Warning: You might want to re-read chapter 1, it has been a while since the previous release, and it's contents are relevant for this chapter for better enjoyment.
He supposed things could have been worse.
When accounting for the sins and the atrocities he had committed throughout the apocalyptical scenarios he called his life, he couldn't argue that this was his just desert. Nay, in all fairness, he had gotten off lightly.
Divination was considered hubris in the Wizarding World and nothing more than the whispers or hysterical yowling of conmen. But he knew better. The whims of Fate were not something mere mortals could understand or even begin to comprehend, and only the most arrogant or deluded would ever claim otherwise.
But even with his lack of understanding of the Threads of the Three Sisters, he was certain of what this was.
This was his retribution.
This was his Karma, tainted blacker than the gapping madness the Dark Lord called his soul.
His crimes numerous…
His wrongdoings incalculable…
He had lived a life fraught with danger, every second a moment away from absolute catastrophe. He knew that his luck would one day run out. That one day, one of the curses and hexes would eventually land.
He just didn't imagine this would be his end, tied and chained in a chamber too small even to contain a larger-than-average dog. He laid helplessly on the cold hardwood floor, silent and bound in darkness like a pig for slaughter.
The Sinner thought back to his past, silently remembering every one of his transgressions in worthy solemness.
Like the time when he had slept with his Boss's wife.
The night he had spent with his Boss's two daughters. (Simultaneously)
The quicky he had with his Boss's grandfather during a tea break while at work.
The banquet where he had performed coitus with his Boss under the table.
The list went on and on, growing larger by the second.
Ragnuk, accountant and bank-keeper of Gringotts, finest Gentle-blin of all Goblin kind, frowned as he contemplated his life and the decisions that had led to this point…
Hmm… Perhaps it was time that he changed his ways… If he survived this… Tribulation.
One might believe he had something against a particular person, and he would say the One shouldn't be so quick to judge. His Boss was a fine goblin, an excellent role model for his kind and a paragon to be admired and praised.
While he was not a glamorous Gentle-blin like himself, he was still an excellent-mannered individual and caring superior. His passion for his duty to Gringotts was just as fiery as in bed. It was not that he despised his Boss; it was just that he and his family were just too attractive for the dignified Gentle-blin to resist.
My oh my, were those some amazing nights.
But even his Boss would swear vengeance if he ever found out if his subordinate had slept with his entire family down to the 3rd cousin.
If his Boss or any of his 109 family members put him into this unfortunate predicament, he would have had no grounds to complain.
He would have tried bribery or even seduction in a last-ditch attempt to save himself. But in the end, he would have accepted any punishment, whether by blade or whip. But here he was, subdued not by his Boss's hand but by the hand of another.
He sighed… When did things go so wrong?
… Actually, scratch that.
He knew exactly when his life went to the Bazoongals.
It was the moment he had met that little Hellion… The Demoness in the guise of a Wizarding child…
It had been an ordinary afternoon. He had been attending to his duties at Gringotts as usual after a delightful lunch and a steamy time, aiding the denizens of the delusional Wizarding World with their finances and giving quality advice to the inbred buffoons about their financial future.
He had to admit that while his work was fulfilling, it was often dull. Educating wizards on the value of proper financial organization was like teaching Russian Markrats to fly. Certainly possible, but only after you pitched it off a cliff.
But that boredom was washed away like the tide when Professor Snape showed up in person to request a withdrawal from his personal account for a future Hogwarts student.
It was highly unusual behavior considering that the school paid for such expenses. He would not need to pay for the girl from his own pocket unless he intended to provide a gift for her.
Thus he was both surprised and impressed with the child and was undoubtedly curious about what kind of individual could crack the cold-hearted exterior of the infamously severe Severus Snape. So he struck up a conversation with the yellow-eyed girl.
He had never regretted a decision as fast as this one. Considering how many of them ended with a curse to his face seconds after, that was saying something.
Before he knew it, his head was inside a magically expanded briefcase with a foot up his bottom, shoving him forcefully inside as he waile- called out for a rescue. He most certainly did not wail like a little girl, no matter what Margaret said!
The Gentle-blin could not help but shiver at the mere memory of the experience. If it hadn't been for Master Snape, he would have been kidnapped right then and there!
