Harry followed Ron and Hermione through the great doors of Hogwarts Castle. The group of sixth years made their way eagerly to the Great Hall. Upon entering the hall, it's ceiling currently depicting a serene starry sky, they were greeted with waves of noise, the eager voices of Hogwarts students expressing the excitement and anticipation of the first night of the school year.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to the Gryffindor table, where they were greeted by fellow Griffindors Seamus Finnegan and Parvati Patil.
"Hi," said Harry, sliding into the seat beside Seamus, "Are they almost ready to serve the food? I'm starving."
"Almost," said Seamus, "First they have to sort the first years. Then Dumbledore has to give a little speech. You remember that from previous years, right, Harry? Don't tell me you've forgotten everything over the summer!"
"Oh yeah," Harry said, giggling a little bit with the others while really feeling quite embarrassed for no reason at all.
All of a sudden Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the front table.
"Hello to you all!" he said joyfully, "The moment has come for me to say a few words!"
Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged curious glances. What about the sorting of the first years?
"I know what you are thinking," said Dumbledore with a slight smile, "And no, we will not be sorting any new students this school year. The sorting hat has died."
Harry felt his jaw drop. Not the sorting hat! The sorting hat had been his secret companion for the past six years at Hogwarts. Every night, Harry stole up to Dumbledore's office, retrieved the hat from its usual position on the high shelf, and snuck out into the corridor. Then, in the protection of enveloping darkness, he would slip the hat onto his chaotic, jet black mat of hair, and he and the hat would begin to talk about the thoughts that were swirling around inside of Harry's head. They would talk for hours into the night. Harry would treasure every moment of their conversation. He never regretted missing all of those hours of sleep, not even when he felt exhausted the following day and fell asleep in potions class, only to be awakened by Draco Malfoy's evil taunts. You will understand, then, the feeling of hopelessness and helplessness that overcame Harry when he heard that the hat had died.
"Harry, what are you so glum about?" asked Hermione.
"Nothing," said Harry, holding back tears.
"Whatever," said Hermione, unable to hide her suspicion.
Dumbledore continued.
"I know you are all very, very miserable to hear of this tragic death," he said, "but I am sure a goblet of pumpkin juice and a slice of dragon egg pie will ease the pain."
The ravenous students shouted their approval.
"Before you are served your delicious meal, however," continued Dumbledore, "I have a brief message to announce." He paused and cleared his throat, then said, "Harry Potter, you are not to report to any of your classes this year. You will be working with the house elves in the kitchens. Thank you, and happy eating everyone!"
The platters surrounding them suddenly filled with food, but no one at the Gryffindor table seemed to notice. Everyone turned to look at Harry. He felt his face turn bright scarlet in humiliation and bewilderment.
"Harry…." began Hermione, laying her hand on his sleeve. Harry pulled away from her, lifted himself up from the table, and walked away across the hall. He felt the curious stares of the other students like knives against his back. He exited the hall and made his way down the dimly lit corridor and up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room, the frenzied voices of the hall dying away as he ascended the last flight of stairs….