Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Round 13

Round 13 - Checkmate!

Welcome to the last round before the finals!

Although I am not all that great at the game, I admire chess players for their use of strategy, patience and thinking. Many other people admire chess too, including Ronald Weasley, the king of Wizard's Chess.

This round, you will be playing a game of Wizard's Chess. Each position has been assigned a chess piece and coordinating prompt for which they must write. The chess piece MUST be used somewhere in your story, as either an object or word. Will you be able to say checkmate to your opposing team?

CAPTAIN: Queen: Write about a character that can be considered dominant.

Captain of the Wasps

What The Future Holds

He sat on his throne, listless eyes roving over the assembled wizards. He couldn't even muster the strength to sneer at them.

"My Lord."

He glanced at the man kneeling at his feet. A Malfoy if he wasn't mistaken. The only thing remaining of the bloodline was the paleness. However, while Lucius had been able to make it look elegant, this wizard looked washed out. The wizard looked as listless as Marvolo felt.

"Proceed," he ordered.

Malfoy remained bowed, even as he scurried back. He sneered. Such weakness. Once proud wizards, they were nothing but sloth infested nothings now. There had been no magical innovations in the last two hundred years. No new potions or spells. Nothing.

They were content to wallow in their Family name and self-importance.

They were weak.

Weak minds.

Weak magic.

This wasn't what he had wanted when he took over. He had wanted prosperity. He had wanted to raise wizards above Muggles. He had wanted so much, and yet…

A flash of green caught his attention and he glanced up. He saw the line of Muggles being marched into the room. New dancers, cooks, servants, entertainers, or whatever else they were bought for.

Green eyes.

That had been what had caught his attention. The last Muggle walking in had green eyes.

Like his.

Not the same shade. Most of all, not the same defiance in them. This Muggle, just like everyone else, was listless.

He missed the fire he had seen burning so brightly in those green eyes. He missed the defiance, the passion. How long since he had seen even a glimpse of such a challenging gaze? Even in death, those eyes had glared up at him. That day, centuries ago, he had gotten everything he had ever thought he wanted. Funny how centuries made one see things in a different light.

The buzzing of voices grew louder as the Muggles were set in a line across the room.

Marvolo looked away. It said something about the state of things when he couldn't decide who he despised more, whether the Muggles or the wizards.

If he could, he would have made different choices. His eyes widened. There was no if about it. He was Lord Voldemort, and he always got what he wanted.

Harry frowned at the black owl perched on his bed.

"Aren't you a little late for mail?" he asked, taking a seat beside the bird.

The owl hooted, glaring at him the same way Hedwig did when she thought that he was being particularly stupid. The owl held out its leg, holding the parchment out to him.

Harry stared at it for a moment, the handwriting on the outside of the envelope familiar to him even though he couldn't place it. He took it, stroking the owl's soft feathers while he was at it, and opened the letter.

He glanced at the bottom of the letter, dropping it as soon as he read the name. He could do nothing but gape at the signature. Harry was sure he was seeing things. Maybe he had lost too much blood while using the blood-quill and was hallucinating now. It was the only possible explanation.

The owl hooted and he almost jumped out of his skin.

"You're waiting for an answer?" he asked, slumping when the owl hooted again. "Right." Harry nodded. "Right," he said again.

He took the letter.

Potter,

Please refrain from incinerating this letter. Not that you could, of course, since I charmed it against such a thing. Taking that into consideration, spare yourself the hassle of trying to destroy it.

I've sent you this letter with one simple objective: I wish to call for a meeting between us.

I will swear on my magic that no harm will come to you during said meeting.

I have come upon information that I believe you would benefit from.

Consider me offering it to you as a sign of good faith.

Belial, my owl, will wait for your reply. Send with it a time and place for our meeting.

Awaiting your reply,

Dark Lord Voldemort

Marvolo sneered at his surroundings. Only Potter would have the gall to propose a meeting in such a place. He wouldn't kill Potter but cursing him was becoming a bigger temptation the longer he stayed where he was.

The bell over the door jingled, and Potter walked in. Those bright green eyes glanced around the room, widening when they landed on him. He couldn't stop the smirk from spreading on his lips. He wasn't sure what had surprised Potter more, the fact that he had shown up or the way he looked.

He stood, eyes locked on Potter as the teen made his way towards him.

"Potter." He inclined his head, motioning towards the fluffy armchair in front of his.

Slowly, Potter took a seat, eyes roving over Marvolo's features.

"You look… not snake-ish."

