A/N Thank you Maria for being my beta.
As for the naming of my characters, 60% of the names are pulled from Mythology or the Bible and have a relevant meaning. 30% are just names I saw somewhere and liked. Selection of names for the other 10% involved an open phone book, a dart, and an act of desperation.
The naming of the character introduced in this chapter, Thomas McGonagall, has a very obvious underlying meaning. I used the name before I even made the connection that it technically is the same name as Tom Riddle. Just keep in mind that Tom is always Tom Riddle and Thomas is always Thomas McGonagall. For the most part the professors always refer to students by their last names so there will not be too much confusion for the reader. Potential confusion because of the two names being similar won't come up for a long time and won't be the readers'.
Going to start sticking together quite a few different events into single chapters to avoid having tons of little chapters. Some things of incredible importance may be left to stand alone to signify their importance.
*** denotes a passage of time, just how much time if you read it will usually be implied.
### denotes a change in narrator
***### denotes both occurred
*********************************
"Rather unusual, isn't it?" asked Deputy Headmaster Shackleton.
Headmaster Dippet stroked his toad as he responded.
"Unusual, yes. Unheard of, no."
"Sixteen?"
Dippet merely nodded.
"Even for a muggle-born, that is unusually late to suddenly develop powers."
Again, Dippet nodded.
"The parents were hesitant to allow him to come. The boy was completely against the idea. Maybe it has been going on for years and they just managed to keep it quiet?"
Dippet decided he had best stop nodding before his neck became unhinged like Sir de Mimsy-Porpington.
"Unlikely. Abilities as powerful as his would be rather difficult for muggles to hide for long. Besides, why bother to hide his abilities? If a muggle-born's parents do not wish to have their child educated here, we have no recourse. Separation of Wizarding and Muggle communities."
Shackleton frowned.
"Which is more unlikely? Muggles successfully hiding abilities that powerful for years, or a muggle developing abilities that powerful in the span of only a few months?"
He was saved from having to respond by the arrival of the young man in question and his Head Boy escort.
"Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Please remain a few minutes so that after the Sorting you may assist Mr. McGonagall in finding his new dormitory."
Facing the other young man in his office, Dippet continued speaking.
"Hello, Mr. McGonagall. I am Headmaster Dippet. This is my Deputy, Master Shackleton. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
When the young man only ground his teeth in response, Dippet attempted a polite smile.
"I see you have brought a familiar. Your kitten has lovely markings."
Seeing Mr. McGonagall was not to be assuaged, Dippet gave up his awkward attempt.
"Here, we will instruct you on how to safely harness the powers which you posses. By the time you leave Hogwarts, with a bit of hard work and concentration on your part, we can be sure that next time you think about kindling a fire it will be contained in the fireplace and not envelope an entire wall of your house."
Mr. McGonagall just shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the incident that had finally persuaded his parents that having an untrained wizard was a dangerous prospect. For months, the McGonagalls had declined the intervention offered by the Wizarding community. Oh, Mr. and Mrs. McGonagall had been quite excited and fascinated upon learning of the existence of wizards. It was young Thomas McGonagall who had steadfastly refused the idea of attending a school of Witchcraft. The boy had refused to acknowledge his own abilities and indeed tried desperately to repudiate even the existence of wizards.
"Hogwarts students are divided into four noble Houses named after the four school founders; Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. Selection into Houses is decided by the Sorting Hat."
He motioned for Thomas McGonagall to be seated. After a moment's indecision, McGonagall set the kitten he was carrying on the carpet and took the armchair offered. Dippet retrieved the Sorting Hat from a shelf and placed it on the young man's head.
All eyes were on the young man, waiting for the hat's judgment. All eyes remained on the young man as the hat refused to speak. Perhaps, 'all eyes' was not entirely accurate. The little kitten was busy exploring the room. The only sound in the room was the grinding of Thomas McGonagall's teeth.
Shackleton frowned.
"Maybe it left? Maybe whatever is inside the Sorting Hat moved like the people in the portraits do?"
"Don't be daft. Where would it go?"
Shackleton pondered the possibilities for a few minutes before replying.
"Another hat?"
Dippet just stared at his deputy a moment before making a polite coughing noise.
"Sorting Hat?"
"Yes," replied the hat immediately.
"Whenever you are ready, we are waiting."
The brim of the hat made an attempt at a frown.
"You will be waiting for some time. I don't mind sorting the muggle-borns, but exactly what do you expect me to do with a muggle?"
Dippet exchanged a look with his deputy who merely shrugged.
"Well, take your time."
After a few more minutes of silence, Dippet motioned his deputy closer. Turning his back to Mr. McGonagall so the young man would be less likely to overhear his low tones, Dippet made some inquiries.
"He is the only child in the house?"
"Yes, just him and the parents."
"Most peculiar."
With his back to Mr. McGonagall, Headmaster Dippet didn't notice the little kitten jump onto Mr. McGonagall's lap. Deputy Headmaster Shackleton was facing towards Mr. McGonagall, but too concentrated on his superior to notice the kitten climb up Mr. McGonagall's shoulder to inspect the inside of the hat. Head Boy, Tom Riddle was the only one to take note of the startled kitten running out of the hat.
The small gray and black kitten was on the carpet, hissing up at it, before the Sorting Hat could even announce its decision. The two men returned their attentions to Mr. McGonagall as the Sorting Hat's booming voice filled the room.
"Slytherin!"
Dippet's voice was tinged with relief at the arrival of an end to the awkward situation.
"Splendid. You know our Head Boy here, Mr. Riddle, is in the Slytherin House."
Dippet failed to notice Mr. Riddle's look of contempt as he continued speaking.
"Mr. Riddle is also a muggle-born wizard. I think you two will get along splendidly. You have so much in common already, even down to the same first name. Mr. Riddle please be so kind as to escort Mr. McGonagall to your Head of House for room assignment.
It was only as the staircase was spiraling down that Thomas McGonagall spoke his first words since his arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"You do know, none of this is real."
*****************************************************
##################################################
Binns frowned. Hadn't these people anything better to do than bring their piddling little problems to him?
"Really, I don't know what all of you are going on about. The boy does fine in my class."
"Robert, all that is required of Mr. McGonagall in your class is that he sit quietly. In our classes participation is a necessity. I cannot get Mr. McGonagall to take out his wand, never mind attempt any transfigurations."
"Have you considered the possibility he just doesn't find your particular branch of magic of interest, Albus? I know as a lad, I never had a mind for Transfiguration. Turning teapots to spinning tops, really a waste of a good teapot if you ask me."
Robert sighed as Professor Shackleton weighed in with his opinion. Wouldn't he like to drop him off on an Antarctic glacier!
"Robert, he doesn't do anything in my class except look sullen."
"Imagine that! Here I am in a room with you and I look sullen. Is anyone else beginning to see a pattern?"
When the new Care of Magical Creatures added on a complaint of his own, Binns tried to remember what happened to the last one. Had he been eaten? And if so why couldn't whatever it was have eaten Shackleton as well?
"He doesn't even show up for my class. Came to the first class, called my creatures abominations and refused to ever return."
Shackleton tried to start in on him again.
"Robert-"
He was so busy imagining the precious look on the other man's face, the unparalleled sight of him jumping up and down in frustration as he, Robert Binns, dread pirate of the Seven Seas, steered his mighty sailing vessel away from the glacier upon which he had marooned his colleague, that he lost track of the conversation.
"Robert?"
"Robert!"
"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?"
"He is in your House, Robert. Talk to the boy. That is an order."
Before rising from his chair and exiting the faculty lounge, he made a mental note next time to kick the man in the shins before sailing away. Really, of all the nerve. What business had Shackleton of giving him orders? He had been a professor at this school for more than a hundred years before that man even began to teach. By rights, he should be Deputy Headmaster and giving him orders!
Halfway to the Slytherin boy's dormitory, Robert Binns realized he wasn't sure exactly where the boy's dormitory was. Certainly his quarters were located near them, but he had never in all his years at Hogwarts bothered to ask their precise location. It wasn't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, at least not the fourteenth century edition which was one of his prized possessions. Frightened at the possibility of accidentally discovering the lady's dormitory by mistake, he paused.
In passing Head Boy, Tom Riddle, he thought he had found his salvation.
"Mr. Riddle! A moment if you will."
He had to hold in a snort at the younger man's misinterpretation of his words.
"Actually, sir, I am on my way to a class."
As if he really was making a request with his 'if you will.'
"What class?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't bother. All you need to know from that class is don't get hit. Everything after that is redundant. You and I are going to pay a visit to Mr. McGonagall."
When Mr. Riddle just stood there with a questioning look, waiting for him to proceed, he snapped at him.
"I'm not getting any younger, Mr. Riddle."
When they arrived at Mr. McGonagall's room, they found him wearing muggle clothing, sitting in a chair, tearing a page from one of his course books into tiny shreds. Judging by the large pile of scraps that the little kitten was playing in, it would appear this was not the first page to receive such treatment. He would have reprimanded the young man, but he noticed by the only as yet half destroyed illustration that it was a Herbology book. As good a use as any for one of those books, he supposed.
Noticing the series of scrapes on the young man's hands, he thought it best to start the discussion with them.
"Are some of the other students giving you problems, Mr. McGonagall?"
"No."
Binns frowned.
"Well you have been fighting with someone. Or did the scrapes on your hands just magically appear?"
Mr. McGonagall's voice came out far too tired sounding for one so young.
"There is no such thing as magic. The cat did it."
"Isn't that your cat?"
When Mr. McGonagall just shrugged indifferently, he continued.
"Well why have you been fighting with your cat?"
"I haven't been fighting with my cat. She has been fighting with me. She doesn't like being left alone in the room all day."
Well, so long as it wasn't a matter involving another student, it really wasn't any of his concern so best to move along to the next topic.
"Mr. McGonagall, I have had several reports from your instructors that you are not working up to your full potential. From the accounts we received before your arrival, you are an extremely gifted young wizard. Here at Hog-"
"-I am not a wizard."
"Well of course not, but you will be. You just need a little training of your powers and -"
"-I don't have any powers."
Binns sighed. Why did these children always have to be so difficult, so…well, childish?
"Mr. McGonagall, you have magical abilities far surpassing -"
"-No, I don't."
"Alright. Who set your house on fire? Who transfigured your imitation Christmas tree into a live tree that is now growing through two levels of your house? Who transfigured the ornamental dove on the top of the tree into a live dove? Who made all of your candy Easter chicks into real chicks? Who caused -"
"The cat did."
Robert sighed. He noticed Mr. Riddle had an eyebrow raised at this proclamation as well.
"Your familiar?"
"She wanted to eat them. She ate the dove and some of the chicks. The tree, I don't know, it kept falling over when she tried to reach the fake dove. Maybe she thought if it was real it would be stronger and easier for her to climb."
"And the fire?"
