Wizard Chess

Naturally, no one refused. They all made room, giving Tver a VIP seat to watch the match.

Before long, a circle of curious young wizards had gathered around them.

Ron and Seamus, who were playing, became nervous instead. Even the hands placing their pieces trembled slightly.

It was their first time playing under a professor's gaze—especially one resting his chin on his hand and watching them with keen interest.

"Why haven't you started?" Tver glanced at the two of them. "Does my being here make you uncomfortable?"

George slapped Ron on the shoulder so hard that his body tilted sideways.

"Of course not, Professor. We'd love for you to stay here forever." George then looked at Ron, his voice carrying a threat. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

Tver watched the scene with amusement, realizing that his presence had put them under pressure.

"How about this? I can prepare a little gift for you. Whoever wins gets it."

Tver placed the badge on the table between Ron and Seamus.

This was another upgraded version of the Shield Charm badge. The Shield Charm within could withstand at least ten minutes of attacks from an ordinary wizard, and could even deflect the Killing Curse to a certain extent.

Everyone's attention was instantly drawn to the badge. Although its design was, well, extremely crude, they would not underestimate a gift produced by Professor Fawley.

Still, they could not tell what was special about it from its appearance alone.

After glancing at the badge, Ron and Seamus immediately stopped feeling nervous. Their eyes met, their bodies practically blazing with fighting spirit.

Even their commands to the chess pieces carried the smell of gunpowder.

Wizard chess was essentially chess, except the pieces could move on their own. The player gave orders, and the pieces carried them out.

Of course, if their player was easy to bully, the pieces would not obediently follow orders.

"That's a trap! Have you gotten so muddled that you can't see it?!"

"Your Majesty, the Queen is magnificent! Please continue charging forward! Your most loyal servant will always have your back!"

"Stop talking. My grandmother could lead us to victory."

Teasing aside, the pieces still obeyed in the end. Seamus simply was not as skilled as Ron, and twenty minutes later, he suffered a swift and clean defeat.

Amid everyone's excited or disappointed looks, Tver gave the badge to Ron.

"This badge has a Shield Charm engraved into it—a very powerful Shield Charm. It can help its wearer block many spells, including some deadly magic."

The crowd immediately erupted, their gazes toward the badge turning heated.

Whether because he had received the badge or because it was the first time he had drawn so much attention, Ron's face turned bright red, with even his ears and neck flushed.

"Hurry up and demonstrate it, Ron!"

The Weasley Twins eagerly crowded around Ron, staring fixedly at the badge in his hand.

"A reminder: the badge doesn't have much magic in it. After being activated at most twice, the magic inside will be exhausted, and it'll become an utterly ordinary badge."

Tver's words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing everyone's enthusiasm.

"So take good care of it. I hope you never have to use it, but at a critical moment, it could save your life."

Tver winked at Ron. While everyone was still caught between shock and disappointment, he strode out of the Great Hall.

The Gryffindor table had already become crowded because of his appearance. Once word of the badge's effects spread, even more young wizards gathered to watch.

If he stayed any longer, every idle young wizard would pack the place full. Leaving then would be difficult.

Trading one badge for a decent wizard chess match was an absolute bargain in Tver's eyes.

Seamus was not particularly skilled, merely average. Ron, however, was different.

The fact that he could solve the chessboard Professor McGonagall had set up already proved that he possessed considerable skill.

And in order to secure the reward more reliably, he had practically used every trick he had, combining all sorts of tactics with exquisite coordination.

At any rate, Tver had enjoyed the match immensely.

In high spirits, he quietly returned to the fourth-floor corridor. It looked exactly as it had a week ago, without the slightest change.

Familiar with the route, Tver passed through the earlier obstacles and easily arrived before the chessboard.

Because of the chessboard's special nature, he had to take the place of one of the pieces in order to command Black.

Naturally taking the king's place, Tver confidently began issuing orders to the pieces.

"Pawn, advance to A6!"

"Knight, capture the opposing pawn!"

"Queen, return to E7!"

After a flurry of clattering noises, five minutes later, Tver, as expected—

Lost.

The corner of his mouth twitched. Speechlessly, he flicked his wand to block the throne the queen had swung down, then shattered it in a fit of frustration.

He had expected to lose, but the problem was that he had lost far more quickly than expected.

Seamus had lasted twenty minutes against Ron—how come he could only survive for five?

It seemed he had still underestimated this chessboard.

While waiting for the pieces to restore themselves, Tver studied the board.

There was no doubt that the chessboard employed a great deal of Transfiguration, with the same meticulous casting style as Professor McGonagall.

Especially during the restoration of the pieces, Tver could sense a will controlling them.

The shattered pieces had been thrown outside the board, yet both the source of the controlling magic and that will remained within it.

Simply put, the chessboard seemed alive, controlling the movements of the pieces upon it.

It was much like ordinary wizard chess, only far more intricate. Based on his understanding of souls, it was already a fusion of will, memory, and magic.

If someone said this was Professor McGonagall's work, Tver would find it hard to believe. But if they said it was Dumbledore's, he could understand.

Thinking of how the old man had discussed Transfiguration with him, particularly its manifestations involving will, achieving this level really would not have been difficult.

By that logic, Dumbledore's research into souls might even run deeper than his own!

Tver's expression involuntarily grew grave. The closer he came to this headmaster, the more he could sense the profound depth of his understanding of magic.

Because his teacher had lacked the conditions to study magic for many years, he had already begun to fall behind in certain areas.

But Dumbledore was different. Living at Hogwarts and remaining active in the wizarding world, his accumulation of magical knowledge was unmatched in the modern age.

That gave Tver a headache.

How was he supposed to steal the Philosopher's Stone right under the nose of an old man like that?

What if he took the Philosopher's Stone, only to step outside and find himself surrounded by Dumbledore?

After thinking it over and over without reaching any conclusion, Tver stopped worrying about it. Quirrell was still in front of him, and he was more anxious than Tver was.

Composing himself, Tver stepped onto the chessboard once more and continued his game of wizard chess.

He had to get past this first, or the Philosopher's Stone would remain nothing but a fantasy.