Ah, Severus Snape. Now that's a fine wizard. His brash, cold nature only added to his elegant demeanor. It was so unfortunate that he was so uncompromising; with just a little bit of training and a change in attitude, he could genuinely be a fine gentleman of his race.
But in the end, it was for naught.
In his never-ending generosity, his Boss had insisted that he take a leave from work for the next few days due to the emotional distress he had suffered while on duty, giving him his full-time wage and even something extra for vacation time.
As luck would have it, the 891st Annual Bicircular Golden-Rod Goblin Orgy hosted by the fine and wonderful Yorful the Desirable was to be held that very night! It would have been vile, downright criminal for him to miss such a prestigious event, especially when he was given time off.
Legends said that the Annual Orgy had never been canceled, whether during times of war or even during the Dark Lord's rampage across Britain. It had gone on for 891 consecutive years without fail, regardless of strife.
The Gentle-blin had attended with delight, indulging himself in marvelous bliss as he enjoyed all manners of shapes and sizes. Within minutes, his previous horrid experience was forgotten like a distant memory.
But in doing so, he committed a grave error.
He had let his guard down.
He ignored Ragunk Wisdom #401…
You never let your guard down after an orgy…
Once the event ended at the very climax, he left for the storage to return the candles and ropes he had borrowed from the event chambers while humming a song he had learned from his Boss's aunt's nephew's brother's son who was at one point a daughter.
That was when the Hellion struck.
Before he had a chance to wail- defend himself, she ambushed him from the darkness and bound him hand and foot in conjured chains. A moment later, he was no longer in the storage room of the Great Cervical Orgy Hall but in an empty passenger cart of a train and was shoved into the carry-on compartment above the seats without dignity.
His situation was not… untenable but had quite room for improvement. Honestly, if the girl had been a decade older, he would have found it kinky.
He gagged in disgust… Some may not have cared, but even the thought of being in any… 'activity' with someone not old enough to vote elected a wave of disgust and nausea. He was a Gentle-blin, not one of those Shagworms that touted their inbred nature with pride. Even the thought was uncomfortable as it was repulsive.
Many had called him a pervert, but he disagreed with ferocity. How rude! He was a Gentle-blin! While there was a fine line between insanity and genius, an immense gap existed between being a pervert and a Connoisseur of Bliss. He was, without question, of the latter.
So here he was.
He was trapped, alone, and without friends. But he was not particularly worried. Of the 109 he had bedded of his Boss's family, 16 would search for him if he had ever gone missing.
Although 29 would make sure he stayed 'missing….'
Hmm… Perhaps he should worry a bit more.
Regardless, the Wizarding World had never enslaved Goblins. But that was not for the lack of trying. Numerous times over the centuries, Wizards have tried time and time again to subdue his kind and turn them into something akin to House-elves for their magnificent metallurgy skills. And time and time again, they failed. Goblin magic was powerful, far outstripping the magic of Wizard and Witches in certain areas.
To prevent the fragile egos of the self-centered, narcissistic wizarding families from being shattered, the Ministry of Magic had forbidden his kind from having wands. But even without a wand, Ragnuk the Gentle-blin was far from defenseless…
Due to his… 'proclivity' to be in compromising situations in another's bed, he had mastered the art of escape. Thus, he had no fewer than a dozen solutions even when bound and immobile.
It was just unfortunate that not a single spell came to mind.
That, more than anything, was horrifying.
It was not that he couldn't cast the spell, but he couldn't remember how to. His memories of the training and education in magic were there, but the moment he reached for that knowledge, it fled from his grasp.
The possibility that he had been struck by a mind-altering surgical spell rose as it fell, only to rise again. Such precise mental magic required immense precision, and the Caster's control would need to rival that of Dumbledore's. It was ludicrous to think that a child that had yet attended Hogwarts could have done what all but one could not. But that same child had conjured chains and had apparated the two to quite a distance.
Both spells were among the most difficult of spells to learn, with the latter being especially dangerous. Yet, the Hellion had performed both with mastery.
Who in the bloody hell was this girl?
