Balance: by rabbit
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all this lot. I am just a silly, humble fanfic writer, who thinks that she should get all the credit for making my pen itch… Not to mention all the money, which I have no claim on anyway.
Chapter 5: More Planning
Summary: The prefects get in on the act.
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Harry and Draco both tried it and then looked up at each other. "It is trembling," Draco said.
"But what does it mean?" Harry wondered.
"Nothing good," Neville sighed. "I wish Professor Sprout would come back."
"You're not the only one," said Hugh Hanley, a Hufflepuff prefect who had noticed the conversation. Much to Harry's relief, the other prefects were looking at him curiously as well, and he motioned for them to come and sit at the table.
"We can't just wait for the professors to tell us what to do," Harry said, once he had the attention of most of the prefects. "Most of them are hurt, except for Trelawney. And I think Madame Pomfrey needs her help."
"Thank goodness," muttered Cho Chang, from the far end of the table.
"Now, Hermione thinks that the colors on the chalkboard mean things." He summarized the theory, and everyone looked worriedly at the board.
"Professor Snape's name is in red," Draco observed unhappily.
"So's McGonagall's," Harry countered. "I think we need to gather everything and everyone we can here into the great hall. We should be getting some dry clothes and blankets and food, too. We can send out rescue parties, to find anyone else who's still missing. First things first. There are enough of us to take care of most everything at once, but we've got to keep the first and second years busy. Neville, can you take them down to the kitchen and have them make sandwiches or something for the rest of us?"
Neville blanched. "Kitchens? Sandwiches? I don't know how to make sandwiches." At Harry's stare he shrugged. "We have a house elf, Harry. If I want a snack I just ask for one."
"He's right, for once" Draco said. "That's servants' stuff, Potter."
"There aren't any servants, Malfoy," Ron said, having just arrived in time to hear the comment. "Look at the list. Every single house elf is either in yellow or red. And they're acting very strangely."
"What do you mean?" Cho Chang asked.
"Look," Ron said, pointing. They all looked. At least a dozen house elves were walking in sideways circles on the wall above the beds, bumping into each other once in a while, but quite unconcerned by the law of gravity.
"All the frightened children in here aren't going to help," Hugh said. "House elves get their magic from the auras of contented people. Unhappy people make them nervous."
"That's what they get out of the bargain," came Hermione's voice from behind Harry. She took the place beside him, stacking rolls of loo paper onto the table. "Here, these are for making earplugs until we get more thistles. The injured people don't need to listen to all that thunder anyway, and it will help the first years to relax. None of the torches in the hall are working, by the way. I expect it's the house elves who see to them, normally. Do they really get their magic from our auras?"
"Yes, of course," Hugh said.
"Talk about it later," Harry said, interrupting them before it turned into a SPEW meeting. "Ron, can you take Neville and get the first years earplugs and then take them down to the kitchens and bring back some food for us? It would keep them out from under foot if they were all busy making sandwiches."
"You should take at least one older student from each house," Cho Chang said. "That way none of them will be able to sneak off without you noticing."
"Right," Ron said, collecting some of the rolls. "Come on, Neville. Hermione showed me how to make the earplugs when she made them for Fang."
Hermione handed the rest of the toilet paper to Neville. "It's Cottonus Obfuscatus, a simple Transfiguration spell. You should be able to get one plug for each sheet, but I don't know if you should split them apart first." She watched Ron go off with Neville with his arm across the other boy's shoulder. "I hope the food will be edible," she sighed, and turned back to the party. "Don't forget to send someone to help Madame Pomfrey, Harry."
"I can organize that," Hugh Hanley said. "Some of the sixth and seventh years have been studying healing spells."
"Good. Now the search parties, for the animals, the blankets, and to go out. I think we can have ordinary groups for inside the castle, but we're going to need good flyers to go beyond the walls." Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I wanted to put you with the research party in the library, but you're too good a flyer to not be a searcher," he tried not to notice the sickening way that Draco preened at the compliment. "Take a few minutes with Hermione and tell her whatever stories you know about balrogs. Hermione, when you've heard what Draco can tell you, gather up a party of the brightest students from each house and take a party to the library. Grab the books you think are important and then bring them back here. If you wind up needing something else, take another trip, but don't get all caught up so that we think you need rescuing, all right?"
"All right," Hermione said, nodding to Draco to step aside with her. She paused after a step or two. "Harry, don't forget, none of the torches are lighting. It's only the lightning that lets us see. In rooms without windows it's dead dark."
