A/N Thank you Maria for being a wonderful beta.

Thank you for reviewing Star Stuf, Morocco, Elayne Sedai, CEA, Static-Filled Star, Redwoman06, LinZE Laura Kay, and Mavidian. I really appreciate all of you reviewing. I don't expect everyone to review every chapter, but if you get a chance I would really appreciate it if you leave a little note letting me know I still have your attention every few chapters. The exception to this is Laura =) Laura has to continue reviewing every chapter because I am particularly fond of her reviews and I usually wait for it before I post the next chapter.

Some more A/N at the end to address a few specific questions.

****************************************

"Goblins have fought fiercely for many centuries to acquire the rights and place in the Wizarding community that they now hold."

That grinding noise was really getting to be too much. It was a wonder the boy had any teeth left.

"Trolls on the other hand, have just fought fiercely. They have never demonstrated the slightest inclination towards becoming productive members of Wizarding society. Like giants they just enjoy continual combat and seem incapable of the levels of higher thinking required-"

Binns sighed. He would put an end to this.

"Mr. McGonagall, do you need to visit the school nurse? Is there something awry?"

He frowned when Mr. McGonagall answered him. He hadn't really been attempting to open a dialogue, only draw attention to Mr. McGonagall's disturbing habit and embarrass him into stopping.

"Goblins and trolls aren't real. There are no such things as giants."

When he snorted at Mr. McGonagall, the boy repeated the previous statements only louder.

"Goblins and trolls aren't real! There are no such things as giants!"

"Mr. McGonagall, as appealing as that idea may be, I assure you they do ex-"

Mr. McGonagall stood up and was practically screaming now.

"Goblins and trolls aren't real! There are no such things as giants!"

Over the boy's shouts, he shrieked back.

"This kind of behavior will not be tolerated in my classroom! Return to your seat now!"

"Goblins and trolls aren't real! There are no such things as giants!"

This wasn't good at all. Rule number twenty-one on the list posted by the door was no standing during his class. The rule against shouting in his classroom came after the rule against talking in his classroom, right before the rule against eating in his classroom.

An end had to be put to this at once. The rules were clearly posted. Why, if the other children began doing it too it would just be anarchy.

"Mr. McGonagall, you may be excused. Go to the Headmaster's office at once!"

He watched Mr. McGonagall gather his belongings and head out the door. He gave a relieved sigh before continuing his lecture. Let Armando deal with it.

"So while the goblin's behavior is classified as a revolution, the troll's conduct is merely considered wanton destruction."

###############################################

When Deputy Headmaster Shackleton entered his office with young Mr. McGonagall, Armando Dippet was freely willing to admit his surprise. Just because he was a Seer didn't mean he knew everything that was to happen. His visions were just fragments of a whole. Often they were not enough to truly understand what was to be, but they were frequently enough to misinterpret what was to be. Indeed, he feared Seers with their selective visions of the future were more blind than those without the Sight.

When he looked inquiringly to his deputy, Shackleton leaned in close to whisper a response before he headed back out.

"I have no idea. I found him knocking on the wall by the gargoyles. By the state of his knuckles, I would say he had been there a while."

Armando attempted to smile reassuringly at the young man seated before him and not look at his raw, bleeding knuckles.

"Was there something I could help you with, Mr. McGonagall?"

"No, sir."

Still keeping that awkward smile on his face, he tried again.

"Is there a purpose to this visit?"

"Professor Binns told me to come here."

He waited a moment, but elaboration did not appear to be forthcoming.

"Why did Master Binns send you here?"

"I don't know, sir."

The boy looked genuinely confused.

"How are your classes going?"

"Fine, sir."

The boy just returned his gaze for a few uncomfortable minutes as he tried to think of what else to say. In the beginning, Armando thought the return of assistant groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, was a welcome diversion.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Hagrid. I can not fathom what Mr. Keys and I would do without your assistance."

Standing, he carefully received his toad from Mr. Hagrid. It might seem excessive to ask the assistant groundskeeper to carry Mr. Keys on walks of the grounds twice a day, but Mr. Keys so did enjoy the outdoors. However, Armando felt Mr. Keys was getting too far up in years to travel unescorted. Strange disappearances had plagued the student's much younger familiars for years now. Armando refused to ever believe there might come a day when his loyal familiar would croak in a different way and be no more. So while it might seem to others an exuberant waste of Mr. Hagrid's time, Armando considered it one of the advantages, like having a moving spiral staircase, that came with being Headmaster.

