"First of all, I commend you on your witty repartee. There is a reason I didn't put you in Ravenclaw."

Even Jez would be hard-pressed to claim that she was skilled in repartee, particularly that of the witty sort. This did not change the fact that she took great offence at this, because even a fairly reasonable person would have found it rather harsh. That he was spying on her inner thoughts was irrelevant; she had repeatedly told him - and she was sure the Hat was of the male gender, despite not being of the male sex, or so she certainly hoped - to remove his metaphorical nose from her brain's business. She wasn't warming to the acute sense of being observed inside her skull. Indeed, it lent an air of squick to the proceedings.

And now, Mr S. Hat was going on a verbal ramble and dragging her along. It would be a lie to say that she could not comprehend it, because - with the exception of the mandibles - she could. It was just daft and she was annoyed by it. She had never cared for France, and had much the same disregard for hattery. When it mentioned drinking and sniffing away her sorrows, her control failed. Right, yep, that was just about enough; time to forcibly remove the Hat from her person and, if it did not leave her alone, give it a short lesson in fabric flammability. As she reached up, though, the Hat changed topic with what she would later consider malice and manipulation aforethought.

"...You try to remember, don't you? You try to keep them alive. But if you turn away from this, from a call for help from the school, then really, are you honouring anyone's memory at all? And all you keep alive are monsters you are not fighting too well. Anyway, you wouldn't be doing it alone. There are others in the castle now. A few and not all friendly.

"And now, let me ask you something, Jezebel Bain. Why wouldn't you go back? Why wouldn't you fight for Hogwarts when you fight for others? There had better be more of a reason than your annoyance of me!"


Jez was unutterably frustrated, under attack from an unexpected direction. Additionally, the angry part of her was at war with the part of her that immediately embarked on a guilt trip at the Hat's urging. The guilt won - at least, enough that she was no longer contemplating his ejection and cremation. He would have gone, the guilt whispered in an altogether vindictive manner; granted, first he'd have annoyed the Hat to suicide - or millinerycide, or something - but then he'd have gone.

Well, yeah, thought Jez, but he is actually every shade of dead now, isn't he? If he finds my not going to be a betrayal of his memory, perhaps, for example, just brainstorming here; perhaps he should not have BLOODY GONE AND DIED THEN.

And underneath it all, the sight of those grey eyes as the life in them left.

Disliking a hat had nothing to do with it, really. When she was sure her voice would remain steady, she replied, her mind a haze of dark red and iron grey. "You don't know what you're asking me, you..." It felt ridiculous to call him any names, but she did her best with, "You millinery mistake! Or worse - you do, and you don't care, in which case, fuck you very much.

"A lot of people died and it's shit, yeah. But- well, why bother fighting for an old ruin?"

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Last Edited By: shiny lady Aug 2 15 8:12 PM. Edited 3 times.