The Amulet

Severus apparated to Hogsmeade and began the long trek up to Hagrid’s hut to gain access to the castle. It was a nice enough walk, an hour at the most, and he had a bit of fun making his cloak billow at the slight breeze. It made him feel a bit majestic. The grass swayed gently and drops of morning dew glistened in the sunlight. When the trees parted, and he finally caught sight of the castle at the top of the big hill, his palms started to tingle when he passed large boulders and a trickling brook, though he ignored it in favour of reaching the castle as quickly as possible. When he finally reached Hagrid’s hut, the burly half-giant was already outside waiting for him.

“Good afternoon.”

“Aft’r noon.” The half-giant’s black beady eyes narrowed in suspicion.

The smaller wizard reached out his hand. “Severus Snape.”

The half giant’s brow raised in surprise. “Oh! No kiddin’. Nice ter meet ya, Professor. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys.”

Professor? Severus's heart leapt in surprise. As far as he knew it, he wasn’t hired yet. Maybe something changed. “Is the Headmaster available?”

“Er? Yes. School’s still in session on account it bein’ All Hallow’s Eve an’ all that.”

“Would you mind-?”

The half-giant leapt up, going back to his hut. Severus had no idea what the man got from their interaction, but he wouldn’t correct the misunderstanding if it led to desirable results. Shortly after, Hagrid appeared with a pink umbrella and waved it at the ward stones a few feet away from the hut. Severus eyed the umbrella in interest.

Hagrid cleared his throat and pocketed the umbrella, and the younger of the two watched it disappear within the pockets of the half-giant’s trench coat.

“I’m sure yeh know where his office is. Take care!” The half-giant waved him off and reentered his hut.

Severus stood frozen. Is he just going to let him waltz in there by himself? He’s a death eater! Well, not really, but still! Where is the security?

He hesitantly began to walk past the wards to the castle grounds. He reached the entrance in record time, already familiar with the layout from his years attending Hogwarts as a student. The halls were empty, which could only mean that class was in session. He knew where the Headmaster’s Tower was located, having only been in there a handful of times pleading for the Marauder’s expulsion to no avail, but he was uncertain as to what the password was to get past the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance. Once he reached the figure, he didn’t need to wander; a prefect was leaving the office and allowed him entry, informing him of the current password. He knocked on the old wooden door at the top of the spiralling staircase, and a soft voice called out, “Enter”, and Severus opened the door. The silence was deafening. He didn’t think the all-knowing Albus Dumbledore would be surprised to see him, but he got the impression that he was both surprised and agitated that he was there.

“Come. Enter,” he said. His eyes raked through Severus’s form, probably trying to figure out why he was there. “Any news.”

“Not quite,” Severus ran his finger through his hair as he nervously stepped forward, ignoring the tingling in the palm of his hands. “I-“

A display case that housed multiple awards and a sorting hat screeched forward across the wooden floor. Severus stumbled back into the wall, and the case followed suit, the black hat encased mushed against the glass.

“What?” Severus pressed himself further back, sliding towards the exit, but the display case blocked his way. “What’s the meaning of this? If you don’t want me here, you could have just said.”

The brim of the sorting hat pushed itself through the crack in the glass in a way that could only be explained away by magic and smacked itself against the palm of Severus’s hand.

“Oh dear,” the sorting hat said, hanging as if stuck by the tip at the centre of Severus’s hand. He tried to shake it off, but it dangled as if magically attached to the palm. Severus panicked eyes met Albus’s amused ones.

“What do I do?”

“I imagine that most hats that throw themselves at you would want you to put them on.”

What? To be resorted? He wasn’t even a student!

“I don’t want to put it on.” Severus shook his hand vigorously, trying to dislodge it.

“Sorting Hat?” He heard Dumbledore call out to the hat, but if it heard him, it didn’t respond.

Severus tried to grab it with his other hand, only to have both hands stuck to the hat’s tip. He growled in agitation.

Dumbledore stood and walked around his desk as if to assist, but Severus was already giving in and with an annoyed, “Fine!” He plopped the old hat on his head. He didn’t know what to expect, perhaps the Sorting Hat’s voice echoing in his head like it did in his first year when he was sorted into Slytherin. What he did not expect was a sudden weight to drop on his head. Did the Sorting Hat just poo on him? Can hats poo?

Severus yanked off the hat, and both the sword and hat fell to the floor, one in a clatter, the latter with a soft fwoosh. Yuck!

“Your hat pooed a sword on me!” He said, exasperated. He looked up at Dumbledore to see him frozen in place. Severus’s palm tingled, and he shuddered in revulsion, wondering what diseases the Sorting Hat contracted being placed on children’s heads year after year. He shook his hand to shake the feeling off, and a hard handle pinned itself in place within the palm of his hand, blade aiming straight for his head.

“Ah!” Severus dodged it, the tip of the blade thunked as it hit wood and spiralled lazily on the floor. Severus still refused to grip the hilt; his fingers extended as far as they could go. He looked up at Dumbledore in desperation, “Please! Do something!”

The aged man hesitated for a moment before crossing the few steps to grab the hilt of the sword. Severus let out a sigh of relief and took a step back. Dumbledore analyzed the blade, the etching near the hilt spelling out Godric Gryffindor. His fingers brushed the metal to trace the name, and it shimmered in place before disappearing and reappearing on the palm of Severus’s hand.

“Gerroff, you stupid sword,” Severus tried prying it off with his fingertips, and the hilt circled unaided on his tip, the weight painfully bringing his finger down. Severus grasped the handle. He looked at Dumbledore and let out an exasperated sigh. “Now what?”

Dumbledore’s face was severe and tense. He summoned the Sorting Hat from the floor and dusted it off before placing it on his writing desk.

“Sorting Hat?” Dumbledore sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms.

A seam on the face of the hat appeared and ripped open. “What can I do for you today, gentlemen?”

“The sword-“

“Ah, yes. The sword,” the hat chuckled. “I never had a reaction quite like young Severus before.”

Severus grew flustered, and his cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “You could have warned me.”

“Yes, next time I feel like pushing a sword from my non-existent bowels, I’ll be sure to give you a shout.”

Severus glared.

Dumbledore tried again to catch the Sorting Hat’s attention, a bit caught off guard by the Ancient artefact’s familiarity it displayed with Severus. “Sorting hat, why did you give him the sword.”

“I don’t have all the answers,” said the hat. “Ask the sword. It was the one who pushed itself out.”

Both men eyed the sword, wondering if a seam would appear and start talking like the Sorting Hat, but after a few moments, Dumbledore’s attention returned to the hat, whereas Severus’s face paled at the inscription near the hilt of the sword.

“Does that sword talk,” asked Dumbledore.

“Good heavens, no,” said the hat.

The aged man sighed.

“Dumbledore,” blue eyes met onyx. “What am I going to do? What if the Dark Lord calls?”

Aged fingers pinched the bridge of his wrinkled nose as if trying to ward off an oncoming headache.

This was not how either of them expected the day to turn out.