Warning: Beware that the content of this next chapter deals with dark and mature subject matter. Reader's discretion is advised!

We'll rate this chapter as PG16 (is there such a rating?) to be safe.

Chapter 13

It was dank, cold, and smelled of spilt wine and wet rock, but he had stopped noticing this almost instantly after he had awoken and found himself in this place. That must have been over a month ago now, at the least; he didn't have much sense of time seeing as there were no windows and he was awoken whenever his host felt obliged. Nowadays he barely even noticed the chill in the air having become so accustomed to it, though he still sometimes caught himself longing for a blanket or hot bath. He shifted on his cot, feeling the old material slide under his back as he woke up from his light doze. He turned his head to gaze through the darkness but didn't see any reason for his awakening, and he rolled his eyes up to stare blankly at the ceiling. Giles wasn't there, so the wizard must be upstairs sleeping.

Ron quietly pulled his arms to his chest and began toying with the many bands that encircled them. Where he usually felt hate towards the objects, at the moment he could only muster up a slight aggravation. He counted them in his head, noting that there were five on his right wrist and three on his left. Hmm, it looked like Giles was trying to toy with his mind again by changing his normal routine of four bands on each wrist. It was stupid, and Ron figured it meant nothing, so he didn't let the change bother him. Instead he entertained himself by fiddling with the bands, and ignoring the burning that agitated his wrists due to their presence. Despite the fact that he had a chain engulfing his ankle and attaching him to the wall in his little offset room, these bangles were the objects responsible for his continued captivity. Giles had happily described to him his acquirement of the dead Angazi crystal (though Ron had never heard of it and suspected that it was one of the few dark crystals in existence) and explained how its purpose was to leach energy instead of giving it. The man had programmed it to his chosen energies, ground it up into powder, mixed it with a massive list of material Ron also didn't recognize, and then blended it in with melted silver, forming the eight bands he now wore. Silver was a pure metal, but when mixed with Giles' ingredients it made Ron's ability to channel energies almost non existent. Add to that the anti-apparating spells that surrounded this place and Ron was trapped.

He tightened his hand around his wrist painfully for a moment, aggravating the already swollen flesh and grimacing as he did so. This abominated silver couldn't kill him, as Giles had happily demonstrated to him in several…unconventional ways since Ron had arrived. Ron had always been taught that silver was a valued conductor among many magical beings, and he supposed that, had it been pure, it wouldn't cause him any harm, however; he was fairly certain that if he ever got out of this place he would never wear the metal again.

When he had first awoken in this place, on the very same cot he lay stiffly on now, he had felt as though he'd been muzzled somehow, cut off from his basic methods of protection. He had looked over and seen Giles, dressed from head to foot in flashy silver robes, staring at him. He had silver eyes, though Ron still suspected that they were unnatural. The irony of his situation had not been lost on him as he had awoken, seeing as he had escaped from Hogwarts only hours before to avoid being controlled in any sense, only to be abducted. The humour hadn't lasted long, however, as his creepy captor had continued staring at him in silence. Ron didn't have the energy to say anything. They had sat for what must have been close to an hour in silence, Ron desperately trying to ignore the feeling of being watched so studiously.

"You are quite the prize Mr. Weasley." The voice had been so silky and smooth, promising rainbows, he had sounded surprisingly similar to Lucius Malfoy. "Can you imagine! Apparating from Hogwarts all the way to Brussel in two jumps when even Dumbledore needs to apparate three times, and you're still only a child." He had seemed immensely pleased by this and Ron had only stared in confusion, fear, and anger. What was this chap blithering about? How could he possibly know how far Ron had jumped? Alas, he seemed to have anticipated the question and he had, unnervingly happily, explained to Ron exactly how he had arrived in his clutches.

"You may not recognize me, Ronald, but we've actually met several times, especially this last year…" Giles had been a Death Eater, partnered with the one Ron had killed the previous day in fact (though he didn't seem at all sad to have lost his friend), and had been on the sidelines with Voldemort in that final battle. He had heard his dark lord call Ron a chaneller (the bugger had the hearing of a bat even when he wasn't in his animagus form), and he had stalked Ron, with the aide of his partner, his entire seventh year. Ron hadn't had a clue, even when, on three separate occasions, Giles and his partner had knocked into him at Hogsmeade. They had slowly placed an untraceable tracking charm on Ron by pouring the potion onto his robes, where it permeated to his skin and was absorbed into his body. Giles had a special globe that marked Ron's location at all times, much like his families clock only more sophisticated. He had followed Ron to his hotel room, where he had found him passed out from the stress of his apparation, and happily portkeyed him to this large, dark cellar. Ron had absolutely no idea where he was, he could be in Canada for all he knew.

