Abolition of Man

"Long did I hate you. Long did I fear you. I might –"

- from 'Til We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis

Chapter 7 // Abolition of Man

Harry and Ron found Hermione in the library, frantically scribbling on bits of parchment and muttering to herself. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair looked like she'd been on the bad end of an Electrifying Hex.

"Hermione, weren't you telling me just yesterday that not sleeping was bad for you and that it made your mind dull or something?" teased Harry, tweaking one of the many quills that seemed to be holding her hair up.

She looked up, and Harry saw that though her eyes were red-rimmed and circled, they shone with hope and excitement. "It is bad for you, but I couldn't sleep, so I came here. Harry... You were right. I saw him."

Ron gasped. "You mean... He's really alive? The guy who attacked me in the alley – I'm pretty sure he was a Death Eater – said he was, but I thought he was just mental."

Hermione's eyes were as big as saucers. "You mean the Death Eaters know he's alive?"

"Well, I don't think they know for certain. He said something about Dumbledore choosing the Phoenix as his symbol for a reason, and that I was supposed to report back to him anything I heard. Good thing Mum helped me break that curse, eh? Enough with the suspense, though! Tell us what happened yesterday."

She relayed the story of finding Albus's cottage in the wardrobe-wood, detailing their "test" for induction into the Order.

"So, he's not going to tell us anything?" asked Ron petulantly.

"I think the point is that we find out on our own, Ron. He suggested that I go back to this Arithmancy equation, but I'm stuck."

"Well, we're in this together, so explain it to us. I doubt we'll be much help, but three heads are better than one. Just ask Fluffy," joked Harry, though the attempt fell flat. Hermione ignored him and plowed into explanations of star lines, tangents, runic variables, and dividing by zero – which apparently was possible with magic. She noticed Harry's eyes glazing over, and Ron was leaning back in his chair, looking as awake as he did in Divination, which wasn't very awake at all. She tried a simpler approach.

"Well, this," she indicated the pure gold line, "is you, Harry. Represented by Lucy, the feminine Lucius, the light-bringer."

Ron snorted. "Dumbledore put you in as a girl."

"I wouldn't be too smug about that, Ron. This red line is you, represented by Susanna, the falsely accused. Susan is derived from Susanna much like Lucy is from Lucius. Biblically, Susanna was accused of adultery, though Daniel, who helped her trick them into telling the truth, later saved her. It actually makes a lot more sense now, knowing that you were under the Imperius Curse. You were falsely accused of betraying someone important to you, just like Susanna."

"What about you? Are you a bloke?" demanded Ron.

"Actually, yes. I think Dumbledore might have set it up that way intentionally. Here I am," she said, tapping the silver line with the end of her quill. "Represented by Peter, the stone. Hermione is derived from Hermes, whose name means 'cairn' or a pile of stones."

"Well, if that's us, then who's that?" Harry asked, pointing to an oily black line that seemed to sulk over in the corner of the paper, away from the lines representing the Golden Trio.

"I don't know. This is where I'm stuck. This would be Edmund, the protector. Whoever it is, they appear pretty reluctant to join us."

Harry looked at the colorful lines and runes that adorned the sheets of parchment spread before them. "What does it mean when the lines intersect?"

"I won't know until I have the last piece of the base equation. It's an interaction of some kind, but that's all I know."

"Who are all these people?" Ron asked, indicating several more lines that went off in different directions.

"Those are who I've tried to use in the role of the protector. This one," here she pointed to a warm pink line that jumped around between all the other lines, "is your mum. She's doing something, because she interacts with almost everyone. This yellow one is McGonagall, the blue one is Professor Vector, the rainbow-striped one is Tonks... and here's Hagrid, Remus, Professors Flitwick and Sprout... I've even got Madam Pince on here. None of these are the right one, though. "

"Okay, okay, I get the picture..." Ron said grumpily. "Wait, who's that line?" He indicated a line that was so light it was almost transparent and gleamed with a pearlescent shimmer. This line did not connect with anything; instead, it ran straight off the end of the parchment.

