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A light was flicking in the Gryffindor common room. On and off, on and off; the tempo varying wildly. It reminded one of a car's turn signal, or perhaps, a malfunctioning Christmas light. Most students were determinedly ignoring it, others had left for portions of the castle that did not currently resemble a muggle night club.
On and off. On and off. On and...
"Ronald Weasley if you don't stop that infernal flickering I will make you wish you'd never returned here!"
Ron looked up guiltily from the corner where he was attempting to hide his lanky frame, and slowly took his thumb off the Deluminator.
"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. Hermione's glare softened a bit.
"What are you so worried about anyway, it's just a chat with McGonagall. You're not being asked to face an army of Death Eaters or anything."
Harry, hogging an entire table with his Potions NEWTs prep, snorted without looking up.
"I'd rather take on the Death Eaters, honestly," Ron moped.
"We've got a plan, mate, just go in and tell her that." Harry replied, squinting hard at the slanting handwriting in his old Potions textbook.
"Yeah, I know we do. I just, I dunno, it's scary, innit it? All these plans for the future?"
"Well, we can't exactly stay here forever," Hermione pointed out. She too was hogging an entire table with her Charms homework. There were privileges to being the Golden Trio, and taking up as much space as you pleased in the common room was only one of them.
"Yeah, I get that," he flicked the Deluminator absentmindedly, and the light flickered again. Hermione winced. "But, you guys don't find it weird? Ever since we got here first year, He Who... Voldy... whatever, he's been looming over us the whole time. He basically defined our lives since we were 11."
Harry looked up, catching the serious tone in Ron's voice and deciding that the Almaxirus Potion could wait. Ron continued.
"It's just strange. He's gone, and that's bloody excellent, but do either of you feel an, an emptiness? It's like the world opened up suddenly. But we've been so focused on getting rid of him that it feels, I dunno, uncomfortably wide open now."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she could a silvery cat patronus floated past and landed at Ron's feet."
"Whenever you're ready, Mr. Weasley."
Ron gulped, and turned as pale as the patronus.
"I... I'm coming."
Hermione stood up with him and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"You'll be ok. We'll be waiting right here for you to come back."
Ron nodded, stiffly. Harry grinned at him from over his notes.
"Break a leg, mate, you'll be fine." Ron shot him a look that said "fine" was not the word he would have used, but nodded and willed himself to walk across the common room and climb out the portrait hole.
The cat patronus surprisingly did not lead him to the Headmistress's office, but to a wooden door on the second floor that he couldn't remember having entered before. The patronus blinked at him and vanished. Gulping, and feeling himself start to sweat from stress, Ron gingerly knocked on the door.
"Enter," a voice responded. He did so, taking in the tiny, cozy office with a fire flickering and two squishy armchairs, one of which was occupied by Headmistress McGonagall. She smiled warmly at him.
"Hello Mr. Weasley, please take a seat. I thought this setting more appropriate for these chats than my usual office." Ron awkwardly sat down, resisting the urge to curl his legs up under him and instead settled on fiddling with the cuff of his robe and looking anywhere other than at McGonagall.
"I do not bite, I don't think," McGonagall commented wryly after a few moments. Ron looked up, sheepishly.
"Sorry, Professor, er, Headmistress!" McGonagall's eyes twinkled at him.
"Professor is perfectly fine by me, Ronald." It took Ron a full two seconds to process that he'd just heard his first name come from McGonagall's mouth. He gaped at her, and she gave an amused chuckle at his expression.
"You are of age, have been through more than most full grown wizards of any age, and were an unofficial member of the Order, so I think we can dispense with the formalities when we're alone, what say you?" Ron considered for a moment.
"I reckon that would be alright. Do you, mind if I still call you Professor?"
"Not at all. Now," she shifted her tone into a more business-like one, "the purpose of this meeting is to discuss your career options after Hogwarts. Obviously, you are a bit of a special case," she smiled at him fondly, causing Ron to blush scarlet. "The whole of the wizarding world is eager to give one of it's heroes a job, therefore, anything is open to you. Did you have something in mind?"
Ron fidgeted. His fingers reached for the Deluminator in his pocket but he pulled them back at the last second.
"Er, yeah, well, Harry and I reckon with all our experience we'd pretty much be shoe-ins for Aurors, so we were planning to do that."
"Indeed. A fine choice."
Something in McGonagall's tone caused Ron to look at her directly. Was that... disappointment on her face?
"Er, is there, something wrong with that idea, Professor?"
She sighed.
"If I may be frank with you, Ronald, do you really believe that your talents lie in being an Auror?"
Ron blinked, taken aback.
"Um. To be honest, Professor, I don't know where else they would lie. I'm not exactly, great, at much else." He looked down as he spoke, unwilling to voice the rest of his thoughts. Not like my siblings who are all ridiculously talented in one thing or another.
"You underestimate yourself," McGonagall replied, quietly. "Think for a moment, there has to be something, anything at all, that you consider yourself good at. It does not have to be academic, necessarily."
The fire crackled merrily in the silence that followed. Ron shifted uneasily for a few moments before saying,
"Well, I've always been a decent player of Wizard's Chess," he admitted. McGonagall leaned forward with her hands tucked under her chin.