"Na at all, sir. Mr. Keys and me, we get on real well. If yeh don' mind me saying so, yeh have a fine toad there, sir."

As he gently placed Mr. Keys on his cushion by the bookshelf, Armando Dippet could not help beaming down at his companion.

"Do you hear that, Mr. Keys? Mr. Hagrid thinks you are a fine toad too!"

He turned back to the two young men in front of his desk without enough time to give a warning to Mr. Hagrid as Mr. McGonagall swung the ruby encrusted sword of Godric Gryffindor. Perhaps the best place to store a sword was not in an unlocked cabinet.

"Eh, wat yeh think yer doin'?" Inquired Mr. Hagrid while he easily swatted the sword out of the smaller boy's hands and pinned him against a shelf.

Mr. McGonagall bellowed repeatedly into Mr. Hagrid's navel.

"There are no such things as giants! There are no such things as giants!"

Flabbergasted, Armando just watched a moment before he summoned a parchment, quill, ink bottle, and his Deputy Headmaster.

"You know, Mr. McGonagall, I do not believe things are working out as we had hoped. Would you like to return home now?"

The boy stopped struggling against Mr. Hagrid. His voice was a much more tolerable volume now.

"Yes, sir."

"I will write a letter to your parents. Kindly collect all of your belongings and bring them to the Great Hall. Master Shackleton will meet you there and escort you home."

After an inquiring look and a reassuring nod, Mr. Hagrid released the boy from his containment. Mr. McGonagall seemed much more stable as he left than he did when he arrived. Armando sighed. Personally he had no issues with muggles or muggle-born wizards. It was just sometimes the way the muggles reacted to the world of magic, well there were very good reasons why the Wizarding and non-Wizarding communities were kept so separate.

Still composing his letter, Armando Dippet didn't look up when he dismissed the other young man.

"Thank you, Mr. Hagrid. Mr. Keys and I shall be expecting you again later this evening."

######################################################

Rubeus knew he had other tasks he should be doing now, but the other boy's behavior had upset him. After he picked up the sword and returned it to the cabinet where it belonged, he hurried down the spiral steps after the boy.

He didn't like the idea of spying, but this boy could hurt someone. Until he was off of Hogwart's grounds, Rubeus felt he should be watched. He knew it was hard for someone as large as he was to move unseen, but his position as assistant groundskeeper helped him to blend in, disappearing in plain sight to most people. Even before Tom Riddle stopped him outside the Slytherin common room, he knew Tom wasn't most people.

Tom was the reason he didn't like the idea of spying on other people. A couple of years ago, he had been expelled after Tom Riddle followed him and saw something he shouldn't have. Aragog was an acromantula, but Tom hadn't understood that. Aragog was harmless, he would never hurt anyone and even if he had - which he hadn't - if he had, they wouldn't have died the way Myrtle had. They said Myrtle didn't have a single mark on her and there wasn't any poison in her. If Aragog had killed her - which he hadn't - then there would have been marks. There would have been no body cause Aragog would have eaten it, but if there was a body then there would have been poison inside her.

He had tried to explain that to Tom, tried to show him a picture in one of the library books that showed an acromantula. But Tom insisted it had been dark and that he didn't think the creature he had seen was an acromantula. Rubeus could have proven his innocence by bringing Aragog before the Ministry, but even though they would have known Aragog hadn't killed poor Myrtle, just the thought of what those monsters at the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures would have done to poor Aragog simply because he was an acromantula…

If only Tom had stayed quiet or agreed it had been an acromantula. Sometimes he thought maybe Tom knew the truth and lied on purpose.

"Hagrid, this is the Slytherin common room. Gryffindor common room is up - wait, that's right, you don't belong there anymore either. The grounds are outside Hagrid, so go keep them."

Losing the struggle not to go red, Hagrid hoped Tom wouldn't see through his lie as he drew himself up importantly.

"Official Hogwarts' business, Tom. I'm ter make sure Thomas McGonagall don' get in ter any more trouble afore he leaves."

Tom started at his words. His eyes narrowed. Apparently the all-knowing Tom Riddle had missed something.

"He's leaving?"

"Aye. Packing right now."

Seeing the boy in question struggling to drag his trunk out of a doorway, he corrected his comment.

