The Chess Set

Chapter 6

"Are you serious?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

"No, I´m Ron," his friend joked wanly, the pun on Harry´s godfather´s name a common one between them. "Of course I´m serious. Do you think she´ll say yes?"

Harry punched him on the shoulder. "Don´t be daft, of course she will. I know how she feels about you. But are you sure you two are ready?"

Ron sighed and shrugged. "Well, we´ll be leaving school in a couple of weeks. I thought of putting this off - with everything going on with You-Know-Who, and not knowing what´ll happen... But I just can´t." He flushed red and was silent for a moment, looking at Harry. Then his gaze grew wary. "You don´t think I should, do you?"

Harry smiled. He knew that, for whatever reason, Ron set a very high stock in his opinion, and that self-doubt and uncertainty were not uncommon things for his best friend. "Stupid git, of course I think you should. She couldn´t find anyone better, mate." Both young men laughed, enjoying a quiet camaraderie that only years spent and the things they had gone through together could engender.

"So, how are you going to ask her, then?" Harry waited expectantly, and watched as Ron´s ears turned red. His friend was definitely starting to look uncomfortable.

"Well, I haven´t got it completely worked out yet, you know, exactly what I´ll say... and everything..." Some conversations were difficult, even among friends, Harry realized as Ron sputtered. "I´d like to give her a ring, but I haven´t saved enough for anything decent."

Harry started to feel a little uneasy. Money was always a bit of a touchy subject with his friend. Seven children and a Ministry job hadn´t left the Weasley family particularly well off. Ron had always been conscious that most of the other pupils at Hogwarts had more money than he did. Harry, who was comfortably provided for with what his parents had left him, would lend Ron whatever money he needed in a second. He´d even give it as an outright gift, although he knew that Ron would never accept it.

Ron looked at him warily as though reading his thoughts. "Don´t even think of offering, Harry. This has got to come from me."

Harry nodded, knowing his friend was right. Something like this should be Ron´s own doing.

"So are you going to ask her without a ring?" Harry asked. "You could. I mean, it´s Hermione. She´s not the type of girl who cares a lot about... you know, money... and stuff."

"No," Ron shook his head. "That´s just not right. I have to have something."

"You could wait," Harry offered, hesitantly. "Once we get out of school we´ll be earning money. You could, you know, save up."

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned a bit. "Do you know how long that could take?" He cursed impressively. "No, I can´t wait. I don´t want to wait. We may not have all the time in the world... you know, with this stuff going on. With... with... You-Know-Who and all."

"Sure you´re not letting your hormones take over, Ron? Maybe you´re just... anxious... about things." Harry grinned mischievously at his friend, who, he was pleased to see, got even redder in the face.

"Don´t be a stupid prat, Harry. I just... well, you know. I just... love her that´s all." It came out as a halting but hurried and somewhat embarrassed admission. "My parents were married right out of school. There´s nothing wrong with it," Ron stated defensively.

"No offense, Ron. Just having you on a bit. Say no more." Harry backed off the subject quickly. "So, what are you going to do for a ring, then?"

Ron sighed and looked hesitant. Then he shrugged. "I have something I can sell. Its probably the only thing of value that I own." He nodded solemnly as if making a final decision. "It´ll be worth it."

Harry didn´t know what Ron was referring to. He knew all of Ron´s possessions as well as his own, and he couldn´t think of a single thing that would be worth the kind of money he would need for an engagement ring. Ron´s broomstick was fairly new, but it wasn´t an expensive model. Nothing else leapt to mind. "What?" Harry asked.

"Chess set." It came out as almost a mumble, and it took Harry a few seconds to realize what his friend had actually said.

Harry´s jaw dropped. He hadn´t even considered the chess set. It was so much a part of Ron that he couldn´t imagine his friend parting with it. Harry knew that it had been Ron´s grandfather´s. In a family the size of the Weasleys, it meant something for Ron, the youngest boy, to have received an heirloom.