"At home she likes to sleep on my mother's pillow at night. But during the day the room is empty. She doesn't like to be left alone so she curls up on the rug by the fireplace in the family room so she can watch everyone's comings and goings. She likes the fireplace to be lit for the warmth."
He knew where this was going, he could play along.
"Familiars can be very powerful. A devoted familiar extends his or her energies, powers, and protections to our own. Why don't you take your familiar to classes with you? I am sure none of your professors would mind."
"I don't like it here. What you people do here, it's not right. It isn't real."
Alright, he had had enough. This wasn't getting him anywhere.
"Mr. Riddle, take Mr. McGonagall under your wing. I am making you responsible for his progress. Teach him a few of the easier spells that a young wizard his age should already know. Make certain he attends all of his required classes regardless of how pointless most of them will prove to be later in life. Keep him out of trouble."
He sighed as an angry Mr. Riddle attempted to refuse him.
"Why me?"
"Because maybe he will listen to you. You have far more in common with him than I do."
Thinking of a few taunts he had overheard regarding the two muggle-born Toms now in Slytherin, he realized perhaps that had not been phrased as well as it could have been. In any other house, Riddle's mother having been a pureblood would have meant something, but in Slytherin having even one parent tainted by muggleness was considered unforgivable. Surely if Salazar Slytherin were still alive to see Mr. McGonagall, a pure muggle, sorted into his house, well the man would likely drop dead of shock!
"We have nothing in common!"
"Tom, You are both…young and I am…less young."
He was becoming more flustered as he continued the conversation. Best to end it quickly. Walking to the door, he frowned and called out, "And I am Head of House with authority over both of you!"
Problem solved or at least passed onto someone else, Binns' step was considerably lighter as he returned to the faculty lounge. He considered for a brief moment if perhaps his strong dislike for dealing with anything remotely awkward or problematic was why he had been passed over for the Deputy Headmaster position, but quickly pushed the idea aside as absurd.
#########################################
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?
Even seething with anger as his Head of House departed, Tom Riddle ranked reasonably high on the list of the fairest of all, if only in the looks department. Being assigned a muggle as a shadow was clearly an outrage to his Slytherin sensibilities.
Turning to the boy a year his junior, he demanded, "Take out your wand!"
Thomas McGonagall shrugged. That boy could easily be considered handsome if he wasn't constantly frowning and making that awful noise with his teeth. Changing the part in his hair wouldn't hurt either.
"If you want it, go get it. It is still in the trunk."
Tom Riddle scowled before using his wand to unceremoniously upend the trunk, the entire contents of which scattered across the floor. A malicious grin found its way to his lips watching the little kitten struggle under the bulk of the never worn robes that landed on her.
"Accio wand!"
He turned the wand over in his hands a few times to inspect it before he tossed it to its owner.
"What is it made of?"
Thomas McGonagall shrugged unknowingly.
"Wood."
It was a wonder Tom didn't hex him right then. Instead, very slowly, in a voice reeking of contempt, Tom spoke.
"My wand is maple, twelve inches, unicorn hair. Yours?"
In a tone to match Tom's own, Thomas spelled out, "W-o-o-d."
Tom's outrage was, if possible, growing.
"You don't even know what your wand is made of?"
Thomas just shrugged.
Tom Riddle raised his wand at the other young man, but a nefarious grin traveled across his face and he lowered it. His voice was surprisingly silky when he spoke after conjuring four tea cups.
"This is a very easy spell. One every first year should know. You swish your wand like this and say the words."
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the trickiest of them all? Well at least the reaction of Thomas McGonagall should be more interesting to watch than the usual business of people brushing their hair. The poor muggle will probably die of shock at what happens if he manages even a partial transformation.
Thomas for his part was already shaking his head.
"How many times do I have to tell you people, I don't do this. I can't do this. And neither can you."
Tom was not to be put off.
"Show me. Just try it and if it doesn't work, I'll believe you."
Thomas McGonagall was ever frowning, but after a moment's consideration, he relented. With a swish nothing happened.
"Try it a few more times. No one ever gets it the first time."
A second time nothing happened as Thomas McGonagall attempted the transformation. By the third time the gray and black kitten had finally succeeded in freeing herself from the robes. Hissing at Tom Riddle all the while, she jumped into Thomas's lap. Only the sudden appearance of the other, greatly overgrown cat, managed to take the kitten's attention away from the cause of her earlier difficulties.
As the lion's tail swished, the kitten pounced trying to stop its movement. When the lion roared, the kitten scampered to its front to let out a meow and more fully inspect it. The kitten paid no attention to the other three animals as she rubbed her body affectionately against the lion's leg.
If she had bothered to inspect the others, she would have found each a perfect specimen. The kitten however only had eyes for the lion.
The shock on Tom Riddle's face was great, but it was nothing compared to the look on Thomas McGonagall's face. The four animals were hissing, sniffing, testing wings, or roaring with absolute precision, but Thomas McGonagall found them more disturbing than if the transformation had gone wrong. As soon as the kitten had departed his lap to follow after the lion, Thomas had stood and slowly began backing away from the animals. Now with his back to a wall, Thomas was noticeably shaken at the sight before him.
"This isn't happening!"
His voice got louder, almost shouting as he insisted.
"This isn't happening!"
When Tom finally managed to take his eyes off of the perfect transfiguration before him, he turned to look at Thomas. The younger boy's fists were clenched and one was near his mouth. After again attempting to refute what had just occurred, Thomas closed his eyes and bit into the knuckle of one of his fingers. Tom watched the blood trickle for a moment, fascinated, before using his own wand to end the transformation.
