Title: Life Is A Game Of Chess

Rating: PG - 13

Summary: Life is like a game of chess, Albus Dumbledore always thought. Now one of his pawns refuses to play. (OotP spoilers)

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I’d be swimming in pools of money instead of writing this :D.

Albus tented his fingers, and looked over the rims of his half-moon glasses at the dark haired boy opposite him. Harry glared defiantly back, his green eyes flashing dangerously.

"So why did you do it?" snapped Harry, seemingly unable to keep quiet. "And don't use that damn prophecy as an excuse."

Harry was trembling with suppressed rage.

Albus sighed. He wouldn't understand why, he was too young, and had lost too much - his parents, his godfather, a friend. It was unlikely that Harry would let him cryptically talk his way out, Albus thought, perhaps he would stay if he could push him to work it out on his own.

"Let me show you something, Harry." Albus opened a secret compartment in his desk with a muttered password and carefully lifted out an old, slightly battered chess set. Harry stared at it in disbelief.

"I came here for answers, not to play a game of chess. If I wanted to play, I'd find someone I actually liked and trusted to play with." The air around Harry was crackling slightly, as sure sign that he was about to explode sooner or later.

Hurt and sadness flitted across Albus's face, then he caught a hold of himself, and retained his mask of calm authority.

Albus clapped his hands, and old-fashioned chess pieces clambered to their places. They arranged themselves so that they were side on and the board's pieces could be easily seen.

The glittering crystal pawns to Albus's right bowed deeply to the shining onyx ones Harry's. A few of the black pawns saluted mockingly, and the others either made rude gestures or did nothing at all. Albus watched Harry carefully hide his appreciative smile.

"Watch carefully, Harry. We are the white side, and Voldemort is the black. You are the king. Hermione is the queen, Ronald and I are knights. Professors Snape and McGonagall are the rooks, and the bishops are Remus and Arthur Weasley." As he mentioned each piece, it waved at the green-eyed teen in front.

"Who are the pawns then?" asked Harry suddenly.

"The pawns are everyone else. They must be sacrificed to protect the most important one of all - the king." Albus winced inwardly - perhaps he could have worded that better... He mentally prepared himself for the magical eruption - Harry was shaking wildly.

"I understand. Goodnight," he said curtly, his voice devoid of emotion. Albus tried a discreet sweep of Leglimency, but invisible shields threw him back. He prepared to try again, but alas - he was gone.

Early the next morning, Albus was woken by a faint crash coming from his office. He pulled on his neon blue dressing gown, and hurried through. His chess set was scattered across the floor, the pieces complaining loudly. He quickly spotted a small square of parchment tied tightly around a misshapen object atop his desk. He sliced through the string with his wand, and sighed in dismay as the parchment fell away. One of his crystalline pawns was revealed, a lightning bolt carved deeply up its length and dark, still wet blood was splattered over it. He set the damaged piece carefully on its spot on the chessboard. Albus smoothed out the parchment with a wave of his wand, and read the note inked in shimmering, silvery blue.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

You manipulative, lying, underhand bastard. Did you really think I would just let it go because you tried to explain it with chess? I know what you were saying to me, damn you and your cryptic babble – everyone is replaceable, except little Harry. As long as he’s safe, everyone in the whole damn world can die, they’re only pawns.

I know better – you lied.

You are the king, McGonagall is the queen, and Snape is a knight. Me, Ron, Hermione, all the Order members are pawns. You use us to do what you think is best, and to hell with anyone else! The things I’d like to say to you would make this parchment shrivel up and disintegrate.

Well, you can get on with your sick, twisted game of chess with one pawn less. I have a game I’d like to try – it’s called ‘Life’. I refuse to be directed and used by you.

I hope that fifty Dementors surround you and suck out every last happy thought out of your pathetic mind, then slowly suck out your warped soul while carving your flesh into pieces.

Well, you never know. The path I’m going down might give me the power to do that to you. And if not, I’ve placed a blood curse on that pawn. You touched it, you’ve got the curse now.

I swore I’d never go Dark, because I used to want to be just like I thought you were before I realized what you’re really like. I wanted to be the Lightest, most powerful, caring, clever wizard in the world, my little secret fantasy. Well guess what.

The Blood Curse is Dark Magic. The ink on this parchment is unicorn blood and Streeler venom mixed. I’m planning on using Dark magic to command the Dementors – you’re the first victim.

You’ve destroyed everything.

People say you’re not afraid of Voldemort. He’s a garden gnome compared to what I’ll be.

Congratulations.

Harry Potter.

Albus heavily sat in his chair, and wept.

a/n: So what did ya think, huh huh huh?

Review!

Please…don’t be mean.