"We had such grand plans, Malbus and I, but alas his loyalty to the Dark Lord had clouded his ambitions. He had been so patient, I suppose I should have known he would snap and try to kill the Potter boy. You know-" Giles had trailed off thoughtfully for a moment, "I don't think he ever believed you were a chaneller, he was just going along with my plans for entertainment. Hm, his loss." He had heartily slapped Ron on the shoulder then, as though he was a good friend, and Ron had shrunk back but been unable to avoid the touch. He had yet to figure a way to get the crazy wizard to stop touching him, petting him, every time he felt like it. Sometimes he feared there was more in the touch then simple provocation, but he chalked that up to over reading the situation. He still hated the touch as much as he hated the man.

Ron had taken to sleeping at scattered intervals, always waiting for Giles to come down and start his next bout of 'training,' or to whip him into more submission, or to simply practice some of his dark curses on him. Imperious was one that he seemed particularly keen on, and it was the one that terrified Ron the most. Despite the pain the others could cause, this was where he lost his self control, and if Giles could maintain control over Ron he could be coerced into doing unspeakable things. Three days before he had been placed under the charm, had his silver bangles removed, and made to take all the energy of a beautiful white cat, and then a black one, and he hadn't been allowed to channel all of their energy back into the earth. That had taken the course of four minutes, until he had been able to start putting strain on the curse that held him. Giles replaced the bangles, and locked him on his cot just as he regained self control and promptly vomited onto the floor.

He had wanted to die then, knowing that that was exactly how he had killed Malbus and…Harry. Leached their energy, thankfully he hadn't kept it within himself. Giles had explained that this was why Ron had been in the hospital after that fateful afternoon; it took a lot of energy to separate one from their own life force, and seeing as he was so new to his powers it had overwhelmed him (again if the battle with Voldemort was anything to go by). His body had needed the time to adapt. He was learning more here then he ever thought he would about his gifts, and most of it just made him sick. Sucking out people's lives while you were a hundred yards away was not a skill Ron wanted to master. A day after he had taken the lives of the two helpless felines he had discovered that he could see almost clearly in the dark: apparently in their case he had integrated a genetic trait. He tried to not think about it.

As it was Giles was forcing him to train in an assortment of odd things, and when he said forced it was only half meant. Being locked up down here was driving him up the walls. Sometimes he didn't know whether he should cower at the approach of his abductor, or look forward to the distraction he would provide. After his nightmares, that left Ron crying out as he woke himself up, he was more then ready for anything that would wipe the image of Harry as his eyes rolled into his head and he fell dead to the ground from his head. Even the pain, which always fit into whatever they did as a method of control and malice, was welcomed after such moments, and he sometimes relished in it, knowing it was deserved. Giles didn't hold back either, and had been delighted that, despite the bangles, Ron was able to gather just enough energy in his body to heal himself faster than was natural.

What would his family and peers think to see him this way? Some days he would be given a weapon and taught to wield it, other times he was pit against animate dummies to learn how to fight. Then he would be taught to do the waltz and tango and it was so bizarre that he himself didn't know what to think. Fred and George might have gotten a kick out of seeing him try to learn the proper steps with a dressed up life size doll, but he doubted they would have been amused at him being punished for not doing it right. Then again, they might, seeing as their youngest brother was a murderer and killed their adopted brother. Thinking about his family usually left him with a headache, but he hadn't cried for their loss yet, and he hadn't been able to cry for Harry. It was cold, it was heartless, and he couldn't find it within himself to mourn his best friend. He hoped that this was because his mind refused to mourn in such a desolate place, as it wouldn't do Harry the honour he deserved.

