Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.
Chapter. 2
It was a busy day at the Flabbyhooks Hotel. In a large kitchen, kitchen staff quickly finished the final touches of a large meal. Many concierges eagerly pointed guests to the correct hallway that lead to a giant event room. There wizards and witches, goblins and house-elves, and so many more cheered as the watched the last match of the Magical World's 9th Annual Wizard Chess Tournament.
Just as everyone was either eagerly anticipating the final leg, talking quietly with their friends, or absently mindedly looking out the floor to ceiling windows, the most memorable moment of the tournament occurred. One of the contestants, the famous Chessmaster fell on the floor. Later multiple articles in the Daily Prophet speculated that this was a hoax on the Chessmaster's part to frighten his opponent so much that he would allow the Chessmaster to win. The Quibbler remarked that the Chessmaster fainted because of the alarming presence of Blibbering Humdingers. The House-elf Weekly angrily called the Chessmaster the prime example of the greedy wizards working hard to ruin the house-elves first year of freedom.
In fact, the Chessmaster faced a scary, unbelievable experience- a fast-paced merging of two souls. Ron Weasley lay on the floor and watched as memories sped into his mind. Chess tournament after chess tournament plagued his mind. Victory parties where he signed far too many autographs. His little sister sadly wishing she could be good at chess. His parents greeting him with the great news he could compete for England's first Wizard Chess Tournament two years ago. Watching as news articles recording the uncountable tournaments he won. He heard people screaming his name as they clamored through Diagon Alley. He saw his family as they watched him compete match after match.
It was overwhelming, to put it simply. Ron struggled as his head throbbed while he witnessed too many memories all at once. He wished Hermione were with him, pressing her warm breath against his throbbing forehead.
That genie was awful. True he wanted people to think of him as important as beyond a friend of someone famous. But he also wanted to play Quidditch, eat the food he cooked and, most of all, to still be with Hermione. He hated how he earlier thought the genie had the right idea.
"Ron." A high-pitched voice screamed. Another one of the Chessmaster's memories, it could be. But the next memory was of an old chess tournament opponent yelling the Chessmaster was a cheat. The voice was far too soft to be the voice still screaming in horror.
The screaming reminded Ron when his mother and sister screamed their hearts out when they tightly clutched Harry's dead corpse. He felt as if he was back beneath the dark red sky clutching Hermione's hand, watching them mourn all over again. Not even noticing the rambunctious, cheering crowd, excited by Voldemort's death.
"Ron, baby." The voice screamed again. Ron tried to open his eyes, but they refused to budge. Several new Chessmaster memories spread into his mind, like a never ending (What did Hermione call it? Those moving images of pictures?) slide-show. Yes. Slide-show. "Please. Please. Plea… Answer me."
But Ron couldn't. For several hours, memories sprang into his head while his soul and the Chessmaster endured the long merging process.
To the disdain of the audience and the Chessmaster's opponent, the tournament was proponed to finish at a later date. The Chessmaster's opponent, a fierce house-elf named Misty, flung a pointy finger towards Ron's forehead and called him a lousy loser. The audience on Misty side protested that Misty should win the tournament. They shouted that the Chessmaster lost when he lost control of his mental functions. The audience on the Chessmaster's side protested as well. Some especially anti-house-elf supporters called Misty a sore loser who could never understand the needs of men. The called house-elves scum who deserved to be in servitude again because they felt house-elves don't understand good sportsmanship.
Meanwhile, healers called by Mr. Weasley brought Ron to a private room in St. Mungos. And there Ron's family was hours later when the merging process finally ended.
"Er, hi," Ron greeted the large congregation around his bed. Leaning his tense neck against a thin, scratchy pillow, Ron grinned at the sight of Fred and George poking each other, Percy's grimace, his parents' relieved faces, and Ginny's jumping up and down.
"You're awake!" Ginny hopped over to Ron and hugged him tightly, her feet almost falling off his bed. "We thought you never get up."
"Terrified, we were, weren't we George?" Fred grinned at his twin who nodded.
"Petrified. We thought we would have to send you a toilet seat from Hogwarts as well as Ginny," George joked.
"It's a pity. Why couldn't you have dropped down after the match?" Percy glared at Ron. "We could be celebrating now instead of anticipating a new match."
"Percy," Ron's mother tisked at her son.
"Sorry. I'm just being practical." Ron's older brother sighed and looked at Ron. "I'm glad you're all right. I just wish we didn't have to go through that match again."
"It is nerve-raking," Ron's mother agreed sadly. "We might have to endure a few more days as the house-elves main target."
"Well that's what happens when Ron insisted on playing in the most prestigious tournament in England," Percy shared.
"On the bright side!" Fred exclaimed. "The Chessmaster is now the main event of the tournament. Everyone is talking about your big moment."
"They all want to know if you faked it or if it's a cry for help," George added. "Please tell me you faked it. I never seen anything so funny."
