Chapter Ten

The convict woke with a start. The horses. Something was wrong, the animals obviously were nervous. He rose with difficulty from his wine-enhanced sleep and stumbled over to the boxes with bare feet, yawning and rubbing his eyes. The horses were snorting and moving restlessly. He lit his wand and looked around for a strange animal in the stables, but could not see anything out of the ordinary. Then something outside the window caught his eye. The sky was red, which definitely was wrong because it could not yet be dawn. Quickly he went outside. Fire! The house was on fire! Suddenly sober and wide awake he hastened back to his corner. Hastily he put on his clothes and boots and ran towards the house. He could see the flames in the kitchen wing. If only he had his magic and a real wand! Extinguishing the fire would be no problem. But in his present state he was helpless. Panting he stood and watched. Suddenly he saw two small figures running towards him. The house elves.

"701!" they squeaked, "701, you must help master. Master is asleep and Miss Laura, and Master Simon and Miss Laura's friend, too!"

Help, yes, but how?

"Stay here," he commanded and sprinted towards the house. The kitchen door was useless, he would not get through the flames. So he tried the front door. It was locked and with his wand he was not able to open it. Cursing violently he ran back to the stables and fetched an axe. Back at the front door several blows with the axe made the wood splinter and destroyed the lock, allowing him to enter the house. There was no fire in the hall and on the stairs yet, but everything was full of thick smoke coming from the kitchen paasage. What now? 701 felt the pain coming and suddenly remembered the morning in the library. Strangely enough he had noticed a telephone then, the Trelawneys were connected to the Muggle phone network, he could call the fire brigade! He dashed into the library and dialled the emergency number.

"Fire at the Trelawney estate. Please hurry!" he shouted into the phone.

Then he returned to the hall. How long would it take them to get here? Too long for the unsuspecting people upstairs! The smoke was getting thicker. He coughed, gritted his teeth against the pain and looked around. The door next to the front door, was that a bathroom? He threw the door open. Yes, it was. He tore off his shirt and held it under the tap, then put the wet garment back on. Next he pulled down the towel, repeated the procedure and tied the wet cloth round his head and his mouth. Then he went back into the hall and ran upstairs. His eyes began to water from the smoke but at least the adrenaline in his veins made him forget the pain. Upstairs he tried the first door in the corridor. The room was full of smoke, the bed was empty. Out again and the next door. A bathroom! The next room was occupied, Laura Trelawney was in the bed – together with a young man. Wondering briefly what her father would say if he knew, he shook them, but only the man stirred and opened his eyes.

"What…?"

"The house is on fire, you must get out of here at once."

The young man sat up quickly. "Laura?"

"She's unconscious. Can you walk? Can you help me carry her?"

"Who are you?" The man squinted against the smoke.

"Does that matter now? Take the girl and get out of the house."

The young man muttered something under his breath, but finally managed to get out of the bed, scooped up the girl in his arms and, staggering under her weight, carried her from the room.

"Take her outside!" the convict shouted before running down the corridor to the next room. It was occupied, too. Simon O'Connor. For a moment 701 stared at the man who was responsible for the brutal end of his contact with Miranda – how tempting to leave him now - then slapped him in the face, hard, harder than would have been necessary to wake him, but the young man didn't react. He, too, was already unconscious. Cursing his bad luck 701 pulled him into a sitting position, slung him over his shoulder and carried him downstairs, carefully and slowly feeling his way in the thick smoke. Down in the hall he handed him over to Laura's boyfriend who was hovering on the doorstep.

In the moonlight the man saw the number on the shirt.

"You are the convict!" he cried in surprise.

"Yes, I am. So what?"

The young man suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Nothing. Can I help you?" he asked sheepishly.

"Stay with them and try to wake them," the convict shouted, already on his way back inside and upstairs and into the next room. This was the master bedroom, Mr Trelawney was as unconscious as his nephew. 701 had to steady himself at the bedpost. He felt dizzy. The pain, the smoke and the increasing heat made it hard to breathe. He bent down to pick up his master. But Mr Trelawney was much heavier than his nephew, it was impossible to carry him. All 701 could do was grab him under the arms and drag him from the room. Meanwhile the fire had reached the hall, the flames were encircling the banisters. The convict paused to gather some strength. Time was running out, he had to get outside as quickly as possible! Where was that blasted fire-brigade? Slowly and clumsily he started his descend, dragging his master with him non too gently. Mr Trelawney's body would be covered with bruises, but that could not be helped, they had to get out of the house. There were only three steps left when he stumbled with exhaustion and fell, pulling Mr Trelawney with him. The last thing he saw before he passed out were the small shapes of the house-elves and the larger one of Laura's friend just outside the front door.

Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters