Balance: by rabbit
Disclaimer: Not mine. JK Rowling's. Iffen she borrowed stuff off of this all I'd be is complimented, and honestly, I'm not worth suing…
Chapter 2: Now what?
Summary: The teachers aren't having much luck, so it's the students' turn.
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"It's no good," Hermione said to Harry and Ron, under the cheers of the less observant students. "Harry, he can't keep that up."
"Flitwick's helping him," Ron said. "Look."
It was true. Professor Flitwick was still perched on the wall, his wand working back and forth, bluewhite streamers of energy coming from it to support Dumbledore. From Sprout's side the streamers were green and brown. But in the light from the magic, Harry could see blood on Dumbledore's robes. And he had a feeling the spot was growing. The ethereal guardians were fading away.
He pushed his way into the group of seventh years and prefects. "We've got to help!" He could feel Ron and Hermione following him, and Draco too.
"Why? Dumbledore's stopped it." Fred Weasley said.
"Yes, for the moment, but he's hurt. And the other teachers are hurt too. They need us."
"I'm not going out there," said Draco, emphatically. "It would be stupid." A lot of the Slytherins nodded agreement, and not just the Slytherins.
"I'm not asking you to," Harry said impatiently. "Look, if we all cast the same spell at once, it will be a lot more powerful."
"Even the first years?" asked Ginny Weasley, who'd been sticking close to her brothers.
"The more of us the better." Hermione said. She turned to the nearest first year. "Do you lot know "wingardium leviosa" yet?"
"Yes…we've tried it anyway," the first year said.
"But what good would that do?" Ron asked. "I don't want that thing to fly over the wall."
"We could drop it in the lake," Draco said unexpectedly. "It's mostly fire. We've got an old tapestry at home, about Flinders Malfoy defeating a balrog in it by forcing it into the sea."
"Good idea," Harry said quickly, to forestall Ron from protesting the idea just because it came from Malfoy. "Lee, you tell everyone, they can hear you."
"Right." Lee Jordan said. "Just point out where you want us to put it, right?"
"Okay," Harry agreed, taking a perch by Lee where he could see as the older boy began to explain the plan to the rest of the students.
There was a rush and some shoving as everyone tried to get a clear view, but the strange stretchability of the tower roof held. It wasn't a reassuring sight. The ethereal guardians had faded away entirely. Dumbledore still held up a forbidding hand, but he was on his knees. Hooch hovered just behind the bars of the gate, as if she were poised to open them the moment he fell and snatch him onto her broom to fly him to whatever safety there might be. Flitwick was missing from the wall. Sprout came into view through the bars of the gate, carrying him like a baby and passing him between the bars to Hagrid, who handed him off to a stretcher party of house elves. Snape and McGonagall had gotten upright, and were working their way towards the Headmaster.
The balrog was preoccupied with trying to hit Professor Trelawney, roaring from the furnace of its fanged mouth with frustration. It would swing its whip, but she would dodge before the blow could hit. At last it drew a flaming sword out of it's own substance, and Harry could see Snape say something over his shoulder to McGonagall, who shrugged expressively as she turned to face the thing again.
Just then, the hump of its back began to unfold into a skeletal framework of smoke, and a network of flame began to fill the gaps, forming huge batlike wings.
"Oh, no! It can fly!" Ron groaned.
"Not yet it can't! And look!" Hermione pointed. Snape had thrown another of his potion bottles, just as McGonagall pointed her sword and let fly a whirlwind of magic. The balrog's flames went darker, and the wings more skeletal as her spell hit, and ropes of magic burst from the potion bottle to tangle it's arms and wings. But even as it fought the bindings, it took a step closer to the school. The sword arm came free, and the sword lashed out, felling both Snape and McGonagall. Another step. The ropes twisted around its legs, making it stumble, but if it fell now, it would land on Dumbledore.
"Now!" Harry urged Lee.
"One! Two! Three! GO!" Lee shouted to the school.
"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" A small forest of wands moved through the air, and sparks of every color leaped from the high walls of the castle toward the balrog.
With a screech of dismay, the demon began to rise sideways into the air, it's head twisting everywhere as it tried to find what was magicking it. Up it went, it's flame eyes round, and the furnace-like maw of its mouth shaped into an "o", making it look like a cartoon of surprise. For a long moment it looked as if it was growing, but at last the stumps of its legs ended in massive hooves. It struggled against the magical bonds in the air, turning its sword into long claws without affecting them. As they moved it toward the lake it reached out its free arm and raked the walls, knocking free stones that the teachers had to dodge, but it could hold on.
"Quickly!" Harry urged. Even with so many of them working together, the spell wasn't going to last long. Fortunately, the lake wasn't far. They drifted the balrog towards the middle of it, and Harry glimpsed the werewolves coming out of the water to flee again, and the tentacles of the giant squid flipping up once as it dived. He let it hang in the air as long as he dared; hoping that the merpeople would have the sense to head for the depths of the lake as soon as they perceived the danger. "Let it fall!" He shouted when he thought the balrog was too far from any shore for it's own good, and Lee Jordan echoed him instantly. At the word, every student banished the spell, and the balrog dropped with a cry of dismay into the ice-cold waters of the lake. A huge splash wave rolled outwards and flooded the shore all around the lake, rolling right over the walls and across the lawns. Then steam and fog billowed up, mushrooming outwards and hiding first the shore, then curtain wall of the castle grounds, and then came up and obscured the grounds themselves. Within moments, no one could see more than a foot or two beyond themselves.
They waited in the cooling fog, listening for the cries of the balrog. When none came, the whispers started from student to student. "Do you think we killed it?" "I wish we could see." "Do you suppose we should go and look?"
Harry had had a glimpse of the rolling wall of water coming up at the embattled teachers, and he hated to wait for the fog to clear. "One of us should, anyway," he answered the last speaker. Unfortunately, his broom was locked in his trunk, to prevent anyone from mucking with it. "I wish I had my broom."
"I've got mine," Draco said. Harry thought he might be one of the few people close enough to see how Draco's throat muscles worked unhappily at the thought of flying in the fog, but at least Draco was willing to go. And the important thing was that someone went, after all. Draco knelt by trapdoor to the dormitories and called "Accio Thunderbolt" and the broom came quickly to his waiting hand.
"But you're the only one who knows anything about balrogs," Pansy Parkinson protested, when Draco straightened up to mount the broom.
"She's right," Hermione said. "If we haven't killed it, and we need to do another spell, we'll need you to help us figure out what the spell should be."
Draco hesitated, and then held the broom out to Harry. "Don't smash it into anything, Potter. My father had it custom made. It's the best broom in the school."
Harry felt like his eyebrows were going to fly right off his head, but he took a careful grip on the broom and nodded to Malfoy. "I'll fly down and check, and in the meantime, see if you can't think of another spell that's easy enough for the first years and that might hurt that thing if it's still there."
"Right," Hermione and Draco spoke together, and he grinned, feeling somehow reassured to know that they could work together when they really had to.
"Did you see the look on its face?" he asked, laughter burbling up in his voice in spite of the tenseness of the moment. He turned to go and heard the small giggles breaking out behind him. It felt good. At least the behemoth didn't seem so invulnerable now.
The fog was all the thicker as he leaned out off the edge of the tower and let the broom take flight. Draco was right. It was a marvelous broom to fly on. But Harry'd never flown in such thick weather, so he went carefully, skirting down along the walls until he reached the ground and then skimming just over the grass, following the paths he knew for certain led towards the lake.
A dark figure loomed up out of the fog and Harry pulled himself to an abrupt halt, just missing a collision. He hovered and turned to see who it was.
Snape. The Potions professor was swaying on his feet, his robes soaked and bits of lake plants entangled in hair that looked like it had been scorched on one side. Now that Harry was close enough to see, he could tell that under the cloak, Snape's frock coat had been transformed into black chainmail. He had a black bandolier with potions bottles in it slung across his chest, too, although most of the pockets were empty now. There was a bruise on his forehead, and his eyes were wild. He stared at Harry for a moment and then lowered his wand. "Potter," he identified hoarsely. "I should have known it would be you."
"Are you all right, sir?" Harry asked, wondering. He'd never seen Snape so pale or unsteady.
"You're supposed to be… not here." Snape waved away Harry's concern. "All the students were…" he paused, to think it through, "…meant to be in the dormitories. That's what the headmaster ordered, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir." There was never any arguing with Snape at the best of times. "I've been sent out to see if the balrog's dead, Professor. We dropped it in the lake."
"The Lake? We?" Snape shook his head as if it hurt. "Potter, if you and Weasley and Granger have been ignoring orders again…" he started, but Harry didn't wait to hear how many points this was going to cost him. He flew on toward the lake through the thinning mist, ignoring the call of "Potter? Where did you go? I was TALKING to you!"