HP: A Sluggish Memory

There was the much younger Horace Slughorn, with his thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and his gingery-blond moustache, sitting again in the comfortable winged armchair in his office, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffle, a small glass of wine in one hand, the other rummaging in a box of crystalised pinapple. And there were the half a dozen teenage boys sitting around Slughorn with Tom Riddle in the midst of them, Marvolo's gold and black ring gleaming on his finger. [...]
"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter - thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite -"
Several of the boys tittered again.
"- I confidently expect you to rise to Minister for Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."
Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.
"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir", he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."
A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke: undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.
// Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, page 462-463 //

Submission for a HP fanart contest :3. Didn't spend that much time on a picture for quite a while o.o". And sorry for my late absense, I've got a job now and am quite busy and tired in the evening when I'm home.