[...(¬_¬)]
Faced with Dumbledore's seemingly endless conditions and requirements, Tom rolled his eyes with dramatic exasperation.
In one fluid motion, he darted forward with swiftness toward Ariana. Before the girl could even draw breath to protest, he whipped out that peculiar pink sack from absolutely nowhere.
With the efficiency of someone who'd used this particular tactic far too many times to count, Tom pulled the sack straight over Ariana's ghost form.
Dumbledore: (ﾟДﾟ≡ﾟДﾟ)
McGonagall: (☉д⊙)
Ariana: Σ(°△°|||)︴
"Tom! What in Merlin's name are you doing?! Let me out this instant!"
Ariana's voice emerged muffled yet still carrying that peculiar hollow quality, resonating from within the sack's depths.
Witnessing this brazen act of supernatural kidnapping unfold before his very eyes, Dumbledore's expression shifted like storm clouds gathering on a summer afternoon.
His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits behind his half-moon spectacles. An aura of magical power began to radiate from his person.
(Wait! You promised you wouldn't rush things!)
Watching Dumbledore's hand drift toward the Wand holstered at his side, Tom hastily scrambled to explain himself:
(Besides, I'm doing this entirely for Ariana's sake! Now that she can interact with physical objects properly, that means the Sorting Hat can actually rest on her head! It's brilliant, really!)
While Tom maintained reasonable confidence that Dumbledore probably wouldn't actually curse him—probably—one could never afford complacency when dealing with the most powerful wizard alive!
Sure, even the Killing Curse couldn't permanently end Tom's life, that much was true, but the sensation of Avada Kedavra tearing through his being was roughly equivalent to having every nerve ending simultaneously set blazing while his soul was forcibly ripped sideways through a cheese grater made of frozen lightning.
The memory alone was enough to make his tail bristle.
Therefore, in the interest of preserving his current comfortable state of not-being-magically-obliterated, Tom quickly snatched up the Sorting Hat from its perch on Dumbledore's shelf.
The ancient hat, sensing movement, began to grumble something that sounded suspiciously like "Not again with the manhandling," but Tom was already lobbing it toward the pink sack with all the grace and accuracy of a well-aimed Bludger.
Then, under the stunned observation of two humans and one increasingly smug cat, something remarkable occurred.
The Sorting Hat which mere moments before had passed through Ariana's ghost form made contact with the enchanted sack's surface and stuck. It landed with surprising stability on the fabric, settling precisely where the crown of Ariana's head would be.
"..."
The Headmaster's office descended into yet another profound silence. The sorting Hat's tip drooped slightly, as if it too was rendered speechless by the absurdity unfolding.
Both Dumbledore and McGonagall stood frozen, trying to determine at what point exactly they'd become accustomed to Tom's utterly absurd and completely unconventional approach to problem-solving.
How in Merlin's name had a cat managed to affect a ghost—a being that even magic struggled to influence properly?!
Meanwhile, gazing at that ridiculous pink sack with its peculiar properties, Dumbledore found himself lost in contemplation:
'Perhaps this bag has other applications I haven't considered?'
However, the Sorting Hat, being a practical artifact more concerned with its immediate function than theoretical magical philosophy, had no intention of indulging anyone's daydreams.
"This won't work!"
The ancient hat's voice rang out sharply from its perch. Its tone dripped with professional offense.
"With this barrier between us, I can't sense the young witch's thoughts at all! I can't read her mind through this material! Therefore, I still have absolutely no way of determining which House she belongs to!"
The Hat's pointed tip gestured accusingly at the sack.
"What if I were to hold you physically and place you directly on top of her head myself?"
McGonagall interjected. She was already mentally rolling up her sleeves. Having committed herself to helping Ariana gain admission to Hogwarts, she fully intended to see this through to completion.
Of course, the fact that Ariana was a Dumbledore—sister to the Headmaster himself certainly provided additional motivation.
'(￣▽￣)~ Although not every Dumbledore throughout history has ended up in Gryffindor, as the current Headmaster's sister, this particular young Dumbledore has an excellent chance of joining my House!