His friend had a natural talent for the game. Neither Harry nor Hermione had ever really beaten Ron at chess. He was probably the best player in the school. Ron´s talent for the game had even been integral in saving the Philosopher´s Stone from Voldemort in their first year at Hogwarts. Harry recalled Ron taking charge of the enchanted obstacle, directing the life-sized chessmen - and the three of them - through a game of particularly nasty wizarding chess. He´d sacrificed himself to ensure that Harry and Hermione made it through.

Harry knew that Ron cared for Hermione, even loved her. Despite this, he was a little surprised that Ron would consider selling this particular possession. Trying to hide his astonishment, he asked, "Is it worth that much?"

"I think so," Ron said. "My father told me it was a rare antique. Quite valuable."

It only took a moment for Harry to decide on a course of action. It was a somewhat risky route, he knew, but he had to go for it. "How much are you asking?" Harry inquired nervously, trying to gauge Ron´s reaction.

Ron looked at Harry, who for a few moments wondered if he could read anger in his friend´s eyes. Finally Ron laughed, and Harry was able to let out the breath he´d been holding.

"Harry," Ron said, shaking his head. "You don´t even like to play chess that much. And you´ve already got your own chessmen. I know you´re just trying to be a good chum, but I don´t want your charity."

Harry nodded slowly. "But Ron, don´t be daft. You´re selling, and I want to buy. What, my money not good enough for you? You´d rather sell to -" Harry cast about for a suitable subject, "- Draco Malfoy or something?" He could see Ron cringe at the mention of the Slytherin boy. "Sorry, Ron. I know you don´t want charity, and I´m not offering it. But if you´re selling to someone, it might as well be me."

Ron was shaking his head obstinately. "No, Harry, I won´t have it."

Harry leaned toward his friend, his dark eyes serious. "Ron, this isn´t charity. This is a business transaction. Simple commerce." Harry´s voice turned dead serious. "And anyway, some things are more important than a load of misplaced pride." He looked closely at Ron. "Hermione, for example."

Harry could tell his friend was thinking. He could almost see and categorize the emotions crossing his face. After several moments, Ron still looked hesitant, but Harry thought he was about to crack. Harry pressed, "Besides, if you sell it to me, I might even let you buy it back one day." He winked at his friend and was relieved to see Ron smile and sigh.

"Stupid git. You´re right. Some things are more important."

They agreed on a price. Harry gave Ron the gold and took the chess set, wrapping it carefully in a spare shirt so it wouldn´t get scratched while stored in his trunk. He wanted it to be in perfect condition when Ron came back for it.

Ron proposed the following week, a beautiful ring in hand for Hermione. Harry wasn´t there, of course, but he saw Hermione shortly afterward and she was positively glowing. She showed him the ring almost shyly, her face reddened in excitement.

The pair took a lot of grief from the other Gryffindors for getting engaged at school. It didn´t matter really - their final term was almost over. The seventh years would all be going their separate ways and start leading their new lives as adults.

Harry, for one, wasn´t looking forward to leaving school. He´d found a home at Hogwarts, something he´d never remembered having before. It wasn´t simply a matter of anything being better than his life at the Dursleys´. He felt part of the magical world here.

It was more than just not wanting to leave a comfortable place. During his years at school, Harry hadn´t struck upon anything he really wanted to do for a career. His one talent, playing Quidditch, seemed a definite waste of energy whilst the Death Eaters rampaged across Britain. He´d not been particularly great in any one magical subject, so he couldn´t see himself brewing potions, caring for magical creatures, or gardening. He´d been offered several junior positions in the Ministry but had turned them down, half suspecting the various departments only wanted his famous name for their own internal squabbles. Harry had enough money to get by without working, if he was careful, but that wasn´t a productive life.

He finally decided to take Auror training, partly because it was something active against the Death Eaters, and partly because Ron was joining up as well. Harry wasn´t sure this was his path, but it was better than any of the alternatives he could come up with. He wondered if he would ever be more than just `The Boy Who Lived.´

The leaving feast was both sad and happy. Most of the seventh years practically glowed with anticipation of their adult lives. A few had that somber, scared look that Harry suspected showed on his own face. Ron and Hermione at least looked happy, he was glad to see.

"So, Harry, got everything all packed?"

Back in the common room after the feast, Harry looked up to see Ginny standing beside him. "Oh, yeah. All packed up and ready to go." It was the last night - the train back to London would be leaving early the next morning.

