Faced with Dumbledore's relentless demands, Tom rolled his eyes. Before Ariana could react, he darted forward, pulled out his familiar sack, and expertly bundled her inside.
Dumbledore froze, his eyes narrowing: (ﾟДﾟ≡ﾟДﾟ)
McGonagall blinked in disbelief: (☉д⊙)
And Ariana? Σ(°△°|||)︴
"Tom! What are you doing? Let me out!" a muffled voice cried from inside the sack.
Dumbledore, having witnessed the entire spectacle, stiffened. A faintly dangerous aura radiated from him. Wait! You promised you wouldn't rush things!
Tom, anticipating trouble, quickly reassured him: Besides, this is all for Ariana's sake! She can touch solid things now, which means the Sorting Hat can finally sit on her head!
He knew the Headmaster wasn't about to curse him—but better safe than sorry. Even though the Killing Curse couldn't kill him, it still hurt like nothing else.
To avoid any accidental punishment, Tom scooped up the Sorting Hat and flung it toward the sack.
Under the watchful gaze of two humans and one cat, the Hat—which had moments ago passed straight through Ariana—landed squarely on the sack, directly above her head.
For a moment, the office was silent. Dumbledore and McGonagall began to wonder if they might actually get used to Tom's rule-breaking antics. How could he manipulate magic that barely touched a ghost?
The Sorting Hat, however, seemed oblivious to their thoughts.
"No good!" it suddenly shouted from atop the sack. "With this layer in the way, I can't sense the young witch's mind. I still can't tell which House she belongs in. What if I hold you directly over her head?"
McGonagall, who had already decided to enroll Ariana, looked to Tom. "You always have more tricks, right? Can you try something else?"
Tom grinned. Of course! I planned to—Ariana's my friend, after all~
He studied the Hat thoughtfully. By the way, as a hat, how come you have your own consciousness?
"Hah! That's the miracle of magic, lad!" the Hat declared proudly. "The four Founders gave me thought and the power to think!"
So… do you believe you have a soul? Tom pressed.
"(´･_･`)???" The Hat froze. A soul? It had never considered that. If thought was supposed to be a product of the soul, then how could a hat think without one? Yet, if it did have a soul—where would it keep it?
Before the Hat could spiral into existential despair, Tom spoke again: No matter—we'll find out in a second.
With a sudden flourish, he produced a hammer labeled "1000 t" and slammed it down on the Hat.
"Aaaargh—!" it shrieked. A seam—perhaps its mouth—split open, releasing a wisp of white that floated unsteadily upward.
Tom tapped the wisp with a paw. "Wake up—time to work!"
Under his guidance, the spectral puff reshaped itself into the familiar form of the Hat.
"I feel… sort of dead," it muttered.
'Sort of' might have been optimistic, McGonagall and Dumbledore silently agreed as they stared at what appeared to be the Hat's soul.
The Hat, undeterred, floated onto Ariana's head. "Brilliant! Now I can sort you at last. Let's see…"
The Hat activated its magical analysis.
"Hmm… interesting. Not craving knowledge but craving friends? Hufflepuff might suit you," it said.
A flicker of disappointment crossed McGonagall's face. She'd hoped for another Dumbledore in Gryffindor.
But the Hat continued, its tone growing solemn. "Wait! I sense something deeper…"
Even in the Headmaster's office, it raised its voice: "Gryffindor!"
Ariana's eyes went wide. Courage? Her? She had always thought herself timid. Was Gryffindor truly right?
"W-why Gryffindor?" she whispered.
"Because of true courage," the Hat replied. "Real bravery isn't the absence of fear—it's pressing forward despite fear. And you, child, have done exactly that."
Ariana repeated the words thoughtfully: True courage… She lifted the Hat's soul and set it carefully on a chair before drifting toward Tom.
McGonagall, turning to the blue cat, said, "Next, Tom Lovegood, I believe you ought to fix the Hat."
Ariana's encounter with the Hat revealed more than just her House; it illuminated a truth she had never considered. Courage, she realized, wasn't the absence of fear—it was the persistence to move forward, no matter how uncertain the outcome.
The Hat, now separated from its physical form, gleamed with a ghostly energy as it hovered above the chair. "This… this is amazing! I can move! I can think for real!"
Tom chuckled. "Of course. Souls need to be free to act, even if they're bound by enchanted cloth."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I never thought I'd see the day when the Sorting Hat's soul had to be freed to perform its duties."
"Magic has its quirks," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "But sometimes, the quirks reveal more than we expect."
Ariana floated beside Tom, the Hat's soul resting gently on a chair. The lesson was clear: even ghosts, even magical artifacts, even ordinary students could surprise those around them when courage and friendship guided their choices.
The office, which had seen countless strange events over the years, remained silent for a moment. Even McGonagall and Dumbledore, who had long trained themselves to accept the unusual, were struck by the sheer absurdity and brilliance of Tom's method.
Tom's paw brushed against the Hat's soul. "Ready to do your job now?"
The spectral Hat wiggled in response, settling itself back on Ariana's head. "Let's sort her properly this time. No obstacles, no distractions—just the truth of her heart."
The room felt charged with anticipation. Ariana's mind, previously hidden, opened gently to the Hat's probing. The Hat's spectral form reflected the subtleties of her thoughts, her desires, and her fears.
Finally, after moments that felt like an eternity, the Hat spoke: "Gryffindor. Truly. Because despite your fear, you dared to face the unknown. That is bravery, and it is your heart's truth."
Ariana blinked, letting the words sink in. Courage wasn't always loud or aggressive—it could be quiet, steady, and unwavering. And in that moment, she felt the warmth of belonging, of recognition, and of potential.
Tom gave a small nod, pleased. His friend was safe, her path clear, and the Hat—both body and soul—was ready to continue its duties.
Dumbledore leaned back, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Well… I must admit, I did not foresee this method. But it appears to have worked."
McGonagall, ever pragmatic, simply shook her head. "Only Tom Lovegood could orchestrate such chaos and somehow make it seem like careful magic."
Even the Hat seemed reflective now, its ethereal form glowing softly. "I understand… more than ever, I understand the nature of courage, kindness, and choice. Thank you, lad, for this lesson."
Ariana floated down gently, the Hat's soul finally resting in its usual form. "I think… I think I understand myself a little better now," she whispered.
Tom smiled, ruffling her hair. "And that's what matters. Magic isn't just about power—it's about helping people discover themselves."
For a brief moment, the Headmaster's office was still. Even in a place accustomed to enchantment, extraordinary occurrences, and oddities beyond imagination, the events of that day would be remembered for a long time.
Tom had once again demonstrated that rules were flexible, courage could be quiet, and magic could be both bizarre and beautiful when guided by friendship.
And as the Hat finally settled properly on Ariana's head, it whispered a single, approving thought: You belong. And you always have.
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