Elizabeth Potter, the girl who lived.
Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
Facing Voldemort again.
-
t. 1991 ~ 1992 (PS era)
-
Started: 2/11/20
Completed: 7/2/21
-
I only own Elizabeth Potter, that is all.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE CHESS GAME
Fluttering noises sounded from behind a wooden door to our left. After inspecting the few cuts on Ron and Harry's arms, I dusted myself off and lead the trio to the door.
"What is that?" Hermione asked as she carefully the door.
"I don't know," Harry said unsurely.
"Sounds like wings," I muttered. I bravely pushed the door open and walked into a room that was similar to the one we were already in. However, this room was filled with strange golden birds. They didn't look like birds from where I was standing but I also don't know what they could be.
"Curious," Hermione wondered aloud, "I've never seen birds like these."
"They're not birds," Harry shook his head, "they're keys. And I'll bet one of them fits that door." As I attempted to open the door on the other side of the room but to no avail, Harry, Ron and Hermione inspected the suspended broomstick that lay in the middle of the room.
"Door's locked," I sighed.
"What's this all about?" Hermione questioned.
"I don't know. Strange," Harry replied. Ron left Harry's side and joined me by the door, also grabbing hold of the handle and relentlessly rattling it. After failing to open it, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door.
"Alohomora!" he said with enthusiasm. He attempted to open the door again but once again, failed. I let out a snort that I had been trying to hold back and Ron just shrugged, "Well, it was worth a try."
"Ugh! What're we going to do? There must be 1000 keys up there!" Hermione complained, childishly stamping her foot on the ground.
"We're looking for a big old fashioned one. Probably rusty like the handle," I said, inspecting the keyhole in the old wooden door.
"There! I see it!" Harrye exclaimed, pointing to a much slowly, more decrepit flying key, "The one with the broken wing!" It was flying very slowly and wasn't as elegant in its movements as much as the other, shiny new keys were.
Harry shook his head, glancing at the levitating broom, "It's too simple."
"Come on, Harry," I scolded, "If bloody Snape can do it, you can too."
"Yeah!" Ron agreed, "you're the youngest seeker in a century." Harry hesitated for a second, sending us a nervous look, before bravely nodding and grabbing ahold of the broom. As soon as he did so, all of the keys picked up their pace substantially and their flying became erratic. They were no longer elegant, but violent and panicked.