"That's Miss Easley. I did some research after that, and I found out that Sothians cannot be used as variables in Arithmantic equations. They are an anomaly of human behavior, and they'll throw the whole thing off... wait! Dumbledore said that McGonagall and two others knew – and you can't lie to a Sothian! She has to be the other one besides the protector who knows – there's no way she couldn't!"

Harry, who had been reading her notes, nodded briefly and looked up with an apprehensive expression on his face. "What is it?" she asked, almost afraid of what he might say.

"Maybe you're going about it wrong. That's why you can't find the protector."

No wonder he'd looked so apprehensive – it wasn't often that one told Hermione she was 'doing it wrong' and went un-hexed. "Well, Harry, perhaps with your vast experience with Arithmancy, you can enlighten me on what to do next," she said icily, her hands clenching around her quill so hard it snapped.

He tapped the paper thoughtfully. "We all share some similarities and very major differences with the characters, so maybe we need to look at Edmund's basic profile and go from there. For example, Hermione, neither you nor Peter believed that I / Lucy found something in the wardrobe. But Peter was the fighter; he got the sword and shield, remember? You're not like that, though. You stay in the library and prefer to fight with your mind rather than your fists. What the names mean is interesting and all, but I don't think Dumbledore meant us to focus on that - I think he meant us to focus on the character. "

Hermione was baffled. When had Harry gotten so perceptive? If she'd taken her own advice and actually gotten some sleep last night, she would have picked up on that. She whisked a fresh sheet of parchment from the dwindling stack and started making a list.

"Let's see... we take what we know about variable Edmund. He was younger, a student... he betrayed both his family and the 'right' side to go to the side of the Witch. He realized what he'd done and regretted it, but he was sentenced to death. A rescue party sent by Aslan saved him, and Aslan gave his own life to save him from the Witch after that."

"What about Snape? He fits the profile – he was a traitor, but he's certainly not a young student by any stretch of the imagination," mused Harry, almost to himself.

"He can't be the protector; it doesn't make sense," said Hermione in an exasperated tone, pulling more quills out of her hair and securing the frizzy locks with a charm. "The protector can't kill the one they're protecting."

"Who said that the protector was protecting Dumbledore? Besides, you remember what that note from Dumbledore said: 'Don't blame Edmund, it wasn't his fault.' I think it could be Snape, and I think you'd be daft not to at least try."

"I still don't think it makes sense...." she grumbled, but she bent her head back to her equation.

Her quill paused at the 'protector' variable as she brought to mind Snape. This was the hardest part of using people as Arithmantic variables. You had to see them in your mind, to somehow translate the words 'Severus Snape' into the myriad of complex impressions and emotions that made the man. She admittedly didn't know much about Snape, but when her knowledge stopped, the magic began. She felt pain, fear, revulsion, more pain... Impressions that she could only partially catch played through her skull, and the equation clicked.

The oily black line seemed to leap forth from the page with joy at being recognized, at being known... indeed, Severus Snape was the protector. And her silvery line was the second to encounter his: the first being the bright pink line of Molly Weasley.

Some murmuring and a dull thwunk sound registered at the edge of her hearing; apparently Harry had explained what she saw to Ron, who had promptly passed out on hearing that his mother might be in cahoots with the Great Greasy Git-Bat of the Dungeons. She wasn't paying attention to that, though. Now that they had the four base variables in place, pathways began to appear before her very eyes. She saw Molly's pink line seem to wrap around Snape, and she felt phantom limbs go around her and comfort her. Then, the black line disappeared within the pink, and Snape was gone from her equation entirely. Her own line came close to the place where Snape and Molly's lines merged, but her line could not pass through Molly's and get to the other side. Meanwhile, a tendril emerged from the opposite side of Molly's line from where she was trying to pass through. The pinky-gray line headed straight for the putrid green line that had connected with Ron, surrounding it. The green line dimmed slightly, and Hermione felt a distinct wave of fear move through it.

