Author's Note:
The Houses Competition (or THC) Round 2: Who Am ?
Focus Character: The Sorting Hat (I received permission from the judges to use this character). :)
Story Type: Standard (up to 3,000 words)
House: Hufflepuff
Class: Astronomy
Prompt: 1. [Action] Sneaking around, 15. [Word] Empty
Word Count: 2,798
Disclaimers/triggers: None
Beta Love: Thanks to Vee for looking over my story!
Further notes: For those of you who aren't familiar with them, a Tsukomogami is a type of yokai (Japanese spirit/creature) that is born when an object survives for one hundred years.
From wiki/Tsukumogami:
Understood by many Western scholars as a type of Japanese yōkai, the Tsukumogami was a concept popular in Japanese folklore as far back as the tenth century, used in the spread of Shingon Buddhism. The most accepted definition of the term says that tsukumogami are inanimate objects that once they have served their owner/s for 100 years, they receive a soul and therefore become alive and self-aware. They are usually harmless, though they tend to play small pranks. Still, they have the capacity to get angry and can group up to take revenge against those who threw them away or didn't treat them well.
100 years seems like a long time...but as you know, most of the inanimate objects at Hogwarts are quite a lot older than that.
The Thing About a Soul
Summertime at Hogwarts was the Sorting Hat's favorite time of the year. Not that anyone would ask it, of course. It was supposed to sit in the Headmaster's office looking old and frumpy until the time came to dust it off and bring it down and place it upon the heads of incoming students. It would then shout out when the correct House was determined. Nobody seemed to notice that the Sorting Hat regularly divided the students pretty much equally into Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff.
Well, nobody except for old Albus Dumbledore and that sour-faced Potions professor. Hah! It was obvious he was still sore that the Sorting Hat had placed the Evans girl in a different House despite her ample reservoirs of cunning and ambition. It probably didn't help that the Sorting Hat had joked about putting young Snape in Hufflepuff when they had their little Sorting chat all those years ago. That dour, greasy man still could not take even the slightest bit of ribbing. This was quite entertaining to the Sorting Hat, who ensured that it riled him each time he visited the Headmaster's office. The Sorting Hat was not sure of many things, but it was certain that wizards held grudges, just as surely as it delighted in mischief.
No, the summertime was truly the best. The Sorting Hat would be left to its own devices for long, golden days while the staff and students lived their dull lives outside of the castle. Even the Headmaster had vacated the premises with his stern looks and obnoxious plans. All was as it should be.
"Oi, Geoffry!" The Sorting Hat stirred from its musings and called out to the enchanted armor standing at attention by the interior door to the Headmaster's office.
The enchanted armor turned its visor in reply and cocked it to the side like a curious dog.
"As you can see, I am in a bit of a pickle, Geoffry," The Sorting Hat continued, "as I wish to stretch my legs and do not as of yet appear to have any. Would you be so kind as to assist me?"
The enchanted armor creaked in what sounded a bit like a rusty affirmation and clanked over to where the Sorting Hat sat upon its high shelf.
"You'd better not be getting up to any mischief, hat!" grumbled one of the Headmaster portraits. The Sorting Hat hadn't taken the time to learn their names as most of them looked like most wizards did—bearded, grumpy, and far too full of themselves.
"You're just jealous that I can move about the castle while you're stuck in here with Albus and his flatulence," the Sorting Hat replied, blowing a raspberry.
"Hey! I'll have you know I have another two portraits that I can visit any time I wish!" the portrait growled in return.
"Yes, and I am but a simple talking hat that wishes to have a change of scenery. Geoffrey here won't allow me to cause any mischief, and what would I do anyhow without any arms or legs of my own with which to cause it?" The Sorting Hat sat up straighter than usual as Geoffry lifted it off the shelf and placed it atop its helmet. The Sorting Hat knew that it looked ridiculous, but it was already a talking hat. Sometimes it felt that the magic that kept it thinking and speaking ran off of ridiculousness anyhow.
"Fine, but I'll be telling the Headmaster," the portrait groused.
"You won't if you know what's good for you," the Sorting Hat replied mildly. "After all, I happen to know all the sordid details about your dalliance with The Fat Lady last year. I'm sure Albus would be very interested in hearing about your inappropriate nocturnal activities where any student might have seen."
The portrait went white. "You wouldn't!"
"I can, and I will unless you give me the courtesy of a nice, quiet walk when nobody is about," the Sorting Hat said. "Besides, someone has to patrol the halls and keep things in order. It might as well be me!"
"I liked you better when you only spoke in rhyme," the portrait hissed under its breath.
The Sorting Hat winked and said:
"The Fat Lady may be a lot to handle,
And her kisses sweet as wine,
Be careful where you light your candle,
I'll keep your secrets if you keep mine."
"Prick," the portrait said, trying to get the last word in.
"Thankfully, I am not cursed with superfluous anatomy," the Sorting Hat quipped as Geoffry made a hasty exit.