"I wish you could come to the Burrow. I don´t know why they´re making you go back there."

Harry groaned, not wanting to think about it. He was going back to the Dursleys for one last time. He´d long imagined that the moment he´d turn of age that he would be free of them forever. He sighed. "I´d love to come to the Burrow. Or the Leaky Cauldron. Or stay here at the school. But it´s only for a few weeks. Just until I can get another place and the Aurors can secure it. Dumbledore has this idea that I´m safer there." He shook his head.

Ginny looked on, her face sympathetic. Harry didn´t much care for that. It was a bit embarrassing. If it was anyone but Dumbledore, he would have ignored the advice and done as he pleased. As it was, however, he couldn´t bring himself to go against his headmaster´s wishes.

"I´ll miss you next year. It won´t be the same here... without you." Ginny smiled at him.

She had a beautiful smile. It always made him feel like smiling back. Something about her smile made him feel warm and a bit squiggly inside. Ron´s little sister was practically a grown up woman. Harry kicked himself a bit for thinking this way about his chum´s baby sister. He´d been doing that for a while now, half hoping and half fearing that these strange feelings would pass. They hadn´t.

"Er, Ginny?"

"Uh huh?"

"Would you mind if... I mean, could I..." He stumbled over the words, angry at himself for looking like a complete dunderhead. "Oh, blast it all, Ginny, could I write to you?"

Ginny looked surprised, and then pleased. She smiled at him, her brown eyes flecked with little bits of gold that Harry hadn´t noticed before. "I´d like that, Harry"

They sat up talking together late into the night.

Back in Surrey, Harry spent most of his time in his sparse bedroom, avoiding the Dursleys and counting down the days until his newly-found residence could be secured. One evening while he was rereading one of his Quidditch books, a message arrived via a strange owl. It was a snowy owl, and for a moment, Harry thought perhaps it was Hedwig, who, he was glad to see, was still in her cage. The strange owl flew off immediately after dropping the scroll of parchment in his hand. Hedwig hooted after it in what to Harry sounded like an aggravated tone.

"Shh," he said, covering her cage. The last thing he needed was his Uncle Vernon to come up and complain about the noise. So far his stay in the Dursley home this summer had been fairly tolerable - he suspected his aunt and uncle were counting down the days as well.

Harry unrolled the parchment scroll and read the message. Could it be true? Or was this someone´s idea of a joke? It was tempting to think so, but he knew instantly that it was no trick. He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair with a loud bang. Racing downstairs, his heart pounding, he shouted for his aunt and uncle. They emerged from the lounge, looking irritated. His cousin, Dudley, who had finished at Smeltings with only a few O-Levels and A-Levels to show for himself, and who was showing no inclination to go on to University or find a job, lumbered down the stairs behind Harry.

"Uncle Vernon! Aunt Petunia!" Harry called urgently. "We have to get out of here! As quickly as possible. Now!"

His uncle looked cross. "What are you talking about, boy?"

"There´s no time to explain," Harry stammered. "But we´re in danger if we stay here!"

His uncle harrumphed and squinted at Harry, a look of irritation across his now purple face. "You are most welcome to leave at any time, boy. In fact, the sooner the better. We´ve longed to be rid of you for sixteen years, so don´t let us hold you up."

The hateful words bounced off Harry, who had heard such things so often he no longer cared. What was important now was to get them to believe him. "Uncle Vernon, I´m telling the truth. Please. We all have to get out of here. Voldemort... The Death Eaters -"

The moment the phrase came out of Harry´s mouth, his uncle looked ready to explode. "I´ve told you that I will not have that abnormality in this house! We´re not going anywhere! Get out! You! Go!"

Harry watched, dumbfounded, as his uncle turned his back on him. Why wouldn´t they believe him? What more could he say? He was certain his uncle wouldn´t listen to `I just got a warning that Voldemort´s followers will be attacking number four, Privet Drive, tonight,´ true though it may be.

"Yeah, you get out," his cousin said, lumbering a few menacing steps forward.

Harry trailed after his aunt into the kitchen. "Aunt Petunia! Please. We have to get out of here. Some evil wizards are coming. If they find you here they´ll kill you. This is no joke. Please."

