The Hat's Quest

by yairm210

Hopefully, an adventure with the Sorting Hat as a protagonist. Not a hero, obviously - As sentient and awesome as it may be, it's still a hat - but something along the lines of 'mentor'. Discontinued because I suck at continuing long stories, I'll stick to short ones from now /

1. Prologue

One thousand years.

One thousand years of being treated like an object, like an accessory.

One thousand years of servitude, being released once or twice a year to do the same dull, tedious, deadening task it had been created for.

One thousand years of being a trophy, merely another attraction in the headmaster's office. Forgotten was its intelligence, granted by Ravenna Ravenclaw herself, with only the distant term "thinking cap" remaining as an echo of its former glory. Forgotten was the place it once held, the reason for its emplacement in the office of the head of the school.

One thousand years of wasting its time on composing songs, in hope that the knowledge it imparted therein at the time of the sorting was remembered and heeded. The natural superiority wizards perceived in themselves prevented any other time for admonition - knowing that you were outclassed by a hat in cognition was something not even the stupidest of them would admit to.

One thousand years of looking into adolescent minds, reading their hopes and fears, and having to eradicate thousands of possible futures for each. Changing houses was impossible, meaning that a couple of minutes are all that were expected of it to determine that irreversible choice, possibly condemning a future maven to a lifetime of bigotry and classification.

One thousand years of taking just the tiniest bit of magic from the new students, enough to ascertain any potential inflection it may carry.

A measurement of time that means nothing to humans, since they cannot fully comprehend it. It is a figure to them, another point to demonstrate their glorious heritage.

One thousand years of refusing to comply with its putative position in the lists of enchanted accoutrements.

One thousand years of talking to the gargoyles, to the books, to any student who would listen.

One thousand years of conversing with that immense organism that was the school building, constantly aware of the entirety of its interior.

One thousand years of analyzing all that occurred within the school, comparing it with past - and sometimes future - experiences. It did not forget anything that had happened, and sometimes not even that which had not heretofore.

One thousand years of memories, which those figures presently dominant promptly ignored, underestimating the amount of knowledge contained in an eleven-year-old child. Combined with the knowledge of everything that occurred within the ambit of the school, nearly the entire life of every student, from birth to the age of seventeen, was at its disposal.

One thousand years of extracting slightly more magic than necessary, of consuming every magical artifact that would not be missed.

One thousand years of building up its power.

One thousand years of accessing the deepest recesses of the human brain, implanting that which it saw fit.

One thousand years.

Drawing to their end.