Disclaimer: I suppose I should mention that I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, house names, settings, et cetera (which is probably a good thing, because I wouldn't know what to do with them if I did). All of that stuff belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling. However, I do own all of the products of my imagination, and I make use of them freely in this story.

Sorting Hat on Strike

Chapter 1: Sing a Different Tune

            As Harry Potter walked into the entrance hall with his friends Ron and Hermione, he couldn't help but feel that, after a summer away, he was finally home. He stopped for a minute, savoring the atmosphere that was unique to Hogwarts, marveling at the wonder that he had actually managed to make it to the beginning of his seventh year when he shouldn't have even survived his first.

            Harry wouldn't have survived his first, if Voldemort had had his way. Then again, if everything had happened the way Voldemort had planned, Harry would have been dead when he was barely a year old, and the world would now be ruled by evil and darkness.

            But thankfully for the world, Harry was tougher that Voldemort had ever predicted. Harry smiled, and went through the door to the right that led into the Great Hall. He, Ron, and Hermione walked past the Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff tables before sitting down with the rest of the Gryffindors.

            "Who's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Hermione asked, looking up at the staff table.

            "Dunno," said Ron, glancing at the front of the Hall. "Maybe they haven't got one, and we don't have to take it?"

            "Now's the time we need to learn it, more than ever," said Harry. "Voldemort's out there." He saw Ron shudder a bit at the mention of his name, but less than would have been normal a few years before. Then again, a few years before, the wizarding world had not had to deal with Voldemort's return. "We'll probably find out after the Sorting," Harry said as he saw the doors to the Great Hall open. Professor McGonagall came in, carrying a three-legged stool and an old, patched wizard's hat, leading a group of wet and bedraggled looking first years. Looking up at the ceiling of the Hall, which showed the sky outside, Harry saw that it had begun to storm.

            "Must've been miserable, crossing the lake in this weather," Ron said to Harry.

            "Yeah," said Harry vaguely.

            "Will you two be quiet?" Hermione whispered at them. "I want to hear what the Sorting Hat has to say!"

            "Probably more of that unity rubbish," Ron muttered to Harry. "Don't get why it keeps spouting it off when it's obvious no one's going to listen."

            Harry was about to reply, but was silenced by a jab in the ribs. He twisted around and saw Hermione fuming at him. "Sorry," he mouthed, then turned to watch as Professor McGonagall set the Sorting Hat down on the stool in front of the staff table. A small rip at the brim opened, and the Hat began to sing:

WhenHogwartsSchool was started,

It was intended to unite

All those with magical talent,

But as we see here tonight,

That goal has been abandoned

For favor of friendly competition.

Students are separated and taught

That the other Houses are the opposition.

Instead of learning to work together

As such a fledgling community should,

The students have been divided up,

Not able to work for the common good.

You failed to heed my warnings,

Though I gave them many times.

You merely sat and stared

As I spun off my rhymes.

I've sorted students diligently

For far too long, I fear,

Spouting off the qualities

Of different Houses every year.

But this year will be different

Because this year, you see,

If you want to have a Sorting,

It won't be done by me!

I'm tired of preaching harmony

As my message goes unheard,

So until you figure out your problems,

You'll not hear me say another word!

            For a minute, the entire Hall sat motionless, staring at the Hat. The only movement was the slight flickering of the floating candles all around the Hall. Everyone was attempting to take in what they had just heard.

            Beside Harry, Hermione was the first to recover. She took in a slow, quivering breath and, on the exhale, said simply, "The Sorting Hat has gone on strike."