Balance

Balance: by rabbit

Chapter one: Attack

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They'd been told to go to the towers, all of them, to wait inside the dormitories until someone came for them. It had been the shock of the prefects' lives when the stairs refused to lead anywhere but the highest reaches of Slytherin tower; and the second shock of finding a doorway that had never existed before, leading into the dormitory halls, was topped only by the third shock seeing all of the staircases turn away once the last student was safely on the landing. The Slytherin prefects went to check the central staircase inside the tower that led down to the dungeons and the Slytherin Common Room, but they'd soon come back. The news that the tower had sealed away those stairs - so that there was no way down again but flying - had left even the Weasley twins quiet and worried.

Once the Slytherins had gotten over their dismay (and had scattered to secure their possessions before letting the other students into their dorms), they had given in to the inevitable and even tried to be stiffly polite. Most of the students had started out willing to huddle inside, perched on beds or the stairs outside the dormitories, since the arrow slit windows didn't offer much of a view. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been quick to follow the more adventurous souls up the narrow fire escape ladder to the top of the tower, to see what could be seen, ignoring the way that Draco Malfoy trailed suspiciously at their heels. There were dozens of hand-holds and places to stand built into the roof, as well as a platform at the top, relics of the days when Quidditch had been played all around the castle instead of in the stadium. Moreover, the roof seemed to change size to accommodate the crowd. Hermione muttered something about fire escapes and magical size redistribution, but Ron just said the tower must be bigger on the outside than it was on the inside. It was a good thing, too, because as the minutes turned to hours, even the Hufflepuff first years - known for their steadfast obedience - began to creep out onto the battlements to watch as the growing pillar of fire and shadow worked its way from the far edge of the Forbidden Forest toward the hillside and the lawns of Hogwarts castle.

Down in the castle foreyard, by the entrance that lead to the great hall, the students who were willing to hang over the castellations had seen Madame Pomfrey directing Filch, some ghosts, and half-a-hundred house elves in some kind of frantic preparation, the purpose of which only became clear when a party of the house elves dashed off into the forest and returned bearing stretchers with the crumpled figures of Professor Grubbly-Plank and the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher on them.

"Well," said Lee Jordan, watching as Madame Pomfrey met the procession and she and Filch rushed the injured man inside. "That's two homework assignment less to worry about."

Everyone who was close enough to hear him laughed, albeit nervously.

"I don't think they're dead," said one of the Slytherins, who'd fetched a pair of Omnioculars from the dormitories "They're still breathing anyway."

"What is it?"

"What's happening?"

The students on the other sides of the tower craned their necks and chattered, and Lee tapped his own throat with his wand and invoked the Sonorus spell and explained in an amplified voice. Then he asked, "Has anyone else got Omnioculars? Can you see what's happening in the forest?"

"I've got a Televisus Spectacalus spell on my glasses," a third year from Ravenclaw said, "It's not as good as Omnioculars, but you can see a little."

Instantly, everyone with glasses cast the spell, including Harry, and turned to look at the edge of the forest. They were in time to see the Muggle Studies professor come limping out, bleeding from a bad cut to the forehead, to be met by Filch and some elves with a stretcher. Beyond them the dark leaves fluttered in an unnatural wind, and smoke obscured more than glimpses now and then of someone flying or the sparks of a wand. The students without glasses hastily exchanged information about Quidditch field spells with the younger students.

Between the Slytherins' Omnioculars, binoculars and spells, every student was watching by the time the bats and birds flew out in a chaotic cloud from the burning trees, and the werewolves loped across the grass to dive into the tenuous shelter of the lake. From time to time more junior faculty members appeared, or were pulled out of the forest as the smoke grew nearer. The Arithmancy teacher, Professor Vector, went back twice to bring out colleagues before it was her turn to come out of the trees on a stretcher. Even the Centaurs abandoned the Forest, herding deer and unicorns and other small creatures before them to the relative safety of the hillsides. The senior Prefects whispered to each other about trying to evacuate if only they could get to the school brooms in time, and fretted over the ring of stormclouds that loomed in a suspiciously perfect circle around the edges of the valley.

"Even if we can get the brooms," Cho Chang pointed out, "how many of us would know how to fly through that lot? The first years have only had a few lessons."

"We could double up. Good flyers take someone with them."

"And then what? There's lightning in those clouds, can't you see it? And if it's a natural storm, what's holding it back on all sides? I'd hate to find a magical barrier by flying into it at full speed."

"How about if we try sending an owl?"

Harry stopped listening, watching instead as the column of flame and shadow in the trees turned a rudimentary head and the shapes of horns and the gleam of flame red eyes showed through the smoke. It was getting closer. If it strayed much to the left it would come out of the forest close enough to endanger Hagrid's hut.

Then the last of the faculty began to reappear at the edge of the wood, running.

