Title: Curse of Fate:
Outtakes
Author: Mistress Nika
Rating:
PG
Summary: The poor Sorting Hat must sort a maniacal,
homicidal, uber-powerful eleven-year-old Dark Lord.
Pairings:
none
Warnings: violence towards hats
The Sorting Hat Needs a Valium
"Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"
"Gryffindor," Harry replied quickly and easily with a smile.
"Gryffindor?" the hat questioned. "I think not. Certainly you're brave, very brave indeed. That, however, is tempered by knowledge and cunning. Plans within plans. Oh yes, you're very sly, Mr. Potter."
Harry frowned. "Gryffindor," he said again, more sternly this time.
"Mmm, perhaps... in a different time, a different place. But no, you're no more a Gryffindor than I am a tea cozy. I've never seen one more suited to the serpent house than yourself."
Harry's frown deepened. "It'll be Gryffindor or I'll demonstrate some of those Slytherin qualities you keep talking about."
Harry thought about the time he had incinerated Dudley's broken toys while laughing maniacally, thrusting the memory to the forefront of his mind and adding to the pile of melting plastic a torn, frayed wizard's hat. The hat froze on his head and, had it been able to, might have paled considerably.
"G-GRYFFINDOR!!" it screeched aloud, startling the entire hall. "GRYFFINDOR!! GRYFFINDOR!! GRYFFINDOR!!" it yelled again and again, just in case it hadn't been heard or believed. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GRYFF-IN-DOR!!!"
Smirking, Harry removed the hat from his head and set it back on the stool. Before going down to join his house, he patted it on it's quivering brim and said, "Good boy."
No one spoke. Everyone watched him as if he were some violent disaster that they just couldn't look away from as he strode casually over to the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Hermione.
"So," he said to the witch with a smile, "Nice weather we're having, isn't it?"
After a moment of stunned silence, McGonagall, obviously still stunned herself, asked the Sorting Hat, "Are you alright?"
The hat gave a startled jump and cried, "The boy's a menace! Keep him away from me!" Harry glanced back up at it and smirked again. "KEEP HIM AWAY!! KEEP HIM AWAY!!" By now the hat had gone into a full blown panic attack.
It took twenty minutes and eight teachers to calm it down enough for the sorting to continue. The first years looked even more nervous than usual and it was the hat that gave a relieved sigh each time a student was sorted, as if glad that it hadn't had to deal with another like Harry.
