All Fall Down

The Hogwarts great hall was filled with happily chatting people, creating a loud babbling uproar over which no one could hear, causing them to shout even louder to make themselves noticed. Harry sat at the front of the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione. He watched as Ron turned and gave a furtive look at Percy's empty seat before returning tired eyes to the stage in front of them. Shaking his head, he looked over at Hermione, who was chewing her lip nervously.

"The sorting ceremony should start soon," he said, feeling stupid. He couldn't find anything to fill the silence in their heads, couldn't concentrate on the crowd noise. He felt like was screaming and no one could hear him, but he knew it was pointless to try and comfort Ron any more. He watched as Professor McGonagall walked to the center of the room, and slowly the talk died down, allowing her to speak. She was followed up the steps to the stage by a trailing line of nervous looking first years, whispering to each other and staring around at all the people out of wide eyes. He knew the feeling well.

"Goodman, Brenda," McGonagall recited, and a small red-faced blond girl crept up, plopped herself into the chair, and had the sorting hat lowered on to her head. It was silent for a few moments, then ducked its brim in an imitation of a human nod.

"GRYFFINDOR!" It called out decisively, and the girl took it off, and hopped off the stage. Harry clapped loudly with the rest of his table, as the new student joined their ranks.

As they waited, "Ratz, Eric," became a Slytherin, and "Wilzincski, Erin," became a Ravenclaw. As more and more students filed off the stage, only one was left.

"D'aussi, Thetis," McGonagall said loudly. A dark haired girl, taller by far than the other first year students, approached the stage, but tripped on the top step, and went sprawling face down on the wood. Several students chuckled, and there were loud barks of derisive laughter from the Slytherin table.

"That's her, I bet," whispered Hermione excitedly in Harry's ear.

"Who?" He turned a puzzled look on her.

"The transfer student!" When Harry's face remained blank, she gave him an exasperated look. "You didn't hear? There's going to be a transfer student in seventh year this time, she came from some school west of here that closed. How rude," she finished, glaring at the Slytherins, then looking back at Thetis. The transfer student's face was bright red as she approached the stool, put a hand out to grab it, and hoisted herself slowly into a sitting position on top. McGonagall lowered the hat on to her head, and there was a long, long pause.

Harry watched the girl, interested. He'd never heard of a transfer student before, there certainly hadn't been one at Hogwarts while he was there. She sat, very still, while the hat calculated. He wondered idly if it mattered to the hat how old she was, but thought that if Dumbledore had allowed it, it would certainly be all right. It sure was taking a long time, though...

Everyone began whispering, creating a low buzz around the room. The hat had never taken this long to decide before, not even with Harry himself. Perhaps it really wouldn't allow an older girl? Perhaps she'd actually been kicked out of her old school, and wasn't really a wizard. Rumors flew around like biting insects, one for each moment the hat delayed.

Finally, over the noise, the hat called "GRYFFINDOR!" Harry and Hermione joined in the cheering again, as the girl stepped quietly off the stool, and walked over to the table where they were sitting.

"Welcome to Gryffindor," said Hermione warmly, reaching out to shake Thetis's hand. The girl paused a moment, lifting her hand slowly to grasp Hermione's, as if testing the air for something.

"Thank you," she said, smiling back. "Could you tell me...where is an empty seat?" Harry looked puzzled.

"There's...one right here, next to me," he said slowly. Couldn't she see it? It was in plain view, perhaps she didn't want to sit next to him for some reason. Maybe she'd heard rumors about him...there were all kinds going around, about how he was really destined to be some kind of dark wizard and all. Disgusted, he said, trying to smile, "I don't bite, really, no matter what you've heard."

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head, "I..." she trailed off, turning her face towards him. "You are...Harry Potter? I recognize your voice." He stared at her, and then he saw it. Her eyes, pale brown, stared off somewhere in the distance, not at him, not seeing him, or anyone around him.