Thomas remained against the wall with his eyes closed repeating his mantra over and over again. With the animals now returned to teacups, his voice became softer and more sure. The kitten was not at all happy at the loss of her new companion. When Tom approached her, she hissed and swatted at him. Narrowly avoiding her claws, Tom knocked over the teacups. The sound of them clinking together and shattering finally reawakened Thomas to the room around him.
"She knows you turned it off. She made it happen and you made it stop. She doesn't like to be contradicted."
Tom licked his lips and pushed a hand through his hair before responding. His whole body looked tensed, excited.
"Does she have a name?"
"Kitten."
Tom snorted.
"Let me guess, you named her?"
Thomas nodded.
"How long have you had her?"
Thomas shrugged.
"I don't know. Since before Christmas."
"She doesn't look like she could even be six weeks old and you are saying you've had her for more than twice that?"
Thomas didn't respond.
"Where did you get her?"
"I am or at least was supposed to be starting University next year. My dad suggested it would be a good idea to get a dog to keep my mother company after I was gone. My mother didn't see a reason to wait so they went out to pick out a dog at a nearby animal shelter. Only when they got there, my mother fell in love with that kitten instead. She thought the markings and colors were beautiful. She said the kitten looked so tiny she couldn't bear the thought of leaving it there.
I was angry, disappointed. I was looking forward to a dog. You can take dogs for walks, teach them to fetch and do tricks. Cats just lay there all the time. They just sleep and they watch you. My mother tried to get me to like her by letting me name her. I said just to call her 'Kitten'."
Tom licked his lips again.
"The things everyone thinks you did, the things you say Kitten did…how exactly did she…did she make them happen or did she make you make them happen? I mean did she tell you to do them or force you in some way to do them or did she just do them?"
Thomas frowned before admitting he wasn't sure.
"At Easter we had some candies. You know the little marshmallow chicks? And she kept staring at them in their box."
Thomas's face went pale as he continued the story.
"I took one out and I was teasing her with it. I was, you know, moving it across the table like a real chick and making noises. She couldn't take her eyes off of it. I bit into it, you know the head first and then the rest. I took out another one and did the same thing. Only when I went to bite the head that time she got mad. She walked up to me and tried to take it away with her paw. But suddenly it wasn't a candy chick anymore. None of them were. I had the body of a real chick in my hand and the head in my mouth was…the others in the box were moving too."
Thomas's face contorted and he looked down at the floor. Tom made no interruption into the silence and after a moment he went on.
"With the fire I was sitting in a chair reading and I looked down at her on the little rug by the unlit fireplace. And I remember thinking it was the first time since we got her that it wasn't lit, because you know winter was over and it just wasn't necessary, it wasn't reasonable to have a fire going in the spring. And I knew she liked the fire, she would curl up so close to it. I just kind of wondered what she thought of it not being lit and I didn't think she would like it. She opened her eyes and she looked at me. She saw I was looking at her and she came over to me to be petted. And then all of a sudden the fireplace was lit but so was the whole wall.
After that the people who kept coming to the house to talk about me…"
Thomas frowned again.
"My parents said I should go with them. Come here and try it here, see if it helped. They don't understand. My mum, she read in the letter that we were allowed to bring a rat, a cat, or a toad so she gave me her kitten to take. She thought I would be more comfortable, having something from home with me and I would fit in better with the other children having a pet like they all did."
Tom frowned now.
"What did your parents say when you told them you thought it was Kitten causing the things to happen?"
Thomas looked horrified.
"Are you mad? Of course I didn't tell them that. You can't just go around telling people that you have a cat that does things that…things that…things that aren't natural. Don't you know what happens to people who say those kinds of things?"
The door opened and two of Thomas's roommates entered the room. They glared at Thomas and the mess from the trunk across the floor. When Thomas began hastily throwing the items back into the trunk without the use of his wand, Tom silently watched him. Closing the trunk, Thomas gestured to the door.
"We should leave before she does anything else."
Reluctantly, Tom allowed the younger boy to lead him from the room.
A/N Thank you for reviewing Redwoman06, Static-Filled Star, Laura Kay, and the aol person who emailed me directly and whose name I have forgotten.
Hope you are feeling better Static-Filled Star
Laura sorry I misunderstood your question earlier. As for the answer what can I say *cough* plot hole *cough* Seriously though, enchantments have been shown throughout the HP series to dwindle with time. Chalk it up to something like the way the shamrocks & Krum dolls from the Quidditch World Cup started to slur their words until eventually they stopped all together. Or the way the suits of armor started to forget the words to the Christmas carols leaving spaces for Peeves to fill in his own versions. Not to mention by bonding herself to Grindelwald, Artemisia violated the very heart of Lachesis's decree and made Grindelwald's line and her own line the same. Still, despite all that Grindelwald's ending was, and later will be, hardly a happy one.
Much later if I ever get to the point where I reveal more about Loki then you will see the difference in the spell through the ages. In the mean time consider what Loki told you to just be a fanciful tale and take comfort in the words of Arthur Weasley, "Oh come off of it…Everyone knows Loki is a crackpot."
As for your chapter 21 comments, your wand idea is right on.
The girl's identity is one of the few minor details in the story that is not of particular importance. I was merely attempting to establish some of the cruelties of my particular Tom.
I'm pleased you liked the POV for the chapter. Since Tom would never willingly share memories with Dumbledore and at no point in this story will you ever see Minerva's POV, you can look forward to a few unusual narrators at times and a number of questions about their relationship to be left up to your interpretation.
As for the naming of my characters, 60% of the names are pulled from Mythology or the Bible and have a relevant meaning. 30% are just names I saw somewhere and liked. Selection of names for the other 10% involved an open phone book, a dart, and an act of desperation.
The naming of the character introduced in this chapter, Thomas McGonagall, has a very obvious underlying meaning. I used the name before I even made the connection that it technically is the same name as Tom Riddle. Just keep in mind that Tom is always Tom Riddle and Thomas is always Thomas McGonagall. For the most part the professors always refer to students by their last names so there will not be too much confusion for the reader. Potential confusion because of the two names being similar won't come up for a long time and won't be the readers'.
Going to start sticking together quite a few different events into single chapters to avoid having tons of little chapters. Some things of incredible importance may be left to stand alone to signify their importance.
*** denotes a passage of time, just how much time if you read it will usually be implied.
### denotes a change in narrator
***### denotes both occurred
*********************************
"Rather unusual, isn't it?" asked Deputy Headmaster Shackleton.
Headmaster Dippet stroked his toad as he responded.
"Unusual, yes. Unheard of, no."
"Sixteen?"
Dippet merely nodded.
"Even for a muggle-born, that is unusually late to suddenly develop powers."
Again, Dippet nodded.
"The parents were hesitant to allow him to come. The boy was completely against the idea. Maybe it has been going on for years and they just managed to keep it quiet?"
Dippet decided he had best stop nodding before his neck became unhinged like Sir de Mimsy-Porpington.
"Unlikely. Abilities as powerful as his would be rather difficult for muggles to hide for long. Besides, why bother to hide his abilities? If a muggle-born's parents do not wish to have their child educated here, we have no recourse. Separation of Wizarding and Muggle communities."
Shackleton frowned.
"Which is more unlikely? Muggles successfully hiding abilities that powerful for years, or a muggle developing abilities that powerful in the span of only a few months?"
He was saved from having to respond by the arrival of the young man in question and his Head Boy escort.
"Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Please remain a few minutes so that after the Sorting you may assist Mr. McGonagall in finding his new dormitory."
Facing the other young man in his office, Dippet continued speaking.
"Hello, Mr. McGonagall. I am Headmaster Dippet. This is my Deputy, Master Shackleton. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
When the young man only ground his teeth in response, Dippet attempted a polite smile.
"I see you have brought a familiar. Your kitten has lovely markings."
Seeing Mr. McGonagall was not to be assuaged, Dippet gave up his awkward attempt.
"Here, we will instruct you on how to safely harness the powers which you posses. By the time you leave Hogwarts, with a bit of hard work and concentration on your part, we can be sure that next time you think about kindling a fire it will be contained in the fireplace and not envelope an entire wall of your house."
Mr. McGonagall just shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the incident that had finally persuaded his parents that having an untrained wizard was a dangerous prospect. For months, the McGonagalls had declined the intervention offered by the Wizarding community. Oh, Mr. and Mrs. McGonagall had been quite excited and fascinated upon learning of the existence of wizards. It was young Thomas McGonagall who had steadfastly refused the idea of attending a school of Witchcraft. The boy had refused to acknowledge his own abilities and indeed tried desperately to repudiate even the existence of wizards.
"Hogwarts students are divided into four noble Houses named after the four school founders; Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. Selection into Houses is decided by the Sorting Hat."
He motioned for Thomas McGonagall to be seated. After a moment's indecision, McGonagall set the kitten he was carrying on the carpet and took the armchair offered. Dippet retrieved the Sorting Hat from a shelf and placed it on the young man's head.
All eyes were on the young man, waiting for the hat's judgment. All eyes remained on the young man as the hat refused to speak. Perhaps, 'all eyes' was not entirely accurate. The little kitten was busy exploring the room. The only sound in the room was the grinding of Thomas McGonagall's teeth.
Shackleton frowned.
"Maybe it left? Maybe whatever is inside the Sorting Hat moved like the people in the portraits do?"
"Don't be daft. Where would it go?"
Shackleton pondered the possibilities for a few minutes before replying.
"Another hat?"
Dippet just stared at his deputy a moment before making a polite coughing noise.
"Sorting Hat?"
"Yes," replied the hat immediately.
"Whenever you are ready, we are waiting."
The brim of the hat made an attempt at a frown.
"You will be waiting for some time. I don't mind sorting the muggle-borns, but exactly what do you expect me to do with a muggle?"
Dippet exchanged a look with his deputy who merely shrugged.
"Well, take your time."
After a few more minutes of silence, Dippet motioned his deputy closer. Turning his back to Mr. McGonagall so the young man would be less likely to overhear his low tones, Dippet made some inquiries.
"He is the only child in the house?"
"Yes, just him and the parents."
"Most peculiar."
With his back to Mr. McGonagall, Headmaster Dippet didn't notice the little kitten jump onto Mr. McGonagall's lap. Deputy Headmaster Shackleton was facing towards Mr. McGonagall, but too concentrated on his superior to notice the kitten climb up Mr. McGonagall's shoulder to inspect the inside of the hat. Head Boy, Tom Riddle was the only one to take note of the startled kitten running out of the hat.
The small gray and black kitten was on the carpet, hissing up at it, before the Sorting Hat could even announce its decision. The two men returned their attentions to Mr. McGonagall as the Sorting Hat's booming voice filled the room.
"Slytherin!"
Dippet's voice was tinged with relief at the arrival of an end to the awkward situation.
"Splendid. You know our Head Boy here, Mr. Riddle, is in the Slytherin House."
