Compared to other templated wizard's chess, Sean's set was… a lot more interesting.
On this board, Ron couldn't even beat Harry. His knight and his queen fell in love; the king, furious, sent the knight to hunt them down—so Harry won without losing a single piece, and Ron lost the game outright.
"Merlin—blast it, you had to fall for the queen?!" Ron fumed, face completely red.
His outburst drew a cluster of first-years.
Curious heads crowded in, and soon the Hall echoed with all kinds of exasperated shouts.
"You fell for the other side's queen?! Willingly throw the match? Damn it! This is my game!"
"You don't like using force? Then what kind of knight are you! Go be a decoration in the Hall!"
"Merlin— the enemy's at the front line and you say you ate too much to move… Well, you're finished, and so am I."
…
Strangely enough, this game that ran on ninety percent luck and ten percent skill swept the entire Hall in no time.
Even upper-years came to see what was going on with the pieces—and ended up too angry to sleep all night.
They couldn't figure out why their pieces would leap off the board, cry "Freedom!" and then smash to bits under the table.
Thankfully, they had an auto-repair function.
And they could still go on to vex the next wizard.
"Sean, want to try?" Ron squeezed out of the crowd; the first-years naturally made way.
Sean, who had been planning to test the chess's behavior anyway, nodded. He had a lingering question—were the pieces so disobedient because his proficiency was still too low?
And—could a creator truly have one-hundred-percent control over magical constructs that possessed will?
"Oh, I'll do my very best, Sean," Ron said, rubbing his hands.
At the first moves, Ron froze.
"Knight, if you aren't afraid—go forward two squares…"
The "bishop" poked the "knight" beside it.
"Of course I'm not afraid! I'm a noble knight—brave and fearless!"
The "knight" turned around—and promptly walked two squares.
"Ah-ha!" the "knight" cried.
And Ron immediately lost the game—because the pieces wouldn't obey him at all.
When Sean told the black knight to move one square forward, his white knight obeyed as well.
With his hypothesis confirmed, Sean soon left the Hall.
In the Hope Nook.
Sean looked at the top of his plan—[Craft Magical-Creature Kneazle Biscuit]—and wrote to the side: [Grind Wizard's Chess to Adept], [Find the next mid-tier alchemical construct].
Imbuing an object with will certainly raised the difficulty of an alchemical construct, yet when Sean made them, it always felt like divine inspiration.
He guessed it was the buried "magical intuition" guiding him—what people call aptitude.
He could very well craft a few constructs carrying traces of his own will—but what should he choose?
Finding those choices moved to the front of his plan—even though he hadn't abandoned the Magical-Creature Biscuit, the road must be walked step by step.
First he needed to unlock the Adept-tier title. Who knew—maybe it would bring a surprise boon?
After all, Adept usually unlocked some new special aptitude.
One morning.
Snow fell thick and soft over the castle and grounds. The statues outside wore coats of white; the little gingerbread house sugared with frost was Hagrid's hut; the Black Lake was sheeted with ice, slick and glassy, and the trees wore rime. In the kitchens below Hogwarts, house-elves were busy as ever, preparing steaming stews in many flavors and sweet puddings besides.
Sean enjoyed the meal—no matter how busy, he never missed a meal in the Hall.
The day was bright, and a special letter arrived:
[Dear Sean Green,
lovely child of the McGonagall family. Know that there are some especially cheerful folk here waiting for you.
Love you to bits: Marcus McG.]
Marcus McG.?
Sean didn't know who that was, but it wasn't hard to guess his relation to the professor.
He looked up at the staff table; the professor gave him a gentle nod.
Leaving the Hall, he found Professor McGonagall waiting at the third-floor spiral staircase.
"They all want to meet you. They've even prepared Christmas gifts for you," she said softly.
So Sean began to pack. He considered a few magical-world presents and finally went to the Weasleys.
"Mr. Weasley, I may need you to make a run to Hogsmeade—I will pay…"
"Great Green—what are you saying? George, this is the funniest joke I've ever heard," Fred said, incredulous, circling Sean with a stare. "Strange—no fever, yet talking nonsense."
"Great big fool! You're our very special guest!" George blinked. Teasing though it was, he sounded utterly sincere, as if they truly believed it.
"Right, take this! And—"
"Whatever you ask—we'll make it happen—" the twins said in unison, then vanished.
Sean took the slip—an attached Ministry permit for a new storefront:
[The approval regulations for Weasleys & Green Wizard Wheezes have passed.]
Sean tucked away the permit, stepping much lighter.
Snow had fallen for hours; Hogwarts was in a quiet afternoon.
Under a big Christmas tree, Professor McGonagall held a suitcase; she'd swapped her dress robes for a simple travelling robe. When Sean arrived, they set off at once.
Apparition was forbidden around Hogwarts—but beyond the grounds that restriction ended.
"Of course—now that's more like it!" In the Entrance Hall, portraits crowded together. Sir Cadogan watched the tall and the small wizard step into the snow, his face squished by his pony into a crooked grin.
The two ladies watched in silence; the snow blurred their view.
"Your first Apparition will make you feel wretched…" Professor McGonagall said.
Sean nodded.
"But… Severus sent something along." She handed him a potion. "Hold tight to my hand, child. First, Diagon Alley—to buy you some…"
After he drank, Apparition hardly bothered him.
In a blink, noise enveloped his ears.
On the flagstones, wizards passed to and fro— toads, owls, rabbits— all manner of animals wove between them. Every shop—and the wares out front—and all the shoppers seemed to brim with holiday cheer.
Last time Sean had counted out Knuts to shop—now it felt different.
…
Outside, Hogwarts had become a distant symbol. Severus Snape still stood in the dark dungeon.
As if that were his home.
Sir Cadogan muttered from the wall by the dungeon door:
"Coward, Severus, coward… Always wrapping yourself in black, hiding your other face deep, marching on in lonely misery. You should have been a knight…"
Sir Cadogan drifted away.
"But O king… how can a knight who has never felt love have faith that he can bring others happiness?"
~~~
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