First Moves, Fast Friends
The Library was hushed, but not silent. It carried a steady whisper of turning pages and soft quills scratching across parchment. A Slytherin third-year and a Hufflepuff second-year sat together at a nearby table, murmuring about fluxweed measurements and the proper way to stir a potion clockwise. Two Ravenclaws, maybe fifth-years whispered about their prefect, their laughter earning a sharp 'shhh' from the Librarian and in a far corner, a lone Gryffindor first-year had fallen asleep, quill still in hand, ink dripping on to whatever he had been in the middle of writing.
I found myself squirreled away in a little nook and in front of me sat a wizard chess set, the pieces white and black, sitting proudly on their home squares. They shifted impatiently, the white knight tapping its lance against the board while the black queen crossed her arms. Beside them lay A Beginner’s Guide to Wizard Chess, open somewhere in the middle, the corners already curling from how often I’d turned them back and forth.
I studied the board, brow knitted together as I fought to understand this game. Out of all the games my mum (a Ravenclaw I might add) taught me, she never bothered with chess , and for the life of me I don't know why. “Knight to… no, hang on…” I muttered, eyes darting to the book again. One of the pawns sighed dramatically. I could swear I heard the bishop mumble something about amateurs.
Still, I grinned. I had seen some 3rd years playing it in the Great Hall one evening and there was something strangely attractive about it. The whole idea of trying to figure out enchanted pieces that had more personality than most of my classmates. Maybe it wasn’t so different from Quidditch: think fast, read the field, and make your move before it’s too late. If I could get the hang of this, maybe I’d be sharper both in class and on the pitch (that's if I could make the team next year).
I leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose and rubbing my eyes. "Righto, back to it" I mumbled to myself and looked back at the board. "Lets get this figured out."
@ Rea Kont
I found myself squirreled away in a little nook and in front of me sat a wizard chess set, the pieces white and black, sitting proudly on their home squares. They shifted impatiently, the white knight tapping its lance against the board while the black queen crossed her arms. Beside them lay A Beginner’s Guide to Wizard Chess, open somewhere in the middle, the corners already curling from how often I’d turned them back and forth.
I studied the board, brow knitted together as I fought to understand this game. Out of all the games my mum (a Ravenclaw I might add) taught me, she never bothered with chess , and for the life of me I don't know why. “Knight to… no, hang on…” I muttered, eyes darting to the book again. One of the pawns sighed dramatically. I could swear I heard the bishop mumble something about amateurs.
Still, I grinned. I had seen some 3rd years playing it in the Great Hall one evening and there was something strangely attractive about it. The whole idea of trying to figure out enchanted pieces that had more personality than most of my classmates. Maybe it wasn’t so different from Quidditch: think fast, read the field, and make your move before it’s too late. If I could get the hang of this, maybe I’d be sharper both in class and on the pitch (that's if I could make the team next year).
I leaned back, pinching the bridge of my nose and rubbing my eyes. "Righto, back to it" I mumbled to myself and looked back at the board. "Lets get this figured out."
@ Rea Kont