The sunsets at Hogwarts were always beautiful. Standing on top of the Astronomy tower, I watched perfect combinations of reds, yellows and oranges flow together in a picture of utter serenity.

It was as if I could watch it for an eternity.

Classes today had been just normal. The students behaved as always. Poor Warren spilled her flobberworm spit down on the floor, though. But a day without some sort of accident would be unusual.

And as the resident Potion master: I, Horace, was tasked to minimise these accidents, and teach the blooming new generation about the fine art of Potion making.

Such a wonderful occupation, to be able to see the newest generation grow up laughing and smiling… to be able to stand by and guide the people who would be the next Ministers, Department Heads and inventors.

And that was maybe my favourite part of Hogwarts: to see young, talented wizard and witches grow to their full potential. Walk beside them and give them the opportunities they deserved… It was simply wonderful.

In my heart, I knew I could have done this forever.

Taking a last breath of the cool evening spring air, I turned to walk down to my quarters again. Although, not after taking a last glance at the disappearing sun. Smiling, I made my way down the countless stairs of Hogwarts. The familiar grey stone walls made me feel as home as always.

As I approached a corner, I heard a particular set of footsteps I knew well. A smile formed on my lips.

A tall boy with dark, wavy hair and a set of grey eyes rounded the corner towards me.

And of course. The most beautiful star of all the brilliant students I have ever taught: Tom Riddle.

If I ever found a word to describe that young man, it would be something more perfect than perfection itself.

While possessing a stunning face and grace which even the elves would be jealous of, Tom was a remarkably gifted student: he excelled in every subject in the school but also dug deep into the foundations of magic. With a knowledge which never ceased to impress, he harboured the most exceptional mind. I had no doubt that he would become something great one day. Something bigger than anyone could have imagined.

"Tom!" I greeted, the smile still present on my mouth.

He smiled back and stopped beside me. "Professor Slughorn! What a nice pleasant to meet you here. Were you up to see the sunset again?" Inquired Tom, tilting his head ever so slightly.

I laughed. "You know me so well, Tom. Ah, yes. The sunset at Hogwarts is truly an unrivalled sight… well, I won't ramble about that again. What brings you to these corners on such a late hour?"

"Well, I switched patrols with Burke this evening. He had some… pressing matters to attend, so I offered to take his prefect rounds." He gestured with a hand towards where I came from.

"Very thoughtful of you, Tom. I'm glad we have students as you here at Hogwarts. Poor Burke, his uncle falling ill at such a time." I shook my head, feeling dejected on behalf of such a promising boy.

Tom nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed, Professor."

"Well! I can't keep you from your duties, can I?" My smile returned full force. "I will retire now, myself. Hopefully dreaming about perfect sunsets…" I chuckled at my own joke.

Tom's lips twitched upwards. "I will bid you goodnight then, Professor, and pray the sight of Hogwarts' sunset made a good enough impression on your mind to make it want to see it again this night." He nodded to me, and continued on his rounds.

Yes… Tom Riddle, he was simply perfect. To imagine someone like that ever doing any wrong was just unthinkable.

The rest of the walk down to my quarters was spent with myself and only myself. Musing about the wonders of life, I couldn't help but smile into nothingness.

"What a perfect life."

––––––––––––––––––––––

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he heard the Healer's monthly report.

"So the chance is only getting smaller?" His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

She shook her head, her own expression grim and somber as well. "I'm afraid no. He's been in this coma for a year now. Only miracles will wake them up, when it has come to this."

He sighed.

Horace Slughorn would never wake up. Maybe his current dreams were easier to live in than the world he had to confront with his awakening.