The Study Club Confusion
Wilde brings back a rather neat list – who knew the kid had it in him?
"It's William, I keep telling you," he insists, "William Alderton."
"Who is?" he asks.
The kid just rolls his eyes and hands him Minerva McGonagall's schedule. Despite his good work, Tom sees a problem in it – It's packed. There's hardly a spot in it which may suggest the girl is ever alone.
Except, perhaps, for patrols.
"Tom," Abraxas says as he studies Wilde's list, back in their own dorm, "what will you do? Patrols are done in pairs, right? That's two fifth years together."
Abraxas makes a good point. McGonagall can't possibly be as good as himself, but she's older and more experienced – and Professor Dumbledore's favourite. She must be decent, at least. Rushing to take action might not do him any favours.
"You're right," Tom admits with a sigh. "We'll have to be patient – let's start with gathering information."
"About her?" Abraxas asks, passing the list to Argo.
"About who?" asks Harper, entering their room.
"Can't you knock?" asks Thoros, glaring at her. "This isn't a public space, Gamp."
"Not my fault you decide to run the Study Club in your room," she says. "Who're you talking about?"
She peeks over Argo's shoulder and throws a confused look at the schedule.
"McGonagall?" she asks. "What for?"
He shouldn't have written "Minerva McGonagall's Schedule" on top of the parchment, perhaps.
Tom sighs – there's no hiding it now.
"To take over her place as Professor Dumbledore's apprentice," he says.
Harper is, perhaps, more confused.
"Why would you want that?"
Thoros snorts, and Harper turns to glare at him.
"You don't know what you joined, do you?" he asks, mocking.
Irving points toward The Great Achievements of Albus Dumbledore, hanging on the wall. Ertan waves toward the great banner hanging between his and Tom's beds, which reads A.P.W.B.D.F.C. in golden letters over a starry background.
Tom must admit, despite his shortcomings, that Ertan has impressive art skills.
"What is this?" she asks, looking a bit apprehensive.
"Welcome," Thoros says, smiling happily, "to the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Fan Club."
Ah – it's good to see Thoros feeling so happy, so proud of their initiative. Professor Dumbledore doesn't leave anyone indifferent, evidently.
"Have a lemon drop, Harper," Tom offers.
Thoros, for some mysterious reason, finds it hilarious.
The Preferred Student
Tom now knows what Minerva McGonagall does during the spot highlighted as question mark in Wednesday evenings.
She meets Professor Dumbledore.
Alone.
Tom's so jealous he almost has a stroke. Thoros has to push his back to hold him straight, and Irving has to take his wand – just in case. Tom sometimes gets rather hex-happy.
The Professor answers the door and, ever so kind, asks them to return tomorrow, when he'll have time for their questions.
"I'm a lucky man," he says, chuckling, "to have such applied students. Your interest in Transfigurations is touching."
Tom smiles as warmly as he knows how to – the way that makes Mrs Cole's friends melt a little, and give him candy. No that he likes candy, but the envious looks on the other kid's faces are definitely worth it.
He supposes he looks like those idiot kids right now.
And MgGonagall? The worst part is, she doesn't even look smug.
Tom is that much beneath her.
The Troubled Professor
Albus can't deny he's slightly concerned about the Slytherin boys. It's not an unusual occurrence – he rather likes to keep an eye on them, as they tend to hold prejudices against their muggleborn peers.
However, the reason for his concern is uncommon this year.
He has six essays on his table – Abraxas Malfoy, Thoros Nott, Irving Mulciber, Ertan Rosier, Argo Avery and Tom Riddle – which are at a level he's most unused to. Even Minerva's essays, while definitely outstanding, were never this good.
Most surprisingly, they're all different. The children aren't copying from Tom.
After the first essay, the one on Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration, Albus feared the kids were forcing Tom to write them all.
Right now, he's not so certain.
Tom, of course, is brilliant – he could write ten different versions and excel in them all. His interest in the subject is remarkable, and he's already following fifth year texts. It reminds Albus of his own youth, but perhaps with a more… obsessive cadence.
Because Tom's need to prove himself certainly borders obsession.
But he's not pondering on Tom's perhaps praise-deficient upbringing. Not tonight, at least. No – what he wants to know is why five kids who seem bored to death with his subject are handing in excellent essays and taking notes with zealous passion.
If Tom was writing for all of them, they certainly wouldn't find the need to.
So what's going on?
Albus hears a knock on the door. It's almost curfew on a Saturday – it can only be one student.
"Good evening, Tom," he says, holding the door open. "And Mr Malfoy, Mr Nott."
Tom beams at him, and the other two nod tiredly. They look like they'd rather be in bed already.
"Good evening Professor," he says. "Can we bother you for a couple of minutes?"
Albus doesn't remember visiting professors every other night during his own first year. But well, what can he do?
He lets them in.
As he's about to close the door, a small foot gets in the way. Harper Gamp pushes it open once more, looking like she's ran half a marathon.
"Don't leave me behind!" she yells at the boys.
Well, this is a new development.
"Ah, Harper," says Tom, looking pleased. "I applaud your motivation – have five more points."
Albus is certain the girl would physically assault Tom if he weren't present. Mr Nott is overtaken by a fit of giggles. Mr Malfoy lets himself drop against a chair and takes out a piece of parchment with the face of the condemned.
Just what on Merlin's wand is going on this year?