Disclaimer: A very good person brought an end to this disgusting excuse for fan content by referring to Fanfiction's rules regarding explicit content, so a large amount of this story is redacted so that no sexual content or violence is present. If you, for whatever reason decide to read the uncensored version of this product of self hatred, you can go to either Wattpad or Archive of our own where it has the same name. (Yes, it is very mature.)
Harry {Redacted} for the fourth time that night. He stood, {Redacted} in the Gryffindor bathrooms, the crusty old hat held out in front of him. He lay it down on the floor and began to pull his pants up.
Through a mouth stuck together with {Redacted}, the weathered old hat managed to say. "I still maintain that you would've made a great Slytherin, Harry, some of the {Redacted} you do really makes me reconsider letting you sway my mind."
Harry smirked and did up his belt, grabbing the sorting hat from the floor and giving it a gentle kiss.
"I'd go again but I have to get back to bed before Mr. Filch finds me again, you know the punishment. My {Redacted} from last time."
The sorting hat drooped, it's brim curled up on itself, soaked with {Redacted}, looking dejected and lonely.
"Fine, one more, but we have to be quiet." Harry huffed with irritation, quickly casting a levitation spell on {Redacted}. "Wingardium Leviosa."
"Don't worry, Harry, I have a real subtle thing we can do this time." The old hat said with a coy smile. "This is an ancient magic, the muggles call it '{Redacted}' for some reason."
Harry, intrigued- {Really, really redacted. Like god damn.} -than ever.
"St-stop, sorting hat. You're doing it too hard, I feel like you're going to tear it off!" Harry protested.
The hat didn't relinquish its control over {Redacted} though, no matter how much he struggled, it just kept on {Redacted}. Harry cried out in pain as one of his legs was sucked inside the unwashed hat's {Redacted}. Eventually, Harry was pulled inside the hat entirely. Harry was vaguely aware of {redacted} as he slid down into the sorting hat. Eventually, Harry landed, {Redacted} first, on to the cloth floor. He clutched his {Redacted} with one hand and pushed himself up with the other. The inside of the hat was dark and Harry squinted, looking for something that could help him get out. Or {Redacted}, whatever. Harry clenched his abs and pulled his own wand out of {Redacted}, quickly casting a spell that would help him see.
"Lumos-terbate" Harry uttered.
The wand shone, exposing the pocket dimension that Harry was stuck in. Around him, he could see old artifacts of the school, jewelry, ancient books and, excitingly, the Sword of Gryffindor. Harry, still {Redacted}, grabbed hold of the sword of Gryffindor, gently running his fingers along the sharp edge of the blade, he gripped the handle of the sword tight in one hand and {Redacted} his {Redacted} with the other. Harry took a few deep breaths before inserting the ancient sword, blade first into his {Redacted}. {Redacted} ran down the silver edge that Harry had carefully {Redacted} himself with, it was an unexplainable ecstasy, he could feel the power coursing through his {Redactum}, the awe and dazzling brilliance of Godric Gryffindor filled him entirely. Knowing that he would soon die from blood loss, Harry began to {Redacted} himself off harder and faster than he had ever done so before, practically ripping his own {Redacted} off, Harry didn't even realize that his wrist was dislocated until he {Redacted}, carpeting the floor with his {Redacted}.
As Harry bled to death, he had no regrets.
Harry, bleary-eyed and barely aware of his surroundings heard a familiar caw. He felt a warm sensation on his {Redacted}, 'Probably the {Redacted}' he thought, but as the sensation continued, he realized that he had a bird perched on his leg, crying into his {Redacted}.
"Fawks?!" Harry exclaimed in disbelief, removing the sword from his {Redacted}. "You saved me!"
The Phoenix gave a delighted squawk and flew around in a victory maneuver.
Harry was humbled and knew what he had to do to make up for his own life being saved. He grabbed Fawks out of the air and turned it around, getting himself {Redacted} once again and inserting his {Redacted} into the magical avian's {Redacted}. It was warm and toasty, with each {Redacted}, he could feel the bird's {Redacted} breaking a little more. By the time he was done, the smell of {Redacted} and phoenix tears hung heavy in the air. Harry let go and the bird fell to the floor, it's {Redacted} and it's {Redacted}.
Harry sobbed as the magical bird caught alight and became ash on the floor. He had thought that it would be all under control, but the phoenix that saved his life was now no more. Harry did the only honorable thing and began scooping the ashes into {Redacted}, {Redacted} so that none would fall out.
Several hours later, while staring up out the hole that he had come through, Harry felt warm in his gut, a pleasant burning that reminded him about what Snape had called his '{Redacted}'. But, as the warm feeling progressed, Harry discovered that it wasn't his {Redacted} at all, but instead, it was Fawkes erupting from his stomach.
R.I.P Harry. This is so sad, can we hit ten children?
Notes:
I joked to my friend that I was going to stay up late making a Harry Potter {Redacted} and I ended up taking it too far. This is actually cursed and whatever god there may be will never forgive me.
Also, I didn't realize until after halfway through writing this that the hat wasn't imbued with a bag of holding-type enchantment and that in the second movie the sword of Gryffindor could be pulled out of the hat just because of lazy bullshit writing. Genuinely thought that the hat just had that sword in it the entire time.