The Hogwarts' Annual Championship Tournament of Chess: 2
The next morning, she skipped breakfast. Hermione had barely made it out of the Portrait hole before she heard the whispers and the laughter following her. Instead of meeting up with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, she ducked behind a tapestry until the fifth years passed before taking the stairs in the opposite direction of the Great Hall.
She had no idea where she was going, but her feet carried her to the seventh floor until she was standing where the Room of Requirement once was. With a huff, she paced almost aggressively in front of the blank wall, thinking, I need a place for peace and quiet, and hoping it functioned properly. It took longer than she remembered for the door to appear, but she could hardly slip into the room quick enough as soon as the murky black lines appeared, snorting as she saw the inside.
Hermione was a little surprised it was still working. Hogwarts must have some exceptional magic running through it to fix the damage from the Fiendfyre, though the fire could have been contained to the Room of Many Things instead of the entire Room of Requirement. There was a plush sofa in front of an already crackling fireplace, and Hermione closed her eyes in bliss as she felt the heat from the doorway. "The only way this could be better is if it were connected to the kitchens, but is that even possible?" She asked aloud, and her eyes flew open as she heard a loud rumbling.
"I was joking," she said in disbelief as a tunnel appeared, quickly covered by a large painting of a chess set. The painting made her roll her eyes in exasperation, as she was apparently unable to escape the tournament. A hasty scan of the room revealed an enormous, well-stocked collection of bookshelves and, both to her relief and chagrin, a game of chess set on a small table near the bookshelves.
Hermione levitated the table containing the chess set closer to the fire, grumbling about comfort while she practiced, and then Conjured a chair. "I don't suppose you're able to practice wizard's chess with me?" She asked the room, not expecting a response. She sat down, calling out to move a white pawn to begin the game, and just as she considered playing herself, the opposite pawn slid out to match hers. "Very nice," she praised the room, and the temperature rose slightly. She briefly wondered if the room was becoming self-aware and then shook her head, amused with where her mind had wandered. The properties of Fiendfyre, while strong enough to permanently destroy Horcruxes, did not contain enough concentrated magic to create sentience. Granted, her seventh-year Magical Theory class - Properties of Magic and its Usage - had just barely begun, but she didn't see anything that suggested otherwise in the textbook or the supplemental readings that had been issued.
The time flew by quickly as she competed against the room, losing more pieces than she was taking. A grandfather clock appeared next to her, a quick glance at the time startling her more than the loud chiming. Panicking as she realized she would be late for her next class if she didn't leave immediately, she grabbed her bag hastily and tore out of the room, thanking it out of habit over her shoulder as she left.
It was hard to concentrate in classes. She barely made it to Charms in time and the only available seat was beside Malfoy, who stiffened and looked away as she came closer. Hermione frowned slightly at his response but pushed him out of her mind as she flashed back to her game with the room.
If she could get her knight to F7 the king would be trapped, especially if her bishop could make it to B5 but she had to watch out for the queen who could just-
"Miss Granger!" She jumped as she felt Malfoy's knee dig into her thigh. Hermione glanced up to see the class staring at her, Flitwick crossing his arms as he looked at her, concern covering his face. "Is everything alright my dear?"
"Er, yes, I'm sorry, Professor-"
"Defodio," Malfoy hissed under his breath, glaring at his notes.
"Um, Defodio?" Hermione said cautiously, flicking her eyes first to Malfoy and then back to Professor Flitwick, who watched her for a moment before nodding and clapping his hands.
"Yes, precisely! The Gouging Spell was especially effective in 1825 when Herbert Bates and Matthilda Schneider uncovered the-"
"Thanks, Malfoy," Hermione whispered to her deskmate, nudging his foot with hers. He casually shrugged one shoulder and grunted.
"Pay attention next time," he snarked, and she rolled her eyes.
"I was distracted," she grumbled, and he shrugged again.
"Don't be."
"Such incredible advice," Hermione said sarcastically, lifting her wand to practice the Gouging spell on the rocks that appeared on their desks.
"What's got you so riled?" Malfoy apparently was in a good enough mood to have a conversation with her.
"What makes you think I'm riled?" Deftly avoiding the conversation, she flicked her wand and cut the rock in half, bringing praise from Professor Flitwick. Another rock appeared and she attempted to make shapes out of it while the rest of the class were still cutting into theirs.
Malfoy Banished the rock he had broken mere moments after her success, sending it with a thump to the back of Ron's head and ducking his head when the Gryffindor turned around with a shout. Ignoring Ron's glare, he gave a pointed stare at her new stone, which had been shaved to slivers without her conscious knowledge. Flushing, Hermione Vanished the mess and conjured another.
"I'm in the chess tournament," she finally said when it was clear he wouldn't say anything else. Surprisingly, she found she liked his voice. Even when he spoke quietly, it had a small lilt at the end that gave it the same grace he carried himself with. Cheeks flushing at her thought process, Hermione busied herself with cutting a king out of her rock.
"You're Head Girl, of course you're in the tournament. If you hadn't noticed, I'm registered too. I'm also Head Boy if that has slipped your attention-"
If Hermione squinted, she thought she could make out the barest hints of a smile on his face before it vanished when he noticed she was looking.
"I've noticed, Malfoy, even though you barely speak during any of our Head or Prefects meetings. I hope you're aware that it's a little awkward being the only one speaking in a meeting with only two people." The small smile was back again, and she didn't need to squint as much to see it.
