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The Lion, the Hat and the totally improbable turn of events. by Siriusly3

Format: Short story
Chapters: 2
Word Count: 1,709
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Substance Use or Abuse

Genres: Drama, Humor, Romance
Characters: Dumbledore, OC
Pairings: Other Pairing

First Published: 04/02/2012
Last Chapter: 04/10/2012
Last Updated: 04/10/2012

Summary:




This story is a tale of love that defies boundraies, customs and other relationships. It is ahead of its time and wonderful. It is the love of magically enchanted clothing and it is of the purest calibre.

This story will be totally ROARsome!

banner by the awesome pheonixn@TDA


Chapter 1: Hat meets Hat. *sigh*
  [Printer Friendly Version of This Chapter]

“Well, I just want to put out information about Heliotropes, they’re very dangerous! My father...” says Luna, dreamily. She twirls my mane in her hands from where I sit on Dumbledore’s desk.

“Yes, Luna. I will speak about it at the Halloween feast,” says Dumbledore, cutting her off sharply but kindly. Luna smiles up and him and cries,

“Thank you, Professor!” before skipping out of the room, bare feet hardly touching the polished wood.

“Luna, your hat...” calls Professor Dumbledore, noticing that I had been left behind.

He sighs and places me on his desk, and my Luna, well she is long gone to proclaim about Nargles in the corridors.

There I lie her famous lion hat, made of soft orange felt with an open jaw where the head should go, a beautiful realistic mane in strips of gold and yellow and huge stuffed teeth. I am no narcissist, I swear.

He taps me fondly with his wand and I emit a fabulous roar that startles the Sorting Hat, from its unconsciousness on the same desk, I laugh, and another roar comes forth. Dumbledore considers us for a second, and to my horror, slips me under the moody old Sorting Hat and strolls out, winking at me and then just leaving.

I hear a voice in my ear and try to stop myself groaning,

“What doth wake me from my sleep?
I the hat that rarely emits a peep.
All year long I wait and slumber,
‘Til the children have a hunger.
Then how I sing, sing of the wise,
And now you’ve disturbed me, to my surprise.
I on your head, to sort you I guess?
Well, I’ll do what I must to fix this mess.
You’ve brains of gold but bravery galore,
Yes, I suppose you’re a GRYFFINDOR!”
sings the Sorting Hat, somewhat bitterly.

It then makes an effort to spring itself from my man and lands with a plop, facing me, a cynical expression fixed on the rip. I shuffle into his(?) face(?) and roar again, as if to show pleasure at being sorted into Gryffindor.

“Will thou stop roaring and make some speech?
After the brains she’s given you that ought to be a peach,”
the Sorting Hat sings again, in an accusatory tone.

“R-ROARR...ahem, yes, sorry. I’m not RO-used to using my words,” I spit, the human words tripping off my tongue awkwardly.

“I can if I like, now, I say, take a hike. Yes, leave my home you scoundrel, this is no place for an animal,” taunts the Sorting Hat in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, why must you R-rhyme?” I ask, good naturedlly. Yes, two can play at that game.

“I do it all the time!” it argues back irritability. I promise myself that I am not scared of this hat. It is merely a hat. I however am a full headwear complete with teeth and I have a beautiful tiara boyfriend. Ah Diadem, he is spectacular, he sparkles in the sunlight and will live forever. In short, he is supermegaawesomefoxyhot. I think if he ever left me I’d throw myself off a cliff. I sigh contently and another roar slips out. The Sorting Hat eyes me furiously.

I don’t know why he’s so angry, he has an alright girlfriend, the scarf of sexual preference. She’s average at best to be honest, what with her lesbian tendencies and garish colours, oh and she’s totally annoying as well. She totally labelled me as a necrophilic just because my Diadem’s been dead for like 117 years. Like, what ever. And oh my Merlin, she also said Diadem was gay! I know right?! Sparkles are manly.

The Hat stares me down for a bit and we sit there in silence, I break it.

“Look, we’re going to be here foROAR a while, until Luna roarmembers me, so we may as well try to get along,”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing, you could listen to me sing,”

I gag a little, but there’s no stopping him.

“I’m practising for next year’s feast,
Listen up you ginger beast,
The founders four were an awesome bunch,
With feasts of RedVines and Monster Much,
Then Slytherin decided to bail,
Then the whole school began to fail.
Gryffindor saved the day,
That’s why he’s my favourite, hooray.
Ravenclaw is kind of tough,
And what the HELL is a Hufflepuff?”


Oh jesus, the Hat’s finally lost it. 

 




 *Disclaimer* Anything you recognise is the property of C.S Lewis, the Starkids, J.K. Rowling and perhaps even Twilight. Nothing is mine. 

A crazy spur of the moment, four-in-the-morning story, more chapters coming soon. Please review! <3


Chapter 2: Potions and problems.
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“Aren’t you roarquired to be impartial?” I ask sweetly,

“I suppose I am, oh damn. It’s so tough, to every year sing enough. Here I’ll try again, my failure causes me pain,

The founders four, the founders four,
Tough, kind and right.
I’ll sort you for Dumbledore,
And then I’ll bid goodnight.


