Kings on Chessboards

Chapter one

We have Each Other

Harry Potter laid beneath the stars above his head as Hermione was sleeping in the flimsy and tattered tent, as he thought about everything. Ron leaving them there in the woods as he told Harry that he was no longer his friend or his family. That he had no friends and no family and he had no one; and the worst part of it was that he was right. He was the boy who lived, the hero who defeated the Dark Lord; the champion of the Triwizard Tournament; he was always the one who had to hide his feelings because he was the one who always had to end up facing the monsters in the end. The one who the universe had chosen to fight all the evils of the world and yet, none of that was his choice.

He had never had a choice, it was always his time to be a hero and he got very little if any help at all from anyone, come to think of it, no one seemed to think of him and if anyone did it was usually in suspicion and disdain and anger. It was always the same old story, something bad would happen around him; and someone would get hurt and then they would blame him for it. It didn't really matter what it was. Mrs. Norris turns up petrified, well blame a twelve year old boy. Never mind that he was just that, twelve, it was as if the entire world was against him and he had nothing to do about it. Nothing at all, he just had to sit there and take it from everyone; good calm, Harry Potter who was always okay, always the hero.

Never mind what he wanted. Never mind what he felt. Come to think of it, he could not remember the last time anyone asked if he was all right or needed anything really, no one ever asked him whether he was okay. His parents were gone and his aunt and uncle were abusive and his cousin just as bad as the other two. In one world, Harry was treated like he was as worthless as the corpse of well, everything was used in potion so he couldn't really think of something useless right now but he would in a moment he was sure. That was one of his few talents, Harry thought, becoming water which sought it's own level, useless things were wonderful at finding other useless things and Harry was well, as useful as Sir Nicholas at the headless hunt.

Dark wizards and witches came after him all the time, lately one in particular and he was there just waiting to die it seemed. Everyone around him seemed to be dependent on Harry when he hardly knew the spells he needed to in order to fight him off. Hell, he hadn't even known enough the first three times he had to do it. He wasn't expected to at the age of eleven, twelve, one years old even. Like Draco had said, he had been orphaned before he had even stopped drooling on his bib, famous before he could even speak or talk. A rustle in the bushes startled him and a small chipmunk came out with what appeared to be her babies. Harry watched as the runt, with his tiny little body scurried up into Harry's sleeve. Harry laughed a little, for the first time in months and found that the sound surprised him. The creature's ticklish little feet made him smile only for a moment till it's mother, yes, its mother bit him hard on the finger.

"Ouch!" he said and watched the group scurry away and Harry felt jealous.

Jealous of a squirrel, how pathetic and he felt even worse when she licked her kit and hurried off. No one protected him. He had no mother to protect him and never had. Everyone knew full well the full story of the sainted boy who lived, the child whose mother had sacrificed her life for him so that he could live; but what kind of life had she condemned him to? Did she know, could she possibly have known that, Harry had been only a boy when he was chosen for these things, fighting dark wizards and dangerous creatures since he was too young to even speak. He couldn't even call out to his mother the day she died. He couldn't say I love you, or even goodbye or anything and as he lay there on the cold leaves wondering if she had ever even cared about him in the first place. Something that Hermione would have found ridiculous for him to be even pondering but he couldn't help it.

"Of course, she cared Harry!" he could hear her saying, her shrill voice hammering at his ear in disapproval. "She sacrificed herself for you, didn't she?"

He knew that of course, hell the entirety of the wizarding world did; he had been eleven years old when the monster himself had crawled out of the woodwork, the wolf in the sheep's clothing of a harmless old man with a stammer. As he had said in front of the mirror of Erised, no one suspected poor stuttering professor Quarrel when the head of Slytherin house was such a likely and unsavory character. A man who at the time, was a trusted adult, who was due to see to Harry's wellbeing. A professor at a boarding school was supposed to be somewhat like a parent. And some parent he had been! If he'd been a muggle, a child welfare agent would have investigated the whole mess and his teaching license would be revoked on so many levels.

A stammering, simpering idiot who couldn't so much as fight a bunny rabbit let alone teach Defense Against the Arts or practice it to begin with, the perfect prey for the Dark Lord to sneak up on. Weak, simpering and completely helpless, the sort of thing or person that would fall prey to his whispered promises of power and confidence and so on and so forth. Hardly competent to teach the recipe for slug repellant let alone the most important subject in the school when he himself was frightened of his own shadow and jumpy as all get-out and Merlin's beard what was it with Dumbledore and hiring people who were incompetent as all hell. How was it his, Harry's job to teach the other students how to defend themselves when he was just fifteen years of age and there were professors for that.

Come to think of it, Harry thought to himself, none of the DODA professors had been particularly qualified, for the job. Werewolves and death eaters and Voldemort himself it was really a joke. Either Dumbledore was Harry assumed was someone he could trust, someone who would help him, guide him, be there for him only...he was a liar. Just like everyone else in Harry's life, there was no one he could trust, no one who held him when the nightmares came. The screams of his mom and dad as she was killed by the Dark Lord, Sirius, poor Cedric Diggory who had been caught in the crossfire of a sick man trying to kill a child because said child did not fit into his new world order for some bizarre reason which bothered the young man to no end.

Harry potter was in fact all alone and the pain was getting worse every day, every day he felt the noose tightening faster and faster around his neck and more and more every day he wanted to scream. Wanted to cry out for comfort, for help but he knew there was no point in doing that when it came down to it. There never was. Harry did not know what he expected, he was as Snape said, the newest celebrity and everyone always wanted a piece of him when all Harry really wanted to do be normal. Well as normal as a wizard child/young man could be at the very least, play quidditch and do his studies and go home to someone who loved him at the end of the school year. Someone who could love him, someone who could understand her

He was the hero. The hero before he even been able to speak. He had not asked for any of this, but then again no one ever asked the famous Harry Potter what he wanted or felt. In fact, no one seemed to give a damn about the slightest thing about him as a person. He was always expected to do the right thing and to forgive everyone for hurting him no matter deep the cut. Ron said and did whatever he liked to Harry and he was just supposed to take it up the rear-end because well everyone treated him poorly, from his only living family, to his so called best friend who apparently loved him like a brother. The whole thing made him feel sick, and he wiped tears from his face that he heated himself for shedding and moreover hated the reason behind them.

Harry had never been one to be able to deal with his emotions because when he was with the Dursleys he was never allowed to feel them not really. People always took advantage of him and Ron especially. But he was his only friend and therefore was able to treat him like garbage and have zero repercussions for his behavior because Harry always took him back. Well not this time, not this time, this time he would pay for what he had said, how dare he, after everything he had done for them, all the money he had given them, saving Mr. Weasley's life, nothing seemed to matter to Ron anymore and he had no idea why. Or did he? He felt his rage mount again, and picking up a stone he threw it as violently as he could toward the glassy waters feeling it hit as if it were in fact made of glass.

It was as loud and as horrible as if it were a fist being thrown through a mirror and it felt as if he had just caused himself seven years of bad luck. He shrugged, well he'd already had the first seven so what did seven more matter. Maybe Voldemort would kill him and leave it at that, it wouldn't be that much of a surprise after everything he had already had to go through. Everything was always trying to kill him, and he meant everything, literally. From three headed dogs to dark wizards, Harry had always thought that they, he Ron and Hermione would at least always have each other. It was the only constant in his life, his two best friends and him, facing trouble, battling the forces of evil. When all this was said and done there would be a day of reckoning for him and anyone else who had ever even thought about not standing beside him when the battle time came.

Starting with that ruddy redheaded pureblood and...no that was a lie if he ever heard one. The truth was that Harry would always take him back because he was so desperate to be loved or even liked by anyone in his life after the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his aunt and uncle. He was starved for affection, so hungry for it even that he took it from anyone who it was offered and pined for it when it was retracted. It didn't matter how poorly Ron treated him, he took it whether he liked it or not. It had been that way for six years now on and off, on and off, his friend whenever it suited him, whenever it made him look good but wanting nothing to do with him otherwise. Harry's shoulders shook and he found himself crumpling into what must've been the most pathetic position he had ever taken in his life.