He probably should have been more worried, but he recognized the horn of the Hogwarts Express. If he was being sold to slavery, he doubted that he would be taking a train to Hogwarts… Unless one of its staff was complicit….
Ragnuk dismissed the idea. While he held quite a number of wizards in distaste for their never-ending hubris, Dumbledore was not one of them. The man was a fine wizard, not just in his Magical abilities but in his elegance and demeanor. He was the epitome of the modern Wizarding Gentleman.
The Gentle-blin had faith in the Gentleman. There was not even a minuscule chance that Dumbledore would ever allow anything remotely dangerous to happen with his school.
Thus, he sighed in relief. The Hellion was most likely just being a little shi-, 'cough,' a mischievous little girl.
Fortunately, not all was not lost.
While he had been gagged, he had managed to free himself due to his well-practiced mouth and tongue motor skills from his 'hobbies.' If worst came to worst, a single shout for help would be enough to free him from this predicament. But in exchange, his precious reputation would be ruined.
If he were ever discovered in this shameful state, the news would explode like Fiendfyre across Goblin Society, tarnishing his image as a Gentle-blin. Just the thought of his cousins' mocking words and smug expressions was enough to trash that idea. No matter what, he would not break Ragnuk Wisdom #003.
Thus he remained, stuck inside a dark, enclosed area without a single companion while listening to the gaggle of schoolchildren bored him out of his mind. It had felt like three eternities, although his logical mind stated that it had only been 1 hour, 32 minutes and 24 seconds. He rolled around the floor in agony from the lack of stimulation to his mind and body.
He had never done well with boredom.
It was only after he could no longer stand counting every mite of dust in the air did he notice an oddity.
Something that he had believed he would never see again: A metal that he could not understand.
While his current profession was that of finance, his education in the metallurgy that his race was so proud of was unparalleled. There was not a single type of metal or alloy he would have failed to recognize, conjured or not. In fact, to say that he was unrivaled in his ability as a metal smith and enchanter would be an understatement.
When asked who the greatest craftsman was, only one name would be on the lips of every Goblin. Even those who hated his guts would grudgingly acknowledge his ability. This was a boast that he had earned through years of blood, tears, and sweat. Not the non-sensical hubris that the 'pure-bloods' touted without basis.
Yet he failed to recognize the chain that bound him. For many Masters, such a revelation would have been an embarrassment. But for him, his failure only brought him joy.
Even in the dark, the peculiar traits of the metal that bound him failed to escape his keen eyes. As an individual from a race innately related to the inner workings of all metals in existence, he quickly noticed something irregular about the chain beyond its physical composition. It was of no alloy or pure metal that could have existed.
A different kind of excitement shivered through his cells for the first time in decades. It was an excitement not of his loins but of his Heart.
He had loved the metals. At one point, he had even devoted his life to it.
But now?
It had become boring.
He despised boredom.
Even after spending years on a single focal point, he could no longer improve. But it was not because he had reached the end of his talent. Nay… It was the exact opposite. There was no longer anything left to improve.
He had reached the limit in the art. His every motion was without taint. His eyes detected every and all impurities. His work was of perfection.
No matter how trivial, every one of his works was without flaw and a marvel to be admired. Many Masters would have wept in bliss to have crafted something on par with even the most mediocre of his works.
But with perfection came bitterness. There was no hardship in his life, no roadblock to overcome or an individual limit to surpass. The joy he had felt with every hurdle he had surmounted had all but disappeared. Even works that surpassed the Sword of Godric Gryffindor were of no challenge
So he abandoned it. He had thrown it all away and drowned himself in sensation.
There was nothing more he could learn, no method to become better, and those thoughts struck more deeply than any dagger from an angry husband, wife, or both.
But he was wrong…
He gazed at the chains that bound him as a new flame was in his eyes.
Ragnuk the Traitor, Greatest Metal Smith to Have Ever Lived and Will Live, was born once more.
But he did not allow the excitement to overtake him. Before he was a Goblin, he was a Metal-Smith. Before he was a Metal-Smith, he was a Gentle-blin.
