Chapter 18 - Checkmate

4th June 1992

A Chessboard.

A bloody chessboard.

Mark ġrȯȧnėd inwardly at the sight before him. If there ever was a game that he truly detested, it was chess.

Everyone that he met over the years had ȧssumed that because he got good grades and was usually inclined towards serious endeavours, chess would be a game that he liked. The truth, however, was the exact opposite. And the reason for it was something people could never understand.

Firstly, a game of chess required great patience—something Mark never appreciated spending in front of monochrome figurines. Second, and most importantly, Mark had never been able to enjoy the game. The thrill that players usually got in trying to figure out their opponents' strategy was non-existent for him; he couldn't help but be privy to their immediate thoughts.

It wasn't that Mark hadn't tried. Edwin, in his all-knowing wisdom, had tried to teach Mark the intricacies of what he called 'the gentlemen's game'. He had even gifted him a brand-new set; Mark remembered now that it sat unused in the bottom drawer of his room. But the chessboard in front of him was nothing like the one collecting dust back home. No, this was something straight out of a Lewis Carrol book.

In front of Mark was a life-sized chessboard, the chessmen sculptures made of stone. As he moved around, he suddenly found himself staring in the eyes of a stone black knight.

"They're enchanted," Mark whispered softly, but the silence of the room easily carried it across.

"What now?" Neville asked after a moment.

"I think we have to play across the board," said Ron. "Look, there's the door behind the white pieces."

"How exactly do we do that?" Hermione asked.

"We're going to have to be chessmen," Mark answered, locking eyes with Ron. Giving him a slight nod, he proceeded to the black bishop in front of him. "You're the best at this, Ron. Your call"

"What happens if we lose?" Neville asked the question hanging in the air. It was Harry who answered.

"Game over."

"Ron, you should take the King, that way you can direct everyone else," Mark suggested. Ron nodded in reply.

"Good call. We may need to sacrifice the Queen," Ron added. Looking at the others, he continued,

"Harry, you take the place of that Bishop, Hermione you take the place of that Rook. Neville, you're the other Rook, and Mark you're that Knight"

At these words, the corresponding black pieces turned their back and walked off the board. The five of them took their positions. Once they were on their squares, a white pawn moved forward two squares.

"White moves first." Ron swallowed the lump in his throat and started to direct his pieces.

As the game progressed, the five of them got a demonstration of what would happen if they failed when one of their pawns was captured. The white queen, on approaching the pawn, smashed it with the stone club in her hand. Mark swore softly as the remains of the pawn were dragged off the board. He could see Ron getting even more nervous at the development and he took even more time to think over his moves.

"Who do you think made this challenge?" Mark asked Hermione, who was standing a couple of squares away.

"Professor McGonagall, obviously. These pieces are all examples of animation." She whispered confidently.

"Huh, you're right. Didn't strike me." Mark turned his attention back to the chessboard to see Ron ordering a black pawn to move. A white bishop moved immediately in response.

"What in the bloody —" Ron said to himself. Although he wasn't good at the game, it was obvious to Mark that the move had been odd.

"Did that move make any sense to you?"

"No," Ron answered, exasperated. "It's actually confusing me. It just forced the same situation in five moves instead of three. It's just not making sense."

"It's stalling," Neville and Hermione answered simultaneously, surprising the other.

"It's meant to be a trap!" Harry exclaimed, coming to a realisation. "So whoever tries to play gets stuck in the game!"

"Wait—you mean the board isn't trying to win, but lengthen the game?" Ron asked, and Hermione nodded vigorously. "Okay then. Let's try this. E4!"

The White Queen moved three squares in response. Ron laughed in delight.

"Oh yes! Now, I've got you"

------------------------------------------

"You're a real genius, Ron!"

"It was nothing," Ron replied, heat rising to his cheeks.

Compliments weren't something he was used to. He certainly didn't receive any at home, other than the usual 'Oh, look how you've grown'. He wasn't good at his studies; good enough to pass but certainly not good enough when compared to Bill and Percy. His mother always had some complaint about him. Sometimes it was how untidy and lazy he was, while at others it was to do with his impolite table manners. Not that he remembered anyone taking out the time to teach him any.

"It was not nothing!" Hermione argued passionately, bringing Ron out of his reverie. "Do you realise that you just beat Professor McGonagall at chess, with a handicap of not being able to sacrifice five pieces?"

Ron gaped like a fish, turning redder by the moment. He looked at his friends for help, but to no avail. Harry seemed alarmed, taking a step away from Hermione, while Neville and Mark were holding in their sniggers. Finally, turning back to Hermione, he managed to splutter a response.

"I—I wouldn't have been able to win without—without Mark and your help. Eh, how about that?"

"We may have helped, but you played the game," Hermione retorted, poking a finger on his ċhėst.

"You are even unable to take a simple compliment!"

Before he could say anything further, he made out was Mark was whispering loudly to Neville.

"Trust Granger to insult someone while complimenting them."

Hermione must have also heard, as she turned to face them. Before she could say anything, however, Harry interrupted by clearing his throat.

"The next door, then?" he asked, and Ron could sense the tension mount back in the room as the five of them remembered what they were doing here in the first place. Sobering up, Ron nodded and followed Harry to the door.

"What do you reckon is next?" asked Mark, voicing the question that was probably on everyone's mind.

"Well, Professor McGonagall put in the chess set, and Flitwick must have charmed the keys," Harry began to think aloud. "Sprout must have put in the plant —"

"Devils Snare," supplied Neville.

"Right, Devil's Snare, and whatever Dumbledore's protection is will be last. So that leaves Quirrell and Snape," Harry finished with a distaste.

Looking at the others who had their wands drawn, he nodded before slowly opening the door. It was pitch dark inside. The first thing that hit them was the smell—smell which Ron recognised immediately.

"Troll," Harry hissed violently. "It's another troll!"

"What do you mean another troll?" Mark asked. "Do you mean the one at the Halloween feast?"

"Yes, we fought that one in the bathroom," Ron said. "Should've gotten more than fifteen points for that," he added nervously.

"And how did you beat that troll?" Mark asked, obviously curious about the events.

"Guys," Neville said softly, but Ron found himself paying attention to Hermione's explanation.

"They threw rocks at the troll to confuse it, and Harry climbed onto its back and put his wand up the troll's nose. Ron levitated the troll's club in the air and dropped it right onto its head. They were very brave" Hermione finished with a hint of pride.

"Uh, Guys," Neville spoke again, a little louder this time. Ron was about to ask him what it was when Mark spoke next.

"So that's how we do it? Go for the club?" Mark asked, preparing himself for a fight.

"Guys!" Neville now hissed with enough force to draw everyone's attention. "It's been put to sleep already. Listen!"

The four of them quieted down and paid attention. Surely enough, Ron could make out the soft snores.

"That's a relief," Ron said, breaking the silence. "You reckon Snape did it?" he asked more seriously.

"Must be. Let's go," Harry said, his voice betraying his nervousness. They proceeded towards Neville who had managed to find the door to the next chamber.

------------------------------------------

Pulling the door open, the sight that met their eyes was pretty anticlimactic. Just a table with seven differently shaped bottles.

"Snape's," remarked Harry.

"Seems tame for the greasy git," Ron observed. Harry nodded in agreement.

Slightly relaxed, they crossed over the threshold. As soon as they all were inside the room, however, a fire sprang up in the doorway behind them. It was a sickly purple in colour. At the same time, black flames shot up in the doorway leading forward.

"This seems more like it," Mark said to no one in particular.

"Look at this!" Hermione whispered. Harry's attention was drawn to a rolled piece parchment that she was pointing towards. Flattening it on the table, the five of them read its contents.

Danger lies before you, ...

... different at first sight.

Harry furrowed his brows as he thought about Snape's poem. Somewhere, a small part of his mind was laughing at the words 'Snape' and 'poetry' being called in the same context, but for now, he was focused on the contents of the said poem.

He looked around the room to see a myriad of reactions from his friends. Ron looked flabbergasted, clearly unnerved by the poem. Neville looked nervous, as if dreading Snape to step out of the shadows any moment. Mark was busy studying the different shaped bottles in front of them, while Hermione seemed to be reciting the poem in her mind again, a surprising smile on her face.

"It's a puzzle—a logic puzzle," she finally said, her eyebrows now furrowing and her mind clearly racing to solve it. She began pacing down the length of the table, muttering to herself. Ron took a step back to let her work in peace; Harry and Neville followed his cue. Mark, on the other hand, moved closer and peered at the bottles.

"Seven bottles: three poison, two wine —" Hermione said

"— one to go forward, one to go back," Mark finished. "It can't be that simple."

"You've figured it out?" Hermione asked pointedly. Mark shook his head.

"No, but it's solvable," he replied. Hermione nodded at that before turning her attention back to the parchment. After a few minutes, she spoke again, drawing out her words.

"The smallest bottle will let us go forward—through the black fire." Her voice, however, showed no sign of solving the puzzle. She picked up the bottle in question and showed it to the others. It held enough for only a single swallow.

"Which one will let you back through the purple flames?" asked Harry.

Hermione pointed at another rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

The dread inside him was rising with every second. He decided what he needed to do.

"Good, you guys drink that and go back —" He couldn't finish his words as both Ron and Neville began to object loudly. Mark who was still examining the other bottles, suddenly moved to Hermione and snatched the small bottle from her hand.

"No!" Harry shouted as he saw Mark move the bottle towards his mouth; it stopped just near his nose. They watched as he sniffed it, seemingly searching for something.

"Hermione," Mark spoke slowly, "isn't Nettle wine a diluting agent?"

"Yes, in certain cases. It allows certain potions to be diluted without reducing their effectiveness. The most common use would be for—for antidotes," she answered, her face lighting up at each word she spoke. "Of course! That's what we can do!"

"What do you mean?" asked Neville.

"We can dilute the potion in the smallest bottle —" Hermione answered

"— and have enough for all of us to go through! See, we can all go through!" Ron said triumphantly to Harry.

"But—" Harry tried to argue, but Neville interrupted.

"No Harry, we won't be abandoning you now."

Harry looked at his friends who had the same determination on their face. He didn't want to place them in any more danger. Realising that he was outvoted, he sighed and nodded.

Mark immediately went to the table and poured the contents of the smallest bottle into the largest, and mixed it around. One by one they all took a gulp and shuddered.

"Eeeugh, it's like drinking ice," Ron remarked.

"Like bad ice," Mark added.

"Ready then?" Harry said drawing his wand from his robes. It was time.

"Let's go."

------------------------------------------

COMMENT 1 comment VOTE Load failed, please RETRY Privileged

More Privileged Chapters

Download the app and become a privileged reader today! Come take a sneak peek at our author's stockpiled chapters! Download 1 Table of Contents Display Options

Background default yellow dark

Font Nunito Sans Merriweather

Size

Paragraph comments Chapter comments Write thought login liked newest Author:

© 0){ %>Chapter :

Author: Machine Translation

Translator: Editor: