Beta'd by Emmeebee
Ten Moves Ahead
September 1991
"Stop touching the pieces, Minerva."
Minerva McGonagall pulled her hand back from the bishop she'd been teetering back and forth as she contemplated her next move, steepling her fingers against her cheek.
She'd been immersed in the wizarding world for most of her life, but when steeped in thought, she fell back on childhood habits—Muggle habits.
"Bishop to D3."
The piece she'd been fiddling with slid across the board to take its new place, cradled in the midst of two pawns and a knight. She looked up from the board and raised an eyebrow in challenge to the frumpy hat sitting across the table from her on a high stool.
"So, what did you think of the sorting this year?" she asked, mostly out of curiosity, but with a secondary goal of distraction.
"Far too few students," the hat replied, empty eyes imagining different courses of action.
"Well, we knew that would be a given. So many young people died during You Know Who's reign of terror."
"Pawn to C4."
The pawn in question turned diagonally and struck out with one of its twin blades, shattering her pawn and sending its white shards all over the board.
He harrumphed; whether in triumph or in response to her statement, she wasn't really sure. "Yes, well, if those purebloods would get off their high horses, half of the wizarding world's problems would be solved." He ruffled his brim. "I mean, look at me. Can't get any more magical than this, and yet you don't see me acting all high and mighty."
"Bishop to C4," Minerva said, swiftly countering his attack with one of her own, and effectively removing the aforementioned pawn from the game. "Yes, yes." She waved her hand. She'd heard this all before. "All that aside, what do you think of the new batch?"
The hat snorted. "What? Are they cookies?"
At the blank look he received, he quirked an eyebrow. "I think there are a lot of promising young students. Especially that one boy." The hat's mouth puckered as he examined the board.
"Yes, Potter," Minerva said, nodding. "He shows much potential."
The hat flapped its tip. "No, not that one. The other one. Chubby thing. Longbottom, I believe."
"Longbottom? Neville Longbottom? You can't be serious."
"Pawn to B5. Deadly serious. You know I don't joke about these things."
"But what can you possibly have seen?"
He stared at her for a long time before answering. "He's the bravest of them all."
Minerva shook her head in disbelief, resting her chin in her hand. "I think you may be losing your touch. I believe Potter will prove himself to be the bravest."
"You know, I almost sorted him into Slytherin."
Minerva visibly recoiled. "You don't mean…"
"That he has evil in him? No, but he has what it takes to thrive there."
Minerva let her shoulders drop in relief. "Then why didn't you?"
"He didn't want me to."
She raised her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm confused. You didn't sort him there because… he didn't want you to? If I recall correctly, that's not how the sorting is supposed to work."
The hat frowned. "Do you know why I chose to put you in Gryffindor instead of Ravenclaw, where you were meant to go?"
"I wasn't aware that I was meant to go to Ravenclaw," she replied flatly.
"Oh, well, no matter," he said, ruffling his brim again. "It was because I saw one sliver of doubt in your mind. Your love of knowledge and your sharp mind were clouded with uncertainty. You wanted to be strong and brave. I didn't think you would be able to develop those things in Ravenclaw."
"So, you sorted me based on what you thought was best for me; what I wanted at the age of eleven. You don't think that's dangerous? What if it hadn't worked out?"
The hat tilted himself to the side. "Isn't that what life is about? Operating on the "what ifs" and hoping they happen or don't happen?"
Minerva's nostrils flared. "No, no, it's not."
She stood abruptly, knocking the table with the sole purpose of toppling the pieces. And if it had been a Muggle chess board, she would have succeeded; but the wizard chess pieces stayed firmly rooted to the board. She gave the pieces a stern look as if to reprimand them for not doing as she wished and turned away sharply.
The material above the hat's eyes furrowed. "Have I upset you?"
She whipped back around. "Do you care about these children at all?"
The hat looked down at himself. "I don't know if you've noticed, but there isn't exactly anywhere to fit a heart in here along with my gigantic intellect. I was made to think, not love."