"Thanks."
"So every party will need someone who can cast a "lumos" spell," said Adrian Threadneedle, a Slytherin prefect.
"Or torchbearers," said Rachel Young, from Ravenclaw. "That would be a good job for second years."
"We could probably get blankets from the laundry," Hugh suggested. "That would be a good job for the third years."
Harry nodded, but he felt like they were missing the point. "The thing is, I think every party should include people from every house. Even the ones going to the dorms to get the animals and dry clothes."
The storm of protests he was expecting didn't come. The prefects looked at each other, biting lips and looking thoughtful. "It makes sense," Cho Chang said after a moment. "I mean, we all got sorted into different houses because we solve problems in different ways. That might be important."
"I guess so," said Adrian. "But why should we bother? I mean, there's probably clean clothes in the laundry where the blankets are. And it doesn't make sense to risk our necks for a lot of animals."
"It doesn't make sense for Madame Pomfrey to list all the animals on that board," Harry pointed out, "but she did it."
"And if we've got organized parties going after them, it will keep the little kids from sneaking off to get them," Hugh said.
"That's a point," Adrian nodded. "I'll put together a party to go to the Owlery, then. I know a way we can get there by secret passages, and if we can convince the owls to fly back that way, then they don't have go outside into the lightning."
Harry nodded, and forebore to remind Threadneedle to take people from every house. It was kind of scary, how quickly the prefects had agreed with him on that, which only made him feel like it was all the more important. And come to think of it, they hadn't argued much about getting the animals, either. Adrian did have a pretty magnificent barn owl, but it was almost as if his objections had been made because he thought someone ought to make them. Did all of them have the same feeling of standing on a floor that kept tilting that he did? He let the prefects sort out which seventh years to assign to the parties going to different areas of the castle while he closed his eyes and tried to sort out the strange feelings that were nudging into the peripheries of his senses. It didn't work very well. The closest he could come to it was the feeling that you had after you'd spun on your broom too many times dodging bludgers. Up and down were pretty obvious, but they kept trying to switch off inside your ears. He gave up and looked up to Madame Pomfrey's domain, wondering if Dumbledore were awake enough to ask about the feeling – and whether Pomfrey would let him ask.
Madame Pomfrey was just placing a bundled up Professor Flitwick into the bed alongside of Dumbledore, having magically enlarged it. Trelawney floated the blankets down over both of them and asked, "Will that help, do you think?"
Harry realized that the Hear-Muffs were doing their trick again, and put all his concentration into listening to the two women.
"You're the prognosticator, Sybil," Madame Pomfrey said. "And yes, I think it might help a little, but it would work better if you went and fetched Sprout back from wherever it is she's gotten."
"It doesn't work that way, you know."
Madame Pomfrey sighed, and smoothed the sheet a little over Dumbledore. "No, it doesn't. Not perfectly. But until Severus and Minerva find their way back all I can hope to do is to keep him from slipping farther away."
"All right then." Trelawney pulled out her parasol and started down the length of the hall.
Harry blinked and tried to catch his breath. That had sounded an awful lot like Dumbledore was dying. He slapped a hand on the table and got the attention of the prefects. "We need to find Snape and McGonagall. Quickly."
"But didn't they go into the Forest?" Rachel asked.
"I'm not sure that anyone should go out into the lightning," Cho said reluctantly, "At least, not until we've checked all the places in the castle first. I don't like the idea of getting a rescue party injured looking for people who aren't even there."
Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling, meaning to see how much lightning there still was, since the flickering of the flambeaus and the flickering of the lightning were hard to distinguish between when you couldn't hear the thunder. It was easing off a bit. But there was still a lot of it. "I think it might be getting a little better," he said, trying to be optimistic. "And I'm not sure how much longer we can wait."
"Only a little," Cho said. Most of the prefects were looking up now. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the far end of the hall.
"I don't know," Rachel said. "It looks… like… a tornado?"
"Oh, great. Who's going to fly in a tornado?"
"It's not a tornado," said Hugh decisively. "It looks more like… like that little whirlpool you get when you're draining out the bath."
"What do you suppose is draining away, then?" Adrian asked. "The clouds? The storm?"
"What if it's the air?" Rachel asked, nervously.
Harry watched the small swirl. Wherever it moved, the ceiling seemed to be going to stone, and it gave him an unhappy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What if it's the magic?"