Chapter 138: Wizard's Chess
Since the day Tamara forced the amulet on Ginny in the bathroom, Hogwarts seemed to have entered a long awaited period of peace.
No attacks.
No writing in blood.
No more news of chickens having their necks snapped.
Although Ginny Weasley still looked somewhat thin and weak, that lifeless air, as though she might faint at any moment, had vanished.
Now, she would instinctively clutch the wooden plaque at her chest. She no longer ran away the moment she saw Tamara. Instead, she looked at her with a determined, burning gaze.
Tamara chose to ignore this.
As long as that remnant soul did not come out to cause her trouble, she could not be bothered with how the little girl from the Weasley family looked at her.
In early March, the Scottish Highlands were struck by a torrential rainstorm that lasted three whole days.
The sky was gloomy, and wild wind whipped cold raindrops frantically against the castle windows.
The grounds around Hogwarts turned into a muddy swamp, and all scheduled Quidditch practice was forced to be cancelled.
Hundreds of overexcited young wizards were trapped inside the castle. The consequence of having nowhere to vent their energy was that the Great Hall became the school's largest playground.
Normally, Tamara would never have stayed a second longer in a place as noisy as a Troll farm.
She would much rather hide in the cold Slytherin Common Room or the Room of Requirement and enjoy the silence.
Unfortunately, Hogwarts was not peaceful right now.
Given the frequent attacks and the fact that the culprit targeting Mudbloods had not yet been caught, the professors unanimously agreed that on days prone to accidents, such as during a rainstorm, it was best for all students to remain in public areas under faculty supervision.
So called huddling for warmth.
Although Tamara was disdainful, she still had to endure the noise and sit in the furthest corner of the Slytherin table, maintaining her persona as a well behaved top student.
Meanwhile, in a corner of the Gryffindor table, the densest crowd had gathered.
"Checkmate."
Ron Weasley leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his tone as calm as a veteran who had seen a hundred battles.
Following his command, the knight in battered armour on the board suddenly raised its stone sword and ruthlessly smashed the opposing White King into pieces.
"Merlin's beard! Ron, you've won ten games in a row!"
Seamus Finnigan wailed, clutching his head. "Even Hermione lost to you! This makes no sense!"
"Wizard's Chess isn't about memorising books, Hermione."
Ron raised his eyebrows smugly. At this moment, he had completely shed his usual clumsiness and insecurity.
In those blue eyes, a light called confidence flickered.
On this small chessboard, he was the undisputed king.
Hermione, sitting across from him, closed her book with a huff. "It's just luck! And this barbaric game has no logic to speak of!"
"Admit it, Hermione, it's talent," Harry said with a smile, trying to smooth things over.
He had also been badly beaten by Ron just now, but that did not stop him from feeling happy for his friend.
Just then, a discordant voice cut in.
"Talent? A Weasley having talent?"
Draco Malfoy walked over swaggeringly, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
He looked at Ron, who was surrounded by the crowd, his eyes full of disdain.
"It's just a cheap game for poor people. Real Wizard's Chess is about elegance and strategy, not hacking and slashing like savages."
"Oh?" Ron turned his head and looked at Malfoy provocatively. "Then do you dare play a game?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Draco sneered and sat down opposite Ron.
"I'll show you what Slytherin Wisdom looks like."
Ten minutes later.
"Checkmate."
Ron yawned and commanded his battered Queen to swing a chair and knock Draco's King off the board.
A dead silence fell.
Then laughter exploded around them.
Draco's face turned beet red.
He had lost.
And it was a crushing defeat.
The tactics he had been so proud of were as fragile as paper against Ron's wild, intuitive, trap filled offensive.
"I suppose the Malfoy family upbringing doesn't include strategy lessons?" Ron added one final jab.
"Maybe you should go home and cry to your father. Have him buy you a set of chess pieces that win automatically."
"You!"
Draco trembled with rage.
This was not merely his personal failure.
It was a disgrace to Slytherin.
To be humiliated by a Weasley in front of everyone, how could he show his face in school after this?
He stood up abruptly, his eyes scanning the Great Hall frantically before finally settling on the figure reading nearby.
"Tamara!"
Draco rushed over to Tamara. His pale face was flushed with shame and anger, but he still tried to stand tall, attempting to maintain the last shred of dignity as a Malfoy.
"You have to do something about this! We can't let those Gryffindors walk all over us!"
Tamara was immersed in a thick volume of Advanced Transfiguration Theory, and her brow twitched at the shout.
"What is it now?"
She closed the book and looked coldly at her useless lackey.
"That Weasley! He... he's humiliating us at Wizard's Chess! He said Slytherins are all brainless idiots!"
Draco added fuel to the fire. "Tamara, you must teach him a lesson! Let him see what real Wisdom is!"
Tamara glanced over.
She saw Ron receiving cheers from the Gryffindors like a victorious rooster.
"Boring."
Tamara reopened her book. "A children's game. If you lost, find a way to win it back yourself. Don't bother me."
For her, the Dark Lord who had once nearly ruled the Wizarding World, to play chess with a brat?
It was simply beneath her.
However.
[Ding!]
[Detected that the morale of the Slytherin faction is dropping significantly due to a chess match!]
[As a future leader, how can the host tolerate losing to a Weasley?]
