Chapter 14

"Again!" He barked out the order and Ron jumped up, grabbing the thick beam two feet above him, ignoring the few splinters that dug into his hands. He swung his body and climbed up, then jumped to the heavy rope that dangled from the high ceiling a good three meters away, feeling the sharpburn in his hands as he stopped his down slide. He climbed the rope for five meters to the next beam that formed the magically extended dungeon, and ran lightly across the narrow wood until he came to a series of floating plates. Giles had them floating by magic, and some were meant to fall under Ron's weight while others would allow him to safely hop back to the ground. He moved fast, taking only a moment to brush the sweat out of his eyes before leaping from one to the other, not thinking about whether he was choosing the right landings, just moving on instinct. He had been doing this for the last two hours, and if he didn't get it right this time he wouldn't have the energy to try it again. He jumped the last meter and a half to the ground, rolled on his shoulder and came up, throwing his knife at the dummy suspended in the corner of the room. He missed it by about three feet. Shit. He stood up, slightly cramped from the painful stitch in his side and slowly turned to face Giles. The wizard looked more amused then anything, but Ron could sense an undercurrent of disappointment at his performance. He really hoped the wizard wasn't too upset.

"Well, I suppose I expected too much from you Ronald." The man stared at him unflinchingly and Ron forced himself to stay still, waiting for more. "I guess I had it set in my mind that a chaneller would be an extraordinary individual, but alas you are a disappointment when it comes to weapons." And you're a disappointment when it comes to humanity Ron thought, but as much as he would have liked to voice his opinion, he couldn't, not when Giles had forbidden him to speak. Giles picked up the fallen weapon and examined it a moment before tossing it into the corner, along with all the other blades that had been abandoned in the last six months. Ron was glad to see it go; he hated the feel of metal in his hands. Giles tisk'd at the pile and turned to gaze at Ron in that peculiar way of his. Ron felt a shiver of unease travel up his spine and through his shoulders; he never knew what the wizard was thinking when he looked at him like that.

"However you don't really need a weapon, seeing as you are one in your own right. Stand up straight." Ron snapped to attention, the pain in his side still very much alive. "Your agility has improved in leaps over these few months, and I am happy with your balance and climbing capabilities. I suppose those cats gave you more then just sight in darkness hmmm." Too bad I didn't get their claws, it would have been fun to scratch your eyes out. It was true that Ron found balance much easier then he used to, but he was well aware that it was the endless hours of training that Giles had him performing that gave him the edge, not the cats (as a young child he had been forever climbing the biggest trees he could find, until his parents stopped helping him out of them). Knowing why he was being trained so ruthlessly though, made his new physical skills seem more worrisome than beneficial.

"Clumsy as a new born when it comes to blades." Giles was repeating things to himself again, as he oft did around Ron, pretending as though he wasn't even there. Well honestly, what did he expect? Ron was a far cry from a master fighter, and the metal felt so unnatural in his hands. He knew that given a stone he could hit anything, and he was sure that if he was given free range of his chanelling energies his precision would only increase. Lucius Malfoy could relate that point. Sometimes he wanted to believe that his lack of skill with knives was due to some last dredge of resistance on his part as he tried to defy the man who had almost complete control of him. He looked away from Giles, ignoring the red hair that fell over his eyes like a curtain and blocked his vision, as he remembered exactly when he had begun to lose what little control he'd had.

That first night, when Giles had cut him and forced his blood into him, that was when Ron had lost his control. He had woken up the next day, sore as anything and lying curled on the floor in his 'room.' He had been cleaned and dressed in clothes that must have been hand-me-downs from the wizard himself. They hung off Ron's tall and lanky frame loosely but managed to cling to his body. He had thrown up, trying to purge his body of the toxin he had felt pressed into him, but it hadn't helped at all. When his captor had shown up he had told him to stand up. It had been much more difficult to defy that order than Ron had been happy with, and he had been on his knees before he realized what he was doing and stopped himself from standing fully. That had led to a month of reminding himself harshly that he did not want to do what Giles said. After the second full moon Ron hadn't been able to deny responding to simpler requests. Then the third moon and fourth moon had come and Ron had been throwing up in fear days before Giles came to him with the oil and the smoke and that bloody knife. Maybe that was why Ron couldn't wield blades.

