𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧; harry james potter

08 | the dirty old hat

Scarlett walked further into the room, taking a seat in front of him just as he rose from his. Dumbledore walked around the desk, grabbed the brown hat by the top, and hovered it above her head.

"I have to wear that?" Scarlett muttered in confusion. Without a reply, the hat was placed on her head.

How curious.

Scarlett jumped, the hat was talking in her mind.

Nerve like no other. Yes. Perhaps in Gryffindor you'll see fit.

Although.

You have the heart of a true Slytherin, the wits, the skills, the mindset.

I say...

"Slytherin!" the hat called out loud, before it was taken off her head.

"Congratulations, Miss Toussaint," Dumbledore spoke, his face contorted into an expression unreadable. He gestured to a new set of robes that definitely weren't on his desk before, but she took them nonetheless. "You may go."

Scarlett nodded with a tight lipped smile, ignoring how her once grey tie mysteriously turned striped green and silver. She left the office with her new Slytherin robe folded neatly on her arm.

"Slytherin?" Harry asked from the bottom of the steps, eyebrows furrowed at her new green tie.

Scarlett grinned and nodded, holding up her tie around her neck. She unfolded her Slytherin robes to try on. "Don't hate me, Gryffindor."

Harry's green eyes met hers as he pondered.

"I could never," he concluded with a small smile.

"You didn't tell me the hat talked? Okay, you didn't tell me I had to put a dirty old hat on my head in the first place," Scarlett rambled, fixing her hair.

"I didn't think it was that important," Harry shrugged with a grin as they approached the Great Hall.

"That hat looked into my mind— that's not important?"

The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Mostly everyone was in their seats, a few students scrambling to their spots at their respective house table.

Coincidentally, the Gryffindor and Slytherin table were all the way across the hall from each other. She knew this because there were huge banners above each table, and the students sitting in them were decked out in the colors to match.

"See you later," Scarlett said, turning to face Harry at the double doors.

"See you later. Gryffindors and Slytherins usually have Defense Against the Dark Arts together," Harry added, with a reluctant smile.

Scarlett nodded, turning to walk to her table.

"Scarlett!" a familiar voice called to her.

At the end of the table closest to the doors sat the Slytherin group from the train. Ariah was standing, waving the French girl over.

With a grin, Scarlett made her way over to the group, taking a seat across from Ariah and beside Daphne.

"Looks like you got the right house," Blaise commented, smirking at the girl with an approving nod.

"I guess I did," she replied.

"So Potter. Did he really faint," Malfoy snickered, leaning over the table to ask the girl.

"Uh, yes," Scarlett answered, slightly taken aback.

"How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Get the Dementor on the train!"

Scarlett's eyes immediately widened, eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted.

"I didn't— how would I," she trailed off, feeling a pit form in her stomach. "Is that why everyone hates me?"

The whole group looked at her blankly.

Daphne was the first to speak up, "obviously we don't think you set the Dementor after Potter," she assured the frantic girl. "Some people do, but that's because they're dumb twats!"

The blonde girl looked directly to Malfoy as she said that. "They just think that because you were the only one in the corridor— but that's because you were leaving from our compartment! It's dumb."

"It's outrageous!" Ariah added on.

"Truly, outrageous," Theodore nodded playfully with a smirk, toying with the golden silverware in front of him.

"Outrageous," Blaise confirmed.

Scarlett shook her head, an appreciative smile on her face, "I agree."

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07 | the dirty old hat
word count: 1577