Chapter 6
He looks away, the pale moonlight of the windows highlighting his warm skin tone dramatically.
“I don’t know,” he whispers.
I want to say something. But what can I say to that?
“I mean, I don’t even know who I am,” he continues, “I was sixteen when I was cursed, and that was back in eighteen eighty-nine and-”
“Woah woah woah” I hold up my hands, “eighteen eighty-nine?”
He blinks, “Yeah, but I’ve only been human, really, for about the length of… maybe a year?”
I stare.
“What? Yeah, it's been a long time, but I’ve been a bloody hat for most of it.”
I look away and shrug, “Well at least you’re not old enough to where kissing me is illegal.” I blushed at the comment and looked down.
“It's wonderful you thought of the legal repercussions before making out with me,” he whispers, I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. I shove his chest, pushing him back, “You know what I meant! Now answer my first question!”
Propping his face up with his hand, he almost looks serious now, he thinks for a moment. Finally, he says, “I’m not really sure, but I really like you, so I would have to say… a beautiful girl and her even prettier hat.”
Okay… maybe serious was the wrong word to describe him.
I wrap my arms around his waist. I smile and tuck my head under his chin, “That’s good enough for me.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
“So this is your tower… you’re like a princess?”
I roll my eyes as we stand at the foot of the tower where my room resides. “This tower is for storage, in no way am I a princess for sleeping in a tower.”
He quirks an eyebrow, “Sure, lead the way, princess, this is the most I’ve been out in a while. I want the full tour.”
I nod, “There’s a lot of stairs though…,” I step through the threshold of the entrance to the tower, “come if you dare.”
He skips forward, suddenly, as if he’s hit a brick wall or a patch of slime, he collides with something in mid-air and floats there. “Wha-what?” he says in disbelief, to no one in particular. He can barely move.
I yelp, “What's going on?”
His brow furrows, he is suddenly furious. “Must be that crackpot old-”
He is interrupted by a flash of light. It’s Dumbledore appearing out of nowhere. “Well,” he says, “I see you’ve finally come back home.”
Hatter sneers, “What am I? Grounded?”
Dumbledore smiles as he smooths his robes, “No, I’m simply just saying it’s late, and you should have come back to my office, not gallivanting around with our lovely little transfer student.”
He pulls out his wand, “Now, are you ready to go back to your preferred form?”
I want to say something, anything, but I know Hatter wouldn’t want me to, he knows all future encounters between us will rest on my behavior. His eyes are filled with fury.
Hatter lets out a laugh. But it's not humorous, it’s filled with anger and sorrow. “Why don’t you take that wand and shove it up your-” he breaks off mid-sentence as he shrinks back into the hat that I know he hates.
Dumbledore scoops up the hat and flashes me a kind smile, “Enjoy your weekend,” he says, “Come pick up the hat on Monday.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Laying on my bed, I finish my defense against the dark arts homework. We’ll be dueling on Monday, and I’m scared witless. For one, I don’t have a wand, two: this will surely reveal my inexperience with magic.
Twirling my pen on my fingers I think. Surely Professor Snape can’t force me to participate if I don’t have a wand.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
I rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping over my own feet. I needed to get to Dumbledore’s office quickly, so I could make it to breakfast.
I burst through the door. “Sorry I’m late-” I gasp, out of breath, “I-”
He’s not here. The office is empty of any life. Confused, I stride to his desk picking up a handwritten note.
I have business to attend to this morning, so sadly, I will not be able to give you the hat in person. I’ve enchanted an object for you though, so you can change him into his human form when needed. Please do not abuse this object. I am leaving it in your care. The object is in the second drawer on the right side of my desk, along with the instructions. The hat is in the back of my office, next to my pet phoenix.
Thank You
Albus Dumbledore
I open the second drawer, pulling out a thin chain with a small charm on it. Looking closer, I realized it was a hat, looking like an almost exact copy of the one it was supposed to reanimate. Noticing a small bundle of paper tied with a rich silky blue ribbon at the bottom of the compartment, I dropped to my knees and unrolled it.
“To change the sorting hat back to his human form,” I read, “State ‘exponentia’ and tap the charm to the sorting hat.”
It didn’t include how to turn him back, which was just as well, I didn’t plan on doing that. Standing up now, I wandered to the back of the office. His whole office was grand, like it was made for royalty, though I suppose is mostly the same thing when you’re the headmaster of a prestigious school of magic, a school that’s literally a castle.
Seeing vibrant orange and fire-hued plumage, I tiptoe to the back of the room. I see a magnificent bird with a graceful neck and long tail feathers.
“Amazing,” I whisper. I turn to notice the sorting hat sitting beside the bird on the table. Lifting it to a different table so he doesn’t knock the bird over when he transforms.
I tap the charm to the hat, “exponentia.” I whisper.
He transforms back to his human form slower than when Dumbledore casts the spell. He is splayed out on the table, his eyes closed.
“What do you want?” he groans.
I poke his side, “It’s me, Idiot.”
He opens one eye and a broad grin engulfs his face. “What are we doing today, dear? Is today my starting day as all the teachers’ slave?”
I roll my eyes, “Well, first I was thinking we could eat breakfast in the great hall.”
He pulls himself up to sit on the table, “Lovely.” he winces. I notice his pants are frayed and torn at the knees, and his tank top is in even worse shape than it was on Saturday.
“What’s wrong?”
He gives a tight smile, “Nothing, love.” he shoves his hands into the pockets of the deep red coat.
I raise an eyebrow and lift his hand out of his pockets. He doesn’t resist, like he feels he does not want to hide it. His knuckles are bloody, dry, and inflamed. I look back up to meet his deep burgundy eyes. “What happened?”
~to be continued~