Old Man and a Hat

(Dumbledore POV)

With the sorting ceremony over, and the Sorting Hat stored for another year, I stand to make my yearly speech.

"A few things before we begin. First years, please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

I hold back a chuckle at young Mr. Potter's taken back expression.

"Now, to start off the feast, I have but one more thing to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" I sit down, this time not holding back the chuckle at the boy's look of amazement at the suddenly full banquet table.

It's good that the boy was sorted into Gryffindor. Not only is it the best of the houses, being my own, but it will also allow me to guide him on his path. And it seems that he's getting along well with the Weasley boy. That family has supported me for decades, so having one of them befriend him so soon is a boon. Though there is a slight problem…

My eyes fall on the young Ms. Potter, Misha. When the food appeared, she simply took it in stride, barely even blinking. Even young Malfoy was surprised, but not her. She simply started grabbing food and piling it onto her plate.

That in itself, while offending my pride a bit, is not a cause for concern, so long as I can guide Harry into being who he is meant to be. But the Sorting Hat's words…

This could prove rather troubling.

𝌡𝌡𝌡

After the feast has ended I make my way to my office, politely declining Minerva's attempts to invite me to tea, as well as Severus' attempts to warn me about Quirrell. I need to investigate what happened between Misha and the Sorting Hat at once.

"Dragon Nuggets." I speak this year's password and wait for the gryphon to rotate. I walk up the stairs, once again silently cursing the lack of any kind of magically assisted transportation. The stairs are havoc on my old bones.

As I approach the top, I swear that I'll have them enchanted by the end of the year. Opening the door to my office, I see a strange sight. The Sorting Hat is hanging from the ceiling by a rope, rotating slowly. I look at it in bemusement.

"...Would you care to explain?"

"Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hang yourself without a neck? Pretty bloody difficult!"

I roll my eyes, untying it from the rope and carrying it to my desk. "I am uncertain as to what 'mind bleach' is, but should you wish it I am willing to direct an obliviate at the memory of Misha's sorting. But first you'll have to tell me what made you react like this."

Really, a hat trying to hang themselves? Even by my standards that's nonsensical.

The hat shudders. "So long as you get rid of it, I'll tell you everything." It takes a calming breath. "To start off with, I put her in Slytherin because I couldn't tell what house she would fit. I was unable to see her life as with the other students."

That's surprising. "But isn't that the majority of the enchantment that powers you? The only other one you have is the slight animation spell that allows you to speak and move a bit."

At least, that is what we have been able to discover about it. The Founders never wrote down what exactly the hat could do. The two I listed are only what we have been able to discover.

Another shudder. "Normally I have no problem seeing a person's life and determining their house. But I still have to go through their mind to get to that point. Even if they have no knowledge of Occlumency, their mind naturally defends against intrusion. But since a child's mind is malleable and still developing, it is easy to see what I need and leave. But that girl is different."

My gaze sharpens. "Do you mean that someone has been training her in Occlumency? Impossible. If that were the case, they would have trained Harry as well, but you had no trouble with him, did you?"

A slight shake. "No, the boy is normal. Though he perhaps would have done far better in Slytherin. But if they desire something else, I will respect their wishes."

'Well that's surprising. And a little alarming. But perhaps the hat is simply sensing the fragment of Voldemort's soul latched onto Harry's?'

Even if it does rely on memories to determine their placement, it also goes by something else. Some ephemeral sense that it has been unable to put into words. But that is not the question now.

"So Misha's mind repelled your advances. Did she do it consciously?" I will have to warn Severus to not try looking into her mind. I was hoping that she could be used to help Harry in fulfilling his fate, but perhaps I should treat her with more care.

"Hah! Repelled? I couldn't even find her defenses to be repelled! It felt like I was lost in there for days… Wandering as I tried to find a way out. But I stayed in place, and the world moved around me instead. The things I saw…" It trails off, recalling the horrors it had seen in that little girl's mind.

"What did you see?" I whisper the words, the mood seeming to call for quiet.

"I saw many things, too many. Her mind was in constant motion, never focusing on a single thing for any length of time. But when something stuck, it felt like they could tell I was there. I saw people engulfed in fiery explosions, I saw explosions erupt from inside them. Great buildings were constructed, only to be blown to smithereens.

People turned into cats, not smoothly such as with transfiguration or animagacy, but slowly. Painfully. Then a hand fell from the sky. It pet the cats, it pet them, but it wouldn't stop. It pet, and pet, and pet. Until there was nothing left to pet. Only a red smear on the ground. But then everything changed again.

There was a void. Dark. Endless. I shouted, I floated every which way. But there was no sound, there was no motion. Only me. And the void. It was cold…

And then a man was there, asking about the weather. And then I was gone, finally out of her mind. I couldn't make sense of what had happened, but somehow I knew she should go to either Hufflepuff or Slytherin. And I had no intention of unleashing her upon that peaceful house."

I'm silent as I process the hat's words. I pull my wand from my sleeve. "I feel sorry for you. But now you shall know of her mind no more."

I direct my magic, casting the spell at the same time that the hat utters one final thing.

"Obliviate."

"Oh, and she's planning to kill the Dursleys."

"What!?"

A flare of magic fills the room, and I'm staring at a confused Sorting Hat. I push down my frustration. My magic is powerful, and I know there's no way I'll be able to recover its memory.

I sigh, putting the hat back in its resting place until the next time it's needed. Instead, I turn my thoughts to Quirrel, and the trials I've prepared for Harry.