If she does join Gryffindor, perhaps we might actually have a shot for the House Cup this year? With a Dumbledore representing our House, surely even the most biased of dungeon-dwelling Potions Masters would think twice before deducting points for breathing too loudly in his presence!'
McGonagall's internal optimism was perhaps getting slightly ahead of reality, but she couldn't help the small spark of hope.
However:
"Absolutely not! Out of the question!"
The Sorting Hat ruthlessly crushed her nascent hopes with all the finality of a guillotine blade.
"I'm just a hat, you see. I can only read a young witch or wizard's mind through direct physical contact, through the medium of being worn upon their head. That's the only way I can access their thoughts and make my determination."
As a magical artifact created specifically for Sorting rather than as a tool of Dark magic, the Hat's magic had been deliberately specialized by the Four Founders.
The Hat couldn't delve deeply into a student's buried childhood memories or extract their secrets. Instead, its power was carefully calibrated to read and analyze only their recent experiences and their current mindset during those tense moments of the Sorting itself.
"What should we do now?"
Seeing that even the Sorting Hat had reached an impasse, McGonagall turned her attention to Tom, who had just finished releasing Ariana from her fabric prison.
"You mentioned having other methods at your disposal. Can you try something else?"
(Of course! I was planning to do exactly that anyway. I've got loads of ideas!)
Tom nodded agreeably, his blue ears were perking up with unmistakable enthusiasm, then fixed the Sorting Hat with a contemplative stare that would have made any sensible magical object deeply uncomfortable.
[Speaking of which, as a hat, why exactly do you possess independent consciousness?]
"Ha! That's the miracle of magic, young fellow!"
The Sorting Hat declared with unmistakable pride, its voice took on the lecturing tone of a professor settling into a favorite subject.
If it had possessed chest to puff out, it certainly would have.
"The four Founders imbued me with genuine thought through their combined magic. They granted me not just the ability to process information, but to truly reason, to judge, to understand! I possess genuine sapience!"
[So then, do you believe you have a soul?]
Tom's question dropped into the conversation like a stone into still water.
"(´･_･`)???"
The Sorting Hat froze, completely blindsided by the philosophical curveball.
A soul? Did it possess such a thing? It honestly had no idea! The question had simply never occurred to it in over a thousand years of existence!
Come to think of it—and the Hat's thoughts were suddenly racing like a Seeker who'd spotted the Snitch, consciousness and autonomous thought were supposedly products of the soul.
If it lacked a soul entirely, how could it think independently at all?
But if it did have a soul... where would a hat even acquire such a thing in the first place?! Souls weren't ingredients you could simply add during the crafting process like powdered moonstone or phoenix tears!
Just as the ancient artifact was beginning to spiral into an existential crisis worthy of the deepest philosophical debates in Ravenclaw Tower, Tom spoke up again.
[No worries. We're about to find out.]
With that ominous declaration delivered, Tom produced from absolutely nowhere a truly massive hammer. The weapon was funnily oversized, its metallic head was gleaming in the candlelight as though freshly polished.
Emblazoned across that head in white lettering that practically glowed with clarity were the markings '1000t'.
The temperature in the office seemed to drop several degrees.
Without giving anyone even a moment to react or protest, Tom swung the hammer down with devastating force directly onto the Sorting Hat's crown.
"AHHHHHHHHH—!"
Accompanied by a piteous wail of distress, something white and wispy began to drift out from the Hat's torn seam, presumably its mouth—wobbling unsteadily through the air like a drunken Remembrall.
(Success, meow~)
Tom chirped with undisguised excitement and absolutely zero remorse, his tail was swishing with satisfaction. He reached out with one blue paw and prodded the white, amorphous thing experimentally.
(Wake up! We've got work to do!)
Under Tom's insistent poking, the white blob gradually began to shift and coalesce, ultimately reshaping itself into a translucent, ghostly version of the Sorting Hat. It murmured weakly:
"I feel like I might be slightly dead..."
"Perhaps not 'might be'?"
Staring at that white, presumably-soul-shaped manifestation of what had once been just a talking hat, both McGonagall and Dumbledore found themselves plunged into what must have been the dozenth stunned silence of the evening.