Hagrid was in the lead, carrying Dumbledore, and shielding him from a whip of fire that stretched out from the smoke and chaos. The gigantic groundskeeper barrelled up the hillside towards the great gates that opened out from the curtain wall surrounding the grounds of the castle with Dumbledore looking like a small child cradled against his shoulder. Moments behind them, coming past trees like a slalom skier, was Madame Hooch, Professor Flitwick riding pillion behind her on her broom. Then Professor Trelawney appeared. She ran like a scarecrow, her wild skirts hitched up into a practical knot at her waist. Professor Sprout galumphed along beside her, tumbling once a complete turn but coming up to her feet and running again as if the contact with the ground had only strengthened her

At the gate, they saw Dumbledore say something to Hagrid, and the caretaker stopped and put him down, and then stood there, arguing, as the other teachers in the group caught up and started to spread themselves out in a line along the wall. Madame Hooch deposited Professor Flitwick on the wall itself, and then snapped her broom back in a move that made Harry feel a small pang of guilt for thinking how wonderful it would work in a Quidditch match. She headed back for the forest. Professor Sprout took position against the wall on the opposite side of the gate from Flitwick, so that Dumbledore was between them.

Hagrid, reluctantly, stepped inside the gates, still shaking his huge shaggy head at Dumbledore. He'd gotten as far as starting to close them when Hooch reappeared from the forest, with Professor Sinistra leaning against her back, eyes closed.

Too many things happened at once to make sense of them just then. Professors Sprout and Flitwick had turned to face the forest, and had started to glow. Professor Trelawney was between the wall and the forest, pacing back and forth, and calling something. Harry looked at Dumbledore and saw the Headmaster raise his arms, but saw too great Phoenix wings of spark and flame rise from the battered robes.

"He's on fire!" someone groaned, but it wasn't true. Harry tore his gaze away from Dumbledore and saw a great bluesmoke bird shape over Flitwick, and the head of a mistgrey badger where he knew Sprout was standing. Somehow, the luminous, ethereal creatures were becoming part of the wall, and the wall was starting to glisten, slowly growing higher. Where Professor Trelawney was walking, he caught a glimpse of peacock feathers, and heard a distant, high screech of warning.

Madame Hooch shot forward with her injured colleague, cutting past Dumbledore to skim inside the gates just before Hagrid closed them. The wall of light flared and flickered, then steadied into a golden glow with the clang of the gates, but it grew no higher. At the forest's edge, a small dark cat appeared, leaping impossibly fast across the ground even as it grew into both lion and Professor McGonagall. Then Professor Snape appeared, running with a limp that somehow didn't slow him down, his black cloak snapping in the wind. For a moment there was a suggestion of something reptilian about the Potions professor, but before it could be more than a suggestion a titanic creature, vaguely manshaped, but with horns on its head and long smoke-snake arms came out of the edge of the wood and blocked his way. It seemed to define itself as it pushed past trees that burst into flame, growing more solid with each step.

"What is that thing?" More than one voice asked.

"A balrog," Draco Malfoy's voice cracked on the word. Harry spared him a glance. Draco was usually pale, but now he'd gone dead white. "I thought they didn't exist anymore."

"There's a balrog in a Muggle book I know," Hermione said in a kind of awed squeak. "It's a kind of a demon, isn't it?"

"I think so." Draco said, staring at the combat. And small wonder.

Snape had turned desperately, flinging a small potion bottle at the feet of the balrog that shattered against a root. Purple and green smoke billowed out surrounding the demon, and for a moment it faltered, but then a massive arm snapped out, flinging Snape back to collide with Professor McGonagall. She fell, the lion fading, and Trelawney darted in between the balrog and its victims. McGonagall recovered quickly, crouching to protect Snape and check on his condition as Trelawney absently dodged the balrog's blows and sent ineffective sparks of greengold at it with her wand.

"Funny," George Weasley muttered, turning his head away, "I should have thought I'd enjoy seeing Snape take the worst of it."

"'S'all right, George," Fred reassured him. "He's still moving. Just... not... very fast."

The balrog shook its head and took a step forward, ignoring Trelawney for the moment. McGonagall came to her feet, her robes glimmering like armor of spun silver, as she took position between Snape and the demon. She drew all eyes with her defiant dramatic pose, calling out something, her wand a brilliant orange, as she reached up into the air to extract a sword of flames from the shimmering heat waves of the balrog.

When she swung it, the balrog staggered back. For a long minute the flames of its being faded into embers, and it looked like it might be defeated. But then it reached out a great hand of shadow and pulled off the burning tip of a tree, shoving it into its mouth like a child with a favorite candy. It's flames brightened again and it stepped forward to find McGonagall, now trying to help Snape get to his feet. With a casual flicker of its whip it knocked them both to the ground again, and turned to pace towards the castle, leaving the shelter of the burning forest.

Dumbledore flung up a barrier hand and cried out something so powerful that even on the battlements behind him the children could feel it's strength. The wall of light pressed outward from the physical walls, blocking the balrog from moving forward, the ethereal phoenix, badger, and raven advanced with it, standing just inside the barrier, holding it upright as the balrog roared defiance and tried to force its way past.

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end chapter1

Balance: by rabbit

Chapter 2: Now what?

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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!"

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