The Great Hall was completely silent as Ron stared down at the chessboard resting between him and Gemma Farley. Black and white pieces were spread out across the board in what would, to an uninitiated outsider, look like a random mess. To them, however, it was a battlefield filled to the brink with possibilities and counter-possibilities. He studied the terrain like a general going to war, planning out his next few moves.

As soon as the chess tournament was announced, Ron had signed up. How could he not? He might just be a third year, but it was the one thing he was better than Harry at — better than anyone he knew, even. It was his. Sure enough, Harry had been eliminated after only two rounds. He tried his best, but his inexperience showing him up in the end.

Now, it was down to the final, and Ron felt the weight and hopes of Gryffindor House resting on his shoulders. Most of the school had assumed that the champion would be from Ravenclaw or Slytherin, taking it for granted that he was good but not that good. Not good enough to beat the seventh years, anyway.

But none of them knew about the time he played for stakes far higher than this; they probably didn't even remember Dumbledore awarding him points at the end of year feast in his first year. After all, even that had been overshadowed by Harry, with most of the school remembering that points had been awarded but writing it off as another of 'Potter's escapades'. He needed to win this to prove to himself he could — and to have at least one win that was clearly his, untainted by who his friends or family are.

Ron ordered his knight to take one of her bishops, putting her king and queen into a fork, and heard a gasp from somewhere in the audience. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He had been leading up to that move for several turns now; it was a relief to see it finally play out.

Gemma frowned as she peered down at the chessboard then, with an air of great reluctance, slowly commanded her king to move to the corner for safety.

This was different from all the practice games up in Gryffindor Tower. Half of his opponents there knew one or two openings but couldn't even pull off checkmate with a king and a rook.

Here, the competitors viewed the chessboard the same way he did. The world was narrowed to the black and white board with its angular, precise squares and curved figurines, where everyone thought in the language of acceptable versus unacceptable losses and felt the desperate need to earn the upper hand. There was a certain exhilaration that came from knowing that he was surrounded by his people – and that no matter the outcome, they recognised the strategy and effort behind every decision.

Ron swiftly instructed his knight to take her queen, not even caring when her bishop relished in de-horsing his knight. Now her most powerful piece was out of the game, the balance had shifted. And in her desperation to take swift revenge instead of checking for continuity, she'd caged in her king on an otherwise empty rank.

Looking up from the board, he met her gaze directly as he said, 'Rook from g6 to g1. Check… mate.'

Her face blanching, she recoiled in surprise. Glancing down, she scoured the board for options. He could tell the second she realised there were none. Her mouth tightened, and she gave him a resigned nod. 'Well played.'

Dumbledore strode over to check the board, his eyes twinkling with delight behind his half-moon spectacles. 'We have a winner. I am pleased to announce that our first Annual Chess Tournament Champion… is Ronald Weasley!'

His words pierced the bubble of silence like a pin. Cheers and hollers erupted from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, drowning out the faint smattering of applause from the other houses. Unable to wipe the grin from his face, Ron stood, waiting for Gemma to be presented with her runner-up medal before bowing his head to receive his own.

As he straightened, McGonagall swept forward, beaming as widely as he'd ever seen. She patted him on the shoulder several times. 'Congratulations on your achievement, Miss Farley. And Mr Weasley… your performance today has done Gryffindor very proud. I look forward to watching you compete for many years to come.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

The loudest section of the crowd by far was the one where Harry, Hermione, and his siblings gathered, having jumped to their feet the minute his victory was announced. His whole body itched to rush over to them, to hear what they had to say – Hermione might even hug him in all the excitement. If she did, he certainly wouldn't be the first person to pull away.

But for now, that could wait. Standing beside McGonagall, he surveyed the Great Hall and let himself savour the moment. The beaming faces. The loud applause. The heavy weight of the medal around his throat. For the first time, he didn't have to share an achievement with anybody else – this was all his, and it always would be.

He didn't want to forget a single detail.