The White Knight (PG)
The White Knight
Ron was just an ordinary seven-year-old who lived in the Burrow with his family. He did not have a wand, but he could still do magic. Every once in awhile he did just so, and then Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen window and yelled: "Ronald Weasley, put that blasted fire out this instant!" Properly scolded, Ron ran for a bucket of water because he had not yet learned to get rid of fires the magical way.
Ron liked the Burrow. Old and cluttered, it was still home. Gnomes lived in the garden; kittens roamed downstairs, and in the cellar Ron met a wizard chess knight.
"Hello," said the white knight. His ivory horse lifted its tiny head and sniffed at the freckles on Ron's nose. "I heard you are a Boy Who Sets Things on Fire. Will you help me? You see, after many great battles all I want is to rest."
He was an old chess piece, last one left of his set. He didn't want to be alone anymore. The old wood burns fast into a pile of ashes . . .
Ron listened to his request, nodded, and said "bollocks" because he had learned in seven years: tomorrow is worth sticking around for. He had also learned this new word and was proud of a chance to finally use it. Ron did check first that his sister wasn't around. Ginny's delicate six-year-old ears didn't need to hear it.
"Give me one week," Ron asked the knight, "if I can't change your mind by then, I'll do whatever you want."
The knight agreed -- he had no choice.
Ron took the knight to his room and showed him toys and Chudley Cannons posters. The knight asked Ron to build a castle out of books and boxes and reenacted the Headless Hunt at Hogwarts walls.
Ron was mesmerised. Mrs. Weasley wondered at the lack of fires, and the little chess piece spent a night under Ron's pillow.
On the second day Ron put the knight among Charlie's chess set pieces. "Here. Now you can have new friends."
"An admirable intention, sir Ron," said the knight glancing sadly at a white rook on his left and a white bishop on his right, "but I am afraid they already have someone in my place. Perhaps I can teach you to play instead?"
Ron learned to line up the pieces for battle, studied their moves and attacks. The knight cheered as Ron's white pawn smashed the enemy pawn to bits. When Ron lost two bishops and a queen, the knight only smiled, "There are always sacrifices, sir Ron, but be brave. Onward, new adventures are waiting."
On the evening of the third day Ron asked the knight about his own chess set.
"My friend, a white bishop, always used to say that life is just another adventure. We had such adventures, me and him. A cautious rook to the left of us always sighed and fussed when they pieced us back together."
"Do you miss them?" asked Ron.
"Yes, somewhat terrible."
Only silence lingered.
"Is it hard being a knight? Were you ever afraid?" asked Ron on the fourth day before bed.
"Always, sir Ron. But there comes a time when staying still becomes more frightful than charging ahead. In that moment you strike, hold your head high, and make the best of it," answered the knight.
Ron slept then and dreamt he was riding a white ivory horse into battle.
On the fifth day Ron introduced the knight to everything he loved about the Burrow. He talked about de-gnoming the garden in summer and apple blossoms in spring.
"Perhaps, sir Ron, you were right all along," the knight smiled. "I would very much like to see the apple trees bloom someday."
Ron could not have felt happier.
On the sixth day Ron played chess with his brother Charlie and won.
"Brilliant job," said the knight, "You'd better invite me along the day they pronounce you a champion of all Britain!"
Ron grinned and said nothing.
In the morning of the seventh day Ron shoved his hand under the pillow with a cheerful "rise and shine" but heard nothing back. The knight's magic must have run out at night, and the old knight was only a statue now.
Ron stayed in his room all day. He burned the little white statue in the garden that evening just like the knight requested seven days ago.
Burning ivory produced little ash. Wind took whatever was left.
Ron turned eighteen last month. He leaves Hogwarts tomorrow. He isn't the chess champion of all Britain but it will happen eventually. Still very young by magical standards, Ron feels centuries have passed since he met the knight.
During these times of grief and denial he thought of him often.
Ron had plenty of his own adventures across the checkerboard floors of Hogwarts with a rook on his left and a bishop on his right, his own "knight to E5!", his share of losses, and his once-in-a-lifetime chance to shout "checkmate" at the dark side. Some times Ron tells himself that it's for the best. To be left alone would have been agony for Hermione, and Harry would've never forgiven himself enough to live on. Other times he nearly breaks apart but remains living nonetheless.
He sets a small white rook down at the steps of Hogwarts where Hermione blocked a spell meant for him. He places a similar bishop at the Harry Potter Memorial. Harry would have hated the ridiculous, bulky construction, but "Voldemort is gone; peace is here at last, and what does the rest matter?" he almost hears Harry speak.
Ron takes two steps forward and one sideways avoiding a stranger. He keeps going because there are still seven days ahead, then another seven, and another, until one morning the magic in his veins will run out, and he will rest at last.
Ron was just an ordinary seven-year-old who lived in the Burrow with his family. He did not have a wand, but he could still do magic. Every once in awhile he did just so, and then Mom stuck her head out of the kitchen window and yelled: "Ronald Weasley, put that blasted fire out this instant!" Properly scolded, Ron ran for a bucket of water because he had not yet learned to get rid of fires the magical way.
Ron liked the Burrow. Old and cluttered, it was still home. Gnomes lived in the garden; kittens roamed downstairs, and in the cellar Ron met a wizard chess knight.
"Hello," said the white knight. His ivory horse lifted its tiny head and sniffed at the freckles on Ron's nose. "I heard you are a Boy Who Sets Things on Fire. Will you help me? You see, after many great battles all I want is to rest."
He was an old chess piece, last one left of his set. He didn't want to be alone anymore. The old wood burns fast into a pile of ashes . . .
Ron listened to his request, nodded, and said "bollocks" because he had learned in seven years: tomorrow is worth sticking around for. He had also learned this new word and was proud of a chance to finally use it. Ron did check first that his sister wasn't around. Ginny's delicate six-year-old ears didn't need to hear it.
"Give me one week," Ron asked the knight, "if I can't change your mind by then, I'll do whatever you want."
The knight agreed -- he had no choice.
Ron took the knight to his room and showed him toys and Chudley Cannons posters. The knight asked Ron to build a castle out of books and boxes and reenacted the Headless Hunt at Hogwarts walls.
Ron was mesmerised. Mrs. Weasley wondered at the lack of fires, and the little chess piece spent a night under Ron's pillow.
On the second day Ron put the knight among Charlie's chess set pieces. "Here. Now you can have new friends."
"An admirable intention, sir Ron," said the knight glancing sadly at a white rook on his left and a white bishop on his right, "but I am afraid they already have someone in my place. Perhaps I can teach you to play instead?"
Ron learned to line up the pieces for battle, studied their moves and attacks. The knight cheered as Ron's white pawn smashed the enemy pawn to bits. When Ron lost two bishops and a queen, the knight only smiled, "There are always sacrifices, sir Ron, but be brave. Onward, new adventures are waiting."
On the evening of the third day Ron asked the knight about his own chess set.
"My friend, a white bishop, always used to say that life is just another adventure. We had such adventures, me and him. A cautious rook to the left of us always sighed and fussed when they pieced us back together."
"Do you miss them?" asked Ron.
"Yes, somewhat terrible."
Only silence lingered.
"Is it hard being a knight? Were you ever afraid?" asked Ron on the fourth day before bed.
"Always, sir Ron. But there comes a time when staying still becomes more frightful than charging ahead. In that moment you strike, hold your head high, and make the best of it," answered the knight.
Ron slept then and dreamt he was riding a white ivory horse into battle.
On the fifth day Ron introduced the knight to everything he loved about the Burrow. He talked about de-gnoming the garden in summer and apple blossoms in spring.
"Perhaps, sir Ron, you were right all along," the knight smiled. "I would very much like to see the apple trees bloom someday."
Ron could not have felt happier.
On the sixth day Ron played chess with his brother Charlie and won.
"Brilliant job," said the knight, "You'd better invite me along the day they pronounce you a champion of all Britain!"
Ron grinned and said nothing.
In the morning of the seventh day Ron shoved his hand under the pillow with a cheerful "rise and shine" but heard nothing back. The knight's magic must have run out at night, and the old knight was only a statue now.
Ron stayed in his room all day. He burned the little white statue in the garden that evening just like the knight requested seven days ago.
Burning ivory produced little ash. Wind took whatever was left.
Ron turned eighteen last month. He leaves Hogwarts tomorrow. He isn't the chess champion of all Britain but it will happen eventually. Still very young by magical standards, Ron feels centuries have passed since he met the knight.
During these times of grief and denial he thought of him often.
Ron had plenty of his own adventures across the checkerboard floors of Hogwarts with a rook on his left and a bishop on his right, his own "knight to E5!", his share of losses, and his once-in-a-lifetime chance to shout "checkmate" at the dark side. Some times Ron tells himself that it's for the best. To be left alone would have been agony for Hermione, and Harry would've never forgiven himself enough to live on. Other times he nearly breaks apart but remains living nonetheless.
He sets a small white rook down at the steps of Hogwarts where Hermione blocked a spell meant for him. He places a similar bishop at the Harry Potter Memorial. Harry would have hated the ridiculous, bulky construction, but "Voldemort is gone; peace is here at last, and what does the rest matter?" he almost hears Harry speak.
Ron takes two steps forward and one sideways avoiding a stranger. He keeps going because there are still seven days ahead, then another seven, and another, until one morning the magic in his veins will run out, and he will rest at last.