AN: I firmly apologise for all the anguish I've caused, although it has made me happy that I caused it! ;) I'm not sure how happy you'll be after reading this chapter, but I guess we'll wait and see. I can't wait for you to read it, I'm really proud of it. Let me know what you think! :-) xxx
Ron and Harry fight against their injuries whilst they try and work out how to escape Malfoy Manor.
When Ron woke up the first time, he was sat in a dark room. There was no source of light from anywhere, but he assumed they were still in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor. The air was close and when he tried to take a breath, it was shallow with a horrible rattling noise following it. He knew that something was seriously wrong, but at that moment, he didn't have enough energy to care about it. He felt his eyes closing again and soon he was back asleep.
When he woke again, the room was a little bit lighter; confirming that they were still in the dungeon at Malfoy Manor. He still struggled to see and he willed his eyes to focus in the dark, trying his best to pick out shapes and shadows. After a moment, once he was sure he wasn't going to fall asleep again, he tried to move but found he was bound tightly, his arms pinned to his sides and his legs out straight in front of him.
He let out another rattling breath and turned his head slowly to the side. It took a lot of his energy and he felt his faint grasp on reality start to slide again. The sight of Harry lying on the floor next to him, his eyes closed and his body bound tightly with the same bright red ropes Ron assumed were tied around himself was enough to keep him awake. He needed to know if his best friend was okay and he was relieved when Harry stirred as he gave him a firm prod with his legs.
"Oh good, you're awake…" A thin nasal voice called from across the room. Ron heard a scrambling against the stone flooring as its owner stood. He noticed a small light starting to move closer, and he was surprised to hear two sets of feet making their way across the dungeon. A gas lamp was placed on the floor in front of them and it took him a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light before he could finally see who the voice belonged to.
"You…" Ron felt a surge of disgust riling through his body.
Stood in front of him was Oliver Quinn, the house-elf breeder they'd tried to capture last year. Although they'd managed to successfully rescue a whole litter of elves, Quinn had evaded capture by blowing up the cottage he was hiding in and apparating out of the chaos with a house-elf at his side. Ron had made it his personal mission to find Quinn ever since, quietly looking for hints of where he might be during his downtime from training, but so far his search had been unsuccessful.
"Yes, yes it's me. You seem surprised which means you and your merry band of Aurors didn't turn up here specifically for me. That's interesting…." Quinn trailed off thoughtfully.
"We've been tracing a handful of rogue Death Eaters across the country; we came here on a hunch…"
Harry shuffled awkwardly until he was sat up; almost leaning against for balance. Ron was grateful, not only that he was okay but that he'd answered for him. His chest burnt as if hot pokers were embedded deep in his lungs. He wondered if had been punctured by the charm that had incapacitated him and his thoughts were accentuated again by the wet rattling sound as he continued to take shallow gulps of air.
"Ah yes, Harry Potter…" Quinn leaned so close to the pair; Ron could smell his putrid breath. He lifted Harry's blood matted fringe, sneering at the faded scar on his forehead.
"If only the Dark Lord were still alive to see that it was I who finally captured you; achieving what none of his previous Death Eater friends managed to do since you were a baby…"
Harry struggled against his restraints. "You need to keep up with the story Quinn; plenty of them captured me. I just escaped every bloody time…"
Quinn stepped back from fear of being attacked by Harry's flailing legs.
"Oh, I wouldn't waste your energy Potter. Phillipe's magic is outstanding; he's had years of practice of course. It won't be long; he'll soon finish you off. We're just waiting to see if that pretty little Mudblood comes along to rescue her friends. We can have some fun with her and then the three of you will be sorry…"
Ron all of a sudden felt a surge of rage, unearthing his reserves of energy from deep within him. In that moment he didn't care how much his chest hurt, how hard it was to breathe or move; he pulled hard against his restraints, fighting to get to Quinn. He no longer had his wand, and he wouldn't be surprised if Quinn had broken it, but he didn't care. The anger he felt made him desperate to kill the Squib with his bare hands. As he fought against the restraints, a flow of profanity and insults spilt from his mouth.
"Philippe, silence the blood traitor…" Quinn watched as both Aurors slumped against the wall, the noise desisting. He lifted the lamp to observe them closely. The ginger was pale and it was clear his injuries were taking hold of his body. Quinn didn't think the boy had much longer left in the world and the thought pleased him. Although he'd hoped the Granger girl would have been here to see it, he acknowledged that some things were just out of your control. Potter could watch his faithful friend die slowly, then he'd kill him and go after the Mudblood separately. She will be a lot easier to capture without her bodyguards around her.
