Disclaimer: Only playing in JKR's sandbox for the time being. I do not own the sand or the box, but I can safely lay claim to my design of the sand.
A/N: Reposted! And much, much, much better. I promise you. So much less OOCness. Ahhh, I can feel the sighs of relief...
So, this idea came to me (because I'm sure you're dying to know) from somme fanfic where the author was complaining that Harry almost never got things like dragonhide gloves, it was always boots, vests, pants, etc. And I just thought - well, what about a dragonhide hat? Where can you go wrong with a dragonhide hat?
Harry Potter was sitting cross-legged on his bed, in the middle of the night. It was his birthday, and he was following his custom of opening his presents exactly on his birthday, at midnight or later. Well, he was trying; Ron and Hermione had already given him their presents (immensely useful little things such as a mini-Pensieve and a wand holster) since they were staying at the Dursleys'.
Arranged in front of him were his other gifts: three packages, and a great number of letters. Closing his eyes, Harry snatched the letter in front of him, and opened it.
It was from the Ministry, officially absolving him of the Underage Restriction. A soft whoop escaped his mouth, and he grabbed his wand to open the rest of the letters magically.
There were letters from nearly everybody in the Order who knew him, and a letter from Ginny informing him that she would give him his present at Bill and Fleur's wedding, when he saw her.
After neatening up the pile of already perused parchment, Harry opened the presents. Remus had gotten him a Mirror of Revelation, which showed any powers other than the normal magic that one might have. Harry's mind immediately went to the power Voldemort knew not, but Remus's attached letter informed him that it was also used for finding ones Animagus form the easy way.
The second package was, surprisingly, from Bill Weasley, a device that unlocked any potential abilities and implanted into the user's mind half the knowledge and skill needed to use them. It had six charges left, and Harry set it reverently aside and cast nervous glances at it for the rest of the night when he discovered it was among the Darkest of Dark Magics.
The last present was wrapped in coarse brown paper, with Hagrid's terrible writing sprawling all over to spell, Happy Birthday, Harry in what looked like one of those huge muggle pencils, but Harry wasn't quite sure.
Well, the contents of the package was interesting, to say the least. Hagrid wrote that it had belonged to his father, and since it wouldn't fit the half-giant, hopefully Harry would find it useful.
Harry stared at in shock. His mind sputtered and died. Why, why, why would Hagrid ever think that a dragonhide hat would be useful?
That was the question on Ron and Hermione's lips, when they woke up in the morning to see Harry's gaze locked on the thing in complete horror.
"And he expects me to wear this," Harry whispered to them. Ron and Hermione patted his shoulder sympathetically, trying to hold in their laughter, Hermione with more success than Ron.
----
Grimly, Harry set the hat on his head. It slipped forward and covered his eyes. Ron sniggered and Hermione had to duck out of the strategy tent.
It was almost two years later, and there was that bloody hat, that Hagrid insisted that Harry wear for the agreed upon Final Battle.
Out on the battlefield, Death Eaters and Order members alike were getting distracted by the hilarity of seeing the Boy-Who-Lived (soon to be either the Man-Who-Conquered or That-Kid-Who-Got-Gruesomely-Killed-By-The-Dark-Lord) in such a strange hat. Harry sighed, even as he cursed Death Eaters into infinity and beyond. He would never live this down.
When Harry got to Voldemort, The Hat (as Harry had been ominously calling it) bore many scorch marks. It seemed to be some sort of token of prestige for a Death Eater if one of his or her curses hit the admittedly easy target. Harry sighed deeply and wearily.
"Well, Potter," Voldemort said, "I see that you couldn't even look decent for your death."
Harry, who had been expecting a curse, responded with a shield spell and then asked "Wait, huh?" from behind it.
"Your hat, Potter," Voldemort clarified, and Harry could have sworn that he rolled his snakey little eyes.
"Ooooh." Light dawned over Harry-Land. "My hat. I see. Oh, I'm wearing this as a favor to a friend. Now, um…drama, right?"
"Potter, you make it sound as if we're in some parody. This is no parody. You will die, Potter."
"I'm not going to commit suicide, if that's what you're afraid of."
Voldemort finally got fed up, and pointed his wand at Harry. "Avada Kedavra!" he spat, the words of the incantation almost seeming to hover in the air, and a green light shot out toward Harry's head. When Harry ducked, it clipped The Hat, blowing it up and knocking Harry over.
This was a lucky move; there was another spell heading right toward the place where Harry would have been, if The Hat hadn't pushed him down.
The Hat had saved him.
It actually had been useful.
"Wow," Harry breathed, from the ground. "Thanks, Hagrid." He then sprang up with boundless amounts of energy, and lunged at Voldemort. His wand was forgotten in a little pit caused by the explosion.
Startled, Voldemort didn't move as Harry ripped out his heart and in its place channeled immense amounts of pure love energy in a wandless spell that Hermione had called something clever in French, but he hadn't the foggiest idea what the name was. He only remembered that it was some pun.
But even if Hermione's jokes were bad, she also made spells, and they always, always worked.
So, Voldemort died.
Everyone lived happily ever after, except for the people who had died, and The Hat, who had indeed sacrificed itself for a noble cause.
THE END
A/N: I think that Batman is amazing. He has super-secret-ninja-training, he has no superpowers, and he's also Christian Bale in Batman Begins.