Equality was the name of the game and the sleek, fashionable fedora knew it. Before it had been abandoned at the end of term underneath a bed in the sixth-year Cetus dorms (where it had fortunately been dropped as a pair of Cetus girls shed their clothes for reasons that the Head of House would certainly have frowned upon) the fedora had gone to many a rally for womens’ rights. It had even helped host one here at RMI, in opposition to the gendered dress code (a dress code that, rudely, excluded fedoras as appropriate daywear). But the hat had a firm sense of equality and knew that its next wearer would share its ideals. One way or another.
Unbeknownst to the hat, some wayward magic had slipped into it in the time it had spent tucked away in the Secret Passageways with all the other hats in the house-elf’s collection. Anyone who came within a few feet of it would be compelled to pick it up and put it on. Worse, it was now a semi-sapient Thinking Cap and would help grease the wheels in the wearer’s mind, bringing to light as many ideas as they might possibly come up with and compelling them to share them out loud. Together, the hat knew, it would make sure that everyone here at RMI was an equal citizen. And if its new wearer wasn’t amenable to causing a fuss to be heard, well, the hat would fix that too.