"You're blind," he said, startled, and then wished that he hadn't. It sounded too blunt. "Ah, I'm sorry..."

She shook her head, still smiling. "No, it's all right. Yes, I am blind...but I can see, in ways. I am at the Gryffindor table, I know that. I know you are Harry Potter...and here, this must be Hermione Granger. And now, I can find my seat." She walked around the table, over to the seat next to Harry, and sat down, turning a wry smile on him. "See?"

He nodded, smiling back. "Yeah...sorry, anyway..."

Hermione piped up. "What school did you come from? I didn't know there were any other wizarding schools in England. "

Thetis nodded. "It was a small school, to teach ones who cannot see, or sometimes ones who cannot hear, how to use magic as well as all of you. We had to learn different ways." She reached out for an apple off the fruit basket in the center. "It was called BackGarden, and it was a really lovely place. But, there just were not enough students paying to support it." She munched into her apple, drumming her fingers on the table.

Ron spoke up then, looking over from where he had been sitting in silence, next to Hermione. "You say they taught you different things...what kind of things?" He seemed to be showing genuine interest, and Thetis turned her head towards him, listening for a moment, then nodding again.

"You are Ron Weasley, then?" Thetis asked. Ron looked startled.

"Ah, yeah, yeah, that's me." He shot a look over at Harry. Harry cleared his throat.

"Yeah...I don't' mean to sound rude or anything, Thetis, but...how do you know all this, about who we are and everything?" Harry asked, slowly, trying to phrase it politely.

* * * * *

Draco, sitting in the far back of the Slytherin table, watched as the new girl drifted over to sit by Harry Potter. Harry Potter...that stupid celebrity. He was sick of hearing songs sung of that moron's bravery and kindness, and he was tired of having to watch while people fawned over him. He hated Potter, hated him with a passion the like of which he hated nothing else. And yet, he never wanted him dead...not like that.

He recalled his father's words as he'd gotten on the Hogwarts express. "Remember, Draco, the Potter boy, Harry Potter!" And he'd nodded, and moved off into the crowd. Draco found himself clenching his fists beneath the table, and carefully unclenched them, placing his hands flat on the table surface, and let out a long, slow breath. He had to be calm. He couldn't give himself away.

Again, he looked over at the Gryffindor section of the room, at Granger and Weasley now, laughing at something Finnegan had said. "You have to watch them," his father had told him sternly. "You have to make sure they do not interfere. Be cautious...don't give them reason to suspect you. You have to 'befriend' them, become their ally, let yourself fall into the pattern of their lives. Only then will you be able to control them...and to lead Potter to our Lord. Do you understand?" He'd understood, understood far too well...

"Dammit," he muttered angrily to himself, "I don't want to do this, I don't want him dead!" Pansy Parkinson, across from him, looked over.

"Did you say something, Draco?"

He shook his head, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. "No...no, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." But I have to worry about it. I have to worry, and wonder, and avoid it, until there's nothing to do but face it head on. I can't kill Potter...I can't kill Granger or Weasley; I don't want to be a part of this anymore...father, why are you doing this to me? How do you justify it, how do you make it seem right in your mind?

* * * * *

When Percy awoke, he was propped up against the wall of the cold room, with Penelope nestled in his arms. "Penny," he tried to say, but moaned in pain as everything came flooding back to him. Every bone in his body throbbed dully, and he thought he might be bleeding from the forehead.

Looking down into Penelope's quiet face, he saw that she was also haggard and tired, bleeding from several places along her arms, and her cheek. Percy ripped off a piece of his sleeve, and applied it to Penny's gashes, wiping away the blood, and pinching the skin over them. The shock of the pinch caused her to wake suddenly.

"Aaah!" She sat straight up, then slumped back against him, clutching her arms in pain. "Percy..." she whispered, opening her grasping his hand against her cheek.