"Five minutes then wake them back up again. I want to get this over and done with, but they both need to be awake. I want them to suffer…" Quinn walked away from the pair, leaving Phillipe with the lamp to watch over them.
Quinn's quiet didn't last for long. As soon as he'd settled in the pile of rags that constituted for a bed, he heard the house-elf whispering rennervate at the pair. He sighed, rubbing his temples for a second. His head had been pounding since the intruder identification charms had gone off late yesterday afternoon and the ache was only getting worse. He heaved his great mass from off the floor and wandered back over to the Aurors.
"Why are we here? This can't just be about the house-elves…"
Potter's voice sounded tired, wavering in fear and Quinn took great satisfaction in learning that the Boy-Who-Lived wasn't as brave as he had been made out to be. He knew the Daily Prophet and Dumbledore loved spinning a pretty lie, but he'd never fully understood the full extent of it until now.
"Of course this is about the house-elves. They were my livelihood, tethering me to the magical world. They were the only link I had left and you and your friend here destroyed all of it. You even had the gall to take my family home from me in the process. For years, you and your friends have been allowed to run amock and do what you want with the Ministry turning a blind eye to it but I'm fed up with it! You claim you're doing good, but all you do is destroy people's lives without even considering the implications of your actions…"
Quinn's tirade was stopped as the Weasley boy finally spoke up, although his voice was weak, barely audible above the rattle of his chest.
"We were sent to investigate your house. We had reasons to believe that you were mistreating those house-elves. And it was a good job we did. I don't regret a single thing we've done. They are thriving where they are now. You can't just go about using magical creatures for your own sick purposes, especially not now the new laws are in place…."
"DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT BEING MISTREATED! YOU DON'T KNOW THE FIRST THING ABOUT IT!" Quinn bellowed in their faces, a red rage filling his face, making the already ugly man look even more grotesque, almost like a troll. He spat at Ron and Harry's feet.
"Magical people have mistreated me all my life. Do you know how hard it was being a Squib in a pure-blood family?! They were disgusted with me and I had to see it every time they looked at me. In the end, they hid me away, ashamed of what I was. They told their friends I had died but they were too cowardly to actually put me out of my misery!
"I was so lucky that they chose Philippe to look after me. He brought me food, cared for me when I was ill. He was the only thing who loved me or treated me like a real human. He was dedicated to me, so much so that he helped me to kill my parents." Quinn let out a maniacal laugh. "The fools didn't see that coming!"
Ron watched, a horrified look on his face as Quinn started to pace in front of them, his fists clenched angrily at his sides. He tried his best to follow Quinn's steps, but the effort fast became too much for him. He was finding it harder and harder to stay awake but he knew he needed to fight the urge to close his eyes; he couldn't let the Squib win.
"After my parents died, I took over their house at Long Buckby, but without money, the house fell into disrepair. My parents were keen followers of the Dark Lord and he visited me when he heard of their deaths; he was sad to lose such devoted friends. I was desperate to serve him; I offered him the house as a hiding spot but he too turned me away. He had no need for Squibs, even with Philippe's incredible powers. I threw myself at his feet, offering myself as a sacrifice for his snake Nagini, but he refused. I wasn't even worth that to him.
"I looked for other ways to be useful. Despite his harsh treatment of me, I was still devoted to the Dark Lord. As he grew in power, the magical community found it harder to resist the pull of his ideas, the idea that living in a world where pure-bloods rule seemed to be at the forefront of most people's minds.
"You might think it crazy that I longed to serve him considering what I was but he had everything I desired - money, power, respect. I'd hoped to discover a way that I could channel Philippe's powers to make myself more useful to him, but my attempts were ineffective.
"However, the more work he gave to his Death Eaters, the more the magical community needed help in managing their households. It was Philippe who came up with the idea of starting to breed elves and he became my finest worker until he grew too old to keep up with the demand. Soon, I was getting a reputation; more and more people came to me. I was starting to get the respect I so craved.
"I went to the Dark Lord again, whilst he was staying here at Malfoy Manor. Despite the hard work I'd done to help his followers, I was still turned away. Blood status really was everything to him. Lucius Malfoy threatened to get rid of me if I bothered them again – that's why I went into hiding at Long Buckby, although I still carried on breeding the elves; mostly so that they could keep me company. If that Mudblood hadn't stuck her nose in my business, I would have been doing just fine…"
"It seems we have something in common, Quinn." Harry's interjection startled the Squib and he spun on his heel to look at them. Harry felt tired and he could feel the weight of Ron's body slumped against him. He knew his friend was in trouble and he had to try and keep Quinn talking if they had any chance of surviving until they were rescued. "It turns out Tom Riddle didn't like either of us!"
"He was far too obsessed with capturing and killing you, but I could have helped! Just look what I've managed to do with only Philippe's power." Quinn laughed and turned away. "I think it's time Philippe, loosen their bindings. I want to see them really struggle…"
Ron forced his eyes open again as the house-elf drew closer. The creature looked nervous and there was a tremor in his hand as he reached for Harry's bindings first.
"You know there's a better life for you out there, Philippe…" Every word Ron spoke struck like a dagger in his lungs, but he pushed on regardless. He kept a picture of Hermione firmly in the front of his mind and used it to ignite his need to fight. He knew he needed to get the house-elf onto their side; without him, they had no hope in escaping the ropes or capturing Quinn.
"My girlfriend, Hermione Granger…" He took another rattling breath, the sound of her name causing an ache in his heart. "She's been working hard to make the lives of house-elves better. She even put an elf in charge of the department responsible for looking after your kind and helped to set up a sanctuary at Hogwarts for rescued elves. All your friends from Long Buckby are there. They have been allowed to choose where they live and where they work…
"Your relationship with Quinn is toxic. You've been a good friend to him, but he's used you. I'm sorry, but it's true." Ron coughed with the continued effort of his speech. He felt as if he was on borrowed time, that he was drowning in his injuries. He was cold but he tried his best to sit up straighter, bolstered by Harry at his side. "Those people you've killed, the damage you've caused. That was all Quinn. Harry and I will testify against him and you'll be helped, I promise…"
The house-elf gave up loosening Harry's bonds and hung his head low. His ears drooped and there were tears in his eyes. "Quinn was a good friend and master. He loves Philippe…"
"Quinn was not a good friend or master to you."
"Philippe never meant to hurt anyone. Philippe loves Master Quinn, he's all he has left…"
"You can have better, Philippe. Please. Don't kill anyone else. We can find you a house where you'll be loved, where you can retire in peace…"
Ron watched as the house-elf glanced at Quinn, who was washing his face in a dirty looking bucket in the corner of the room. Something changed in the house-elf's eyes. The tears stopped and it was like Philippe was seeing his Master in a new light, as if the blindfold shielding him from the horrors of his life had been lifted.
All of a sudden, the elderly elf started clawing desperately at himself as he grappled with the realisation of what his life had become. The internal battle continued as time after time the house-elf dragged his nails across his thin skin, drawing blood from fine lines all over his body. Then, just as swiftly as it had started, he stopped and pulled himself up tall. His ears no longer drooped and the tears had dried from his eyes.
"Philippe is sorry for what he was done." With an anguished cry that Ron and Harry felt deep in their bones, the elf turned; crossing the gap between him and his master in a blink of an eye. As he passed the small gas lamp, Ron noticed a glint of silver and before he could even register what was happening, Philippe had reached Quinn, plunging the knife into the disgusting Squib's back over and over again.
"No! Philippe! Stop! It's not worth it!" Both Harry and Ron were fighting against their restraints now, summoning the last of their energy but the bonds held fast. They had no choice but to watch the horror play out in front of them.
Finally satisfied that Quinn was dead Philippe stood away from his master, letting the body fall to the floor. He turned back to the Aurors and bowed low, his nose almost touching the blood pooling at his feet. When he raised his head again, he looked finally at peace.
"Forgive me…" He held the knife to his throat, continuing to stare at Ron and Harry as he slowly ran it across his own neck, a red line of blood appearing like a grotesque smile. He fell suddenly to the floor and Harry and Ron felt the rope binding them fall away, telling them that Philippe was gone.
The pair sat in shock as whatever magic was shielding them from the Auror's rescue efforts disapparated in front of them, dissolving into the stone of their prison. All of a sudden, they could hear the shouting from their colleagues and Ron was even sure he could hear Bill's voice.
Ron tried to move, but he found the last of his energy fading. He gave up his fight against his injuries and watched as the Aurors swarmed into the room, half of the group turning towards the bodies of Quinn and Philippe whilst the other half, led by Head Auror Robards came running towards him and Harry. Ron noticed the wizard looked haggard and he used the last of his energy to let out a low chuckle. It seemed his boss actually cared for them, and he made a mental note to wind him up about it when he could. He felt a strong pair of arms pull him up from the floor and he closed his eyes.
"At least I'm not going to die in Malfoy Manor…" He couldn't even tell if he was speaking or thinking anymore. The picture of Hermione he'd summoned to the front of his brain earlier started to fade as he gave in to the darkness once again.