The equation stopped again. Her mouth felt dry, and her head reeled when she tried to rise.

"Hey... guys..." she said weakly, trying to bring herself to rights. Harry was fussing over Ron, though, and didn't seem to hear her. Unable to support herself, she slid sideways and crumpled beneath the desk.

A nap... that sounds nice, she thought.

***

She cracked open a bleary eye to find a bright green one the size of a tennis ball inches from hers. She screamed, bolting upright and throwing Dobby across the library. He crashed into a shelf of books on magical fungi, but it didn't seem to faze him.

"Harry Potter Harry Potter Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked happily. "Miss Hat Lady is waking now!"

Harry, who had been speaking with Ron, rushed over to her. "How are you feeling? That was kind of scary."

She groaned and pressed a hand to her forehead. "Not so good... My head hurts. What happened?"

Harry opened his mouth, perhaps to tell her what had happened, but Dobby beat him to it. "Miss Hat Lady do too much too quick. Dobby has seen Professor Vector do this sometimes when the magic is strong. Miss Hat Lady will have headache all day and will be very hungry later."

He began pulling small bottles from one of the many pockets on his sweater. Squinting at it, Hermione asked, "Is that a Weasley sweater?"

Dobby jumped up and down excitedly. "Oh yes! Weezy Lady is making it for Dobby, since the one Dobby got from the Weezy was too big. Weezy Lady is making it with pockets!" Dobby was obviously very excited about having pockets; Hermione supposed that most things house-elves would wear didn't. She was about to ask why Dobby would need pockets, since house-elves could use magic to Summon most anything, but she found her mouth full of a vile-tasting liquid. She gagged and tried to spit it out, but Dobby would have none of it.

"Missy Hat Lady will take her medicine!" he squealed, and she found that she couldn't spit it out. Seeing no other option, she swallowed it with a grimace.

"Ugh, Dobby, that was terrible! What was it?"

"Professor Bat-man makes the other professor take it when she falls down after doing the scribblies. Dobby is going in his office and finding it."

"You got into Professor Snape's office? How? I thought the Ministry had sealed it up after..." Her voice trailed off, and she was unable to continue. If Snape – No, Professor Snape, she corrected herself – was the protector, then why had he done it? Had Dumbledore wanted him to do it?

Dobby didn't notice, being more than happy to talk. "House-elf magic at Hogwarts overrides all other magic. Dobby can move through wards like they is not there. House-elves must be cleaning everywhere, so everywhere they must go. And if there is students or professors in danger behind their wards, house-elves can be going in to help!"

Harry and Ron's eyes appeared to glaze over, processing the fact that Dobby could go anywhere. You could practically see the mischief coming off of them in waves. Hermione, though, found that her brain seemed to be working just fine, despite the fact that she didn't think she could so much as Summon a quill at the moment.

"So, you can go into Professor Snape's old chambers? Can you get me in there?"

Dobby looked down his crooked little nose at her. "Is Miss Hat Lady making trouble? Dobby is a good elf, and he is not making trouble."

"No, no, Dobby! It's... a secret," she said in a low whisper, hoping to appeal to the elf's sense of adventure.

"Secrets is sounding like trouble... Dobby will think about it."

It seemed to be the best she was going to get for now. Perhaps she could bribe him with some new socks.

**

Harry and Ron dragged her out of the library despite her protests, though they agreed that they would try to get back through the wardrobe that evening after dinner.

Dinner itself was a quiet affair, since most of the Weasleys had left the lovable ramshackle house they called home. Bill was living with Fleur, though no one but Molly and Arthur really wanted to see him. Fleur was pregnant with their first child, and it seemed to be all Bill could discuss. The scars left by Fenrir Greyback had healed, though they still looked deep and angry as they bisected his face. He suffered no ill effects from his injuries; he simply had a liking for extremely rare meat and got twitchy when the full moon came through.