"You don't need very many changes to whatever you rave about," he said almost teasingly.
"Careful, Malfoy, that might almost be a compliment," she said, a hint of laughter in her voice. He was silent for so long that she wondered if she had accidentally hit a nerve or reverted him to his previous silence. At this point, the class was almost over and she had carved out an entire row of chess pieces. After a moment, Malfoy reached over and placed down his collection, combining their creations so they had an entire chess set. Hermione cocked her head, unsure if he had been watching her work and finished the collection when he noted the time or if they had been in sync with their creativity.
Or, she chastised herself, they had started their conversation about the chess tournament. It could be at the forefront of his subconscious and then sufficiently appeared in his Charms practice.
"What's the problem with the tournament, then?" He finally asked softly. "Everyone knows you're required to compete, just throw the first match and be done with it."
"Is that what you'll do?" She asked, dodging the question. His silence felt more like an agreement instead of ignoring her, so she took it as a yes.
"You should be in Slytherin for your cunning," he said, refusing to look at her. Hermione noted his slightly stiff posture and forced herself to relax, hoping it might bleed over to him.
"Can't," she pointed a thumb at herself, "Muggleborn."
"Then Slytherin doesn't know what he's missing," his muttered reply came out rushed, as if he had to say it quickly before he could stop himself. His cheeks turned a little pink, and he tilted his head away from her under the guise of slowly packing his notes into his bag. Hermione let him get over his embarrassment for a moment as she thought about a reply.
"I can't throw the match," she finally admitted, causing him to straighten and turn slightly towards her. "There was… peer pressure involved in the Gryffindor Common Room, and my pride may have gotten in the way."
"Let me guess, Weasley was boasting about his abilities and you grew frustrated with it and snapped and then everyone mocked you into competing." The way he phrased it sounded less like a question and more like a definite statement.
"Am I that obvious?" Hermione flushed.
He shrugged. "Only to those who look carefully." Before she could process that statement fully, the bell rang and he disappeared into the throng of people leaving the classroom. She sat there for a moment longer, until Professor Flitwick called her name questioningly from the front of his classroom. With a smile at her Professor, Hermione made a quick decision and stuffed the stone chess set into her bag after placing a few protection charms on everything to ensure nothing would be damaged until she could return to the Room of Requirement.
Hermione was glad she had placed Undetectable Extension Charms and Featherlight charms on all her bags after the war. She no longer had to go to the Hospital Wing twice a year from back pain, thanks to lugging around stacks of books for hours on end every day.
Now, she could easily transport an entire chess set made of stone without even breaking a sweat to play against an enchanted room. She fucking loved magic.
Hermione wasn't able to make it back to the Room of Requirement until a few days later, thanks to her color-coded study schedule and friends who would get suspicious if she missed multiple meals. When she finally managed to sneak back, the room was colder than she remembered and the fire wasn't as high. It sparked almost threateningly when she took her seat, and she frowned at the flames.
"Sorry, sorry," she said breathlessly, feeling slightly foolish for apologizing to a room, "I couldn't get away for long enough." Hermione set down her bag on the sofa and took her seat at the chess table, carefully replacing each piece with one that she and Malfoy made. Over the past couple of days, she had made the pieces neater so it didn't look like two teenagers magically carved them out of rocks within a single class period.
"These aren't near as nice as the ones you've made, but my fri- the Head Boy and I made them, and I thought it might be fun to use these. Do you mind?" She asked, and the room warmed again. Smiling gratefully at the heat, Hermione made her next move, occasionally standing to pace whenever she was stuck. She found her knee often tapping a staccato rhythm under the table - a sign of nerves she absolutely abhorred - and glared at the chess pieces while she thought.
"Do you have any chess books? I could always go to the library, I suppose, but I have a feeling most of the books I need are checked out and someone might notice what I'm reading and form assumptions…" Hermione frowned, lost in thought when a pop announced the stack of books appearing beside her. "Thank you, I'll study these and definitely beat you next time." With a grumble, she made the only move she could and used her queen as a shield for her king, only to lose the match by her next turn. Instead of standing to head back to her room, like she originally planned, she planted herself further into the chair and reset the board with a wave of her wand, the broken pieces - honestly, Wizard's Chess was so barbaric sometimes - reforming and ready for another round.
There had to be a better system for her to practice without losing track of time, as she was once again running late, though as Head Girl, curfew was never that large of an issue for her. Of course, she wouldn't use her power to ignore the rules, but she had spent years watching Harry do exactly that, and sneaking around the castle without being noticed was simple.
Perhaps it was best Hogwarts only taught up to seven years, otherwise, the students might be out of bed at all hours without the professors' knowledge. Or, like the previous Headmaster, McGonagall was well aware of Hermione sneaking around and chose to ignore it.
Hermione convinced herself, as she climbed into bed and shut the curtains so she could read without disturbing her other eighth-year roommates, that she had only lost against an AI, like when playing chess against a computer in the Muggle world. It made the loss a little easier, though it still stung. With a high level of determination only she possessed, she stayed up past two for the next week studying the chess books in the safety and privacy of her bed.
a/n: I've always thought it would be funny if the RoR became almost sentient because of how useful it is. I like the idea of it also having a bit of a temper, but I'm definitely stretching its boundaries even more in the next chapter.
Next update: 7/11
- Meg
