Game of Chess – Replayed
By: Quills (and Muses)
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I did not, I do not, and I never will. No profits are made.
Synopsis: Being the Knight to kill the white Queen was not enough to checkmate the King. The game replayed, Ronald Weasley plays, not only the role of the Knight, but also that of a King.
A/N: This is my first piece of time travel fanfiction, so I'm pretty raw at this. This story features the Ronbledore Theory, and I hope I'll be able to complete this fanfiction. Just because this is entirely new and foreign to me, please, please review. Seriously, please review. Even though I write because I want to and I like it, I really need reviews. They let me know that at least there's real people out there reading my work and the reviews provide constructive advice and criticism, they also totally make my day. If you'll spare a couple of minutes to type a review, I'll be so, so glad and eternity grateful to you. Please?
Also, this story contains no pairings. It is too complicated for one, and I'm already having a head time wrapping around the technical idea of it. So, no for now. Even if there were pairings, I have absolutely no idea what I'll write. I can say, there'll definitely be no slash. If you know the Ronbledore Theory, this may make more sense to you. Personally, I think the theory may be true, there's enough evidence, you can read it up if you like.
Chapter 1: Checkmate
The tall, ginger haired boy stood in the mass of bodies, bloodied and torn, eyes haunted and face drained. He was alone, but not entirely. The shallow and receding breathings of those he knew, loved, or seen before could be heard. The wrecked and limp bodies of hundreds lay around him, all with their wands lying on their hand or near it.
All the black pieces were almost gone.
His blue eyes caught the brown ones of a bushy-haired girl. They locked gazes for a moment, and the girl's eyes widened in a fraction of a second. An agonizing scream escaped the boy's lips, and fresh salty tears leaked out steadily from his tortured eyes. The girl's body went slack, and she fell slowly sideways, like it was caught on a camera and played in slow motion mode. The girl hit the ground with a soft thud, and her eyes were those of a soulless body.
The black Queen was killed.
The boy tried running towards her to catch her fall, but the piles and piles of bodies blocked his way. He fell and hit the ground, hard, his cries of heartbreak echoing through the air. The excruciating pain was swirling in his eyes, the waves of pure agony could be felt.
The Knight could not save the Queen, blocked.
He stood up, glaring viciously at the one who took out the girl, and charged like someone who lost his beloved and was out for revenge. He gave it his all, and duelled the attacker to death. One vicious slash to the throat, aim perfect, the attacker was defeated.
The Knight killed the white Queen.
The boy raised his head, and the heated duel to death was a distance away from him. Spells after spells, curses after curses, hexes after hexes were cast and thrown, each missing by an inch. The raven-haired boy was dueling at his best. Sweat glistened on his forehead and his body was running low on adrenaline. His opponent was sending more and more powerful curses, a never-ending stream of spells.
The last few moves to the end of the game.
Green light hit the boy full on the chest, and laughter exploded from his opponent's lips. The boy's face was utter shock, and he fell towards the ground.
The white King had won.
The world collapsed in front of the redhead, each small string of hope gone, disappeared, vanished, never to be found. Depression sunk in, suffocating him in his feelings. The enemy had won, and not one chance of turning the tables remained.
Checkmate.
He closed his tired eyes, willing himself to go numb, to ignore the heart-wrenching pain thudding in his chest, to forget the world, to turn back time itself, to change each detail, to win the war.
His wish was granted, in a flash, his surroundings vanishing, transporting him back a year, two years, three years, and so. The future was erasing itself, and nothing remained so. Everything has the possibility to be changed, and the boy was the only one who has the ability to do so.
Game of Chess – Replayed.
A/N: I know this is short, but it's kind of like a prologue. I'm no fabulous chess player; in fact, I just learned what a stalemate was. So, I apologise if I had written anything wrongly, and I'll change it immediately. I'm not entirely sure if I should continue this, and it all depends on you, the reader, to give me feedback. Please review on your thoughts and I'll decide whether to delete or continue this time travelling Ronbledore fanfiction. Please, please review. Please?