Minerva glared at him and turned away again.
The hat called after her, "Are you upset because I'm winning?"
Minerva walked into her office, slamming the door shut.
September 1992
Albus Dumbledore was leaned back in his seat, waiting for the hat sitting across from him to make his move.
"So, to what do I owe the honor of being permitted to play against you again?"
The hat didn't look up from the board. "Oh, please, Albus, let's not play this game."
Dumbledore tilted his head down so he was looking over the rims of his glasses. "This game? You want to end our game already?"
"You know that's not what I'm talking about," the hat said in frustration. "The game where you ask questions to which you already know the answer just to see how the person responds. I'm not one of your little child experiments. Knight to F6."
Dumbledore pulled on his beard, pursing his lips and nodding in approval before finally saying, "Pawn to E3. I prefer to call them my students. And I merely try to get them to think more deeply about what's going on around them."
The hat attempted to roll his non-existent eyes before lowering them to the board again, cursing the founders for not bothering to give him a pair of balls in his sockets. "Call them what you want, it makes no difference."
"Do you think Minerva sees them as "experiments"? I mean, if you mix the brains of a Ravenclaw with the courage and loyalty of a Gryffindor, what would you get?" Dumbledore asked innocently.
The hat glanced up at the old man, the twinkling in his eyes telling him that the question was anything but innocent. "She spoke to you, didn't she?" The hat shook himself. "Of course she did. That was a stupid question. Pawn to E6."
"Do you think she was right? That you're playing with fate? Knight to F3."
"Playing? As if this is some game." The hat let out a deep sigh. "Do you know what I see when a student places me on their head, Albus? I see… everything. I see what they are, what they could be, and what they can never be. I see what made them who they are and what could make them what they need to be. Could you see all of that and condemn them to one house for the next seven years? Or longer, considering that they carry that with them for the rest of their lives?
"So, did I make choices to give them the best chance? Yes, and I won't apologise for it. If Minerva had been a Ravenclaw, she wouldn't be as strong as she is now. If I had put Sirius in Slytherin, he never would have found the family he needed to replace the one that didn't accept him. If I had put Longbottom in Hufflepuff, he'd never have the chance to become the man that I've seen he can be.
"Do things always go as I want them to?" He chuckled sadly to himself. "No, we only have to look at Pettigrew to see that. But all of these children have the chance to be great, even the bad ones."
Dumbledore nodded, staring unseeingly down at the unfinished chess game. "Yes, I see that quite often. This need to prove that we are not the worst of ourselves can sometimes make us better people. And sometimes we succumb to our worser* nature."
The hat nodded solemnly. "Don't think I don't see what you've done here, Albus."
Dumbledore looked up, drawn out of his thoughts. "Hmm, and what's that?"
"Trying to prove I have a heart. I should have known you didn't want to discuss why Minerva is angry at me." He lifted the brim of his hat. "Well, see there? I don't have one."
"Of course not." Dumbledore grinned, looking down at the board again, aware that he'd already won. "I would never presume to say such a thing."
September 1993
Minerva leaned over the board. They were only two moves into the game, but she had a sneaking suspicion that she'd already lost.
"It's nice to have you back, Minerva. I forgot how annoying Albus can be. You know, with all his mamby-pamby sayings."
Minerva snorted. "You mean because you can never seem to beat him?"
The hat scrunched his eyes, opening his mouth to say something before closing it again and just nodding in acquiescence.
QLFC Round 6 Semi-finals
Montrose Magpies- Chaser 2
Position Prompt: Vikings: If I Had a Heart — Fever Ray
Optional Prompts: Chess Piece(object), 'This need to prove that we are not the worst of ourselves can sometimes make us better people.' — Before Mars, Emma Newman(quote), Sorting Hat(object)
HSWW Assignment #2
Anatomy and Physiology- Task 3: Write about someone trying to control someone or something
A/N: *phrase used in 1600s. Just sounded like something Dumedore would say.
WC: 1545