Chapter 105: Chapter 105
The game had already lasted longer than the rest of the tournament put together, with the two of them sometimes taking up to fifteen minutes to make a single move. It was Cedric's turn, and, after what seemed like years of careful consideration, he moved his remaining bishop forwards.
"Check," he said, finally.
Ron moved like lightening, slamming his rook into place.
"Check mate, mate," Ron exclaimed exuberantly.
"Ah, shame," Cedric said, but it was with a smile that he passed over his original tag. "Good game though, eh?"
"Best I've ever played," Ron said sincerely.
"And th-th-there you have it," Quirrell stammered to the crowd. "The most b-b-brilliant master st-strategist, and, I'm s-sure, a-accomplished d-d-duellist, of the st-student b-b-body is none other than M-M-Mister R-R-Ronald Weasley."
"Weasley?" Malfoy scoffed. "Brilliant? Hufflepuff will win the House Cup before Weasley learns to tie his shoes properly."
"C-c-class dismissed," Quirrell said with a wave. "W-W-Weasley, can I t-t-talk to you f-for a m-moment?"
"Uh," Ron said, looking somewhat panicked. "Sure, I guess."
"N-n-next time," Quirrell said to everyone, "w-we're learning E-Expelliarmus."
o—o—o—o
Milo followed Harry and Hermione back to the Common Room, where he sat in the corner working on Hannah's Amulet. I need to find a faster way of making these, he thought impatiently, etching a minute arcane rune onto a Sickle destined for melting into the final medallion.
"Well," Harry said, putting aside his History of Magic textbook, "that was sort of unexpected, don't you think?"
"What, Quirrell's club?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah," Harry said. "That man's off his rocker, I swear. Still... if it helps me learn to fight, well, I suppose it'll be worth it."
"I agree," Milo said. "Whatever happened to him over the summer's definitely unhinged him. And this 'chess' is hardly an adequate simulation of realistic battlefield conditions — I mean, why in the Hells can the heavy cavalry only move in right angles? It makes no sense!"
"You're just sore because the rules can't be gamed," Hermione smirked. "Which, incidentally, is why it's so popular. You have to use actual strategy and tactics."
"Strategy is gaming the rules," Milo responded. "It's analyzing the situation and seizing any and every possible advantage, even if it's completely ridiculous on the surface. Why, I once met this Half-Ogre who managed to defeat an entire Legion of the Tharllian Empire's best troops with a Spiked Chain because —"
"I'm sorry," Hermione said, looking sick. "Did you say Half-Ogre?"
Before Milo could answer, Ron entered the Common Room through the portal with a chess set in his hands.
"Oi!" Harry said. "What did Quirrell want?"
"To play chess," Ron answered happily. "Weird, eh? He said he wants to test his skills against a worthy opponent, so every other day I make a move against him and every other other day he makes one against me. He gave me this chess set," Ron held up his new set, "which is linked to the one in his office. If I make a move here, he sees it there, and vice-versa. Cool, eh?"
"Why so slow?" Hermione asked. "If he wanted to test your duelling aptitude, shouldn't you be playing speed chess?"
"Or using actual magic?" Milo added.
"He said that this way, I'll have as much time as I need to think out my move and make sure I make the right one," Ron shrugged. "He says it's more interesting that way. He implied that he hadn't had a decent sparring partner in years."
"Seems a bit late in the plot for him to suddenly develop such a major character trait as 'chess grand-master,'" Milo mused. "I wonder what he's up to?"
Hermione glanced at Ron and rotated her finger slowly around her ear in the universally-accepted sign for 'crazy.'
"Maybe he just really likes chess?" Harry suggested. "I mean, it's not like we would have had a chance to see it in action before, right?"
"I suppose... but, even so. Harry: add 'chess' to the List, and Ron: win that game against Quirrell."
"Why?" Ron asked. "Well, I mean, I was planning to anyway, but why is it important?"
"I don't know exactly," Milo said. "I just have a gut feeling that something important is riding on that match," he said, "and, as a rule of thumb, winning always leads to the more desirable outcome — and with it, the best swag."
"Okay, well, I'll do my best," Ron said.
"And I'd best get to Quidditch practice," Harry said, rising from his armchair. "We're playing Hufflepuff on Saturday, and Wood's gone into mad slavemaster mode again."
"This was nice," Hermione said, relaxing in her chair.
"What was?" Milo asked.
"A whole weekend went by and nobody was hospitalized," she said.
"Except Neville, of course," Milo said.
"Right, except Neville. Sad business, that. I had no idea a bishop could do that to a person. Still, be nice if every weekend was like this, but, I suppose that'd just be wishful thinking."
Despite Hermione's complacent attitude, Milo still felt something was wrong. This whole Duelling Club business smelled somewhat off to him, and he still didn't know who the Dark Wizard who Imperius'd him and Hannah was, or what he wanted. Was it Snape, trying to kill Milo to remove an obstacle between him and the Stone? Or Lucius, stepping out from the shadows and getting his hands dirty personally? And why had Milo been Imperius'd in the hallways — whoever had done it didn't seem to get much out of it. The whole attack seemed, in hindsight, remarkably poorly-planned... it was almost like they didn't want to succeed — or, alternatively, their goals were so obscure that Milo simply couldn't figure them out.
Unless...
Milo frowned. Once he'd been possessed, it didn't seem like his controller knew quite what to do with him. His orders had been vague and, seemingly, without purpose. Had it been one of the servants of the Dark Lord, surely, he'd be ordered to kill Harry or steal the Stone? If it was Lucius — or Snape for that matter — you'd think he'd be ordered to do something incriminating and be expelled (or, failing that, simply walk out of the school grounds to be captured). And what of those other eleven minds he'd detected?
On the whole, if that were some sort of strike against Milo or his allies, it had been a rather clumsy attempt. The more Milo thought about it, the more he was certain that he was looking at things backwards.
Suddenly, Milo felt as if a Wight had an icy hand around his heart.
"Hermione," Milo said slowly. "What were the methods you suggested for changing someone's heart's desire?"
"Are you still on that?" she asked, racking her memory. "Love potions, the Confundus Charm, or a Memory Charm. Why?"
"What, exactly, is a Memory Charm?" Milo asked, but he was sure he knew the answer already. Back on Hallowe'en, when Milo touched the Remembrall...
"It's an advanced spell that wipes someone's memory of a duration of time," she explained. "A skilled user can replace them with false memories altogether. I wouldn't worry about it, though," she said reassuringly.
"Why not?" Milo asked, feeling somewhat mollified.
"We don't have to learn them until Seventh Year," she said happily.
Milo cursed sulfurously and nearly ran for the exit.
"Wait!" Hermione called. "Where are you going?"
"To see Neville," Milo said.
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