When he was free and away from this cold prison he would say goodbye to his friend, but not until then. He suspected it wouldn't be long now, seeing as he was almost capable of breaking the Imperius curse. All he had to do was break it before Giles could put the bangles back on, and then he would knock the wizard out, call the appropriate authorities, and disappear to some far away and secluded place where people wouldn't even think to look for him. He would decide what to do after that once he got there.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a heavy door open and close loudly, and the steps of Giles approached him. He sat up hastily and leaned against the wall, the cold stone seeped through his thin t-shirt and, where there were holes, seemed to freeze his skin. He watched the small entry way to his corner and waited for the wizard to show his face, there was a glow from a lantern in the spacious room beyond the entrance, and it made the shadows seem deeper. Ron could only ever see a bit of that room when he was chained to his cot, but it was where he spent all his time when he was being educated. He listened intently, trying to guess Giles's purpose for this meeting, but he wasn't able to garner anything from the sounds. With a practiced flare the wizard, dressed in black pants and a button up shirt instead of his usual silver robe, entered the room. He stared at Ron in his normal, unnerving manner, and then dropped the chains he had been carrying. Ron eyed them suspiciously and looked back at the only other human he'd seen in this last month as he carefully placed a bag against the wall.

"Well Ronald, it seems you are in for a treat tonight." Ron's blood ran cold at the tone of voice he used; it was different than normal and a bit husky. He rubbed at his wrists and wished for the thousandth time that the damn silver bands didn't exist, that he wasn't here, that he wasn't a chaneller, and that Harry wasn't dead. Well, his wishes had never been answered before, and they weren't about to start now.

"I think I'll pass, if it's all the same." He said calmly and watched as Giles hooked the four chains to four separate rings in the floor, feeling anything but calm.

"No, no. I think you ought to be here for this, seeing as it's all about you." The man stood and pulled his wand casually, as though it were a pen. "Imperius" he charged, and Ron was once again trapped within his mind. He saw as Giles approached and hurriedly unclasped his ankle manacle, and he fought for all he was worth as his body stood and moved to the chains, laying down and allowing the man to shackle each limb so he was spread on the floor like a sacrifice, his arms above his head. It was only a moment later that he regained control of his motor functions and he swore as he tested the new bonds and found, in horror, that he was well and truly stuck. He looked up and glared at the wizard, unnerved by the slightly glazed look in his eyes.

"Let me up you bastard! Yer a fuckin loon if you think I'm gonna let you do…whatever it is yer gonna do!" He pulled hard on his right arm, feeling the sharp sting as his flesh was tested against metal, especially as his wrists were already irritated by his personalized bangles. But Giles didn't seem to hear his cursing, which was usually enough to distract him form his original intentions.

"It's the full moon tonight, and I really don't think we have the time to hold off on this spell any longer. I would have begun last full moon, but I wasn't sure of the proper annunciation of the passage, it's not my native tongue you see." He had pulled a small jar from the bag and slowly walked around Ron, leaving a trail of brown powder, before he went and picked up a bottle of some liquid. "Drink this." Ron responded by pressing his lips firmly together and turning his head away. Giles knelt down behind him swiftly and locked Ron's head firmly between his knees. He plugged Ron's nose with one hand until Ron was dizzy with the need for oxygen and gasped. He couldn't turn away as the vile liquid was poured into his mouth, and he was stopped from spitting it out as his jaw was clamped shut with a strong hand. He swallowed and choked and Giles moved around to his side after an affectionate pat to the head.

"I know it tastes bad, but I'm sure you'll have worse. Now, I know you're shy, but you won't be needing your clothes for this." He cut away Ron's useless shirt and his pants, jerking them roughly out from beneath him and leaving him panting heavily in fear of loosing his underpants as well. He was beginning to feel a bit light headed, but he forced the sensation back as he watched Giles with all his might, willing him to leave him with the small covering. "I suppose I don't need to take those off at this point." The man stood and stepped over Ron, heading back to his bag.

"What are you doing?" He gasped out, shivering in the cold as he lay on the damp stone. The chains rattled with each movement as he kept trying to squirm out of them. The silver eyes looked down at him in glee, and a cold smile broke out on his face.

"Why Ron, you didn't actually think I'd trust you to do my bidding when the time came did you? Honestly, all this grooming isn't to benefit yourself, and if I mean for you to help me you have to be mine, completely." He walked over and lightly drizzled a heavily scented oil on Ron's chest; it burned like acid, but when he looked down to check he saw that his skin wasn't slowly melting away. He jerked as a cold hand smeared some of the oil onto his forehead and then into his hair before the being left him again and pulled a small, leather bound book from the bag. Ron gasped at the pain of the oil and felt his back scraping on the rough stone.

"I'm not a bloody trinket, you can't own me." He gasped out, which earned him a laugh.

"Dear boy, I already do. This is just your taming." He carefully opened the book and looked over Ron's wriggling body carefully. "Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain." The man muttered and Ron paused in his struggle. What?

