A Game of Chess ~Open~

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A Game of Chess ~Open~ Dec 17, 2012 9:22:28 GMT -8

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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2012 9:22:28 GMT -8

Dumbledore sat behind his desk in his office, with his hands folded into a temple, his tips of his fingers touching. His gaze was that of a man with power, and only those who really knew the old man could tell that he was tired. He was good at hiding his feelings. He was good at masking his face. He was good at manipulation, though he did it for the greater good. Right now, he was having a heated argument with one of the portraits, who was convinced they saw Remus and Sirius outside of their common room, after hours. He claimed that they had been doing things, that no men should be doing, and Albus was not one to listen to such idocy, though he would never admit that to anyone. After all, he had to run this school. If they thought he couldn't handle rumors, lies, and horrible truths, he’d be outside of this school on his butt, before he could say lemon drop.

Unwrapping said candy, he popped it into his mouth, before turning his gaze back at Nigellus Black. “That is enough Nigellus. As long as they are not physically harming anyone, there’s no harm in letting them have their fun. They are only children after all. They will have to grow up soon as they leave the school, and this war isn't going to wait for them to do that. Now, let them have their fun while they still can. Albus voice was calm but you could hear the hint of sternness as he spoke. Nigellus was about to reply back, but someone had knocked on their door. He smiled, his twinkling coming back as he sat straight in his chair, assuming his role as the Headmaster. “Come in!” the old man said, as he gazed one last time at Nigellus, before returning his attention to the person who was now entering through the door.

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A Game of Chess ~Open~ Dec 17, 2012 9:38:44 GMT -8

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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2012 9:38:44 GMT -8

Professor Riddle was fed up, he'd had enough of dealing with these sniveling little first years; Everyday it was the same thing "What does a werewolf look like? Do Vampires really turn into bats? Can a Demeantor really suck out your soul?" Blah, Blah, Blah. Over and Over again. It was enough to drive a man insane. Professor Riddle knew he had to talk to Dumbledore about this, he knew that Defense Against the Dark Arts had to become an upper-class course. They could skip the first years and only offer it to the second and third years, Professor Riddle could teach them enough about the Dark Arts in that period of time. Forget about the Defense part, but who really wanted to learn that?

He set out on his path towards Dumbledore's Office, approaching the statues that so loyally guarded the headmaster's office he gave himself a grim smile, knowing that one day they would be protecting HIS office. "I need to speak with Dumbledore." He stated flatly, almost commanding the statues to open up for him. He all but flew up the steps and knocked swiftly on the door to Dumbledore's office; walking in as Dumbledore granted him permission.

"Good Evening, Headmaster." Professor Riddle said formally, he had always been a fan of titles; he liked to use them in their proper context and liked to be referred to by his proper titles. "I needed to speak with you about my classes." Looking down he saw that Dumbledore was sitting in front of a Wizard's chess board that had already been set up, "Is now a bad time? Are you expecting someone?" Professor Riddle asked motioning towards the board with a nod.

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A Game of Chess ~Open~ Dec 17, 2012 9:47:33 GMT -8

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Post by Deleted on Dec 17, 2012 9:47:33 GMT -8

Albus’ smile became rather fixed as he saw Tom Riddle enter his office. He wasn't sure why, but the man had always made him uneasy. Made it was because Dumbledore had a hard time commanding Riddle, because he was no easy man to manipulate without a fight. Nevertheless, he had hired him because he thought Riddle deserved that chance to prove himself, and his eyes twinkled once more.

“Aw, Professor Riddle, what can I do for you?” he asked, as he motioned for the professor to take the seat across from him. He rested his chin against his fingers, as if Riddle was the only person he needed to listen to, to help the worries go away. He nodded at Riddle’s rather blunt exclamation, and then sighed, as he sat back, rubbing his temples.

“I see” Albus looked down at what Riddle was pointing at, and Dumbledore smiled at Professor Riddle once more. “Oh, I was just thinking. Examining the chess board. Would you like to play a game? Maybe we can discuss this issue you have with the...students” He pulled out another lemon drop and offered it to Riddle. “Lemon Drop?”

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A Game of Chess ~Open~ Dec 22, 2012 23:30:00 GMT -8

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Post by Deleted on Dec 22, 2012 23:30:00 GMT -8

Riddle did not want to play a game. In fact, he wanted nothing less than to spend any more time with Dumbledore than he had to. But the longer that he stood in the center of the room, staring at the chess game that was before him, the more ardently than he longed for his favorite game. Chess was a game of wits, a game of strategy. It was a game of perplexing intellectual struggle; in fact, Riddle had once learned that a man could be driven insane by the loss of a singular chess game. It was a game that was not lost because the other person was more skilled; it was a game lost because of one move. A man could replay the game in their heads for days on end, trying to figure out what they could have changed.

The smile that Albus offered him was enough to set a normal man at ease, but Riddle took it as a challenge; the man offering to beat him at his own game? How very interesting indeed. Immediately he shook his head, but advanced toward the chess board instead, his eyes trained on the black pieces that were opposite the side upon which Dumbledore sat. Riddle threw his robes to the side with a flourish and then sat down opposite the Headmaster, ”Perhaps I have time for one game, Professor.” He said, his fingertips moving over the chess pieces that were lined up at attention upon the board. He knew that Dumbledore would prove to be quite the challenge when it came to Chess.

The man offered him a lemon drop and Riddle was immediately drawn out of his own thoughts, ”No thank you, Sir.” His voice seemed curt and yet strangely polite for the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. He had come here with a purpose and he was not willing to let the thought of food distract him from his need to get the first years out of his hair. Waiting for the Headmaster to make his first move, Riddle decided that it was the perfect time to bring up what he had come here for in the first place, ”Professor...Have you ever considered the implications of teaching such young students about the Dark Arts-” He paused, ”The Defense against the Dark Arts? Hardly appropriate curriculum for children that are but eleven years old.”

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