"All packed."

Now Rubeus's eyes narrowed at the exchange between the two Toms. Tom Riddle stood in Thomas McGonagall's path, blocking him. His words were not even part question.

"I'm keeping Kitten."

Thomas looked confused.

"What kitten?"

Tom eyed the other boy suspiciously.

"Your cat, Kitten. I'm not giving her back."

Thomas looked no wiser than he had before Tom answered.

"I don't have a cat."

Tom was still skeptical.

"So that's alright with you? I can keep your cat?"

Thomas shrugged before responding.

"With all my blessings."

Tom stepped aside to let Thomas pass. He watched Thomas struggle with the trunk for a minute before turning away. As he walked to his own rooms, he called back a suggestion.

"Make Hagrid do that."

Rubeus's face went red again, but after watching the other boy struggle another minute, he easily took the trunk away from him. Anything to be rid of this boy sooner. He nodded forward.

"Yeh walk in front where I can keep meh eye on yeh."

##############################################

************************************************

Generally speaking the Houses kept to their own tables in the Great Hall. Strictly speaking, there was no rule that required this, it had just been the tradition for as long as anyone remembered. The castle spirits mostly kept to themselves elsewhere, but when they visited during meal times, they usually fell into the old tradition of seeking out their Houses. Usually, but not always.

This evening by request of Hagrid, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington was dining at the Slytherin table with the Baron. His arrival had garnered many unwelcoming glances from the table's living occupants. Still even if there had been a formal rule against him sitting there, really who was going to enforce a seating arrangement on a non-corporeal form?

While he enjoyed the company of most of his other fellow spirits, there were a few who gave him pause. Recently departed Myrtle's behavior he put aside as being the suddenness of it all. Given a hundred or two hundred years, Myrtle would likely settle down and be more tolerable. The Slytherin ghost on the other hand made him uncomfortable. To be honest, perhaps the Baron wasn't as imposing as everyone made him out to be. Perhaps if people tried to be a bit friendlier to the Baron then the Baron might behave more civilly towards them. But it was very difficult to find the Baron approachable the way the light played off of the silvery stains on his garments. Even with all the Gryffindor courage Sir Nicholas possessed he had never found the daring to ask how the stains had come to be there, but after all in life or death only one thing had that particular silver color.

No, ordinarily Sir Nicholas would not choose to spend the dinner hour with the Baron but Hagrid had seemed so desperate. Turning to glance at the High Table, he saw Hagrid watching him with a grateful smile. Ever since one of the Slytherin students had departed the school several weeks ago leaving their familiar behind, Hagrid had been concerned about the animal's welfare. Hagrid was under the impression that one of the older boys, Tom Riddle, might be taking care of the abandoned kitten, but he wanted to be sure. Hagrid was often overly concerned about creatures, but he usually meant well. Even Sir Nicholas had to admit the snake pit was not a well place for an unclaimed animal. So as much to assure himself as young Hagrid, he had agreed to make inquiries with the Baron. It had however taken some weeks to finally locate said Gryffindor courage to follow through with that agreement.

In the end, the Baron had proved most unhelpful. After going on at surprising length about his own familiar who had passed on some several hundreds of years ago, the Baron had revealed that since then he had ceased to concern himself with small creatures. The evening however had still been considered a success given things he had seen and overheard going on a little further down the Slytherin table.

Most of the other students didn't bring their familiars to meals and certainly of those that did, none let their familiars lay on the table. Head Boy Tom Riddle was not most students and so it seemed only natural that his familiar be unlike most familiars. The exact extent to which Tom's familiar was not like other familiars would be quite surprising when it later became clear.

The small gray and black kitten laid on her side leisurely surveying the room. Young Tom carefully sliced the lamb on his plate into slightly larger than bite size pieces. After having taken a bite himself, he fed the remainder to the little kitten.

Sir Nicholas noticed that while talking to another of his class, Tom became distracted and neglected to sample the next bite before offering it to the kitten. When the kitten turned her head, refusing the morsel, the gesture seemed royal to Sir Nicholas. Tom realized his oversight and after taking a bite himself again offered it to the kitten. This time she accepted.

A few minutes later when his lamb supply was exhausted, Tom offered the kitten some of his duck. The disdainful, almost queenly turning of her head to refuse the offering, combined with her reclining position while all those around her were seated brought back images of his old days at Court to Sir Nicholas. Tom appeared confused at the kitten's behavior. This time he had not neglected to sample the offering. The act of comprehension replacing confusion was visible on his face before he spoke.