Marvolo sat down, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"After a while, that look became tiresome." Which was true. A couple of centuries later it had become tiresome looking into a mirror and seeing that… thing staring back. With the war over, Marvolo had had the time to focus on other things, such as trying to create a ritual or potion to make him look human once more. Marvolo now looked as if he were just entering his thirties, not a bad look if he could say so himself. Marvolo reached over, taping the center of the table, erecting the privacy wards imbued into the seats. This was Madam Puddyfoot's only saving grace. "Interesting choice for a meeting," he muttered, glaring at the teen.

Potter shrugged, though Marvolo could see the mischief in his eyes.

This, this, was what he had been missing.

"I don't know why I agreed to this," Potter said, fidgeting. "I should have told Dumbledore."

"I'm glad you didn't." Marvolo leaned forward. "You tell him whatever you want after this, but you should listen to what I have to say before you do."

"Why? And why should I believe anything you say?"

Marvolo smiled. "Because what I'm going to tell you will change the world, and you should believe me because I have never lied to you."

Potter narrowed his eyes; however, a moment later he nodded. "I'm listening."

If it weren't such a plebeian thing to do, Marvolo would have cackled.

Harry stared at the canopy of his bed in a daze. He had died. Voldemort—well, Marvolo since that's what he insisted on being called—had killed him. Several centuries ago? In the future? The past? A year from now? Harry didn't even know.

The point was, Marvolo was from the future.

Marvolo didn't want that future.

Marvolo had erased a whole timeline, eradicating everyone in it, so that he could come back and start anew. Some part of Harry knew that he should be enraged that Marvolo had basically destroyed the whole world but he couldn't bring himself to care. How could he care about some faceless people centuries born after he had died? Especially since he had seen what they had become.

Harry knew that Marvolo hadn't suddenly become a harmless puppy; however, this Dark Lord was vastly different from the one he had met in the cemetery. This Dark Lord wasn't all about destruction. Marvolo seemed smarter, sharper… he seemed simply more than Voldemort had ever been.

Harry wasn't sure yet if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Marvolo watched as his most volatile Death Eaters gathered in front of him. He shuddered at the lustful looks Bellatrix threw at him. He would never understand how he had once found such a thing enjoyable.

He stood, and they dropped to their knees. The doors snapped shut, and he smirked at their flinch.

"I thank you for your faithful service through these long years," he murmured, watching them. "I regret to inform you that, at this point in time, such services are no longer needed."

Some squirmed, but none of them raised their heads. This would have pleased him as well, once upon a time.

He shook his head and raised his wand.

For their loyalty, their deaths would be swift.

Harry glanced around the room that Marvolo had gotten for their meeting. Apparently, the man didn't trust him not to arrange another meeting at Puddyfoot's. Which, if Harry was being honest with himself, was rather wise. He admitted that he had found too much pleasure in how aggravated Marvolo had felt with the setting.

Still, this was nice. He had never been to Rosemerta's private sitting rooms.

Marvolo walked in, sealing the door behind himself, and took a seat.

Harry fidgeted when those red eyes locked on him. They weren't the rust red from Voldemort. They were far brighter and seemed to read right through him.

"You killed them."

The dead Death Eaters had been all over the newspaper. The Ministry blamed it on Sirius, saying it was probably infighting.

Marvolo nodded.

"You didn't tell Dumbledore."

Harry nodded.

"Do you agree, then?"

"I… What will you do? If I join you?"

If possible, Marvolo's eyes became brighter, and Harry felt a shiver run down his spine. He didn't know what unsettled him more, the smirk that was stretching Marvolo's lips, or that the shiver down his spine wasn't from fear.

"Do not be mistaken, Harry. I will rule. I will accept nothing less. However, I've learned from my actions. You will temper me. You are the only one who can."

How could Harry say no to that?

Marvolo smirked at the standing Death Eaters in front of him. These… these could be used. Well, depending on how they reacted to the news he would be giving them.

"My friends," he said as he stood. "We have gained a valuable ally. With him on our side, we will no longer require brute force to achieve our goals." The spell he had cast on Harry dissipated, and the assembled Death Eaters gasped as they saw the boy standing beside him. "With Harry on our side, nothing will stop us!"

The Death Eaters cheered, as they knew was expected of them, but they couldn't fool him. They were unsure, confused about what the future held in store for them.

Marvolo laughed. The future was just as much of a mystery to him though he was sure that it would be much better than the one he had left behind.

He glanced at the shorter male at his side, smirking as he took in the maturing features and defying eyes. Well, there was one thing he knew about the future, after all, every King needed a Queen, and he couldn't wait to see how challenging that particular hunt would be.