Dippet failed to notice Mr. Riddle's look of contempt as he continued speaking.
"Mr. Riddle is also a muggle-born wizard. I think you two will get along splendidly. You have so much in common already, even down to the same first name. Mr. Riddle please be so kind as to escort Mr. McGonagall to your Head of House for room assignment.
It was only as the staircase was spiraling down that Thomas McGonagall spoke his first words since his arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"You do know, none of this is real."
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Binns frowned. Hadn't these people anything better to do than bring their piddling little problems to him?
"Really, I don't know what all of you are going on about. The boy does fine in my class."
"Robert, all that is required of Mr. McGonagall in your class is that he sit quietly. In our classes participation is a necessity. I cannot get Mr. McGonagall to take out his wand, never mind attempt any transfigurations."
"Have you considered the possibility he just doesn't find your particular branch of magic of interest, Albus? I know as a lad, I never had a mind for Transfiguration. Turning teapots to spinning tops, really a waste of a good teapot if you ask me."
Robert sighed as Professor Shackleton weighed in with his opinion. Wouldn't he like to drop him off on an Antarctic glacier!
"Robert, he doesn't do anything in my class except look sullen."
"Imagine that! Here I am in a room with you and I look sullen. Is anyone else beginning to see a pattern?"
When the new Care of Magical Creatures added on a complaint of his own, Binns tried to remember what happened to the last one. Had he been eaten? And if so why couldn't whatever it was have eaten Shackleton as well?
"He doesn't even show up for my class. Came to the first class, called my creatures abominations and refused to ever return."
Shackleton tried to start in on him again.
"Robert-"
He was so busy imagining the precious look on the other man's face, the unparalleled sight of him jumping up and down in frustration as he, Robert Binns, dread pirate of the Seven Seas, steered his mighty sailing vessel away from the glacier upon which he had marooned his colleague, that he lost track of the conversation.
"Robert?"
"Robert!"
"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?"
"He is in your House, Robert. Talk to the boy. That is an order."
Before rising from his chair and exiting the faculty lounge, he made a mental note next time to kick the man in the shins before sailing away. Really, of all the nerve. What business had Shackleton of giving him orders? He had been a professor at this school for more than a hundred years before that man even began to teach. By rights, he should be Deputy Headmaster and giving him orders!
Halfway to the Slytherin boy's dormitory, Robert Binns realized he wasn't sure exactly where the boy's dormitory was. Certainly his quarters were located near them, but he had never in all his years at Hogwarts bothered to ask their precise location. It wasn't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History, at least not the fourteenth century edition which was one of his prized possessions. Frightened at the possibility of accidentally discovering the lady's dormitory by mistake, he paused.
In passing Head Boy, Tom Riddle, he thought he had found his salvation.
"Mr. Riddle! A moment if you will."
He had to hold in a snort at the younger man's misinterpretation of his words.
"Actually, sir, I am on my way to a class."
As if he really was making a request with his 'if you will.'
"What class?"
"Defense Against the Dark Arts."
He waved a hand dismissively.
"Don't bother. All you need to know from that class is don't get hit. Everything after that is redundant. You and I are going to pay a visit to Mr. McGonagall."
When Mr. Riddle just stood there with a questioning look, waiting for him to proceed, he snapped at him.
"I'm not getting any younger, Mr. Riddle."
When they arrived at Mr. McGonagall's room, they found him wearing muggle clothing, sitting in a chair, tearing a page from one of his course books into tiny shreds. Judging by the large pile of scraps that the little kitten was playing in, it would appear this was not the first page to receive such treatment. He would have reprimanded the young man, but he noticed by the only as yet half destroyed illustration that it was a Herbology book. As good a use as any for one of those books, he supposed.
Noticing the series of scrapes on the young man's hands, he thought it best to start the discussion with them.
"Are some of the other students giving you problems, Mr. McGonagall?"
"No."
Binns frowned.
"Well you have been fighting with someone. Or did the scrapes on your hands just magically appear?"
Mr. McGonagall's voice came out far too tired sounding for one so young.
"There is no such thing as magic. The cat did it."
"Isn't that your cat?"
When Mr. McGonagall just shrugged indifferently, he continued.
"Well why have you been fighting with your cat?"
"I haven't been fighting with my cat. She has been fighting with me. She doesn't like being left alone in the room all day."
Well, so long as it wasn't a matter involving another student, it really wasn't any of his concern so best to move along to the next topic.
"Mr. McGonagall, I have had several reports from your instructors that you are not working up to your full potential. From the accounts we received before your arrival, you are an extremely gifted young wizard. Here at Hog-"
"-I am not a wizard."
"Well of course not, but you will be. You just need a little training of your powers and -"
"-I don't have any powers."
Binns sighed. Why did these children always have to be so difficult, so…well, childish?
"Mr. McGonagall, you have magical abilities far surpassing -"
"-No, I don't."
"Alright. Who set your house on fire? Who transfigured your imitation Christmas tree into a live tree that is now growing through two levels of your house? Who transfigured the ornamental dove on the top of the tree into a live dove? Who made all of your candy Easter chicks into real chicks? Who caused -"
"The cat did."
Robert sighed. He noticed Mr. Riddle had an eyebrow raised at this proclamation as well.
"Your familiar?"
"She wanted to eat them. She ate the dove and some of the chicks. The tree, I don't know, it kept falling over when she tried to reach the fake dove. Maybe she thought if it was real it would be stronger and easier for her to climb."
"And the fire?"
