Crossing the Board

Pawn to c5.

He moves his fingers against the much battered, but well beloved board.

He knows every scratch, every ding, and he can tell you the history, the battle and the war that caused each mar.

And he's slowly becoming acquanited with every scar that he's acquired over the last five years. He can tell you the adventures that caused them, the motivation for each journey into the darkness. He can tell you of the love that has pushed him and defined him since he was a gangly first year.

He makes a move. He's playing against himself today, pushing himself to the max. Fire flickers in his eyes, as intense as his hair. He considers every move, every angle, every side of the story.

One of his best friends is sitting on the floor, playing Exploding Snap. The occasional loud bang and puff of smoke doesn't distract him. He is determined to be even better before. The black side will try to seek and destroy; the white side will try to hold them off and infiltrate enemy lines. He must do this, so the boy who plays Exploding Snap on the floor will be able to play it a century from now.

His other best friend sits on the other end of the couch, her feet resting lightly against his hip. Her occasional mutterings and foot shifting doesn't catch his attention. He must outdo himself, he must outwit his greatest opponent; himself. He must do this, so the girl who reads will be able to nag him decades from now.

Bishop to g6. Knight to a4. He pushes on and on.

His sister is silently tossing in her sleep. Ron can feel her discomfort through the walls. There is a man out there, who tried to kill her. Then the man tried to kill his father. Another broke her ankle. And so on and on he trudges through, learning the battle tactics, so that they may one day taste what true freedom is.

Sometimes he muses what life would be like if he had sat with his brothers and Lee that day on the Hogwarts Express. Life would probably a little easier, a little less stressful. Oh, he'd know Harry, and Hermione, but he wouldn't be scarred from head to toe.

And he'd never know the comfort of Hermione's toes against his hip, or the warmth of Harry's head against his knee.

But right now, he's not thinking of any of this. All there is is a battle to be fought, and a war to be won. This is one of many.

Queen to a5. Rook to d7. On and on.

The black side is nothing but spiders now. One more enemy to fight, one more fear to conquer. One must wade through the night in order to see the dawn.

The set was his grandfathers, and his father before him, and his father before him. It is well worn and well loved, cared for and cherished. Every piece is an old soldier, and an old friend. They are silent, and they never question his motives. Sacrifices must be made for the common good.

He never understood what it meant to be brave. He never understood the concept of valour, and courage, and strength needed to shoulder the weight of the world. And in some ways, he still doesn't. And he doesn't really need to, either. All he knows are the squares of black and white, and the little soldiers he loves so dearly that dance upon the squares. They are like family, and he loathes to give up even one. But he knows he must.

A knight goes down. He grimaces and plows on, taking a rook. He loses a bishop, only to claim a knight. Losses must be taken and victories must be found.

There's one piece he's focusing on. There are seven of them left, but he has his eye on one. He chose it randomly; no rhyme or reason. He must play by Fate's rules, and Fate has never had any. Slowly, he obscures it with deft moves. He loses another bishop protecting it. But on and on it, and he, must go. Battles do not end when the sun goes down or someone gets tired. One gentle nudge at a time, one slow move at a time. He must see it to the other side.

Pawn to c6.

There have always been arguments over which piece of the board is the most powerful. Most will say the Queen; she can mimic any move, take any square. Others will say the King; despite his limited mobility, the entire point is to protect your king and capture your opponents. It is the center piece of the game. There are any number of arguments for five of the pieces.

The last piece, or pieces, are often neglected. They are the front line, the first defence, and the first to fall. All but one. And Ron must see it to the other side.

Hermione jokes on how he is her knight in shining armour. He doesn't want to be a knight. Knights are stuck, knights are limited. They always are, and always will be, a knight on a horse. Ron doesn't want to be tied down like that. No one wants to be one-dimensional; everyone has layers.

Pawn to c7.

You see, he views power on not what you have, but what you can gain. The more powerful you are, the more you can win.

He is one of seven. Seven faceless figures, known by nothing more than a name. Not the biggest, not the strongest, not the brightest star in the galaxy. Essentially, nothing special.

But you see, he has a little insight. It is often the nameless one, the shadow, that can slip by enemy defences.

He pushes the pawn through.

He will push himself again and again. He will top himself every time, so that the King may stay. And he will do it to build his own destiny.

Pawn to c8.

For you see, if the pawn can navigate through the sea of battle, if he can strive to see the other side, then it can become any piece it wants to be. It can choose to be whatever it wishes to be.

As he sets the piece down, he knows.

The pawn has crossed the board. He's made it through another battle.

The pawn has crossed the board.

And now the pawn is King.