THE CHESSMASTER

VOLUME FOUR: WHITE ROOK

by Flye Autumne

A/N: Just your typical disclaimer for this entire work: I own nothing. All of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Note: This is the fourth volume of The Chessmaster series. If you haven't read Black Pawn, White Knight, and Black Bishop yet, you should do so before reading this volume.

CHAPTER ONE: THE BRETHREN

The Annex

Gaunt House, Cornwall

17 July 1994

Lord Voldemort settled himself into the throne-like chair, steepling his fingers under his chin as he surveyed the room. All of the inner circle was present, with the noticeable exceptions of the Lestranges and Barty Crouch. Lord Voldemort allowed his gaze to linger on each member of the inner circle. He only allowed nine of his Death Eaters this close status, although, the number really was eight given that one of the nine was Thomas Gaunt.

A smirk made its way onto his otherwise impassive face. His younger self had done remarkably well in gaining support during the unfortunate interim years. Of course, Thomas didn't have all of the pieces; after all, he didn't want to risk his horcrux turning on him. Magically speaking, Thomas should not be able to turn against him given the number of charms and dark magics woven into the ring, but Lord Voldemort was not one to take risks - not anymore after the fiasco in Godric's Hollow. No, he would be careful, to the point of too careful. He would be the power, and Thomas would act as the reason, and as one, they would seize control of Magical Britain.

He cleared his throat, and immediately all eyes were upon him. "If you would sit."

Chairs scraped softly against the antique carpet as the inner circle took their seats. Most had aged well, although Thaddeus Nott and Cadmus Avery had gray hair mixed in with brown. Austin Yaxley and Severus looked more or less the same, and Lucius was aggravating timeless.

"It is wonderful," he began, "to be fully among you in the flesh once again. Each of you should consider yourself privileged to be here today. Those sitting in this room are the chosen few, the inner circle of the brethren. As you may have noticed, there are a few empty chairs. Some of our compatriots could not be among us. Soon, we will rectify that, and all of our most loyal will reunite once more. For now, however, we will proceed slowly and carefully. Thomas has began work on establishing a political power base, and we will continue to grow support for our side.

"We need to commence recruiting the next generation of Death Eaters. My return must be kept secret for the time being, and you must begin determining who among your family is still loyal to the cause. Each of you will also be assigned several of those loyal to us the last time around. You must reach out to them, and determine if they are willing to serve the cause. If not, they will meet a similar end to Pettigrew."

Several of the Death Eaters paled, and the smallest amount of satisfaction welled up inside him.

"Avery, contact the Carrow twins, and your sister Fiona. Lucius, speak with Crabbe Sr, Robert Goyle, and Mulciber. Severus, you will meet with Karkaroff when he arrives at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. Determine his motives and if any other former Grindelwald supporters can be recruited."

The dour man nodded in acknowledgement.

"Nott, contact Rosier, Erik Rowle, and his son Thorfinn. Yaxley, speak with Travers and Nathaniel Parkinson, as well as Alexander's wife, Charlotte. Are you clear on those instructions?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Excellent. Yaxley, you have a question?"

"Yes, my lord. What about the Flints and the Burkes? And what about Gaunt?"

"The Flints and the Burkes will be sounded out later. As for Thomas, he has his own duties separate from your own. You would be wise not to question my will."

Yaxley gulped, and a hint of fear made its way into his expression. "Yes, my lord."

"We also have a new contact in the United States. His name is Dmitry Razalas, and he is an Ilvermorny graduate currently attending the Harvard Institute of Advanced Wizarding Studies."

Severus smirked.

"Does something amuse you, Severus?" he asked, the sounds sibilant against his tongue.

"No, my lord."

"Razalas will be join our cause here in Britain upon finishing his schooling. I expect all of you to extend him the same respect as you do to Thomas."

The assembled Death Eaters nodded, most of them wearing a carefully blank expression

or a look of slight confusion. Severus and Lucius both looked pensive, and he doubted they would ever puzzle out the secret of Thomas Gaunt and Dmitry Razalas. It wasn't that the two wizards lacked intelligence, but rather Lucius lacked the deep knowledge of the Darkest Arts, and Severus lacked the social wherewithal to determine the exact relationship between the three.

Satisfaction welled inside him. This time, he would do it. This time, everything would be perfect. Albus Dumbledore, the muggle-loving fool, would be unable to stop him. He would plot carefully, build power slowly, and by the time they realized he was a threat, it would be far too late to stop him.

A smile played around the edges of his lips once more. He, Lord Voldemort, would reign supreme over Magical Britain, and there wasn't a single wizard who could stop him.

Personal Quarters of Severus Prince

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland

17 July 1994

Severus could feel the headache building before he even fully arrived in his quarters. His insides were in turmoil, and he immediately quaffed an inordinate amount of Pain Relief Potion before flopping down on one of his armchairs.

He had never thought he would need to do it again. The last war had been exquisite torture as he'd been trapped before two exceedingly different masters, both of whom had extremely high demands of his person.

He didn't think he could do it again. The constant turmoil, the everlasting fear of discovery, of death, of torture. Emotionally, he had allowed himself to become weak. He had been foolish enough to develop feelings, to believe that he, Severus, might be able to find happiness after all.

Severus sneered at his own delusions. There were things many wizards had, such as friends, family, and happiness, and those simply were privileges Severus did not have. He wallowed in self-pity for a moment, and it quickly turned into self-hatred for his stupid whinging and idiotic hopes. The Dark Lord was back. Severus had made the return possible.