The hallmark characteristic of a Gentle-blin was not the clothes or even the tastefully stylish embodiment of style. Nay, those were mere trinkets, like the stars in the sky. It was the calmness, the sheer unbreakable tranquility in demeanor that-
He sat up in a flinch, slamming his head onto the compartment's ceiling as the door opened, revealing the pair of yellow-ringed eyes that had spirited him away from a good time even as the light that slew the darkness nearly blinded him.
"Bloody hell!" He cursed as he tried to rub his wounded area, only to remember that his hands were bound just like the rest.
Quickly regaining the composure that he had never lost, he smiled charismatically at the hellion with the same mesmerizing gaze that had charmed many a ladies.
"Hello there Mademoiselle! Tis is truly a fine day. It would be a crime worthy of Azkaban if one were to miss it. Perhaps you would allow this Gentle-blin to entertain such fine luxury?" He begg- requested as he tugged at the chains.
She did not answer.
For several moments, she gazed at him from foot to toe as if examining him.
He awkwardly smiled, trying and failing to mask the discomfort that was welling up. Being dressed down by a pre-pubescent child while in a position he was familiar with in a coitus dungeon was rather uncomfortable.
"I'm sure that a fine lady like you and an established Gentle-blin like myself could come to an agreement," he started suavely, contrasting his unfortunate position. "Now, would you mind liberating me from this demeaning and most certainly discomforting predicament?"
She frowned. "No."
How rude…
And to his dismay, darkness took his eyes once more as the door was shut while he was still inside.
But fortunately, the Hellion had left him a gift in the form of a mortal companion.
"So… What's your story?" He asked his fellow brother in chains.
The child stared at him in shock, the light in his eyes racing as thoughts and plans sped through his mind. For several seconds, he was silent.
"Womhpf arfft ueo? Cahne uve geoft heph!?" He eloquently said behind the gag.
"Huh… Well said." Ragnuk praised as he studied the newcomer. Like him, he was bound by the same wondrous chains encompassing his body. By appearance, he was obviously a wizard, but his height was not much greater than that of a goblin male. A fellow student of Hogwarts, perhaps? The Hellion certainly had a strange hobby…
Hmmm…. That pale platinum blond hair reminded him of someone… Someone with a particularly punchable face filled with that revolting self-assured arrogance…
"Drfoumph, urmfhh mopvh meah! Geoah hphe uvee envecil!"
And that attitude! My Goodness! How could a child be so pompous even while gagged?
"Erhmmphh!"
"Oh! Pardon my manners! How discourteous of this one not to introduce himself! Blimey, I am embarrassed, nay ashamed that a Gentle-blin such as I would forego such basic etiquette! Although I must say, manners are not particularly high on my list of concerns as of this moment, but that is certainly no excuse! I am Ragnuk, Descendent of King Ragnuk the first. And you are?"
"Hmmmph? Arghh yoau kppheng meh?"
"Well met honorable Hmmmph arghh yoau kppheng meh! Oof, that is quite the mouthful, mind if I shorten it to Kppheng Meh?"
"Noeamph!"
"Excellent! Now that we have introduced ourselves, let us plot our dastardly escape!"
-Hmmmph Arghh Yoau Kppheng Meh-
"What's a half-breed mutt doing here?" He sneered. "Crabbe, Goyle, get this thing out of my sight."
Those were the last words he had spoken before getting locked inside the carry-on compartment above the seat he had tried to take.
He supposed that it could have been worse… Crabbe and Goyle had been tossed out the window of a moving train. Part of him was concerned for the fate of his two… Friends? Associates? Lackeys. They were his lackeys.
But he supposed that they were fat enough that their bellies could cushion their fall.
He had been horrified that he would be next but was proud to say that he had faced the calamity with bravery and courage befitting a Malfoy. He most certainly did not shriek for his father like a little girl, and anyone who said otherwise was a filthy liar! But fortunately, after examining him for a moment, the girl tossed him not outside the train but into the carry-on.
Hmph… It seemed even half-breeds knew better than to pick a fight with a Malfoy!
But nevertheless, he sighed as he thought about his predicament… Perhaps he should stop picking fights with every mud blood, blood traitor, and half-breed?
Preposterous! Just what happened to his life that he would imagine something so blasphemous?
Actually, scratch that. He knew exactly what flamfloosaled his life.
It was all because of that half-breed! If she had just given up her seat to her superior like she was supposed to, he wouldn't be stuck here in this cramped compartment suffering like filth.
Oh, the things his father would do to her when he heard about this…
But he winced at the thought of word going out about his… Disgrace.
Just imagining the shame he would bring to his family when the whispers of his humiliation spread throughout the wizarding world like Fiendfyre made him shiver. That, more than anything, was unacceptable. He would not be the one to tarnish his family name! And most certainly not by a dirty half-breed!
With a fire lit, he tested his bonds, finding them tight and all-encompassing. Nevertheless, he struggled vainly. But to his continuous dismay, he found that the chains left no room to escape.
"So… What's your story," a suave voice broke the silence, startling him. He had been so concentrated on freeing himself that he had failed to notice another being in the darkness. He squinted his eyes, as he tried to see but could only make out a vague humanoid outside.
The voice was too old to be that of a student, but the body was too small in stature to be that of an adult. Honestly, the tone and rhythm reminded him of one of his father's associates.
But what he doing….
He gasped… Had that half-breed subdued a professor?
It stung his pride to admit it, but the half-breed girl was powerful. The way she had so casually subdued his lackeys with a wandless, silent stunner before tossing them out of the train window had shocked him to the point that he had stood frozen in his spot until a conjured chain had immobilized him.
While students were forbidden from learning spells outside Hogwarts, that did not include education in the theoretical side of Wizardry. He was educated in exactly that ever since he was old enough to read and was proud to say he was leagues ahead of his peers. That was why he was able to recognize the significance of the conjured chains.
Conjuration was the most difficult aspect of wizardry and something that was only taught in the later years of Hogwarts…
For a half-breed to have used it so casually, and without an incantation and wand…
He blanched…
He had dun goofed.
A single wizard's strength was minuscule unless you were at the caliber of the Dark Lord or Dumbledore. Thus for the rest of the wizarding world, the most important aspect of retaining power was the ability to recognize whom to select as a friend and whom to set as an enemy rather than increasing personal skill.
And in this instance, he had made a powerful enemy…
He cursed silently at his ill-timed luck. But not all was lost. First, he would need to escape, and think about his future goals. Relationships could be repaired, and new bonds could be forged. Fortunately, it seemed that he had a fellow prisoner beside him. Someone who was not gagged and capable of calling out for help.
"Womhpf arfft ueo? Cahne uve geoft heph!?" (Who are you? Can you get help!?)
"Huh… Well said," came the reply, voice mocking and amused.
Draco blanched in embarrassment. Drool and saliva pooled across the floor as he tried to speak to no avail. It was bad enough that he, the heir to the Malfoy Estate and Fortune, the most distinguished family in the Wizarding World, to be held in such disgrace… But for some incompetent professor to mock him? He swore that once he was freed, he would get this miserable creature fired. For a professor to be captured by a student was utterly disgraceful, no matter how talented. What could a teacher who would lose to a student possibly have to teach?
"Drfoumph, urmfhh mopvh meah! Geoah hphe uvee envecil!" (Don't you mock me! Get help you imbecile!"
The fool did not reply. But even in the darkness, he swore he could see the judging eyes that were skewed to mockery.
"Enrhmmphh!" (Now!") He screamed in anger.
"Oh! Pardon my manners! How discourteous of this one not to introduce himself! Blimey, I am embarrassed, nay ashamed that a Gentle-blin such as I would forego such basic etiquette! Although I must say, manners are not particularly high on my list of concerns as of this moment, but that is certainly no excuse! I am Ragnuk, Descendent of King Ragnuk the first. And you are?" The fool asked.
"Hmmmph? Arghh yoau kppheng meh?" (Huh? Are you kidding me?)
"Well met honorable Hmmmph arghh yoau kppheng meh! Oof, that is quite the mouthful, mind if I shorten it to Kppheng Meh?"
"Noeamph!" (%#$ !)
"Excellent! Now that we have introduced ourselves, let us plot our dastardly escape!"
"Jeossmph yellph yahh foul!" (Just yell you fool!)
"Hmm… My dear child… I'm embarrassed to say this and I don't know if you noticed but… I can't understand you."
Father… Save me...
Canon Extra: The Boy Who Lived
"Harry, do you hear that?" Ron asked.
"Yeah, it's been bothering me for a while…" Harry replied in concern. "Do you there's something living in there? Think we should check?"
"Hmm… Yeah!"
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "We can't go through someone else's belongings! It's rude and inappropriate! You'll get us all in trouble!"
Harry agreed with the sentiment, but the thought of any living animal staying inside such a cramped dark space struck him too personally for him to ignore.
"We'll just take a quick look before the owner comes back," he said.
Hermione stared at him in shock, looking as if she was betrayed. "What are you going to do if we get caught? What if it belongs to one of the Prefects!"
Ron scoffed. "Unless a Prefect is a midget, there's nothing to worry about. I saw her chase the snack cart earlier, so stop being such a worrywart. Aren't you at least a tiny bit concerned? I can't imagine locking up Scabbers being locked in there!"
"Ugh, fine. But keep me out of this!"
"Do what you want," he snorted as he rose from his seat. "Come on Harry, let's go check it out!"
Harry silently nodded as he followed the redhead. As he drew closer, the sounds became louder.
Ron frowned, as he stared at the carry-on compartment above his head. "What do you think is in there? An owl?"
"I don't know, but don't you think it sounds like a person?" Harry asked.
"What? No way... What kind of crazy would lock someone inside a carry-on? It's probably just a parrot… Right?" Ron asked, suddenly looking worried.
"Yeah probably… But only one way to find out," Harry said as he moved past him.
"Uh Harry? Maybe we should just leave it be?" Ron suggested nervously.
Harry ignored him and opened the door, only to reel back in shock at the sight of a… A human and a Goblin hogtied in chains.
"HMPHH!" Screamed the blond boy his age through the gag.
"Oh, hello there my dear children. Do you mind freeing us from this horrible situation we have been placed under?" The Goblin politely requested. "Preferably now and without commotion."
"Bloody Hell! That's a person!" Ron shouted in surprise. "Is that a Gringotts Goblin?"
"Your powers in observation are truly a wonder to behold!" The Goblin praised stumping Harry. The words sounded sarcastic, but the tone seemed genuine, confusing him whether Ron was being mocked or not. "Now, please hurry before she- oh. How unfortunate… Well… At least my fellow brother and I will have two more brothers to share our misfortune with. Although this compartment may be a tight fit for four…"
"What are you-." Harry started, stopping only to the sound of a door being closed.
He turned, to the direction of the sound.
A black-haired girl with yellow eyes stared at him and Ron, eyeing them with a frown. In front of her was the entire Food Trolley, cart and all.
"Is this your doing?" Harry asked with a glare.
The girl did not answer. Instead, of pointing a finger in their direction.
"Thief." She accused.
"I'm not a-." He started, angry at the accusation, only to be interrupted by a slew of chains that flew his way.
-15 minutes later-
"Where are you going?"
Hermione froze on the spot, her hand grasping the door handle.
"Uh… Excuse me?" She asked, slowly and with caution.
"Where are you going?" The raven-haired girl asked again, eyes narrowing in displeasure.
"The Lavatory?" Hermione tried nervously, staring at her feet, hoping the girl could not see her fear. It had taken a while, but she had gathered her courage and was prepared to seek help for rescue. Additionally, she had no wish to end up like… She glanced up… Ron squirmed as he hung upside down the ceiling like a chandelier.
"Sit." The girl ordered.
"But-," she started, protesting.
"Sit."
Hermione sat.
The girl smiled. "Good girl."
I debated whether to create a character like Ragnuk in a story like Harry Potter. I was conscientious about trying not to go over a certain line. Like the Nun Catherine, he's an CSM-like character in the HP world. In case some people didn't notice/don't remember the previous chapter , Ragnuk is the same goblin that Nayuta tried to kidnap at the end of chapter 1
Nothing sexually explicit or even remotely inappropriate will ever happen between the Gentle-blin and any other character, regardless of age. There will be sexual humor here and there similar to the ones of this chapter but it will never be towards anyone not over the age of 21 (For the readers in the green parts of Not-America). This chapter is probably the peak/limit of the number/intensity of sexual jokes/humor.