"George." This time Ron's mother reprimanded George with a slap. "I'm sure Ron doesn't want to hear that."
A knock sounded and a Healer entered the room. At first Ron couldn't see the Healer and then he noticed that it was a short house-elf. Its pointy ears twitched at the sight of Ron and his family.
"Winky see the patient is up." The familiar house-elf raised her nose. "Please go. Winky need to check up patient."
"Can me and his mother at least stay?" Ron was surprised to hear his father finally speak. He had thought his father was still in shock or something.
"Winky thinks that not necessary, but Healer rules say that can happen, so Winky say fine."
While his siblings started to leave, Ron decided a friendly greeting was in order to alleviate the tension. "I'm sure your looking forward to some Butterbeer after work. "You definitely deserve one."
Percy, the last of his siblings to leave, clenched his hands at Ron's word, shaking his head angrily before he exited the room.
Winky reached just as badly. She twitched her nose at his words. "Winky will help, but Winky don't want any of Chessmaster's fake kindness."
Wow, this house-elf really didn't like him in this world. Ron tried to think through the Chessmaster's memories. Was there any that would show why Winky wouldn't like the Chessmaster? Ron knew the Winky he knew had plenty reasons to dislike him. He did call Mr. Crouch a crock. But the Chessmaster never even met Winky, as far as Ron could tell.
"Ron," his mother said gently. "Please remain quiet while Winky treats you. We'll explain everything later, once your well."
Ron nodded. Though he usually liked to talk, he knew that the situation was already tense enough. Plus, his day was already strenuous enough. He didn't want more difficult moments.
"So how is patient feeling?" Winky gazed at Ron intensely.
Oh, if only Hermione was here and he could complain to her about his still burning head and have a little argument over cleaning up or something equally fun instead of all this hospital business.
But, of course, that couldn't be. Ron was a fool who touched some random object that appeared out of nowhere.
"Well?" Winky repeated.
"Like hell." Ron laughed at his unplanned rhyme.
His mother made a nervous sound and that brought Ron back into reality.
"Right. Well. Er. My head hurts, burning, you see. And I'm knackered. Pretty much it."
Winky nodded thoughtfully. She took her hand on Ron's forehead and nodded along. "Winky see. You're brain muscles are overwhelmed from too much activity. Most likely stress. From analysis, you're good right now. All you need is a week or two of rest. Not too much interactive activity. Definitely no chess matches. As for the intense seizure, Winky will give you some Pepper-Up Potion to take once a day for the next week. If it happens again, it might be more serious. But Winky cannot see any cause for alarm."
"Sounds good." Ron grinned at the house-elf. "Thanks ..."
His father interrupted, "You're sure he's fine? Maybe we should see Healer Morris or Healer Selewyn for a …"
"Winky Healer. Other Healers visit their patients. No need for second opinion. Winky good Healer. Or are you implying that you think house-elves unworthy." A sneer began to appear on Winky's face.
"No. Not at all." Ron's father exclaimed. "I find nothing wrong with you and your kind. I just am worried about my son. I think a second opinion might be helping. He's only eleven. I want to make sure he's not too hurt."
Winky snapped. "Winky helped. Winky tell you son is fine. When Winky eleven, Winky worked all hours unlike Chessmaster. Winky thinks you want to stop house-elf working free. Winky won't spend another moment with you." After she exited the room, Ron could hear her faintly snarling, "Humans."
Ron's father sighed and glanced at his wife sadly. "I only wanted to make sure Ron's fine. Why can't the house-elf understand that?"
"Its their problem. There's nothing we can do to change their perceptions, sadly." Ron's mother shrugged and then grinned at Ron. "Well, I'm glad your good Ronniekins. You gave us quite a scare.
Ron nodded, trying to feel cheerful, but the Winky encounter was still foremost in his mind. She acted so hurtful and angry. Ron couldn't help but wonder if Hermione was right all along. The house-elves were never really happy about being enslaved, no matte how cheerful they always acted. Here they were free, and they were frightened of any disrespect. Terrified at the thought of being enslaved again.
A Chessmaster memory came to him. His other self had into the pet store in Diagon Alley with his family to buy an owl for Percy. While they Percy and the other Ron looked around the different owls, a family of house-elves walked in.
One of them, a small child house-elf, started shouting, "Chessmaster," when he noticed the other Ron. "Can Friz have his autograph? Please?"
His mother, a tense figure, grimaced at her son's words. "Stay away Friz. He's human. Don't care about elves like us."
"But Friz free now. Friz equal. Friz no have to work!"
The mother shook her head. "No matter. Not safe to speak to humans."
And the other Ron just smirked and whispered to Percy. "House-elves are nutters."
The house-elf mother's ears perked up at the other Ron's words and she angrily spit at his feet. She grabbed her son and left the store in a huff.
What a tense world this was.
AN-
Thanks everyone who favorited or followed this story. It was very fun to start writing the world of freed house-elves and the Chessmaster. I hope you like this chapter.
HappyTerrier