Slytherin, a handsome lad,
Determined and bitter and then turned bad,
Gryffindor his very best friend,
Brave and noble until his end,
Ravenclaw threw quite the fit,
But this firey girl was a studious wit.
Hufflepuff was kind all the way,
Taking in those who were led astray.


The founders four, the founder four,
Thier quailties run through all of us.
I’ll sort you now for Dumbledore,
And my descion you’ll truuuuuuuust,”
he hit the notes perfectly and I try not to swoon. That was a really great song, he is basically a rock star.

“That’s a roarlly great song!” I say, smiling up at him and trying not to bare my teeth.

If hats could blush, he would totally have blushed. His eyes meet mine, I was quick to judge him but I think he’s actually quite nice. I hope Luna doesn’t come back for me anytime soon. I was just going to blurt all this to the Hat when Dumbledore burst in,

He doesn’t greet us, we’re hats after all, but he goes straight to his Penesive and extracts a memory, white film clinging to the tip of his wand as he transfers it from his temple to the stone bowl of swimming thoughts. He notices us, the Sorting Hat greets him cheerfully,

“Hello Sir, what you doing there?”

“Just catalouging memories. The scarf of,” he breaks off and goes a little red, “Sexual preference was asking after you,”

“Did she?! Where does she be?! Take me to her! Before I despair!” he cried, jumping up and down a little. I sigh a little and a quiet roar speaks out. Dumbledore eyes me, I can’t help it! Why does he love that stupid scarf? She’s a total bitch.

“I’m sorry but the Scarf is spending the night with the Diadem of Ravenclaw,”

“WHAT?” I roar,

“Platonically...Gatonically,” the Hat assures me and with a nod Dumbledore sweeps out of the room. I stutter a little,

“RO-R-RA-O-R-A-R-b-but but he’s MY sparkley awesome boyfriend!”

The Hat gives me a withering look and continues to sing his two sorting songs, I let him get to “What the HELL is a Hufflepuff?” because seriously, what the hell IS a Jiggypuff? GryffinROARs for the win! I interupt the Hat’s song abruptly,

“We’re stuck here ROAll night then?”

“So it seems, in all my dreams I’d never aspire to be in a situation so dire,”

“At least roar’re boyfriend isn’t hooking up with a slutty scarf,” I mumble, the Hat stares at me,

“She wouldn’t, couldn’t!

“Don’t trust her then?”

“I know where they reside, and I confide, I do not trust him with her as bait, so we must go investigate!” he yells, basically knocking me over.

“In case you haven’t noticed...we’re HATS. We’re inanimate objects.” He jumps off the desk, I sigh and follow him, “Where are they then?”

“A place that sometimes houses a broom, what the elves call The Come and Go room,”

“Shit, the Room of Roarquirement! Come ON then!” I drag him out by his rip, I don’t have hands but I totally make it work.

We trundle along the corridors slyly, conviently there aren’t any students about and thankfully Peeves is causing havoc in tranquill Library. We reach the Room and burst in to find, oh God. Oh Merlin. Oh Red Vines.

“YOU SKET!” I roar. That bitch slut whore is has my supermegaawesomefoxyhot Diadem on her lap (yeah, scarves have laps). I am about to roar some more when the Hat breaks in,

“You’re a whore and a slag and it’s over.
And you, Sparkles, you better take cover.
I wish that you both were dead,
And I’d never been in your beeeeeeeeed.
Scarf, I fucking hate you I swear,
AND I ONLY WENT OUT WITH YOU FOR A DAAAAAAARE,”
he hits the final note perfectly again. God he’s a good singer.

The scarf is now sobbing Skittle tears, I spit felt in her face and she whimpers,

“We were gonna get married...”

“REAL MEN DON’T SPARKLE,” I roar at Diadem and through all this confusion both me and the Sorting Hat storm out, leaving the skets to cry together.

“He isn’t even straight, the Scarf should kn-” I begin, we have snuck to somewhere private to consoldate our miseries, the top shelf of the Potions cabient.

“DON’T say her name. She’s all to blame.” he cuts in dejectedly. He looks vaguely elated and I stare at him questioningly, then in a split second he has thrown himself off the shelf and before I can yank him back he has fallen with a crash and a splintering to a box of vials on the floor. I peer down at him, the scent of raw meat and savannas fills my nostrils and I see the Hat is soaking wet.

Oh Merlin, Ammortina.

Did I, Did I ever tell you I love you?
MY LOVE FOR YOU IS TRUUUUE,
Without you I’m so blue,
You smell like morning...DEW
” He sings.

These plot twists are getting ridiculous. 

 




 

 

Anything you recognise isn't mine, the scarf of sexual preference and Hufflepuff jokes belong to StarKid and anything Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer. As usual JK Rowling owns everything and anything Hogwarts/magic related. I own NOTHING. 

 

Review, mwaah!


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