Anger twisted Harry's features and he roared at the top of his lungs, or so he thought; but he was too tired and his voice was far weaker than he expected. All that came out was a harsh croak and a sob as he realized just how alone he actually was in the world, he really was, now not only an orphan, but a nearly-friendless one at that. And as the wind howled Ron was a git! An absolute git! No, worse than that, that mangey ginger git was more of a bastard than anything else. A right bloody bastard and a half! Storming off like that when they needed him the most, when Harry needed him the most. He was all he had left, him and Hermione, as everyone he had ever been close to otherwise was either dead or someone he had to abandon les they be in danger of becoming so.

He hugged himself, hugged himself and rocked back and forth, not remembering the last time that someone'd hugged him since two years ago when he had seen Sirius for the last time at #12 as he tucked his head on his knees and began to cry. Pathetic, wasn't it really? The great hero who had defeated the dark Lord sniveling like some toddler with scraped knees but he couldn't help it. His sobs shook him and he felt himself snotting up his jeans and robes to a level of filth that Hermione would have found appalling to say the least. Even here in the midst of the dark forest, she was such a stickler for hygiene that it was almost comical, and was always chastising Harry and Ron over the cleanliness of their robes or rather the lack thereof. But right now, Harry couldn't care less. He was far too busy feeling sorry for himself.

It was not that he had expected anyone to come with him to begin with, but now that they had, he expected them to well...the realization hit him hard in the face. Selfish as it was, he wanted someone to share the burden with and he expected them to stick it out to the end. To stick it out and when they gave him their words that they would always be there for him, that they would keep it that way. A man was after all, only as good as his word and apparently, the word of Ronald Weasley didn't amount to much if anything at all. Harry through his tears was struck again by the unfairness of it all; he didn't deserve this, Harry had not asked for any of this but he had no choice and was stuck in a living hell, a third world war and he was one of the only combatants.

Harry was so busy crying that he didn't hear the crunch of the autumnal winter leaves as they bent and broke beneath someone's feet; let them come, he didn't care if they killed him, if the dark lord killed him then he would be dead and he wouldn't care and best of all, he would be with everyone he loved. Even his pet. The thought of Hedwig and the fact that he would never stroke her soft feathers or get an affectionate nip from her again made fresh tears come and he sobbed loudly. He had lost everything, his parents, his family, and now even his pet, his innocent pet who had always loved him was now gone forever and it was all his fault. Harry remembered the first time he had seen Hedwig and the joy he had felt when for the first time in his life things looked better for the poor boy who lived under the stairs.

The first decent birthday present he had ever gotten and the closest friend he had ever had. She had died for him just like everyone else he had ever cared about only this time the trade for her sacrifice was heartache. Sure she had been somewhat testy at times but she had never abandoned him, not like Ron and he cried for the first time in seventeen years. Unaware of the fact that Hermione was coming out of the tent, unaware of her till she was behind him and her slender arms wrapped around his shoulders. A hug. Sobbing and damn-near hysterics Harry curled into Hermione and let her hold him and she did hold him. For a very long time, rocking him back in forth and back and forth, her fingers tangling into his black hair and even kissing the crook of his shoulder and then his neck.

"Come on Harry, come inside..." she said and pulled him inside to the warm tent.

The flaming lamp warmed his hands and arms mercifully as she pulled him, still crying and leaning heavily on Hermione a s she dragged him over the threshold and into the warmth and meager comfort of their shelter. He curled into her arms and let her take him into the tent and lay down on the little cot Ron had lain upon hours ago. Sniffling and hiding his nose into her bushy curls which felt uncharacteristically soft and she whispered, "I know, I know."

"I do know how it feels you know!" Harry sniffled. "I worry all the time!"

"I know." she said again.

"I worry about Ron, I worry about Neville, Ginny about you-" he dissolved into tears again.

"I know Harry I know." she soothed.

"He's right you know..." he told her brokenly. "I have no family."

Hermione looked at him, and said in her traditional stern voice, "You have me." she said, "you have me, we have each other." and she pulled him to his feet as Nick Cave's O children began to play.

First Story tell me how I did?