"You don't like duck?"

The kitten of course did not speak, but she did appear to answer. Her head turned regally so her eyes might meet and hold his gaze.

A glance at the platter that had once but no longer held lamb caused Tom to frown. Seeing the as yet untouched leg of lamb sitting on the plate of the boy next to him, Tom didn't hesitate at all before reaching out and taking it.

"Hey! I wanted that."

Tom's blue eyes gazed calmly at the angry boy as he sliced the lamb. His voice seemed genuinely curious when he responded.

"Nott, when have I ever cared about what you wanted?"

Sir Nicholas watched as the other boy sputtered in response. He had worried about Tom Riddle when he first arrived at Hogwarts. To this day he wondered what had possessed the Sorting Hat to place a boy who had been raised in a muggle orphanage into the Slytherin snake pit. His fears had soon proved baseless as Tom Riddle had quickly excelled in the kill or be killed mentality of Slytherin House. Of course, he didn't mean kill or be killed literally, but there was an unmistakably predatory quality to some of the Slytherins. The weak ones never lasted long there.

Tom had apparently adapted quite well to the part though, because young Nott sputtered for only a moment before conceding the loss.

Tom took only small, almost token bites of the lamb before offering it to the kitten. Just enough so she would be certain he had sampled it, but leaving the lion's share for her.

Nothing else of note occurred until dessert appeared. It wasn't the sudden arrival of the new dishes that seized the kitten's attention, every course of every meal arrived in the same magical way. It was a particular dessert that held her fascination.

With a smile, Sir Nicholas noted Tom too seemed amused at the change that had come over the kitten. The leisurely quality was gone. The kitten no longer laid on her side, her small body was crouched down as low to the table as it could get. Her whole body was tensed and she seemed to have stopped breathing. Only her eyes moved watching the dessert.

When she pounced on the jiggling gelatin mound no longer could Sir Nicholas make his majestic comparisons. Almost all the children around her laughed. Only the Mulciber boy upon whom a large portion of the gelatin spattered did not. With a furious expression he reached out for the little kitten on the table. It was really quite a testament to how well Tom had adapted to life in Slytherin, to the reputation he had made for himself, that he could prompt the other boy to pause without even taking out his wand. Not even standing, just the tone of Tom's voice caused Mulciber to stop.

"Anything you do to my Kitten, you can expect me to do the same to you if not worse."

No, Sir Nicholas would assure Hagrid later, there was no cause for worry. It seemed quite clear the formerly abandoned pet was being well taken care of now.

*****************************************

A/N Laura Kay Thank you. With all the reviews for the last chapter I am feeling much more loved now.

Star Stuf I am glad you like the way Tom went about getting Kitten's trust. I wanted it to come across as believable and not too sudden.

CEA I am blushing. No really I am. =)

Static-Filled Star Well it might not be a happy ending but at least now you know how things turned out with Thomas.

Morocco Glad you like my take on things.

LinZE I'm very happy to know you are still reading. I hope this means I can come to you with a few more Brit questions.

Redwoman06 Your question is pretty well answered in the next chapter. It is a tiny chapter so I posted it at the same time as this one so go have a look. I was mentioned on fictionalley! Wow I'll have to try to find it. =)

Elaine Sedai Thank you for reviewing

Mavidian Some of your questions will be answered in the next few chapters and others will never be explicitly answered. Ask again when the story returns to the present and I will feel more free to elaborate on both my take and the other character's interpretation of the relationship between Tom and Kitten.

As for the POV thing, I admit once I originally established the narrator for each room I tended to skive off on more direct hints about their identity.

Thomas's room was narrated by a mirror in the room except for the scene with Binns. In the first scene narrated that way I used the Snow White line to tell the reader. After that the hints were pretty obscure, usually comments about the part of a person's hair or other complaints about hairstyles. Just a quick line or comment that would seem in keeping with a mirror's ordinary concerns.

Scenes in Tom's room are narrated by a portrait hanging over the fireplace. The portrait is discontent with the limitations of his life such as it is and therefore never makes direct reference to himself as a portrait. Things like his thanks that he was angled against the possibility of seeing what actually went on in the fireplace and references to his introductory monologue are the only indication given that it is still that narrator.