I feel the hat cover my eyes, and immediately dislike the sensation of being sorted. I feel the hat over me, see the material near my eyes, brown and coarse. Torn and ripped with centuries of use. I feel trapped, stuck in a small space. The feeling makes me think of the thing that made me so claustrophobic. I shudder, trying to push the memory away. The hat feels uncomfortable, maybe a bit hot and sticky because of the sweat of being sorted into your house. It feels wrong, as if the experience should be different, more magical. After a long pause I hear a loud voice speaking in my ear, and know that it's the hat speaking.
"Who are you?"
The question surprises me. Shouldn't the hat know who I am? "Don't you know?" I whisper, still feeling very aware of where I am. What if everyone hears me?
"No." It seems hard for the hat to admit. After a minute it adds, "Yes I should know. Who are you?" The question feels strangely desperate, as if the sorting hat hates to be unable to do it's job.
"Madeline Malfoy," I inform the hat, almost forgetting to keep my voice down.
"I've met your brother, Draco Malfoy. Slytherin." It pauses, and I realize that it was saying my brother's house, not my house to be. "You might not be Slytherin. I won't be able to tell."
"Why?"
"What are you inquiring?" The hat says, "Why is a very general word." Its tone is taunting me.
"Why can't you tell me where I belong?" I sense an angry edge to my voice, and find it hard to keep my voice calm and level. My whisper sounds strange, and I fear others hearing it. "Why am I different?"
"I may be able to help you with that much. I might know why you're different."
"So, what's the answer? Why am I different?" I repeat the question, hoping that repetition may get the stupid thing to answer, I want it to be quick, I want to get out of this tiny dark space. I have to fight the memory once more as it attempts to re-surface again.
"I believe you may be strong minded."
The term doesn't make any sense to me. Strong minded? "What is 'strong minded' supposed to mean?" I ask.
"Don't worry, no one will expect you to know what 'strong minded' means. It's not a common term, I doubt that your headmaster knows it. I cannot truly tell you the full extent of the benefits it may afford you, yet I've heard of it. It's someone either immune or resistant to influence, brain wise."
Immune to influence? Who wants to see my thoughts? Does anything I know really matter? Except... Draco. If anyone knows that he's a death eater things will get so much worse for my family. I know, and I'm about the only one who does. What if someone does read my mind? Immune? Resistant? I can be controlled through potions can't I? So what's the difference?
"I can't hear thoughts Madeline, you have to tell me what you're thinking."
I realize that there must have been a significant pause. "Sorry. Wait... you realize most people can't read minds right?"
"Are you saying 'so what? Who cares if you can't read my mind?' because you have a great advantage." The hat sounds a bit mad with me, and there's definitely an arrogance to the tone of its voice.
"No, I never said that. Now that you brought it up though, explain this 'advantage' so that it looks like you had a point." I tell the sorting hat, hoping I sound just as arrogant. This is just a old hat, what does it know?
The hat makes a sound near my left ear that reminds me of a sigh. "You are unreadable. You are the only one that controls you."
"Normally people can't just control you anyway."
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YOU ARE READING
(A Harry Potter Fanfiction) Just Add Magic
Fanfiction*Important Note: This story has a strong chance of either being completely rebooted or discontinued. I wrote it many years ago back when I was in grade 7 or so. It is cringey as anything and completely for fun. I'm keeping it published because some...