"Shh, I'm here..." he held her tighter, not caring for his own pain, worried about the wounds he could not fix without his wand or something to staunch the blood. He looked around, found them still in the same place they'd been when he'd blacked out. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, couldn't even guess, as the horrible place had no windows, no clocks. He felt suspended somewhere, in a time frame all their own that dragged on, and on, and on. And the boy was nowhere to be seen.

"Penny," he whispered, "can you stand? We have to try and find a way out of here." Percy wasn't sure how fruitful that could be, seeing as the whole room seemed to be one ongoing line of the same wall, the same floor, the same dusty edged furniture. But they had to try.

Penelope nodded, and Percy stood carefully, slowly helping her to her feet. She tripped, and he caught her, steadying her on her feet before turning, and taking a few cautious steps away from the wall. He and Penelope leant on each other for the support they needed, and for the comfort of knowing there was someone else there, alongside them. After only a few feet, that felt like an eternity of walking, they were exhausted, and had to pause to regain strength.

"There's got to be...a way out," Penny whispered, leaning against a chair and breathing hard. "There has to be..."

Percy was looking around, shaking his head. Something was wrong with this place, something beyond the normal ken of magic. "Penny...quiet for a moment," he said in a low voice, gazing fixedly at a large armchair at the far end of the room. It seemed to be drifting back and forth, nearer and farther.

Blinking to clear the water from his eyes, Percy stared. It wasn't his imagination, the chair was moving, but now it was moving backwards, father and farther, until it couldn't be seen. "Penny-," he began, but stopped when he saw her face, terror written in her eyes as she stared at something behind them that Percy couldn't see.

Turning, Percy saw that the ceiling seemed to be caving in, but in slow motion. Chunks were falling from it, unsettling the dust and causing it to drift up, forming an opaque cloud, obscuring everything from view. When the dust cleared, a stone wall stood where the pileup of wooden ceiling panels had fallen.

Percy began to back away from it, slowly, and smacked hard into something behind him. Whirling around, he came face to face with another stone wall, identical to the one he was retreating from. "What-? Penny, what's going on?"

Penny didn't respond. "Penelope?" Turning to look at her, Percy saw, to his horror, that his fiancée was gone. "PENNY?? Where are you?"

From very far away, he heard a soft response to his cry. "Penny!" Rushing forward, he beat his fists against the wall, trying in vain to break it, to do something. He kept calling out Penelope's name, and after a while heard no more response. "Dammit!"

Staring up towards the ceiling, Percy shook his fist at nothing and yelled, "Why are you doing this? What the hell do you want?" Slumping against the wall, Percy closed his eyes in defeat. "Penny..."

As suddenly as they had appeared, the walls disappeared, melting away into the ground. Percy turned to rush away, and saw his tormentor, the green-robed boy, standing haughtily above him. "You called?" The boy asked, in his not-quite-whisper, smiling his awful sinuous smile.

Percy glared up at him, shaking his sweaty, straggly hair out of his eyes. "What is this achieving? Why are you doing this? Leave Penelope alone...she's got nothing that could help you, she's innocent. Leave her alone..."

The boy shook his head. "Ah, but she does have access to something that I want...as do you..." He inclined his head slightly. "Your sister, Mr. Weasley...your sister, Ginny...all you have to do is say the words, and you and your beloved Penelope will be free to go...is it really that hard? I think not. Come now, you're a smart man...the youngest ever minister of magic, even. A simple decision as this should be quite easy for you...come now..."

Percy closed his eyes. "What has she ever done? Ginny...she's just an innocent little girl..."

The boy nodded. "Yes, just an innocent little girl...there'd be no reason for me to harm her, I would do no such thing...I just need her to help me a little something...to contact someone I haven't seen in a long time...really, it wouldn't be so hard...just...bring her."

Percy lay on the ground, saying nothing. For a moment, a flash of irritation flickered across the boy's face, but was quickly replaced by his usual foul smile.

"Very well then...I see you need some more...ah...persuasion..."