Harry and the Pirates, Chapter 14

Into the Labyrinth

by Technomad

Harry and Dudley swung down through the darkness, finally landing on something soft. "It's not that far down," Harry called up. "Floating you down will be no problem at all!" Then he pulled his wand, to find, to his horror, that he and Dudley were standing in a huge patch of a strange plant, that was already winding tendrils around their legs. "Hermione! What is this stuff?"

"It's Devil's Snare! It doesn't like fire!"

"Oh, is that so?" As the tendrils reached higher and higher on the two cousins, Dudley pulled out a flare. "Look away from this!" With a wicked grin, he activated the flare, and the plant shrank away, hissing as the white-hot phosphorus burnt its tendrils. Harry, forewarned, covered his eyes; he didn't want his night vision to be knocked out. Not down there, he didn't! Dudley also had his arm over his eyes until the flare burned out.

Clinging to the ropes, Ron and Hermione swung down. Ron gaped at the damage the flare had done. "Blimey! What was that?"

"A standard flare. I brought a few along for places where we might need lots of light. These wands are all right, but give me a flare if you need real light!" Dudley grinned at Ron's astonishment.

"They did say they were planning to use Muggle methods as well as magic, Ron," Hermione commented. "Come on, time's a-wasting. Let's see what else is down here!" As they moved off, Harry could still hear the thin strains of Music Box Dancer from Ron's music box, and he hoped the thing would still be playing when they got back.

The four friends found themselves traipsing cautiously down a dark, dank corridor. Harry wondered if they would end up under the lake itself; he wasn't too sure, but it did feel like they were getting farther away from Hogwarts with every step. Ahead, he could hear an odd rustling.

"Who'd have thought there were so many passages under the castle?" muttered Hermione. "They weren't mentioned in Hogwarts, a History."

"Odds are they're secret. Either nobody knows they're here, or, more likely, very few people know they're here, and whoever wrote that book was warned not to mention them." Harry muttered back. "And for Buddha's sake, keep quiet!" Balalaika's training had emphasized not making unnecessary noise when on an op, and Harry had learned to trust Balalaika's wisdom implicitly.

The foursome stepped out, blinking, into a brilliantly-lit chamber. "Blimey, this is big! It's hard to believe we're underground!" Ahead of them, they could see a large, closed door.

"And, look!" Ron pointed up. Above them, what looked like a flock of glittering small birds, or large insects, fluttered to and fro. "Do you think they might attack us?"

"One way to find out!" Before the others could stop him, Harry was across the chamber, kneeling at the door. "Bugger! It's locked somehow!"

"Let me try!" Hermione was at Harry's side, her wand out and at the ready. "Alohomora!" Unfortunately, the spell didn't seem to want to work; the door stayed stubbornly closed. As Harry and Hermione examined the door, Ron and Dudley stood by, their wands out, scanning for danger in all directions. For a second, Harry felt like he was back in Roanapur, working on some project for Balalaika, and he felt a second's racking homesickness.

Dudley was peering closely at the glittering "birds." He cleared his throat. "Harry, those aren't birds. Those are keys. Keys that were charmed to have wings."

"You sure of that?" Harry paused from his efforts to pick the lock to look up. He couldn't quite see what Dudley was seeing, but his glasses were smeared, and he had always relied on Dudley's better vision. He narrowed his eyes, straining to see. "Ron? What do you think?"

Ron pointed to four brooms that were leaning against the wall. "I think the idea is to figure out which key fits the door, catch it, and then use it to open the door."

"This is like a test. A test of magical power and intelligence," said Hermione. She gave them all a grin. "And you know me and tests!" Before the others could react, she had grabbed a broom and zoomed out and into the air. Not to be outdone, the other three were soon airborne, chasing keys.

