A/n: This is written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition's Semi Finals. My team, the Falmouth Falcons, were asked to write about the Giant Chessboard as being sentient.
Note: The ending of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone have been modified slightly for the purpose of this story.
"Life is like a game of chess. To win you have to make a move. Knowing which move to make comes with insight and knowledge, and by learning the lessons that are accumulated along the way. We become each and every piece within the game called life!"
― Allan Rufus, The Master's Sacred Knowledge
How About a Game of Chess?
Voldemort's soul flew out of the room and through the doorways and traps it had passed earlier that day, bits and pieces of it catching on jagged edges or crumbled stone.
On its way out, it swept past the rubble-strewn chessboard, passing through the towering white queen in its hurry to escape.
Voldemort's soul was long gone before anybody could come looking for it, and in their anxiousness to deal with the disaster that had transpired, no one noticed the shadow that passed across the queen's chiselled marble features.
The chessboard lay untouched and forgotten for a long time. With every passing day, the queen strengthened her kingdom and rounded up her troops, waiting, spreading out tendrils of her magic through the walls of Hogwarts, reaching out to her children everywhere.
Finally, it was time to make a move.
A white soldier strode forward two steps. The queen smiled.
Two years later
It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon, with the wind rustling a soothing melody through the swaying boughs and falling leaves, and the warm sunlight painting patterns across the grass as it peeked through the branches of trees. Students and teachers alike milled about, enjoying a rare lazy day, unconcerned about the piles of work awaiting them.
As such, it was a rather perfect day for a game of chess, and the young redhead walking past must have surmised the same as he spotted the chessboard that waited in the shade of an old Oak, along the banks of the Great Lake.
"What's this doing here?" he asked as he neared and picked up a pawn. Looking over his shoulder, he called to his bespectacled friend. "Oi, Harry! How about a game of chess, eh?"
The other boy looked a bit unsure as he joined his friend. "I dunno, Ron. Is it alright to just play with someone's stuff?"
"Don't be such a pansy, mate. There's hardly anyone around."
"That's not the point―"
"Alright, alright. How about I let you go first, then?"
"Does it matter? You always win anyway."
"You never know. This may just be your day!"
As the duo settled down on opposite stumps, a group of three boys, who had been spying on the two from a bit away, strode over to them.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Potty Potter and his Weasel."
The redhead and bespectacled boy both rolled their eyes. The latter said, "Out for a stroll, are we, Malfoy? Be careful not to get too close to the edge. I heard the Giant Squid likes to eat cowardly blonds with no brains for lunch."
The two teenagers continued to bicker, and after an extended argument, came to the conclusion that they would battle it out over a game of chess. The blond shoved the redhead off the stump and settled down on it, motioning to the chessboard.
"You go first, Potter. Consider it a gesture of my benevolence."
The bespectacled boy commanded a pawn forward, not noticing the subtle surge of magic that swept across the board. The blond leant forward and opened his mouth but paused abruptly.
The left knight.
Confused, he ordered the knight forward.
The bespectacled boy laughed and took the knight with his pawn.
The blond swore and began to command his other knight, but paused again.
The fourth pawn.
Frowning, he ordered the fourth pawn forward instead.
The other boy, perhaps deciding to play it safe, pointed at another pawn, but stopped short.
The left bishop.
The boy inhaled sharply and glanced up at his ginger-haired friend, perhaps wondering if it was he who had spoken. But the redhead's intent gaze was fixed on the chessboard, a fist pressed to his mouth. The bespectacled boy returned his attention to the board and began to command the pawn forward again.
The left bishop.
The blond's eyebrows shot up when his opponent sent out a bishop. "You can't fool me, Potter," he muttered to himself and tapped the board.
"Paw—"
The queen.
"Q-Queen to A4," the boy stuttered, his eyes going wide. He looked up, lips curling into a sneer. "What're you playing at, Potter?"
"I would like to ask you the same thing," the bespectacled boy shot back, his expression furious.
"Get out of my head," the blond hissed.
"You first," the raven-haired boy snapped, clenching his fists.
A light breeze drifted by just then, and a pawn on the chessboard rattled, a shadow passing across its ivory surface before glinting brilliantly.
Twenty years later
It was yet another pleasant day, ironically, and the narrow beam of sunlight pouring in through a hole in the blinds shone over the white pawn sitting pretty atop a small card on the Head Auror's desk.
A door opened, and two men entered the room. The bespectacled one was nodding along as the other, squatter one relayed something to him, their focus on the file in the latter's hand.
A non-existent breeze made the pawn rattle, and both men stopped short. The shorter Auror pulled out his wand as the bespectacled one walked over to the desk. He eyed the pawn, then the writing on the card.
How about a game of chess?
The man went rigid for a moment, his eyes turning glassy, and he reached forward slowly to pick up the pawn. The Auror behind him was yelling out a warning, but it was too late.
The pawn glinted, and both it and the wizard were Port-Keyed away.
They arrived at their destination just as another wizard did, his platinum-blond hair dishevelled and his confusion mirroring that of the other as the two men looked around.
"Potter?" the blond said, his high-pitched voice revealing his surprise.
"Malfoy?" the bespectacled one whispered, and the two men stood staring at each other across the dimly lit room.
After a moment, a slow rumbling began from beneath their feet and spread throughout until the ground expanded and a chessboard rose from the floor. Giant pieces took their positions, surrounding the two wizards, forcing them to play the game if they had any hopes of leaving.
How about a game of chess?
The words rang clear through the air, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. The blond, who stood behind the giant black pieces, moved his arm in a slow arc as he gestured to the white pieces across the board.
Consider this—
"—a gesture of my benevolence," he said, the two voices melding into one.
The magic was thick in the air and seeped into the two wizards, gradually dulling their senses and taking over their minds. The sound of a bell signalled the beginning of the game, and the bespectacled wizard ordered his pawn forward.
The game proceeded as it had so many years ago, except this time, the two played from memory and a sense of déjà vu. It was no longer clear whether the players controlled the game, or if the game controlled the players, and with every move that was made, the magic within the room grew more and more palpable.
Bishop—
"—to F4," the blond murmured, his command barely audible, moving the bishop to its place as though it was listening to his mind and not his words.
There was a pause as the bespectacled wizard surveyed the carnage before him, taking in all the destroyed and incapacitated pieces, his eyes stopping on the tallest piece on the board.
"Queen to A4," he whispered, and there was a surge of magic as the white queen turned in a slow half-circle, raised her sword in one quick swing, and slashed down the black king.
The blond, frozen in place behind his king, watched with a dumbfounded expression as the gigantic piece disintegrated and rained down on him, covering him in dust, debris and darkness.
Checkmate.
The single word echoed through the spacious room, and the bespectacled wizard collapsed to the floor, his consciousness no longer able to withstand the overwhelming magic.
When the bespectacled wizard awoke, it was to a sight that sent chills down his spine.
Across the black-and-white checkered flooring, dressed in robes so black that no light reflected off of them, with skin so pale that it rivaled the ivory throne she sat on, was the Queen. A regal smile on her face, she extended an arm, and all the black-and-white soldiers on either side of her bowed down in reverence.
"Welcome," she said, her voice so similar to the one that had over-ridden his mind. "We have been waiting for you."