course – he was fascinated by my butterbeer bottle collection." He smiles fondly at the memory, and adds, "very interested in school regulations, too – I even went to fetch my copy of the original ones, written in the times of the Founders."

Albus can take a good guess about who he means.

"The way he speaks of you, you must have made quite an impression on him. Perhaps I'll have to consider bringing muggleborns their letters myself," Armando laughs.

Albus' smile is a bit strained as he nods along.

As Albus leaves his office, he gets the distinct impression that the Sorting Hat looks a little bit charred. But it must be his imagination.

The Second Meeting

Tom visits him after lunch on the first Wednesday of the year. He knocks on the door to his office, and Albus is certainly surprised to see him politely smiling there as the door creaks open. Tom's first Transfiguration class of the year is on Thursday morning. What question cannot wait a day?

The question he asks – after all mandatory pleasantries have been exchanged – is not one he had expected. It is, however, one he has been asked before.

"Do you know how to make the Philosopher's stone?"

Tom asks it the same way he asks everything else – with feverish intensity, more demand than request. Albus is relieved that Tom is, after all, just another student; entertaining greedy thoughts about riches and immortality. He is also, perhaps, slightly disappointed.

"Even if I did, Mr Riddle, I wouldn't share the secret with every student who asked," he answers, eyes twinkling.

Tom is obviously confused by the answer.

"Share it?" he scoffs. "Of course not," he says approvingly. "I'd just like to know if you could make it."

Oh?

"And, if I may ask, to what purpose?"

"To complete my list," Tom says, unrolling the piece of parchment he's been holding.

It's titled The Great Achievements of Albus Dumbledore. At a length of about seven feet, it's probably the most complete one Albus has ever seen. In the couple seconds he gets, he sees a few of his most important contributions to the advancement of general knowledge. The ones that strike him, however, aren't those.

Tom has managed to gather details as specific as his first-year grades, how many lessons it took him to successfully cast an engorgio, and at what age he published his first ever article.

Suddenly, the comments he's been getting from colleagues all week make a lot more sense.

"Mr Riddle –" He pauses, because what he wants to ask is just 'what on Merlin's beard are you doing?' "What's this list for?"

Tom scrunches his face in a childlike way Albus knows most people find adorable. If it weren't for the fact that he's dreading his answer, he might have, too.

"To keep track, of course," Tom answers, as if unable to comprehend it isn't evident. "I need to know how I'm doing."

Oh, boy.

"Mr Riddle – Tom," he changes, and the boy beams. "There is no need to compare yourself to others… Everyone learns at their own pace, and what truly matters is bettering oneself. Students aren't expected to match my achievements."

Tom nods.

"Of course. We can't possibly expect this from everyone."

"From anyone, really," Albus insists.

Tom nods again. He certainly hears him, but does he listen?

"So," Tom says after a short pause, "the Philosopher's stone?"

Albus brings a hand to the bridge of his nose and lets out one long, tired sigh.