"Exactly."
"Exactly?! That's, that's nothing, Professor! Just a game!"
"Is it? Tell me, what is the key to winning at Wizards Chess?"
"Strategy." Ron replied, without a moments thought. "You have to know what you intend to do but also be willing to modify it on the fly to take into account the actions of your opponent. You also have to watch your opponent's moves to understand their end goals and either rebuff or avoid them." He sat back when he was done speaking, seemingly surprised at the words that had just poured from his lips.
"Indeed. So you, by your own admission just now, have a head for strategy." The glint in McGonagall's eyes was the only thing that betrayed her otherwise impassive face.
"I... I guess I do."
"What if I were to tell you there is a specific niche within the Ministry that I believe would suit that strength?" Ron looked at her, suddenly curious.
"What is it?"
"The DoAS. Or more precisely, the Department of Adaptable Strategy. They are responsible for the planning of missions ranging from complex Auror missions to a simple Misuse of Muggle Artifacts mission; anything Ministry related that requires forethought and strategy, they are involved in it."
McGonagall was please to note the look of interest in Ron's eyes.
"So, figuring out how to make a mission idea work; looking at the numerous ways it could work and choosing the one that will be the best for that situation?" he asked, musing slightly.
"As the muggles say, you have hit the nail on the head. Team members are also involved in the missions, acting as directors should the plans need to change on the fly."
"That... actually sounds bloody brilliant!" It was the most animation she had seen out of the boy in many years.
"I thought it might pique your interest," she smiled warmly. "Now, I am connected with one of the members, a Wenton Burnke. If you would like, as I believe you do not have classes on Fridays, I could ask Wenton about arranging an apprenticeship for you."
Ron ran his fingers through his hair, looking astounded.
"Yeah I, I think I'd really like that, Professor! You, you really think I'd be good at it?"
"You beat my chess set as a first year. I have every confidence that you will be an excellent fit for the department." Ron's blush was deepened by the warm firelight.
"Thank you, Professor. Truly. I would have never thought of this on my own."
"That is precisely what these meetings are here for, Ronald. So that the staff can hear your wishes and offer guidance if they deem it appropriate. I will talk to Wenton as soon as possible."
"I can't thank you enough," Ron smiled weakly at her, and put his hands on the arm rests, ready to make his goodbyes.
"One more thing before you go," she recalled him. He let his weight fall back into the chair. "You have not yet gotten the opportunity to play Wizards Chess against more seasoned players, have you?"
"Unless you count against your set, then no," Ron shot her a full fledged grin, earning him a rare laugh from the Professor.
"Would you like to?"
"Oh! Yeah, I'd give my right arm to play against some higher level players!"
McGonagall smirked, and withdrew a thick envelope from her robes and handed it to him.
"The answer I thought you would give. Open it."
Ron did as he was bidden, eyes growing wider and wider as he scanned the parchment.
"You can't be serious," he protested weakly.
"I am very much serious, Ronald. You have the talent, and you need the competition to keep it fresh and sharp. While continually beating the entirety of Gryffindor house is impressive, it is not at the level I know you are capable of. The mind is a very serious thing to waste and I refuse to see you waste yours away."
"But..."
"No buts young man. Meetings are once a month on the second Saturday at 6pm. While you are still here at the castle, you may Floo to the meetings with me. After all, it is only right that the sponsor should escort her trainee during the trial period."
McGonagall let a small metal something drop into his hand.
"Welcome to the United Kingdom branch of the Consortium of Wizards Chess, Ronald Weasley. I fully expect you will do me proud." She stood up, and Ron followed her lead, looking as dazed as when he'd walked into the office.
"I, I don't know what to..." Ron trailed off, for the first time seeing the extra lines in McGonagall's face, lines he was sure hadn't been there seven years ago. He suddenly saw himself, saw all of her students, past, present, and future, through her eyes. He choked up, and without pausing to think, wrapped his arms around her in an embrace.
"Thank you... for, for everything," he whispered. Her arms tightened around him once before she stood back, holding him at arms length by both hands.
"It has been my greatest honor, Mr. Weasley."
"The second Saturday, that would be a week from tomorrow, right?" he asked.
"Be at my office at 5:50 sharp." A gleam ran through her eye. "And I look forward to soundly trouncing you at your first match."
Ron let out a roar of laughter.
"And I can't wait to see you try. See you then!" and he strode out, head held high.
McGonagall watch the door close behind him before settling back into her chair and smiling softly to herself. The fire crackled as she stared unseeingly into it; she did not call another student for a career appointment for the rest of the day.
Outside in the hallway, Ron stopped near a window to examine the object in his hand. It was a small pin emblazoned with "CWC" and the blobish shape of, something, above it. Ron squinted at it. After watching it for a minute or two, he realized it was slowly cycling through the different chess pieces. A thought occured to him.
Pulling out his wand, he pressed it to the shifting blob and said clearly "Knight." The blob immediately transformed into the knight piece, and stayed that way. Ron smiled broadly, recalling that harrowing game in the dungeon.
"Knight to H3," he murmured to himself as he pinned the crest to his robes and strode off towards the common room.