"Vernon!" his aunt shrieked, looking at him with a nervous expression.

Harry´s uncle burst through the kitchen door, his face puffed up and an even more alarming shade of purple. He cuffed Harry hard on the side of the head with a meaty hand.

Harry stumbled back, more surprised than injured by the blow. It was the first time his uncle had struck him in many years. Since Harry had been attending wizard school, the Dursleys had mostly been too frightened of him to resort to physical violence. Though his uncle had threatened him plenty, had locked him up, and had practically starved and otherwise neglected him, he hadn´t physically hurt him.

The blow stunned Harry, who, at nearly eighteen, had thought that nothing the Dursleys could do would shock him anymore. Pulling his wand from his pocket with a shaking hand, he longed to curse the spiteful man. It was all he could do not to. He wasn´t a child any longer, but a fully qualified wizard, and thus not subject to the restrictions on underage sorcery. It was tempting, so tempting. Muggle Protection Act be damned, he thought for an instant in rage.

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he started to feel more pity than fury for his pathetic relations. He looked hard at his pudgy uncle, who had stumbled backward at the sight of the wand in Harry´s hand. The man now stood awkwardly with one foot in the kitchen dustbin and his bulky body pressed up against the kitchen table.

"Please believe me," he pleaded. "You´re in danger."

"Get out! You´re the one in danger, boy, if you remain in this house longer than another five minutes. Get your things and get out!" His uncle spoke loudly and indignantly. It might have been an impressive show if it were not for his foot being stuck in the dustbin. The metal bin clanged against the table leg absurdly as he tried to shake it off.

"Fools!" Harry said, his frustration eating quickly through whatever pity he had momentarily had for his uncle. "I´m warning you. When the Death Eaters get here they´ll have no mercy. I´m leaving, and I suggest you all do the same."

Ignoring his uncle´s comment of, "Good riddance," Harry fled the kitchen, shoving past his hefty cousin, whose bulk was plugging up the doorway.

Upstairs, Harry sent Hedwig off. It wasn´t any good to send her with a note - too slow. Harry didn´t have a Portkey and their fireplace was not on the Floo Network. Apparition was his only option. He took two minutes to gather his few possessions, tossing them haphazardly into his trunk. Shrinking the trunk and Hedwig´s cage magically, he put them in his pocket and hurried out, afraid the Death Eaters might arrive at any moment.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, he saw his aunt standing alone in the front hall. She looked frightened, eyes wide in her bony face. Harry couldn´t just leave. He had to at least try. "Aunt Petunia, I know that you´re afraid. You should be. Please get out now. You don´t have to come with me. Go to Mrs. Figg´s. She´ll help. Please go. Don´t come back here tonight."

His aunt didn´t move. Harry looked deep into her hazel eyes, trying to make his voice calm and reasonable. "Aunt Petunia," he cleared his throat, "my mother was your sister. Lily... Lily was your sister. I know you didn´t get along. I know that you´ve never wanted me here. That can´t be helped now. For her sake, get out. For Lily´s sake. The man who killed her is going to come here looking for me. It won´t matter if I´m here or not. You´re in danger. Go. Get Uncle Vernon and Dudley out. Save yourselves." He took her hands in his, surprised that she didn´t pull away. Oddly, he realized that it was the first time he recalled touching or being touched by his aunt in many years. Her hands were cool and clammy, and her face, pale. He looked into her eyes for several long seconds, clasping her hands in his, feeling her fear and indecision.

"What are you still doing here, boy? I told you to get out!" Harry´s uncle had come into the room. The angry man raised his hand for another blow, but stopped instantly at a warning look from his nephew.

Harry shook his head sadly. He looked at his aunt and gave her hands a final squeeze before dropping them, silently mouthing the words "please go."

In an instant he´d Apparated to the Ministry offices, rushing to alert the Aurors. He couldn´t leave the Dursleys there to be slaughtered. No matter what they had done, they didn´t deserve that.