Harry was the best on a broom of the four of them, something he attributed to natural talent, since Ron had been flying for years before Harry had ever dreamed such a thing was possible. However, none of them were slouches in the air. The Slytherin Quidditch team had made sure of that, with special extra sessions of flying training under Marcus Flint's cold, knowing eye for all the first-years. Marcus' watchword was "Every Slytherin will be able to fly, or I will know the reason why!" Only when a firstie had managed to satisfy the Quidditch Captain did he or she get excused from the sessions, and many of them kept on with them because they were often quite enjoyable in their own right.

By that time in their lives, broom flying seemed as natural as riding a bicycle did to Harry, Dudley and Hermione. Once they were in the air, the keys began taking evasive manouvers. Dudley and Ron split off, heading in a direction to intercept the mass of keys, and Hermione and Harry herded them toward their friends.

"Ah-HAH!" Ron's hand whipped out, too fast for the eye to follow, and snagged a large, ornate key. "I bet you're the one!"

"What makes you think that, Ron?"

"This one's the same color metal as the lock, and it looks like it would fit. Come on, let's give it a go. If it doesn't work, there's always more." Suiting action to words, Ron flew down and tried the key in the lock. "See? Told you!" He gave them all a grin like a Jack O'Lantern. With a click, the door opened.

The four Slytherins passed through, to find themselves among what seemed, at first, to be serried ranks of statues. There was something very familiar about those statues, something that tickled at the edges of Harry's memory. Memories of rainy afternoons at the Yellowflag, sitting at a table with one of Balalaika's Russians across from him, playing…

"Buddha help us," he whispered, "it's a giant chess set!"

Once he had placed what it was, it all snapped into place. He and his friends were standing at the back row of the black side of the board, between the King and Queen. Harry shivered. He had seen many games of Wizard's Chess in the Slytherin common room, usually with Ron happily demolishing whoever was silly enough to challenge him. The way the pieces smashed into each other with weapons was unnerving enough when the pieces were a few inches tall. These were taller than any of the four friends, and their weapons looked very, very real.

"Let's get across," whispered Dudley. The quartet began to file across the board. Once they passed the line of black pawns, several of the white pawns stood up and unsheathed their swords threateningly. They all halted. "Or, maybe not?" gulped Dudley.

"So far," Hermione reasoned, "these have all been tests of our abilities. Like whoever put them here wants only those who can handle whatever's down here to be able to pass."

"And this is chess," said Ron. "We can play our way across the board!"

"Brilliant, Ron!" Hermione grabbed the redheaded boy and gave him a kiss, making him blush as red as his hair. "We'll have to take the roles of chess pieces. Which of us should be which?"

Ron considered it, his head tilted slightly to one side as he thought. "Harry, you take the place of the Queen's bishop. Hermione, Dudley, you can both take the place of the rooks. I'll be the King's side knight. Those are the most manouverable piece, and I can get all around the board that way." At Ron's words, the pieces he named bowed and marched off the board, and the four friends took their places, as the game opened, with white, as always, playing first. White's opening was fairly standard: Queen's bishop's pawn to QB-3.

"Oh, good," Ron commented, his voice tight with tension. "At least we're up against a conventional player. Good job we're not up against someone who plays like Percy does. That guy specializes in doing the unexpected." The other three stared at Ron for a second. "Unexpected" was the last word that Harry would have used to describe Percy. Ron came to a decision, and called out "Queen's Knight's Pawn to QK-2!"

And with that, the game was on. Pieces moved across the board at the command of their unseen opponent, and Ron had to dart about, doing his best to preserve his friends from capture while doing as much damage to the white side as he could. Again and again, he saved his friends by directing other black pieces into positions to block the white side from capturing them.

"What do you think of our opponent?" asked Hermione, when they had a moment close together to talk. Harry was not far away, but Dudley was clear across the board, threatening several of the white side's pieces with capture merely by being in the position he was in.

Ron's brow creased. "Whoever's controlling the other side knows how to play, but I'd say he or she lacks the real fire that goes to make up a good chess player. The other side plays like they have to, not for the love of the game." Ron's eyes sparkled, and Harry could tell that his redheaded mate was having the time of his life, despite the deadly danger they faced.

"But you love the game for itself, don't you, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Chess or Quidditch, it doesn't matter! When I'm doing either one, it's like the only time I'm really alive!" Harry was reminded of the times he'd seen Revy Two-Hands in a gunfight, or Balalaika finishing up a scheme. At times like those, the masks both women wore slipped, and he could see pure joy shining through. Ron had the same expression on his face. It was the look of a person who had found his life's work, and was inexpressibly happy doing it. For a second, Harry envied him.

"Back to the game," Ron muttered. "Dudley, move left and take that knight. That'll leave an opening for them to put our King into check. Then I'll take their queen, and their rook will take me-and you'll be able to checkmate their King, Harry."

"Got you, Ron!" Dudley was hell-on-wheels in a street fight, but he was no great chess player, and he trusted Ron implicitly. Once he'd moved into the knight's space, he took it out with a vicious punch. The white queen, free from Dudley's threat, moved forward to threaten the black king. Grimly, Ron moved into the white queen's space, and shoved her over. The white rook rumbled forward across the board, with Ron staring at it, his face white with fear but set in determination. The rook swung its weapon, a heavy mace, and Ron flew off his space to lie very still.

"Hold still!" yelled Harry, as Dudley and Hermione moved as though to go to their friend's aid. "We're still playing chess!" Slowly and carefully, Harry marched across the board, stopping in front of the white king. "Checkmate!"

The white king took off his crown, and threw it at Harry's feet. For a second, Harry thought he could see actual expression on the impassive features. Was that a look of respect? Harry would never know, and at the moment, he didn't care. He, Hermione and Dudley were all converging on Ron.

Carefully, Dudley rolled Ron over on his back and got his eyes open. "His pupils are different sizes. That means a concussion. And I don't like the way he wheezes when he breathes." He palpated the redhead's side, and Ron let out a loud groan. "Those are broken ribs, or I've never felt any!"

The friends exchanged grim looks. "Look, there's nothing much we can do for him here," Harry finally said, hating himself for saying it. "Dudley, you levitate Ron, go back into the room with the keys, and get one of those brooms. Fly out past the dog, and get Ron to Madam Pomfrey. She'll have him right as rain. Hermione, you and I can go on. One way or another, I'm getting to the bottom of this nonsense, tonight!"

Dudley and Hermione both stared at Harry. They had never heard such a commanding tone from him. Dudley finally broke the silence: "Harry-have you been taking 'Balalaika' lessons? For a second there, it was like she was here!"

"I've watched her in action, and so have you, Dudley," Harry replied. "It'd be strange if some things hadn't rubbed off in all those years. And you know that she'd do what was needful to get what she was doing done."

Dudley snapped off a salute, with not a bit of irony, and levitated Ron; the redhead had lost consciousness. Hermione gave Harry a quizzical look. "I have absolutely got to visit Roanapur," Hermione said ruefully. "I want to learn what this woman can teach me!"

"I'll look forward to seeing you there," Harry said. "In the meantime, we've got to go on." Hermione took a deep breath, hefted her wand and followed Harry to the far side of the room, where a door was visible. Behind them, Dudley and Ron left in the other direction, and Harry sent a moment's good wishes after them. He was sorry to lose Dudley's support, but Ron was down and hurt, and Balalaika had always said that the wounded were a very high priority.

The door, for a change, wasn't locked, but Harry knew better than to let that lull him into false confidence. He knelt and took out the brace-and-bit that they had used earlier to drill a hole in the door to the room where the dog awaited. Cautiously and slowly, he drilled out a hole, then put his eye to it.

"What do you see?" Hermione was all but dancing with impatience and eagerness.

Harry turned away with a look of disgust. "They've got another bloody mountain troll, don't they?" He sighed. "And us without any firepower this time!"

END Chapter 14