Ron took a deep breath, steadying himself for the wizard's chess match. It's much like Muggle chess, of course, but the pieces themselves are very much alive. One of the white knights, with a loud smash, cleaved a black pawn to smithereens, leaving only a pile of rubble.
Ron's breathing quickened, his face flushed with nerves, and his palms grew sweaty. He couldn't help but think how brutal that attack would be if it were aimed at one of them instead of a mere pawn.
Draco Malfoy, ever so cool and collected, noticed his panic. "Don't you dare lose your nerve, Ron-a-lardo! Calm down! You can do this!"
The dreadful nickname made Ron's blood boil, but it did the trick; he immediately calmed down and ordered one of his black knights to smash a white piece in return.
This is just a game of wizard's chess, Ron chanted to himself. Just a game. Ros-ford, this is just a game, oh, blast it!
Whether it was his self-hypnosis or just sheer Weasley wit, the black pieces followed his commands with a vengeance, smashing their way through the white side. As the white pieces felt the pressure, their attacks became more ruthless, and many a black pawn was shattered to pieces.
We're going to win! Just one more move to checkmate the king.
With every command he gave, the white king's forces were pushed back, his movements more and more limited until he had nowhere left to go.
"One more step and we've got him!" Ron exclaimed, a look of pure excitement on his face.
Just then, the white queen, with a blank expression, moved directly in front of Malfoy.
This meant that in the next turn, she would take him.
"Wait…" Ron's face went white. He'd just realized the impossible choice.
If he told Malfoy to move, the black knight wouldn't be able to checkmate the white king, but the white queen would then checkmate the black king. They would lose the game.
But if he moved the knight and checkmated the white king, Malfoy would be taken.
"There has to be another way! There has to be! Blasted, how could I have forgotten about this?" Ron's forehead was slick with sweat as he wracked his brain for a solution.
"There isn't one!" Malfoy's voice cut through Ron's thoughts. He was perfectly calm. "This is the only way forward. Sometimes a sacrifice is necessary."
"Do you remember Slytherin's motto? Victory above all, glory above all."
"Do you remember what the Sorting Hat said? The cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends!"
"We must win! We must have the victory! We are not burdens!"
"Go, my black bishop, and seize the final victory!"
Malfoy snatched the command from Ron and ordered the black piece to checkmate the white king.
Dudley had once told him that Gryffindors and Slytherins were once the best of friends, comrades who could trust each other with their lives. They may have had different ideals, but that didn't mean their bond wasn't true. Malfoy had always longed for a friendship like that. He knew Ron was great at wizard's chess, but he hadn't mentioned that he was quite good himself, perhaps just as good as a Weasley.
The white queen, her face still impassive, moved towards Malfoy.
Ron closed his eyes in agony.
Harry, Neville, and Hermione all closed their eyes, unable to watch.
Malfoy, too, closed his eyes, accepting his fate.
Now, Ron, and Potter, and everyone… we're true friends, too.
BONK!
It wasn't the brutal attack they'd expected. The white queen simply gave Malfoy a gentle tap on the head, and with a soft thud, he collapsed into an unconscious heap.
"Is he going to be alright?" Harry and the others breathed a sigh of relief, glad he hadn't been shattered into a thousand pieces.
Neville considered it for a moment. "That bonk was much lighter than what Dudley usually gives, so he's not dead. He'll just be out for a while."
"Come on, we have to get to the next chamber!"
The white king took off his crown and tossed it at their feet, a sign of their victory. The remaining white pieces bowed and moved aside, clearing a path.
They quickly went through the newly opened door to the next chamber, where they were met with the most vile stench imaginable.
"My eyes!"
Harry squeezed them shut, trying to stop the tears from the burning, foul air. The stench was more of a weapon than a simple bad smell—a biological weapon, as Dudley would say.
A strange growl echoed through the room, making the odor even more overpowering.
Thankfully, Hermione was there to wave her wand and lessen the stench just enough for them to see what was in the room.
"It's a troll!"
A huge, smelly troll was charging at them, but the young wizards remained calm, drew their wands, and each cast a spell.
The troll immediately collapsed to the floor.
After the whole incident on Halloween, the professors had made it a point to teach the students how to deal with a troll. They even brought a live one in to let the students practice. Now, every student at Hogwarts knew how to take one down. This wasn't much harder for them than the Devil's Snare, maybe even easier. The poor troll had barely even entered the scene before it was on the floor.
Holding their noses, the students hurried out of the room. The smell was just too awful to bear.
The next chamber was simple: a table with seven different-shaped bottles and a wall of fire blocking the way forward. A scroll of parchment on the table held all the clues.
"Is this some kind of logic puzzle?" Harry asked, looking at the clues. He'd seen similar things in Muggle primary school. But since he hadn't paid much attention, he didn't remember the answers or how to solve them. He looked to the only brainy one left—Hermione.
Without Dudley, it's all up to you now.
"No, it's a potions puzzle, too," Hermione said, picking up one of the bottles and sniffing it gently. "There are two ways to find the right potions."
These were brewed by Snape, a master of potions, so an ordinary wizard couldn't tell them apart. But Snape had left plenty of clues, and Hermione quickly figured out the solution.
"There's only enough potion for two people to drink," Hermione said, frowning at the amount in the bottles. "That means only two of us can go on."
She paused, her brow furrowed, and looked at Harry with a serious expression.
"I think you and Neville should drink this one."
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