Fred and George were still living in their spacious flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, raking in Galleons at an astonishing rate. Molly still disapproved, though she disapproved less now that they brought presents when they came home.

Charlie was back in Romania with the dragons, training some of them for the coming fight against the Dark. Dragon-riders were few and far between these days, but Charlie and his team had the talent to pull it off if anyone could. Hermione smiled at the thought of Lucius Malfoy getting eaten by a Hungarian Horntail.

Percy Weasley still chose to live his life estranged from those who had raised and loved him. All Christmas presents still came back unopened, though Molly sent packages like clockwork. "I want to remind him that we still love him," she had explained, doing a very poor job of hiding the tears that threatened to fall.

Lastly, there was Ginny. Poor, sweet Ginny. After Harry had left her, she retreated into a shell that no one could break. She was often seen up on the roof of the Burrow, staring off into space. She never cried, though. Lately she had started coming down to dinner, but conversation was still sparse. She'd lost weight, and her once lustrous hair hung limp and lank around her shoulders. Hermione felt rather guilty that she hadn't spoken to the younger girl much since it happened and made a mental note to do so later.

After what seemed like an age, the dinner dishes were cleared away, and Ginny had retreated upstairs, and Arthur and Molly were preoccupied with each other. It was time.

They quietly went upstairs and into the wardrobe. Ron made to shut the door behind him, but stopped when Hermione explained how foolish it was to completely shut oneself up in a wardrobe. She took a deep breath and began moving through the layers of coats.

There it was again. She hadn't been imagining things, or hallucinating, and she wasn't going crazy. Ron was chattering excitedly about seeing everything for the first time, but Hermione was considerably more cautious. Something didn't seem right. The woods were too quiet, and an odd smell hung upon the breeze.

Just past the lamp-post, she paused, motioning for Ron and Harry to be silent and wait. Harry must have sensed it too because he elbowed Ron and gripped his wand a little tighter.

The cottage was still there, but today no cheery lights shone in the windows. The door was slightly open, and there were big-booted footprints all over the snow around the house. Hermione cast a swift and (mostly) silent Disillusionment Charm, motioning for Ron and Harry to do the same. Ron had a little trouble with his, but after a moment got it sorted out. They crept towards the house, trying not to let so much as a whisper of snow across the frozen ground mark their passage.

The house was dark, cold, and empty, though she could still smell the faintest breath of lemon-scented air. The gaily-colored curtains had been ripped down, and papers and knickknacks were strewn throughout the house. Someone had been here, and they had been looking for something.

She walked back towards the small kitchen, noting that Dumbledore's blue and silver cloak still hung on the peg, and a pair of boots was neatly placed beneath it. Her eyes blurred momentarily with unshed tears. What happened? Don't tell me that we got him back just to lose him again... The kitchen seemed to have been left alone, the little canisters denoting flour and sugar still gleaming in the dim light coming through the window. She could just make out the greenhouse beyond the trees. That too, seemed intact.

She wandered back towards the living room, where Harry knelt with his fingertips pressed against a dark stain on the carpet. She watched as he raised red, sticky fingers to his nose and took a cautious sniff. The look on his face confirmed her fears. It was blood.

**

:ducks: I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

Abolition of Man is another work by C.S. Lewis.

As always, thanks to my wonderful betas (appearing in alphabetical order), Sevariger and WickedlyWanton. Extra kudos to Septentrion, who caught my David/Daniel oopsie.

Please, read and review! I'd like to know what you think so far.

**EDIT: PP apparently had a spasm of some kind, so all your lovely reviews were lost. I do reply to reviews pretty quickly, so I think I thanked everyone that had reviewed before - but if I missed you, I'm sorry. Leave another review and I'll make it up to you!