"At home she likes to sleep on my mother's pillow at night. But during the day the room is empty. She doesn't like to be left alone so she curls up on the rug by the fireplace in the family room so she can watch everyone's comings and goings. She likes the fireplace to be lit for the warmth."
He knew where this was going, he could play along.
"Familiars can be very powerful. A devoted familiar extends his or her energies, powers, and protections to our own. Why don't you take your familiar to classes with you? I am sure none of your professors would mind."
"I don't like it here. What you people do here, it's not right. It isn't real."
Alright, he had had enough. This wasn't getting him anywhere.
"Mr. Riddle, take Mr. McGonagall under your wing. I am making you responsible for his progress. Teach him a few of the easier spells that a young wizard his age should already know. Make certain he attends all of his required classes regardless of how pointless most of them will prove to be later in life. Keep him out of trouble."
He sighed as an angry Mr. Riddle attempted to refuse him.
"Why me?"
"Because maybe he will listen to you. You have far more in common with him than I do."
Thinking of a few taunts he had overheard regarding the two muggle-born Toms now in Slytherin, he realized perhaps that had not been phrased as well as it could have been. In any other house, Riddle's mother having been a pureblood would have meant something, but in Slytherin having even one parent tainted by muggleness was considered unforgivable. Surely if Salazar Slytherin were still alive to see Mr. McGonagall, a pure muggle, sorted into his house, well the man would likely drop dead of shock!
"We have nothing in common!"
"Tom, You are both…young and I am…less young."
He was becoming more flustered as he continued the conversation. Best to end it quickly. Walking to the door, he frowned and called out, "And I am Head of House with authority over both of you!"
Problem solved or at least passed onto someone else, Binns' step was considerably lighter as he returned to the faculty lounge. He considered for a brief moment if perhaps his strong dislike for dealing with anything remotely awkward or problematic was why he had been passed over for the Deputy Headmaster position, but quickly pushed the idea aside as absurd.
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Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?
Even seething with anger as his Head of House departed, Tom Riddle ranked reasonably high on the list of the fairest of all, if only in the looks department. Being assigned a muggle as a shadow was clearly an outrage to his Slytherin sensibilities.
Turning to the boy a year his junior, he demanded, "Take out your wand!"
Thomas McGonagall shrugged. That boy could easily be considered handsome if he wasn't constantly frowning and making that awful noise with his teeth. Changing the part in his hair wouldn't hurt either.
"If you want it, go get it. It is still in the trunk."
Tom Riddle scowled before using his wand to unceremoniously upend the trunk, the entire contents of which scattered across the floor. A malicious grin found its way to his lips watching the little kitten struggle under the bulk of the never worn robes that landed on her.
"Accio wand!"
He turned the wand over in his hands a few times to inspect it before he tossed it to its owner.
"What is it made of?"
Thomas McGonagall shrugged unknowingly.
"Wood."
It was a wonder Tom didn't hex him right then. Instead, very slowly, in a voice reeking of contempt, Tom spoke.
"My wand is maple, twelve inches, unicorn hair. Yours?"
In a tone to match Tom's own, Thomas spelled out, "W-o-o-d."
Tom's outrage was, if possible, growing.
"You don't even know what your wand is made of?"
Thomas just shrugged.
Tom Riddle raised his wand at the other young man, but a nefarious grin traveled across his face and he lowered it. His voice was surprisingly silky when he spoke after conjuring four tea cups.
"This is a very easy spell. One every first year should know. You swish your wand like this and say the words."
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the trickiest of them all? Well at least the reaction of Thomas McGonagall should be more interesting to watch than the usual business of people brushing their hair. The poor muggle will probably die of shock at what happens if he manages even a partial transformation.
Thomas for his part was already shaking his head.
"How many times do I have to tell you people, I don't do this. I can't do this. And neither can you."
Tom was not to be put off.
"Show me. Just try it and if it doesn't work, I'll believe you."
Thomas McGonagall was ever frowning, but after a moment's consideration, he relented. With a swish nothing happened.
"Try it a few more times. No one ever gets it the first time."
A second time nothing happened as Thomas McGonagall attempted the transformation. By the third time the gray and black kitten had finally succeeded in freeing herself from the robes. Hissing at Tom Riddle all the while, she jumped into Thomas's lap. Only the sudden appearance of the other, greatly overgrown cat, managed to take the kitten's attention away from the cause of her earlier difficulties.
As the lion's tail swished, the kitten pounced trying to stop its movement. When the lion roared, the kitten scampered to its front to let out a meow and more fully inspect it. The kitten paid no attention to the other three animals as she rubbed her body affectionately against the lion's leg.
If she had bothered to inspect the others, she would have found each a perfect specimen. The kitten however only had eyes for the lion.
The shock on Tom Riddle's face was great, but it was nothing compared to the look on Thomas McGonagall's face. The four animals were hissing, sniffing, testing wings, or roaring with absolute precision, but Thomas McGonagall found them more disturbing than if the transformation had gone wrong. As soon as the kitten had departed his lap to follow after the lion, Thomas had stood and slowly began backing away from the animals. Now with his back to a wall, Thomas was noticeably shaken at the sight before him.
"This isn't happening!"
His voice got louder, almost shouting as he insisted.
"This isn't happening!"
When Tom finally managed to take his eyes off of the perfect transfiguration before him, he turned to look at Thomas. The younger boy's fists were clenched and one was near his mouth. After again attempting to refute what had just occurred, Thomas closed his eyes and bit into the knuckle of one of his fingers. Tom watched the blood trickle for a moment, fascinated, before using his own wand to end the transformation.
