A/N: The chapters are not in any chronological order; I'm posting them in the same succession as I wrote them.

No warnings for this chapter, and the bold paragraph is taken directly from HP & PS.

Chapter 2: Reading minds

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Dean had been nervous about the sorting, which was why he didn't think about the Hat's song too much while listening to it, but now he was beginning to wonder what precisely it was that the Hat did. It had mentioned something about being able to see everything in their heads, but surely that meant some kind of a personality test or something.

However, when the Sorting Hat shouted 'Hufflepuff' without seemingly doing anything besides sitting on the girl's head, Dean began to get a bad feeling about the whole ordeal. He waited for his turn with baited breath and forgot to really pay much attention to where the others had been sorted.

When McGonagall finally called for 'Thomas, Dean', the aspiring artist walked apprehensively towards the stool and sat on it. The professor lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head, and he fisted the material of his cloak tightly. Absently he wondered if the others had been as nervous or if he was alone in his concern.

"Interesting. I see that you're worried about –" That was as far as the Hat got before Dean drew it off his head, stood up, and threw the head piece onto the stool. There was shocked silence for a moment, until McGonagall apparently gathered herself together and puffed up in indignation.

"What is the meaning of this, Mr. Thomas?" she demanded. Dean cowered momentarily before gathering his courage and staring at the professor. He tried to ignore the looks he knew were surely directed at him and focused on the problem. If he had glanced towards the High Table, he would have seen the stunned expressions on most of the professors' faces. They had never seen anyone take the Sorting Hat off before it had sorted the student.

"It can read minds?" Dean asked with a misleadingly blank visage.

"Yes, that is how the Hat sorts everyone. Is there a problem?" the Headmaster answered instead of Professor McGonagall, and those that knew the aging man noticed that he seemed confused, though the twinkle in his eyes didn't disappear just yet.

"I don't know. Can it tell anyone what it reads in our minds? If so, does it have a conscious which then decides what it tells? Does it have a personality which can affect its judgement? Is it normal for objects here to read minds? Is this legal? Why did no one ask for our permission? Are the students aware what a slight this is to their privacy? Is the Hat conscious when it's not being used? If it is, does it think about what it found in our brains? Does it remember the memories after it's been taken off? What are the bounds in which it can or cannot share our thoughts or memories with someone?"

If there was silence when Dean had taken the Sorting Hat off his head, it was nothing compared to the quietness of the room after he had finished his barricade of questions. Even Dumbledore was shocked speechless for a moment just like the other professors. The young boy could also feel stares on his back, as he had turned to address the Headmaster, and he was sure that most students were either wondering at his guts to do that in front of everyone, or thinking about the questions he had raised and what the answers to them would be.

Finally, Dumbledore managed to gather himself and send a grandfatherly smile to Dean, who simply bristled. He would not be brushed off. The aging wizard appeared to realize this.

"Mr. Thomas, I can assure you that nothing the Hat sees in your mind goes to the wrong ears," the Headmaster tried to appease Dean, but the young boy simply started to glare at him.

"Wrong ears? Who is the judge of that? Can or can it not share what it finds out with someone else?" the artist pressed. The other professors frowned at him for being so rude to the Headmaster, but they stayed silent, trusting Dumbledore to handle it.

"I can't tell anyone your thoughts, feelings or memories," the Hat itself answered the boy. "I can only share my impressions – who might have been suited for other houses, who might cause trouble in the future – with the Headmaster. Everything else is between the student and I. And as I was created for the purpose of sorting students, that's what I do, and nothing more; I don't ponder on the students' memories or thoughts after the sorting unless the student themselves come seek me out."

Dean stared at the head piece imploringly and tried to gauge its truthfulness. He glanced at Dumbledore and saw him nod, which lead the young wizard to slowly accept the legitimacy of the Sorting Hat's words.

"Fine then. Do you need me to put you back on or did you find enough to sort me already?" Dean asked the Hat – and didn't he feel just ridiculous for doing so.

"I believe that based on what I saw in your head and this performance of yours, you would be best suited for GRYFFINDOR!"

A/N: As a kid I wouldn't have found anything wrong with the Sorting, but now I think I'd rather take the troll over something poking around in my head. And I definitely wouldn't want the Hat sharing the memories or thoughts it picked up from my head with anyone else.

I'll post the next chapter next week at the latest. I'll try to get it up before this Friday as I'm going to London then, but if not, it'll probably be posted on Thursday when I'm back home.

It's also the last chapter I have written, but thanks to pfanna (a huge shoutout to them!) I have new ideas I'd like to explore in this fic, so this won't be marked as complete. Those future chapters might take a while, though.