A/N
This little story is simply for fun. I am a huge and loyal Harry Potter fan, and do not intend to offend anybody.
Harry Potter belongs to Jo Rowling :)
Chapter One
"Mr. Diggory," panted Professor Sprout. "Did you hear me?"
Cedric was too busy trying to stay out of harm's way of Professor Sprout's waggling breasts.
"Cedric?" she asked heavily, and without warning a massive breast lashed out and smacked young Cedric squarely in the forehead. He grimaced in pain. Professor Sprout seemed not to notice and was about to ask again when Cedric answered through gritted teeth, "Uh yes, Professor, I'll go to the headmaster's office right away."
The plump middle-aged professor smiled as Cedric walked through the common room door.
It was a short walk to the headmaster's office from the Hufflepuff common room when Cedric approached the gargoyles guarding the office.
"Lemon drop", he muttered to the nearest one. The glaring gargoyle leapt aside and the young man ascended the rotating spiral staircase. He raised a pale fist to knock on the door leading to the headmaster's office, when he froze in confusion. From behind the door could be heard a series of low moans. Nonplussed, he gently turned the doorknob.
Professor Dumbledore looked up in surprise from his desk, and then hurriedly shoved something out of sight. His withered cheeks were flushed, and he was out of breath. The professor's expression reminded Cedric of when he walked in on his parents wrestling.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Ah, Mr. Diggory, just who I needed to—"
He was interrupted by violent banging on the door.
"Er, come in," Professor Dumbledore sighs, stroking his luscious silver beard.
The hooked beak and greasy oil slick mop of hair that is Professor Snape peers around the edge of door. "The Weasley twits are at it again, they're holding Mrs. Norris hostage," he sneered.
Dumbledore chuckled and rose from his desk. "I'll return shortly, Mr. Diggory."
Cedric was left alone in the headmaster's office.
His eyes moved over the various magical instruments in the cabinets, some were whirring and some were emitting little puffs of smoke. Then his baby blue eyes alighted upon a curious thing: a bit of dark brown fabric peeking out from behind Dumbledore's desk. Cedric went behind the desk, and saw the fabric was coming out of the top drawer. It must have been the object the headmaster had so hurriedly stuffed out of sight. Curiosity got the best of the young man and Cedric tugged the fabric out of the drawer.
The brown fabric let out a gargled choking sound, and a white substance came exploding out of it. Cedric let out a squeal and dropped the object abruptly.
It was then the Hufflepuff realized what the thing was.
It was the Sorting Hat.
Cedric looked on in astonishment as the hat righted itself with a grumble. "How rude, just dropping me on the floor like that like a common baseball cap!" the Sorting Hat said indignantly.
The young man gulped. "I—Um, I'm sorry, sir, er….Mr. Hat."
The hat looked up, or rather, titled its fabric folds up where the eyes should have been. "Mr. Diggory, it's you. No need to apologize, no need," it uttered coyly.
"Okay, um," Cedric was at a loss for words. What do you talk to a hat about?
He was saved however, because the Sorting Hat spoke. "My, you've become a strapping young lad since I last saw you. So…muscular. And your hair. It shines so lovely in the light."
"Thanks, yeah, I use conditioner in addition to shampoo," Cedric blushed.
The hat stretched its fabric mouth into a smile. "How very interesting. You know, Cedric, if you're ever free….We should talk some time. The house elves make wonderful coffee down in the kitchens."
Cedric felt his whole being tingle, and his stomach fluttered. Was the Sorting Hat asking him out?
Suddenly, the door was whooshed open, and the headmaster strode in with a smile. Upon seeing the Sorting Hat and Cedric in mid-conversation, his face darkened and he frowned suspiciously.
"I think you should go, Mr. Diggory," Professor Dumbledore muttered sourly.
Cedric's eyes widened. "But, Professor, we have to go over my grades—"
He stopped at the bitter look Dumbledore was aiming his way.
"Another time. Now, leave." The headmaster strode over to the hat.
The young man mumbled a quiet farewell and went out the door. Just as he was shutting it, he heard the unmistakable sound of flesh striking fabric, and a muffled cry of pain.