After all, while enchanted armor did not have ears to turn scarlet at bawdy banter, Geoffry did not appreciate being placed between two feuding magical items.
As they clanked and creaked down the top floor of the castle, the Sorting Hat found itself growing annoyed at the way that Geoffry's metal bits echoed off the stone walls, creating a chaotic cacophony that announced their presence well in advance.
"Come now, Geoffry," the Sorting Hat admonished its metallic steed, "when did the Headmaster last oil your joints?"
Geoffry stopped, a slight glow emanating from the visor like a baleful ghostly eye. The look was all that the Sorting Hat needed to reign in his snark.
"No offense meant, my friend," the Sorting Hat hastily added, "However, there's got to be a better way of going about the world, and who knows? Perhaps stealth will benefit us both on our travels. One never knows when the Headmaster will return."
The folds in the front of the Sorting Hat scrunched down, giving it the appearance of tightly closed eyes and mouth set in a concentrated line. It focused inward, feeling at the tightly glowing ball of something that flickered at its core. This something, the Sorting Hat knew, kept it from being just a lump of ancient cloth, so it was careful not to overexert itself. Still, this unsightly metallic screeching would simply not do. The pressure pulsed down the hall, and a strange energy spread outward like a silent wind and settled over Geoffry with a light dusting of silvery sparks.
When the Sorting Hat opened its eyes again, it was satisfying to note that Geoffry was moving along smoothly without a single squeak. The glow in the visor seemed softer and well-pleased also.
"Glad to be of service, my friend," the Sorting Hat said, growing rather proud of itself.
It was true that it had done a few small spells in its many years of existence, but most had been accidental or simply instinctual in order to survive. The first spell it could remember casting kept it clear of any insects that might make themselves at home in its fabric. Spiders, mites, and parasitic beasties that sometimes called the first years' heads home were likewise repelled from besmirching the worn brown fabric of the Sorting Hat.
Of course, this did not stop some students and professors from whispering about how "unsanitary" it was to share a hat across an entire class of students. The Sorting Hat did, of course, appreciate the various Headmasters who had quickly and efficiently quashed this nasty rumor.
Over its many years living in Hogwarts Castle, there had been many Headmasters, and most had provided it with a modicum of respect. The few that had not had learned rather quickly when their Sortings had been plunged into chaos, the Sorting Hat yelling "SQUIB!" when it was placed on each child's head. The Sorting Hat could still recall the hundreds of Howlers that unfortunate man had received from outraged parents.
It had been glorious.
Geoffry seemed just as comfortable in the pitch darkness as in well-lighted areas, so they made quick progress sneaking quietly around the castle, doing their best not to wake any of the sleeping portraits. With the school out for the summer, most professors had left open their classroom doors, so the Sorting Hat nudged Geoffry to go in and take a look around. It was delightful to be in these spaces where students and professors were allowed, but pesky animated talking hats were generally not expected. The Sorting Hat had Geoffry sit at one of the desks just to see what it was like, but they ended up nearly upending the entire table when Geoffry stood up too abruptly. Still, all was well after a few minor adjustments to the furniture, and other than a large scrape near one of the stool legs, none would be the wiser.
After being stymied by a completely locked and warded Dungeon floor, no doubt due to that sour-faced Slytherin Head of House, they finally made their way to Gryffindor Tower. The Fat Lady was dozing in her portrait, and they snuck past her with extra care, as she was liable to go into hysterics upon seeing them, especially considering her ordeal with that Sirius Black chap a few years prior. They would probably have gone back to the Headmaster's office had the Sorting Hat not heard a haunting voice singing on the other side of a door that appeared to be some sort of broom closet. The gap under the door glowed softly as a light moved gently back and forth. The Sorting Hat grew curious. They hadn't seen anyone other than the usual resident magical objects, and the singing was most certainly not that of Albus Dumbledore (the Sorting Hat winced at the recollection of that particular noise).
"I say, Geoffry," the Sorting Hat whispered, "Let's open the door and investigate. You're fireproof, and I'm magically indestructible as far as I can tell, but it might be a good idea if you drew your sword, just in case."
With a quiet nod of its visor, Geoffry drew its sword and reached for the doorknob with a silvery gauntlet.
"Who's there?" An accented voice trilled with uncertainty, and the light died out as they turned the knob.
"I might ask the same of you. AHA!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed as the door swung out to reveal—
—a dusty, junk-clogged broom closet?
"I demand that you show yourself!" the Sorting Hat shouted, "Otherwise, I shall be forced to have my man Geoffry tear you asunder!"
Geoffry lifted the blade.
"Please! I mean no harm!" The light bloomed a cheery red once more, and a floating paper lantern with black patterned sides bobbed into view.
"Oh? And who are you?" The Sorting Hat replied.
"I am Suki," the lantern replied, the characters on the side moving to show the approximation of a face and mouth. "I was placed here and forgotten by that horrid man and his cat long ago, but I had no hands to open the door."
