The Competition

Tom watches them through the corner of his eye. Their numbers are small, but it's undeniable that they dominate the Slytherin Common Room.

Carvell Burke, Beatrice's older brother, and Walburga Black have just joined The Club. Tom thinks this doesn't speak well of the rest of its members – clearly, Slughorn has very poor judgement.

"I've heard Hazard Horton was scouted by the Falcons," whispers Ertan, in awe, pointing at one of their companions.

"Easy, when your grandfather manufactures their brooms," says Abraxas, rolling his eyes.

Abraxas is not happy he hasn't been scouted yet.

"Doesn't everyone enter the Slug Club thanks to their families, though?" asks Harper. "The Blacks are a given. Odell Doge's father sits in the Wizengamot," she counts, "the Hyslop twins' great-aunts publish in Challenges in Charming every other month, and Oda Gore – the Gores have been in the Ministry for centuries."

"At least Luella Runcorn is Head Girl," says Irving pointing to the tallest girl, "that's something she did herself."

Tom wonders if she'd have reached Head Girl without being a Runcorn but, since she shares school year with Dorea Black, she must be given some credit.

"I don't like them," he says.

The whole of the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Fan Club turns to look at him.

"Slughorn's not the worst professor," he admits, because that title belongs to Professor Binns, "but what's there to admire about him?" he asks.

Harper shrugs, which Tom takes to mean "nothing". The boys look at each other, as if having trouble understanding him. It's a look they share often, so Tom isn't too worried about it.

"I don't think they admire him," says Thoros carefully, "they just join for the reputation."

Tom frowns.

"Whose?" he asks. And then thinks better of it, and adds, "Why would you join the Fan Club of someone you don't admire?"

They exchange The Look again. It's happening rather frequently today, Tom thinks.

"Tom…" says Argo, very, very slowly, "The Slug Club is not Slughorn's Fan Club."

Uh? It isn't?

The First Challenge

"Dear fellow members," Tom starts, standing on his usual spot in the centre of their dorm room, "it's my pleasure to announce the arrival of the first official challenge of the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Fan Club."

Tom is rather pleased with how adult he sounds. Professional, even.

As he opens his mouth to continue, he gets interrupted.

"The Christmas midterms?" asks Harper, looking at The Great Achievements of Albus Dumbledore, hanging on the wall.

Tom harrumphs, annoyed that Harper stole his grand announcement.

"Yes," he grumbles. "We'll soon have the first tests ever here at Hogwarts and, of course, we must excel in them."

Abraxas raises his hand, worried, and asks, "Do we have to do better than Professor Dumbledore did?"

Better? How ridiculous.

"Of course not," Tom reassures him, "equally well will suffice."

Ertan groans audibly. Maybe he wanted to aspire to more?

"But Professor Dumbledore did those like a century ago," Argo protests. "What if they were easier back then?"

Tom hasn't considered this possibility.

"Fair enough," he concedes, "I'll allow a score up to ten per cent below that of Professor Dumbledore's."

He thinks that's gracious enough.

No that he'll allow himself the same, of course. The glint in Harper's eyes tells him she's thinking along the same lines.

That, or it's a love gaze. Always hard to tell with her.

The Theatre Club

Tom joins the rest of the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore Fan Club in their room after Wednesday Herbology class. Abraxas and Argo are arguing about which of their Manors has the vaster grounds, Thoros and Harper are bickering about the correct wand movements for the softening charm, and Irving and Ertan are quietly reading on their respective beds. All fairly normal for an evening in the –

Wait.

Ertan knows how to read?

"What're you doing?" Tom asks him.

Ertan drops the stack of papers he's holding together and sighs. Dramatically.

"I'm playing Digby Pimpletorn," he says.

What?

"He's been scouted," says Thoros with a snicker, turning to face them. "For Professor Beery's new play."

Thoros quickly learns it's a mistake to show Harper one's back, unless one wishes for a softer bum.

"Scouted?" Tom repeats, ignoring the fight breaking behind him. "For a play?"

"Professor Beery leads the Theatre Club," Ertan says morosely. "And he wants me to join."

Tom does agree that Ertan has a flair for the dramatic – second only to Abraxas – and an artistic drive, but that doesn't mean he's cut out for theatre. Because theatre requires memorization, and Ertan still fails to remember Professor Dumbledore's full name nine out of every ten attempts.

The kid's just a bit dumb.

"You don't have time for two clubs," he tells him. "Drop Theatre."

He won't allow any of the Fan Club's kids to underperform in class. The firsts tests are coming right before Christmas. There's too much at stake!

"I want to!" Ertan whines. "But Professor Beery said I was perfect to play Digby… He just won't listen to me."

"Nonsense," Tom dismisses. "You can't possibly be perfect for anything."

He'll talk to Professor Beery, he reassures Ertan, who's now started to sniffle – poor thing, he must really hate theatre.