Whatever the reason, Ron couldn't resist orders anymore, he couldn't speak out of turn, couldn't mouth off, couldn't stop doing exercises until his body literally collapsed under him. It was worse then Imperius, he was trapped in his mind, but he didn't feel distant from his body. It was much different then that. If Giles gave him an order he followed it, but now he actively worked to make sure he accomplished the best result he could. If Giles told him to kill the Prime Minister, then Ron would fly halfway across the world, plan the entire assassination, follow through with it, and then return to this hell hole without any hesitation. It didn't matter how much he didn't want to do it, he would. He feared that after the completion of the eighth ceremony he wouldn't even be able to control his thoughts anymore; he would cease to exist. At the present time he was praying to all that was magical and/or spiritual that the ministry would find him and kill him. Anything would be better then this.

"I suppose it's better this way, actually!" Giles snapped Ron's attention back to his present. "Seeing as it's muggles we'll be going after, not carrying any weapons will misdirect their suspicion from you should they, for some outrageous reason, get their hands on you." Ron's example of killing a Prime Minister wasn't at all farfetched, seeing as it was muggle's, not magical folk, that Giles was training Ron to assassinate. Apparently the right connections could make the wizard a ton of money in their world, not to mention power. What was worse was that the wizards might never suspect that any of the assassinations would be magical in source, and would refrain from investigating. Giles had been living in the muggle world for so long now that he bragged of how his existence was not even known within regular wizarding circles. Only the Death Eaters really knew he was around, and all of this information had done nothing to raise Ron's hopes of being accidentally discovered.

"Look at you boy, don't you have any pride in appearance?" It was a redundant question, seeing as Ron could only see to his hygiene as much as Giles would allow, and he didn't answer. He looked at the floor instead, feeling dirty despite knowing it wasn't his fault. Feeling worthless because he couldn't get away, feeling pathetic because he couldn't throw a stupid knife, feeling violated and disgusting because he was at the beck and call of this man. He really was useless, no other chaneller's, or half decent wizards for that matter, would ever be trapped like him; weak and pathetic.

"Look at me when I speak to you." Ron looked up, trying to hide his feelings of defeat, he didn't want Giles to know he had gotten to him. Giles stared at him, and looked him up and down slowly, pausing a moment to check that the three bangles Ron still wore were firmly attached. Ron would have smirked at that if he could, because it was a small sign that this man still feared him slightly, despite everything. "Get some rest son, there's a full moon tonight, and we have a special guest for tomorrow. You might know her actually, I believe she ran in your circle."

A chill crept through his limbs and surrounded his heart as he walked obediently to his cell, and a familiar sickness clenched his stomach so strongly that he had to stifle a sharp gasp of pain. He sat and lay on his cot, back to the wall, and closed his eyes, waiting until Giles's footsteps led him away up the tunnels stairs, and the heavy door was heard closing. He opened his eyes and stumbled off the cot as he dashed to the loo sitting a meter away, heaving up the last meal he had eaten. Steak and potato's, because his host didn't skimp on fine dining, were introduced to his toilet and disappeared as it magically cleaned itself. Ron remained there for a few minutes, until he felt well enough to move back to his cot. He was numb with fear, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the ritual, or because of the guest that Giles was going to bring. She ran in your circle, oh Merlin it was probably Hermione! He fought another bout of nausea at this realization and wrapped his arms around his head, squeezing to try and remain calm.

Giles had gone out and kidnapped Hermione and was bringing her here! This was so bad. There was only one reason that Ron could think of for snatching her, and he was sick all over again as he realized this, retching miserably. Giles was going to test Ron, have him drain her just like had had made him do the cats; Ron was going to kill Hermione. Were he eight months younger he might have cried in fear at this knowledge. Now, he could only whimper quietly to himself as he curled on his mangled bed and imagined how she would look at him when she realized who he was and what he was going to do. Of course she would know everything she could about chaneller's by now, it had been eight months since he'd…and she would need to know, along with his family, to try and understand why. What wickedness had driven their trusted son, brother, friend into such violent acts. She would no doubt glare at him with that haughty expression she got when she was feeling righteous and indignant, and there would be a fear and hate there as well, and Ron would steal it all and destroy her.

He grabbed at the bangle on his left wrist suddenly, and tried to pry his fingers underneath it, they wouldn't fit. So he dug his three fingers around it as much as they could and started pulling desperately, trying to rip it off his wrist. He'd done this so many times in the past months and the bands had never even bent out of shape. This knowledge didn't stop him now, nor did the biting pain as it embedded itself into his skin, not cutting. He pulled until his fingers were bleeding around the nails and his wrist was sprained, but he couldn't get it off, and he couldn't even cut himself with them. He dropped his hands and stared desolately out into the larger room, noticing for the first time that a light was there. He had no idea how long it had been there, and then Giles appeared in his black attire, holding his dreaded bag of burning oil and potions. The man looked over Ron and glared at his wrist, but didn't comment. He set up his chains in silence, the jangling the only sound echoing in the room until he stood and looked at Ron.

"Strip." Ron did so. "Lie down." Ron complied. He couldn't feel his limbs, he was having trouble breathing, he felt light headed, he had nothing left to throw up, he was in hell. The only comforting notion about his entire life right now, was that he deserved this pain.

00000

It wasn't an uncomfortable chair, not by a long shot. It was a decent copy of the lawn chairs that muggles were so fond of, with the elongated leg rest that melded into the seat and adjustable back. This one was heavy though, and sturdy and stuck firmly to the ground. The cushion beneath her was plush, she couldn't tell the colour in the darkness but assumed it would be a rich burgundy or something similar. Yet despite how comfortable it was designed to be, she couldn't stop squirming, twisting, and trying to get out of the damn thing. She'd been trying on and off all night (at least she assumed it was night) but seeing as she was still firmly stuck to it her efforts had been wasted. It was enchanted to adjust the binding around her wrists to her size and movements, and she also felt the slight oppression of a guard barrier that, were she to somehow escape the bindings, wouldn't let her get out of the chair anyway. She needed her wand.

Skrewt shit! She huffed to herself angrily, trying to hold onto her composure in this dreadful place. Her eyes had adjusted quickly as she had been frog marched down the stairs and to the chair the previous evening. She could still feel the bruise on her thigh where she had crashed into the thing, even though she had seen it with the aid of the lanterns dim light. She remembered cringing as she had stepped into the magically enlarged cellar, feeling the cold immediately despite her heavy robes; but it had been the heavy air of despair that had seeped into her being and made her despise the place immediately. There was a misery in the very stones, and sitting locked in this place all night had made it heavier and heavier until she had begun letting the fear, rather then the anger of her abduction get to her.

She stopped her struggles and looked towards the doorway at the back of this large room, watching intently, listening earnestly. She thought she had heard something.

"Hello?" She called, her parched throat causing her voice to sound more waspish then was normal. She listened, but there was no answer. She sighed sadly and leaned back, allowing her body a moment to relax as she kept her eyes on that room. It was dark inside it, and it was dark outside it, but she could still see the outline, and she swallowed heavily. There was someone in there and whoever it was, was in a bad state. Once she had known that there was more then just a big empty room around her she had realized that the emotions of this place were created because of whoever was trapped there, and her eyes watered momentarily in sympathy before she blinked the emotion away. Last night had been horrible.

Her assailant, and she still didn't know who he was though she was well aware that he was an accomplished wizard, had spent what must have been hours in there. After he had secured her he had practically sauntered in, illuminated by the lantern, his eerie silver eyes intense and hungry. He had gagged her at that time, so she couldn't alert whomever it was in there to her presence. He had stood a moment in the door, glaring, until he walked in. She heard the unmistakable sound of chains rattling and had fearfully wondered, for a moment, if they were meant for her. Until he had started barking out instructions. Strip. Lie down. Good boy. She had choked, not understanding what was going on. There were soft footsteps, the sound of vials being opened and re-stopped, the rustling of clothing being removed. She had screamed in protest then, fear for the victim lancing through her body and she tried to distract the evil man, but her desperation only came out as a small whine.

Then the chanting had started, and smoke soon began to billow out of the room and high into the rafters; how anyone could breath through that was beyond her. She listened intently in horror, knowing the casting of a dark spell when she heard one but not recognizing it at all. Muladhara. Svadhisthana. Sahasara. He was chanting Sanskrit, she recognized the few words as the bodies chakra's (it was in all the basic divination books she had ever read) and her insides clenched in horror. Any darkness being associated with the bodies chakra's could not be good for the person on the receiving end. Then a low wailing quietly emerged from under the chanting, and the occasional gasp of pain, and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. The evil wizard had finished his spell and, after packing his things, shuffled out of the room. He had his pants on, but he was sweaty and there was blood on his torso and hands, and in between his eyes. He had stopped, looking tired but sickeningly pleased with himself, and he stared at her a moment with unnerving eyes before smiling sweetly. She forced her expression to remain blank and glared back defiantly.

"Not to worry, it'll be your turn next." After he left the gag that held her silent dissolved, but she knew that calling out at that time wouldn't have recieved any reaction from the boy in the detached room, so she had started to try and think of a way out, for both of them. The problem was that she hadn't managed it yet, and she was tired, and beginning to wonder as to why the hell the Ministry hadn't noticed she was missing yet! Honestly, you'd think with Moody and Shakelbolt running the Auror's department they would have found her by now. Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard the sound of someone coughing, and she watched the separated room carefully, waiting. There was a slight groan, and then the sound of material being ruffled. The boy was getting dressed.

"Hello?" She called out quietly and waited, there was a pause in the cloth rustling and then they continued with no reply. This didn't halt her trying for his attention though. "Oi? Are you okay in there?" She cringed at how inadequate the words were, but she really didn't know what else to say. The sound stopped completely and she bit her lip in frustration and agitation, come on now, speak up. She needed to know what was going on! She decided to try one more time. "Do you have a name?"

"He does actually, one that you would be most familiar with I'm sure." She hastily looked over her shoulder and saw a dim shape in the darkness. She wondered how long he had been there. "Luminate." He hissed and several lanterns around the room lit up, casting shadows in every direction. She looked at him in apprehension but stayed calm. She was an experienced auror after all, and she had yet to lose her head in desperate situations.

"Who are you?" He smirked at her, bowing slightly in mock introduction.

"Giles McTagert, at your service…actually, given the circumstances I'd say it's the other way around." She rolled her eyes. Why did evil people always come with such stupid quips? If he was a good guy it might have been amusing, but seriously, this just made it cliché.

"Who's he?" She nodded to the hidden room, waiting expectantly. His gaze shifted from her to the room, and an evil little smile graced his lips.

"That is my newest pet." He looked back at her, eyes scathing. "You'll recognize him soon enough, though I do say he's probably changed quite a bit since you last saw him." He slicked his wand at her and she felt the magical barrier disappear even as she frowned and looked away, trying to think. She knew this person? How? When? She looked anxiously at the door and cursed for the hundredth time her lack of wand. Giles McTagert had jumped her in a back alley in Bantry, just off the Caha Mountains in Ireland. He had been a bat clinging to the brick wall when she entered it, and then he was hexing her beore she knew anything was wrong and she had been expertly stupefied. He'd poured a potion down her throat: she shrank. He put her in his pocket and then she was here, wherever here was. She wondered how he had captured his other prisoner, and how long he had been trapped here.

"Why are we here?"

"You? Well, honestly it was a stroke of luck that I saw you walking down the street, and a miracle that I recognized you. It is not often that Nymphadora Tonks is in her own skin while on assignments for her ministry."

"I wasn't on assignment." She denied instantly, shocked that he seemed to recognize her.

"Of course you weren't" he agreed. "But I really don't care one way or the other, I'm just delighted to have you. You see, my pet is almost completely trained now, and I think it's time to upgrade his education and you," he looked at her with a greedy glint in his eyes "were too good to pass up. The ministry won't have a clue where you've disappeared off to, and they won't until they find your body on their doorstep tomorrow."

"You're off your rocker you are! Killing an Auror! That's an instant kiss sentence, and they will find you."

"Don't be stupid. They don't even know I exist." He snarled suddenly angry and looked over at the door with impatience. "Boy! Get out here! You need to spend some time with our guest." He looked back at her with an apologetic expression. "You'll have to excuse him, he really didn't want to see anybody here with him, ever. He's a bit reluctant when it comes to old friends, though I guess you already knew that." She looked at the door as a tall form appeared and slowly began walking towards them. She couldn't see his face, but her eyes widened in realization as she took note of the dirty but still bright red hair that hung greasily on his head. It fell messily over his eyes and what she could see of his face was slowly coming into focus; but she didn't need to see it to know who it was.

"Ron!" They had been searching for him for eight months! They had scoured Ireland only two months ago trying to find him, desperate to find him in fact, and as she looked upon him now she saw that the months hadn't been kind. He had been here a long time. He didn't look at her as he stopped only a few feet away, staring at the ground as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world. She felt the tears of relief at knowing he wasn't dead, and of painful sorrow at seeing him like this, rise in her eyes. They had hoped, all of them, that he had found somewhere safe to hide. His mother was still crying at the sound of his name and his siblings were beside themselves with worry. All his brothers had been involved in the search for him for the first six months, the twins taking turns at minding the shop. Fred and George had never spent such long periods of time separated from one another in their entire lives as they had these last long months.

She studied him keenly, noting everything. His clothes were too baggy, his brown shirt riding low around his neck. His hair was longer, but it had obviously been cut at least once. His shoulders were broader and he didn't look any skinnier then she remembered, but there was blood on his neck, and his left wrist was swollen and had scratches around a bracelet. There were two other silver armlet's on his right arm. He refused to look at her, and his hands were shaking.

"Yes, I'm sure it's all quite shocking." Giles was suddenly standing beside her and grinning maliciously. "Ronald, arm out." He ordered and to her complete surprise the boy obeyed without hesitation. What the hell?

"Ron, don't listen to him, what are you doing?" She cried, scared at his submissiveness. It was so wrong to be witnessing this.

"He'll do whatever I tell him too." He seemed inordinately proud at this, walking forward and pulling his wand. He pointed it at the inflamed appendage and uttered a charm she was unfamiliar with. The bracelet glowed and then fell away, bouncing lightly away on the stone floor. "Other arm." The process was repeated and one more bracelet fell off, leaving one single silver band encircling the wrist. Ron was so pale and she glared at him assessingly, he looked like he would pass out any second. He choose that moment to look up and meet her eyes, his blue ones searching. Before she could change her expression to something more gentle he was looking away, at the wall over top of her this time. He was closed off, but she hadn't missed the deep fear that had been there. Oh Ron she wanted to cry, it'll be okay. But she wasn't sure it would.

"Ronald, remember the cats?" Ron's entire stance became even more rigid then it had been and she looked sharply between the two. What the bloody hell was going on?

"Yes." Was the dull reply.

"It's time you upgraded your skills. Nymphadora here is quite the accomplished metamorphomagus, as you know, and we will benefit greatly from her strengths." Ron choked and she stared at him, there were enormous bruises under his eyes that made them appear even more haunted. Then what Giles was saying clicked in her mind and she looked at Ron in horror. He was going to take her energies, kill her and keep her magical strengths…oh this was bad, bad bad bad.

"No Ron, listen. You don't have to do that. Just bludgeon this bastard and we can get out of here, nobody will hurt you! Dumbledore can help-"

"You really weren't paying attention last night were you." Giles calmly interrupted, she didn't miss Ron flinch. Giles rolled his eyes dramatically and walked over to Ron, resting a hand on his shoulder possessively; it made her sick to see. "Ron doesn't have a choice in the matter, he has to do what I say. He. Is. Mine." She looked to Ron, seeing the way he refused to answer her, how he did exactly what the man said, how he looked so defeated. The Ron she knew, though she admittedly didn't know him well, would never have backed down without a fight. Sirius had told her how he had stood in front of Harry, broken leg and all, and stated that Sirius would have to kill him to get to his best friend. Arthur had been in tears at hearing this; apparently Ron had never told any of his family what he had done. Ron apparently didn't tell his family much of anything. Molly had been outraged.

"He belongs to nobody!" She spit, glaring with hatred. That seemed to be the last of the conversation though as Giles swiftly moved off behind Ron, wand ready just in case things didn't go to plan.

"We shall see. Ron, drain her past her last breath." He ordered, and Ron robotically raised his arm and pointed at her, the bracelet obvious were it hung. She was about to protest again when she suddenly felt a light pull that traveled all the way up her torso and then dissipated, becoming a heavy tingle in her limbs. She looked up at Ron, understanding exactly what was happening but not wanting to believe it. He held his arm out, and her body began feeling heavy; she tried to plead with her eyes, but he wasn't focusing on her, he was lost somewhere in his own head it seemed. Abruptly his hair turned blue, the same shade she was wearing and she cried out in shock, choking really, as a sleep began calling to her.

The next few moments happened extremely slowly to her suddenly heavy mind. Ron's face turned a deep crimson and his arm began shaking spastically. She watched as he twisted slightly, a look of agony on his face, and raised his left arm to point at Giles. The man went flying forcefully through the air the moment Ron's arm was up, sailing across the entire expanse of the room. As he flew Ron fell to his knees, arms still out. She watched Ron, hearing a sudden crashing that sounded like a giant box of silver ware being dropped. Ron's eyes bugged wickedly, and he exhaled forcefully, dropping his arms. He took a great breath and let loose a scream that must have been lodged in his throat, the horrible wail filling the room until he ran out of air and clutched at his head. His entire body began to shake and twitch and he gasped in pain. She wanted to go to him, but her limbs were unresponsive. She watched in detached horror as his forehead, right between his eyes, began to ooze a black liquid that ran down around his nose and dripped to the floor. His neck had started bleeding black as well and she saw several dark spots erupt in a line following the center of his body. He sobbed suddenly, dryly, and she watched in horror as the blood on his neck and forehead turned to a natural deep crimson. She stared at him as her eyes began to close. His hair was awful that shade and she wished it had never changed. As she fell asleep she saw him curl in on himself on the floor, and stop moving.

TBC

I'm glad you weren't turned away by the dark edge of chp 13 and I'm sorry this is being posted later in the day then usual. Stop pouting catc10, the wait is half the worth of the story ;)

Blaaat, don't apologize for thinking about things logically! I enjoy discussing reasons for character and plot portrayals! I'm glad you picked up on the humour of Ron being captured so fast! And lastly, I don't mind that you review every few chapters, I'm just glad that you and everyone else are reviewing in the first place!

Kamonkey, I can't tell you anything as the story, I fear, is speaking for itself. I love that you and everyone else are enjoying the drama though!

Kassidy, one of the best HP fanfic writers? Wow! Considering how many people write decent to great fic out there that is a very gracious comment. It means a lot. Thank you. Oh, and you don't sound insane. I understand completely where you're coming from, I simply grew tired of waiting for a story I would really like with Ron as the main character and therefore wrote this little fic.

Harry Lvr, I've never read the Ian Irvine books, but now that you've recommended them I'll have to make a stop at the library and see if they're available! And if anyone is scared about the future chapters it's me: I hope it's going to continue to hold up to all of your expectations :)

Thank you everyone so much for your comments!

Next Update: August 17, 2005