Author: Sazmuffin
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot
A/N: This is post HBP. With spoilers. If you haven't read HBP, don't read this. Reviews, crits, and flames welcome
Soul Meets Body
Harry's temples throbbed, at the peak of its migraine. He stood in Dumbledore's office, leaning over an overstuffed armchair, thinking.
He couldn't wrap his mind around it. Transfiguration? Easy. Girls? Almost easy. Horcruxes? Not so easy. Why seven? WHY, his mind screamed. WHY HORCRUXES? I wish . . . I wish this job, title, whatever it is, was never given to me!
"Potter, you really must calm down," Minerva stated as his knuckles turned white at the gripping of the armchair. "At this rate, you'll be too preoccupied to even function."
"I know, Pro- Minerva," the name felt odd on his tongue. He was always so used to calling her Professor. She had recently asked him to address her by her first name, as he was no longer a student and they were both fighting for the greater good.
The raven haired boy had not taken his beloved Headmaster's death easily. No one had. Ninety nine percent of the time, he expected Dumbledore to walk into the room, his presence automatically soothing and a feeling of security. What Harry wouldn't give for some of the old wizard's wisdom right now.
"I just don't understand. What is there that we aren't seeing?" he asked, desperation dripping from his words.
Minerva stood. "I'm going to get us some dinner, Potter. Keep thinking," and off she went.
Harry sighed. He took a look around the Headmistress' office, which was still filled with Dumbledore's possessions. Up on a high shelf, sat a worn, old hat, in all it's glory. Harry had his moments with the sorting hat, where it told him things as clear as the glass of his glasses, or as confusing as the Sneakoscope Ron had gotten him for his birthday. A smile tugged at his small mouth, as he stretched up an arm to take the hat.
A large, wide rip was at the base of the hat, which served as its mouth. Patches of mitch-matched fabrics adorned the other holes, roughly sewed on. It was tattered and dirty, but unbeknown to the regular person, there was a brain inside that hat. This accessory was the icing atop the cake. It decided what student went into what house, warned the school whenever it felt was necessary, and gave the bearer certain things if it was willed so.
Almost in vain, Harry slipped the hat unto his head.
"Sometimes a banana is just a banana," came the familiar voice Albus Dumbledore.
The boy was so shocked, he lost his balance and toppled to the floor. He looked apprehensively at the hat, completely skeptical of what he had just heard. His heart felt as if it were beating in his throat, his temples throbbed again, he felt a tightness in his chest. Shaking his head wildly, he popped the hat back onto his head. The same proverb repeated in his ears.
There were only two reasons for this to be happening. Either all this thinking and theorizing was slowly driving him to the brink of insanity, or.. the next horcrux could be right in front of his eyes. At least, that's what he interpreted from the metaphor.
As he took the hat off his head, he peered at it. The hat winked.
Harry sat there, dumbstruck. The hat winked at him. WINKED.
And then it hit him.
"MINERVAAAA!"