Thomas remained against the wall with his eyes closed repeating his mantra over and over again. With the animals now returned to teacups, his voice became softer and more sure. The kitten was not at all happy at the loss of her new companion. When Tom approached her, she hissed and swatted at him. Narrowly avoiding her claws, Tom knocked over the teacups. The sound of them clinking together and shattering finally reawakened Thomas to the room around him.
"She knows you turned it off. She made it happen and you made it stop. She doesn't like to be contradicted."
Tom licked his lips and pushed a hand through his hair before responding. His whole body looked tensed, excited.
"Does she have a name?"
"Kitten."
Tom snorted.
"Let me guess, you named her?"
Thomas nodded.
"How long have you had her?"
Thomas shrugged.
"I don't know. Since before Christmas."
"She doesn't look like she could even be six weeks old and you are saying you've had her for more than twice that?"
Thomas didn't respond.
"Where did you get her?"
"I am or at least was supposed to be starting University next year. My dad suggested it would be a good idea to get a dog to keep my mother company after I was gone. My mother didn't see a reason to wait so they went out to pick out a dog at a nearby animal shelter. Only when they got there, my mother fell in love with that kitten instead. She thought the markings and colors were beautiful. She said the kitten looked so tiny she couldn't bear the thought of leaving it there.
I was angry, disappointed. I was looking forward to a dog. You can take dogs for walks, teach them to fetch and do tricks. Cats just lay there all the time. They just sleep and they watch you. My mother tried to get me to like her by letting me name her. I said just to call her 'Kitten'."
Tom licked his lips again.
"The things everyone thinks you did, the things you say Kitten did…how exactly did she…did she make them happen or did she make you make them happen? I mean did she tell you to do them or force you in some way to do them or did she just do them?"
Thomas frowned before admitting he wasn't sure.
"At Easter we had some candies. You know the little marshmallow chicks? And she kept staring at them in their box."
Thomas's face went pale as he continued the story.
"I took one out and I was teasing her with it. I was, you know, moving it across the table like a real chick and making noises. She couldn't take her eyes off of it. I bit into it, you know the head first and then the rest. I took out another one and did the same thing. Only when I went to bite the head that time she got mad. She walked up to me and tried to take it away with her paw. But suddenly it wasn't a candy chick anymore. None of them were. I had the body of a real chick in my hand and the head in my mouth was…the others in the box were moving too."
Thomas's face contorted and he looked down at the floor. Tom made no interruption into the silence and after a moment he went on.
"With the fire I was sitting in a chair reading and I looked down at her on the little rug by the unlit fireplace. And I remember thinking it was the first time since we got her that it wasn't lit, because you know winter was over and it just wasn't necessary, it wasn't reasonable to have a fire going in the spring. And I knew she liked the fire, she would curl up so close to it. I just kind of wondered what she thought of it not being lit and I didn't think she would like it. She opened her eyes and she looked at me. She saw I was looking at her and she came over to me to be petted. And then all of a sudden the fireplace was lit but so was the whole wall.
After that the people who kept coming to the house to talk about me…"
Thomas frowned again.
"My parents said I should go with them. Come here and try it here, see if it helped. They don't understand. My mum, she read in the letter that we were allowed to bring a rat, a cat, or a toad so she gave me her kitten to take. She thought I would be more comfortable, having something from home with me and I would fit in better with the other children having a pet like they all did."
Tom frowned now.
"What did your parents say when you told them you thought it was Kitten causing the things to happen?"
Thomas looked horrified.
"Are you mad? Of course I didn't tell them that. You can't just go around telling people that you have a cat that does things that…things that…things that aren't natural. Don't you know what happens to people who say those kinds of things?"
The door opened and two of Thomas's roommates entered the room. They glared at Thomas and the mess from the trunk across the floor. When Thomas began hastily throwing the items back into the trunk without the use of his wand, Tom silently watched him. Closing the trunk, Thomas gestured to the door.
"We should leave before she does anything else."
Reluctantly, Tom allowed the younger boy to lead him from the room.
A/N Thank you for reviewing Redwoman06, Static-Filled Star, Laura Kay, and the aol person who emailed me directly and whose name I have forgotten.
Hope you are feeling better Static-Filled Star
Laura sorry I misunderstood your question earlier. As for the answer what can I say *cough* plot hole *cough* Seriously though, enchantments have been shown throughout the HP series to dwindle with time. Chalk it up to something like the way the shamrocks & Krum dolls from the Quidditch World Cup started to slur their words until eventually they stopped all together. Or the way the suits of armor started to forget the words to the Christmas carols leaving spaces for Peeves to fill in his own versions. Not to mention by bonding herself to Grindelwald, Artemisia violated the very heart of Lachesis's decree and made Grindelwald's line and her own line the same. Still, despite all that Grindelwald's ending was, and later will be, hardly a happy one.
Much later if I ever get to the point where I reveal more about Loki then you will see the difference in the spell through the ages. In the mean time consider what Loki told you to just be a fanciful tale and take comfort in the words of Arthur Weasley, "Oh come off of it…Everyone knows Loki is a crackpot."
As for your chapter 21 comments, your wand idea is right on.
The girl's identity is one of the few minor details in the story that is not of particular importance. I was merely attempting to establish some of the cruelties of my particular Tom.
I'm pleased you liked the POV for the chapter. Since Tom would never willingly share memories with Dumbledore and at no point in this story will you ever see Minerva's POV, you can look forward to a few unusual narrators at times and a number of questions about their relationship to be left up to your interpretation.