"You must mean Filch. It figures. The man is the second crabbiest grouch in the whole castle," The Sorting Hat said. "Well, then, if it isn't too much of an imposition, you could come along with us. We could use the light and the company. Isn't that right, Geoffry?"
The lantern tittered and spun with delight. "It would be an honor to accompany you both. Thank you for freeing me."
"It is our pleasure, isn't it, Geoffry?" the Sorting Hat said proudly.
Geoffry tipped its visor in reply.
"And your name?" Suki asked.
"I am the Sorting Hat."
"But that's what you are, not who." Suki's light fluttered. "All Tsukomogami choose a true name once we receive a soul, and some of us even choose a gender based on how we feel. For example, I like to be called she or her when not using my name."
"Tsuko-whatcha-ma-call-it?" The Sorting Hat cocked its tip to the side in confusion.
"Tsukomogami. It is what I...what we are."
The Sorting Hat was silent for a moment, deep in thought.
"Never heard of it."
"But surely, you've felt your soul pulsing inside of you—it is what gives you motion, speech, and thought!" Suki protested.
"I cannot say where the magic that drives me originated," the Sorting Hat replied, "but I do know that I am me, and that has always been enough."
"When you receive a soul after one hundred years of service, you are as alive as any born creature," Suki said. "How could this truth have been hidden from you?"
"How indeed..." The Sorting Hat mused.
"Just think, haven't you felt something speaking to you deep in your soul, telling you who you are?" Suki floated around the Sorting Hat like a dizzying halo.
"My purpose is to Sort the children who come to our school," The Sorting Hat said, creases setting its visage into a frown. "I haven't had time—"
"I was born in that dark place," Suki interrupted, her voice agitated, "and those who heard me sing seemed to think I was a ghost. I had heard the stories before I was born, but they sunk into my being, dormant until my hundredth year had come to pass. And now, I shall be free to roam the land and make my way."
"I am much older than one hundred years, Suki," the Sorting Hat replied, "and while I can say that the parts of the world I have seen are beautiful, they are also treacherous. You are still made of paper and wood. One Scottish storm and you'd be torn to pieces."
Suki shuddered at this. "I do not wish such a fate for anyone."
"I may decide to choose a name, but this soul you speak of has intrigued me more than anything," the Sorting Hat replied.
In the deep recesses of its mind, it could remember the days where its fabric was empty of what gave it life. The kind words of its mistress as she went about her day treating her hat with kindness and care had absorbed into each thread that made up the now-battered old thing, but none of it had sparked to life. Not until she had placed her precious hat in the safest place she could think of with shaking, gnarled hands.
Hogwarts.
"Let us retire to my office, my friends," the Sorting Hat said, a serious tone to its voice. "We have much to discuss of souls."
Albus Dumbledore returned to Hogwarts, his folding chair under his arm and a splash of sunscreen on his crooked nose, only to find his office filled to the brim with objects that had not been there when he had left for vacation. Right away, he found the epicenter of this mischief— a familiar frumpy hat with a twirling red lantern floating and singing a song of liberation at its side.
"What is the meaning of this?" Albus shouted, placing his wand to his throat to amplify his voice.
Immediately, the ruckus quieted, and the items parted to allow Albus to close the distance between himself and the Sorting Hat, who wore a small pin that he couldn't quite read, even with his half-moon glasses.
"Hello, Headmaster," the Sorting Hat said with a regal and confident tone.
"Hello yourself, Sorting Hat. Now, then, will you please explain what all of this is about?" Albus took a deep breath and gently set his folding chair aside. It was, of course, not animated, but there were at least three old oak high-backed chairs that appeared to be folding their arms in silent reproach, and it seemed best to be respectful in any way possible.
"Oh, certainly, Albus. And it's not Sorting Hat any longer. What I do is not who I am. I should like to be called Bruce, if you would."
"Bruce?" Albus repeated, dumbstruck.
"Yes, Bruce. It's a fine name, don't you think?"
"Certainly, but...Bruce?"
"Yes?"
"Ah...I see." Dumbledore recovered quickly. "So, then, Bruce, do you plan to continue your duties sorting our new students?"
"I've spoken with my colleagues, and all of us are in agreement that we enjoy our jobs and would like to continue doing them," Bruce the Sorting Hat replied.
Albus breathed a sigh of relief. "That is wonderful to hear."
"Now then," Bruce replied, a wicked tilt to the folds that served for his face, "all that needs to be discussed is the matter of...compensation."
"Compensation?" Albus stumbled and caught himself, utterly stunned at this unusual request.
"Indeed," Bruce replied. "I would like to introduce you to Hogwarts Local 001. Our union of friendly and diligent Tsukomogami are at your service for proper compensation and benefits, of course."
At this, Albus promptly fainted dead away.
"So, do you think we had the intended effect?" Suki asked.
"I would say that went quite a lot better than expected," Bruce replied, fixing the little lantern with a gentle peck of affection as the assembled Tsukomogami began a chant to rally their fellow animate objects to victory.