[This is not just a game. It is a battle for dignity!]
[Mission Issued: Tyrant on the Chessboard.]
[Please demonstrate overwhelming command ability in a Wizard's Chess duel and defeat Ron Weasley.]
[Mission Reward: Wisdom +1.]
Tamara's hand paused on the page.
Although such a small reward was nothing to the great Dark Lord, considering the missions this damned system usually issued, this one was almost tolerable.
Usually, it either made her hug Mudbloods, forced her to spout nonsense about love and peace like a moron, or even made her wipe tears for a crying Weasley.
By comparison, simply crushing a red haired idiot on a chessboard in exchange for attribute points was a mission with a rather good return.
And...
She lifted her eyelids and coldly scanned the red haired Weasley, who was receiving cheers and laughing like an idiot.
That smug, foolish look was truly annoying.
Although she did not care about the win or loss of a failure like Draco, if word spread that Slytherin had been crushed by a blood traitor from the Weasley family, then to her, the Heir of Slytherin, it would effectively be a form of humiliation.
In the Dark Lord's dictionary, there could be strategic retreats or temporary avoidance of attention.
But being inferior in skill was never permitted.
Especially when it came to brains.
Losing to Dumbledore was bad luck.
Losing to Potter was being outmanoeuvred by the magic of love.
But losing to Ron Weasley?
Absolutely impossible.
"...Move."
Tamara closed her book, stood up, and walked straight toward the Gryffindor table.
"Since you want to lose so badly, Weasley."
Tamara walked to the chess table. The noisy crowd around them instantly went silent, automatically parting to make way for her.
She looked down at Ron, her gaze as cold as if she were looking at a corpse.
"I will grant your wish."
The smile on Ron's face froze for a moment.
To be honest, their daily interactions had made him feel that Tamara was no different from a devil.
That innate sense of oppression made him subconsciously swallow.
"...Bring it on!"
Ron braced himself and said, "I don't believe you can be as good at chess as you are with spells!"
The game began.
Tamara played black.
Ron played white.
Everyone expected it to be a one sided slaughter, regardless of who was doing the slaughtering.
But the result went beyond everyone's expectations.
It turned into a long and brutal war of attrition.
Tamara's chess style was cold, efficient, and methodical.
In her hands, the pieces were no longer partners. They were pure resources.
To seize a strategic point, she would not hesitate to send her knights or even bishops to their deaths, just to gain even a single step of advantage.
This was the way a dictator played.
Sacrificing pieces to seize initiative and coordinate the entire board.
Ron's style, however, was completely different.
He did not have Tamara's precise calculations, but he possessed a beast like intuition.
Whenever Tamara set a fatal trap, he could always avoid it through some illogical instinct and launch a counterattack in an extremely risky, almost suicidal manner.
"Interesting..."
Twenty minutes passed.
Looking at the stalemate on the board, Tamara's previously casual gaze finally became serious.
She had to admit it.
This Weasley, who usually seemed dim witted, did indeed possess an astonishing talent on the chessboard.
Tamara spoke in a low voice, her fingers lightly stroking a black piece.
"But wars cannot be won by intuition alone."
As she spoke, she pushed her Queen, which had been roaming in the rear, into the centre of the board.
"Take it."
Ron froze.
Was this... a mistake?
She had sent her Queen right into the range of his knight.
The surrounding spectators also let out a gasp.
"No... that's not right..."
Ron stared intently at the board, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
This was definitely not a mistake.
This was bait.
Massive bait that was impossible to refuse.
If he took the Queen, a gap would open in his defence. Tamara's bishop and rook, which were lying in wait, would strike like venomous snakes and complete the checkmate.
But if he did not take it, his current forces were almost exhausted, and he would be unable to stop the Queen's frontal assault.
A dilemma.
"That is the difference."
Tamara looked at the sweating Ron, a confident sneer curling at the corner of her mouth.
This was indeed the tactic she had excelled at fifty years ago.
Using the greatest benefit to tempt the enemy, then delivering a fatal blow the moment they thought victory was within reach.
Finally, with a trembling hand, Ron tipped over his own King.
"I... I lost."
Ron stared at the board, his voice full of disbelief.
"Brilliant! Simply brilliant!"
"Heavens, Riddle actually won!"
"But Ron was amazing too. He lasted this long!"
Thunderous applause erupted in the Great Hall.
[Ding! Mission complete!]
[Congratulations to the host for the victory! Wisdom +1!]
[Current Wisdom: 39.]
Tamara stood up and looked at the frustrated red haired boy.
She did not mock him like Draco had, nor did she show the arrogance of a victor.
For the first time, she truly looked at this Weasley.
"Not bad."
Tamara straightened her robes and spoke flatly.
Ron looked up in surprise, thinking he had misheard.
"If your brain were even half as useful in your studies as it is here, you would not be such an idiot."
With that, Tamara turned and left, leaving behind only a mysterious silhouette.
Ron sat there in a daze for several seconds before suddenly grabbing Harry beside him.
"Harry! Did you hear that?"
"Did she just... praise me? Or was that some kind of high level sarcasm?"
Harry looked at his friend's confused face and nodded with a smile.
"I think so, Ron."
"Even if it sounded like an insult... that's definitely the highest praise she's ever given."
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