They had thought themselves finally adjusted to Tom's unorthodox methods. They were wrong. He'd just escalated to an entirely new level of absurdity!
"(★ω★) Oh! So this is what having a soul feels like? I can actually move independently now!"
Rather than expressing appropriate distress about its current metaphysical state which really should have involved more panic, all things considered—the Sorting Hat seemed delighted with its new ghostly form.
It examined its translucent white body with fascination, twisting this way and that to observe itself from multiple angles with the wonder of someone discovering they had limbs for the first time.
"I feel so... free! Look, I can float in any direction! I'm not limited by physical constraints! This is extraordinary!"
The Hat performed a small loop-de-loop in the air, clearly thrilled by its newfound mobility. It floated eagerly toward Ariana, and settled successfully atop her ghostly head.
"Brilliant work, my cat friend! Unorthodox to the point of insanity and quite possibly violating several laws of magical ethics, but undeniably brilliant! Now I can finally Sort you properly!"
The Hat's voice buzzed with enthusiasm, though there was still an undercurrent of existential wonder, as if it couldn't quite believe what had just happened to it.
"Let me see what we have here..."
With that, the ghostly Sorting Hat activated its Legilimency.
"Hmm... interesting (｀・ω・´). Very interesting indeed.
You don't crave knowledge for its own sake, do you? No burning need to understand every mystery the world presents. Instead, what I see in you is a deep longing for companionship, for genuine connection."
The Hat's voice was gentle now.
"That kind of loyalty and desire for belonging... yes, Hufflepuff would welcome you with open arms. They understand the value of friendship, the importance of being there for one another. Perhaps Hufflepuff would be perfect for you, child."
At those words, a flash of disappointment appeared on McGonagall's face. As Head of Gryffindor House, she had naturally hoped to welcome another Dumbledore into her roster.
However, before she could even begin consoling herself with thoughts of inter-House unity and the importance of students being placed where they'd truly thrive regardless of her personal preferences, the Sorting Hat suddenly spoke again.
"Wait... wait a moment! I'm seeing something else here. Something buried much deeper beneath the surface..."
The spectral Hat seemed to lean forward on Ariana's head, metaphorically speaking, its focus intensifying as it delved deeper into her character.
The Hat's voice, when it continued, took on a tone of solemn respect:
"Kindness that refused to die even after being hurt so deeply. The grace to face death with equanimity. But most remarkably of all, I see a capacity for trust that not even terror could destroy. Add to all of that a dash of Dumbledore courage and the choice becomes clear."
The Hat drew itself up proudly, and even within the privacy of the Headmaster's office, it raised its voice with full ceremonial gravitas:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"(☉□☉)?!"
Ariana's eyes widened to their limit, her mouth was forming a perfect 'O' of complete shock. For several seconds she simply floated there, paralyzed by disbelief.
Courage? Her? But she was so timid! Could Gryffindor truly be the right place for someone like her?
"B-but why? Why Gryffindor?"
She asked in a small, uncertain voice.
Perhaps because there were only two students participating in this unusual Sorting, McGonagall paused in her movements, allowing the Hat to elaborate—a courtesy rarely extended during the standard Sorting Ceremony:
"Because of true courage, child."
The Hat replied with gentle wisdom:
"Real courage isn't the absence of fear—any fool can charge forward when they feel no danger. True bravery is acknowledging your fear, feeling it completely, and then moving forward despite being afraid. And you, Ariana Dumbledore, have demonstrated that kind of courage beautifully."
"True courage..."
Ariana repeated thoughtfully, carefully lifting the Hat's ghostly form from her head and placing it gently on a nearby chair before floating over to hover beside Tom.
"Now then, Tom Lovegood."
McGonagall turned her sharp gaze toward the enormous blue cat:
"Though before we proceed, I believe you should restore the Sorting Hat to its proper form."
Author's Note:
[] This sign is for black/white board talk by tom.
() This sign is for meow cat talk by tom.
' ' This sign is for thoughts by tom and everyone else likewise.
Have a great read. Bye Bye (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