"Colour spectrum." Giles intoned, answering the unspoken question. "Have you figured out what I'm going to do yet?"

"No." he spat and looked warily at the smoke that began to arise around him from the brown powder.

"My specialty as the Dark Lords servant was learning and implementing spells of the Dark Arts that had been long forgotten. This one is called Chakra Incantata, and as far as I know I am the only one who is aware of its existence."

"I s'pose that's somthin fer a useless has bin." Ron growled.

"Watch your tongue Mr. Weasley, because as much as I can appreciate your sometimes vulgar conversation, I don't need you to have a tongue to be my servant." Ron glared. "The Chakra" Giles slid into his lecture mode "is the source of the bodies powers, and it is derived from the colour spectrum. What we are going to be doing tonight, is the first of eight casting rituals that will allow me access to the workings of your power centers. The Imperius curse is weakening on you, I can see that as clear as day light, so now we will begin a binding of slave to master in a way that hasn't been practiced in centuries." Ron was trying to pay attention but the burning on his chest and head, as well as the fumes from the smoke were beginning to obstruct his focus. He did notice when his torturer began to strip out of his own clothes until he was clad in nothing but European under garments. He choked but found that his voice was strangely absent.

His vision began to blur and his eyes leaked tears in response to the stinging of the smoky air. His struggles were reduced to pathetic tugs at the bonds, no longer enough strength behind them to hurt. He lost sense of time, hearing a voice reciting the same words over and over again until Ron himself was repeating them in his mind. Giles's pale body was glistening with sweat, illuminated in the pale lantern light as he stood at Ron's feet. He watched through half lidded eyes, repulsed by the muscular form standing over him, finding it difficult, even in his distraction, not to notice the way the knife gleamed in his large hand as it was pointed at him.

Time seemed to jump from one moment to the next and there was a heavy weight settling on his thighs as the dark wizard straddled him; he tried to heave him off, but only succeeded in shaking his body. The air, the smoke, and Giles was cutting his own thumb and leaning forward, pressing the blood onto his skin just above his privates. A weak wailing escaped his throat as Ron watched, transfixed, terrified, confused…Muladhara. The word was chanted, and then there was a sharp pain as the dagger split his skin. The thumb smeared again below his naval, Svadhisthana, another sharp pain. Manipura, a sharp pain above his navel. Anahata, the cut must have gone right down to his sternum and he bucked a bit, feeling his panic deepen, feeling the heavy weight of the man as he moved to sit on his stomach. Get off get off get off getoffgetoffgetoff. Vishyddha, the base of his neck; Ajna, between his eyebrows; and Sahasara, the top of his head. Bile rose in his throat as Giles slit his palm and began smearing his blood into each of Ron's wounds, blending his blood in Ron's seven major chakra's, his spirit of energy.

He could feel the taint of the other man seep into him, a violation far worse then any he had imagined. He was stealing the power over his soul.

TBC

NOTE: When I upload Chapter 14 the Title of this story will be "The Chaneller". I'm sorry to change it, but the current title doesn't sit well with me and while the new one isn't fantastic, it's better then this.

I sit here and twiddle my thumbs nervously as I await your reactions. Two of my closest friends made the comment that while they were waiting for a twist along

this line, they didn't think the general world of fanfiction readers would be prepared. Especially after the events of the previous chapter!

Kamonkey, you and ever other person who keeps reviewing this story Roc as well!

Catc10…that's kind of stalkerish isn't it:P

Blaaat. Thank you. While it would be nice to have more people read the story it is the quality of the reviews and so far all have been extremely encouraging! The beginning of the story is slow, and I feel it turns people away, but I wanted to make sure that there was a proper introduction and lead up to the more dramatic and juicy bits :) As for the rashness of Ron breaking his wand…well, after reading JK Rowlings books I felt that Ron's character was focused more to reacting to his feelings that fully thinking things through. He's loud and volatile, can be funny and witty, but he tends to take his actions to the extreme. That coupled with his lack of self worth and yes, the stress of killing his best friend as you said, is causing him to take actions to the extreme.

As for the title…there are still many chapters to come and they will make it clear as to why I called it "Ron Weasley and the Dragon Lord" but it is the length of time it takes to get to that explanation that is also convincing me that the title needs changing.

Well everyone, there's loads more to come so sit tight!

Next Update: August 14, 2005