It didn´t take long, only a few minutes, really, but by the time Harry and the Aurors got back to Privet Drive, the house was in ruins. Harry knelt at the side of his uncle, staring mutely at the body lying on the floor, shaking his head. He was sad and he was sorry, but most of all, he wished that he had done more. If he hadn´t been so angry... If part of him hadn´t want revenge for all the mistreatment over the years... Had his own vengeance and selfishness condemned Dursleys to death?

He should have just hexed them unconscious and levitated them out of the house or something. He might have been able to do it in time. Why hadn´t he tried? Did he hate his own family so much he was willing to leave them to the mercy of the Death Eaters? Or should he have stayed behind to defend the Dursleys? Would he have had a chance? His mother had sacrificed herself for him, was it not fair that he should have done the same for his own family?

"Harry?" Mr. Weasley was standing behind him. He´d come with the Aurors. Harry looked up, blinking, his eyes damp.

"Harry, your aunt and cousin aren´t here."

Harry was surprised. Even though he´d urged her to go, he couldn´t believe that his aunt would have voluntarily left her husband´s side, particularly at Harry´s advice. But he couldn´t imagine that the Death Eaters would have taken his aunt and cousin. Had Aunt Petunia believed him after all? Willing himself not to hope, Harry said, "Check at Mrs. Figg´s, will you?"

Mr. Weasley nodded and vanished. Harry sat quietly with his uncle´s body amidst the devastation of the lounge. In a few minutes Mr. Weasley returned with Harry´s aunt and cousin. His aunt´s face looked tired and frightened, and Harry could see the streaks tears had made through her makeup. Harry stood up, relief evident on his face. "Aunt Petunia -"

The thin woman looked past him to the body of her husband. A look of disbelief on her face, she stumbled forward and fell to her knees, sobbing.

"Aunt Petunia? I´m so sorry. I tried to get help... I tried..."

She wasn´t listening to him.

"You... you killed my father!" Dudley´s shocked and confused face entered his vision.

"I´m sorry, Dudley. I tried...I tried..." Harry shook his head. He couldn´t say any more. He stepped backward out of Dudley´s reach. His cousin stood there mutely, staring at the devastation around him.

Mr. Weasley said, "Harry, it´s not safe for you here. I´ll have the Aurors take charge of your family. They´ll be safe. We need to get you out of here. Now. In case the Death Eaters come back."

Harry shook his head. He didn´t want to leave like this.

"No," Mr. Weasley insisted. "We have to get you out of here. We shouldn´t have let you come back here, really. We´ll go to the Burrow. I´ll have some Aurors come with us. It should be safe for the time being. Is there anything you want to take away with you?"

Harry thought for a moment, trying to focus. It was difficult, standing here amidst the destruction and death. He´d thrown everything into his trunk before leaving, hadn´t he? There was nothing of his remaining, and there was certainly nothing of the Dursleys´ that he wanted. But - he didn´t know why he suddenly remembered it amidst the chaos of his sobbing aunt, his menacing cousin, the debris-strewn house, and Aurors rushing about - the image of Ron´s chess set came to mind. It was in his desk. He´d forgotten it.

Racing upstairs, Mr. Weasley hurrying behind him, Harry burst into his ransacked bedroom. It was actually quite orderly compared with the rest of the house because Harry had had few possessions to be disturbed. The desk drawers were turned out, he saw, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Harry rummaged through the things strewn about the bed and floor. He searched the room quickly. The chess set was not there. It was gone.

Compared with a loss of life, Harry knew this loss should be minor, but it wasn´t just a box of chessmen to him. It was Ron´s and he´d lost it. He´d failed to keep safe a thing that meant so much to his best friend. To Harry, the chess set had become a symbol of his friendship with Ron. It had become a symbol of Ron´s love for Hermione. Harry felt like crying, immediately disgusted that he felt a deeper grief for it than he had for his uncle.

"There´s no time, Harry. We´ve got to go," Mr. Weasley urged, looking around him curiously.

When they went back downstairs, his uncle was no longer lying on the floor in the lounge. His aunt and cousin were gone as well. Part of the Auror cleanup efforts, Harry guessed. Probably to keep the Muggle authorities from finding out.

Harry numbly let Mr. Weasley take him back to the burrow. It was a few days before he could speak of the Dursleys at all, and even longer before he told Ron about the chess set.