The Headmaster's office was filled with the soft light of the fireplace. Flames danced, casting warm reflections on the heavy tapestries and the portraits of former headmasters, who were quietly snoring in their frames. The air was filled with the familiar scent of old parchment and lemon drops. In the center of the room, at a small, intricately carved table of dark wood, two figures sat facing each other, completely engrossed in a game. Between them was a chessboard, but it was no ordinary one. The pieces, carved from ivory, whispered and bounced with impatience as if they were alive. They were magical chess pieces.
The grandmasters were Albus Dumbledore, in his long, silver-embroidered robes, and Viktor Moss, dressed in a simple black robe.
Dumbledore looked at the board thoughtfully. His white pawn suddenly twitched slightly, and then, obeying a silent command, moved two steps forward, making a characteristic scraping sound on the wood.
— And what was all that about today? — the Headmaster asked without looking away from the board. — I thought I heard something resembling a small amount of chaos.
Viktor, without raising his eyes, made his move, advancing a black pawn, and calmly replied:
— I was bored, so I decided to have a little fun. You see, the last few weeks have been very dull.
— I don't know if you had fun, but the others, judging by the noise in the Great Hall, certainly had a good day, — Dumbledore smiled softly. — The castle was filled with an energy that I haven't seen... well, perhaps ever.
— I'm glad they enjoyed it, — Viktor looked up, and his smile became more genuine. — Who was the girl who won? — he continued, tilting his head.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise.
— You don't even know your classmates? — a slight hint of surprise mixed with his usual wisdom appeared in his voice.
Viktor leaned back in his chair in astonishment.
— She's a first-year, too? — he was genuinely surprised. — How interesting... So who is she?
Dumbledore just looked at him calmly. Noticing his gaze, Viktor shrugged.
— What? Why would I need to remember them? I have Daphne for that; she knows everyone. Besides, why fill my head with useless information?
— That girl's name is Susan Bones.
Viktor frowned, his eyebrows knit together. Then his eyes suddenly widened, as if he remembered something long forgotten.
— Is she Amelia Bones' niece, by any chance? The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?
Dumbledore nodded, without taking his eyes off the board.
— Yes, that's her. And she is very much like her aunt. Amelia also always loved solving puzzles.
Viktor sighed thoughtfully.
— Yeah... I thought everyone had given up. I had prepared a grand speech, thinking I'd show them where the prize was after dinner and take the potion for myself, and then she came along... She didn't give up like everyone else.
Dumbledore moved his bishop and asked:
— Do you regret setting such an expensive prize?
— No, — Viktor shook his head. — She deserved it. I just have to avoid Professor Snape for a while now. He's not very happy about what I did.
Dumbledore laughed, and the portraits on the walls trembled.
— And yet, I was not mistaken about you.
Viktor raised an eyebrow.
— In what sense?
— In the sense that you're not mad, but merely hiding behind a mask of madness, — Dumbledore replied calmly, looking directly into Viktor's eyes.
Viktor looked at him for a long time, then suddenly threw his head back and laughed loudly. He laughed so hard his shoulders shook.
— What's so funny? — Dumbledore asked in surprise, genuine curiosity in his eyes.
Viktor kept laughing, clutching his stomach.
— It's just that the great, all-knowing Albus Dumbledore was wrong! Ha ha ha! You! You, who can see through everyone, — and not me!
— Wrong? — Dumbledore looked at him in surprise. — Do you think you're not normal?
Viktor, finally catching his breath, looked at Dumbledore. His gaze was more serious than ever.
— What do you think a mad person is?
Dumbledore pondered, stroking his long beard.
— They are people who have certain problems with their mind.
— I see it differently, — Viktor replied, his voice becoming quiet but piercing. — Mad people are just honest people.
— Honest? — Dumbledore knit his brows, trying to understand his logic.
— Yes. Here's an example: if a sane person wants to get undressed in public, they will hide it. They will think that others will judge them and suppress their desire to conform to the norms of society. But mad people... they're too honest. They will simply undress, not caring about anyone else, and won't hide their desire. There are hundreds of thousands of people in the world who believe in the end of the world, conspiracy theories, the Illuminati, and aliens, but they hide it. They're afraid of being judged. But my friend from the asylum, Frank, is too honest. He talks about it openly, waving his arms and shouting in the streets: "They're coming for us! Put on your foil cups!"
Dumbledore looked at him and said:
— An interesting observation. So you're saying that you are simply honest.
Viktor moved his chess piece.
— And yes and no.
— What do you mean? — Dumbledore frowned, not understanding.
— You see, it all starts with expressing one's desires, but over time, everything gets worse, — Viktor began to explain, and his voice was a whisper. — For Frank, for example, it all started with a simple truth: he warned everyone about aliens and government conspiracies, but then everything escalated, he began to hallucinate, and he started feeling like he was being followed everywhere. His truth, which he didn't hold back, brought him to the edge. Or my case: one day, after punishing some bad guys, I enjoyed it so much that now I just can't stop. I want it, and as an honest person, I just can't stop myself. — Viktor sighed, his shoulders slumping. — Being crazy is very difficult. Try it yourself. For one day: do and say whatever you want—whatever comes to mind first, do it.
Dumbledore laughed, and a mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes.
— I'm afraid if I tried that, with my power and strength, England would descend into chaos.
Viktor laughed.
— I think you're right. By the way, check.
Dumbledore looked at the board, and suddenly his king piece rose into the air and floated to a safe spot on the board.
— What does that mean? — Viktor looked at the board in surprise, not taking his eyes off it. He thought he had caught him off guard.
Dumbledore smiled gently.
— These are magical chess pieces. They allow for the use of magic.
Viktor, as if understanding some truth, replied:
— Yes, you're right, using magic isn't forbidden. Well, then it's my turn. — He looked thoughtful. — Hmm... I think I'll move... — then a broad, cunning smile lit up his face. — There, checkmate.
After his words, the board flashed and began to burn with blue, and then red, flames. The fire danced, consuming the pieces and the board. Dumbledore just watched the fire, his face expressing nothing but calm. Viktor stood up and said:
— Well, it was interesting, thanks for the game.
Dumbledore looked at Viktor, who was already walking towards the exit:
— But your chess pieces burned too, which means it's a draw.
Viktor, who was already going down the stairs, laughed.
— No, it's checkmate.
Dumbledore watched Viktor disappear. He waved his hand, extinguishing the fire. On what was left of the chessboard, he saw that Viktor's king had not been touched by the fire; it was whole and not even smudged with soot.
— Yes, I suppose it's checkmate.