He was at fault.

He could only blame himself.

Severus summoned a bottle of Firewhisky and a glass from the sideboard and poured himself a generous portion. He took a sip, and the whiskey burned down his esophagus. He exhaled, and allowed the false flames to lick their way around his lips. Briefly, Severus contemplated getting stupidly drunk, then dismissed the notion. He had serious issues he needed to figure out, and while a glass of Firewhisky would help, drinking the entire bottle would not.

Severus swung his legs down from where they rested over the arm of the chair, forcing himself to sit up properly. He knew where his loyalties lay, but it was his nagging sense of obligation that held him back from freeing himself from the duties his double life forced upon him.

He took another sip of Firewhisky, feeling more than halfway tempted to Floo into Dumbledore's office and tell the old man he was done playing the spy, and that he'd appreciate a lot more gratitude for his work, along with a generous donation to his Gringotts vault and a nice, long holiday.

But, he couldn't do that, of course, emotions and blasted feelings of misguided loyalty be damned. If he didn't spy, no one would, and they'd all be condemned to living the Dark Lord's world. He likely would be fine, given that the Dark Lord seemed to trust him and held him in high esteem. Others, however, would not. Muggleborns would be forced down as second-class citizens, or otherwise obliviated of all memories of their families and forcibly integrated into wizarding society.

While Severus did support some of the ideas proposed by Thomas Gaunt and his ilk, such as the primary schools that benefited all wizards, he was far removed from the hot-headed, angry, idealistic young wizard who pledged himself to the Dark Lord. He'd craved acceptance when he was younger, acceptance, and acknowledgment of his talents. He'd wanted to belong to something greater than himself, and Lucius Malfoy had offered pretty words and dreams of a life were he, Severus, was strong and revered instead of weak and reviled. He had blindly followed Lucius, and shortly after, had come to regret his decision.

Dumbledore thought his betrayal of the Dark Lord solely was because of Lily, and while the potential of her death had been a major motivator, it hadn't been the only reason. It had been the shove he needed to go to Dumbledore, and the culmination of infinite small injustices against his person. He'd expected to treated as an equal among the Death Eaters, and that simply hadn't been the case. Instead of being Severus, skilled in the Dark Arts, he was Severus, that jumped up halfblood who had some skill in magic. Despite all the effort he put in, and despite the fact that he was indisputably one of the stronger wizards, his blood status followed him everywhere.

It was that, and the fact that he didn't have the stomach for killing, that'd changed his mind. He wasn't one for mindless slaughter, and he didn't have a gluttony for torture unlike some of the brethren. Severus had realized, far too late, that he didn't believe in most of the Dark Lord's ideology, and he disagreed with the methods by which the Dark Lord claimed his so-called victories.

He'd been helpless, and the only one he could turn to was Albus Dumbledore.

By Merlin, Severus hated the old man for what he'd done to him, and he hated the situation even more because he knew, had he been in Dumbledore's shoes, he would have done the exact same thing.

Severus sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. It was perfectly awful, positioned as he was between two masters who happened to be the two strongest wizards of their time. There seemed to be no way forward that lead to his happiness; the only paths he could see lead to his certain death.

Severus' gaze fell onto his glass of Firewhisky, which stood empty on the table. In that moment, his life seemed much like the glass: empty, and mostly worthless.

A knock sounded at the door to his chambers, pulling him out of his maudlin thoughts.

"Come in," Severus said, wondering who else would be in the castle in mid-July.

The door opened, and soft footsteps entered, accompanied by the soft scent of orange and ylang-ylang. Warm arms settled around his shoulders.

"Hello, Severus."

"Aurora," he managed. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"I wanted to watch the stars here, and I thought I'd see you. Are you quite alright?"

For a moment, Severus debated lying, then decided against it. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not."

Aurora's thumbs pressed into his trapezius. "You're very tense."

"I just got back from a meeting."

"Hence the Firewhiskey?"

"Mm. I've got a lot on my mind."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I can't."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Probably not."

Aurora prodded his shoulders for several minutes, and Severus let his head hang, still feeling rather mawkish. Aurora gave his shoulders one final squeeze, then walked off, only to return with Severus' chess set.

Aurora cleared his table with a flick of her wand, and replaced the empty Firewhiskey glass with two steaming mugs of chai tea. Looking satisfied, Aurora set up the chess set. "C'mon, let me at least try to take your mind off things."

Severus straighten up. "I -"

"Humor me, Severus."

"Fine."

"I'm playing white."

"Sure."

"Pawn to c4."

"Pawn to e5."

With that the game began in earnest. Severus was the vastly more skilled chess player out of the two of them, and while Aurora had an advantage playing white and the English opening, she lacked the skill to transition the strong opening to a successful mid game. With his move to e5, Severus ended up playing the Reversed Sicilian. Admittedly, it wasn't his favorite opening, but it was one that allowed him to counter the English with relative ease.

"Castle to h4," Aurora said, uncertainty evident in her voice.

Severus shook his head. "Rethink that. Do you really want to move your rook there?"

"I…" Aurora studied the board for a moment longer. "No, I suppose I don't, because you'll take it with your bishop."

"Right." Severus flicked his wand, and the rook went back to its original square. "Think about what will help you advance your side," he counseled. "You'll have to get better at this - no, we'll have to get better at this," he amended, "if we want to have any hope of making it through what is to come."

A/N: And with that, fourth year begins! There are a bunch of plot lines that tie together in this installment, so get ready for an exciting ride.

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing :)