8:45pm
Thursday, April 17, 2009

The Great Hall was populated by pockets of students, chatting and carrying on.  The staff were about as well, including the Headmaster.

Knox Greyfriar had Accio'd his large chair from behind the Head Table down to shove against the end of Ravenclaw.  He was sitting across from Devlin Matthews, a sneaky winkle of a Ravenclaw.  He was known for being friendly and enterprising, although he had been caught cheating on one occasion.  Knox wasn't very sure what was going on with this one, and so he deserved some amacable attention.  Where some schoolmasters would come down hard with a ruler on budding miscreants, Knox preferred to 'know thy enemy'.  Threat a scalliwag like a scalliwag and a scalliwag he will be.

It was the idea that the only true prophecies were the self-fulfilling kind.

But all of that was far from his mind because his prize bluesmoke cigar and two housepoints were on the line, caught in the jaws of a well-executed Scheiskopf Ante Snatch.  Knox scratched his beard and squinted at his opponent.  It was unusual for a youth to be so interested in what was usually considered and old mans' game, but Devlin had certainly learned Wizard's Poker from somewhere.

At a moment, it came to him.  He slid his hand of cards back into a stack, and used it to divide the pot (a hand full of sickles, a bluesmoke cigar, and a bit of paper representing promised house points) into two piles.  He left the cards between them, and drew three more from the deck.

"Lethifold Split," he declared, the threat of losing this hand delayed for at least another turn.  "Give up half your hand or I get half the pot."

"Lethifold Split, Give up half your hand or I get half the pot."

As the headmaster concluded his turn, Devlin regarded the cards in his hand thoughtfully. Though he was frowning inwardly, the placid expression on his face managed not to slip. Instead, he pushed back so the entire bench was on two legs (nearly toppling a nearby first year in the process) and scratched his scruff thoughtfully. This was a conundrum. Not the next move, but rather, the situation. It wasn't every day that the headmaster came and sat across from you for a amicable meeting, let alone a poker game. Was he testing him? Did he suspect that the rising crime rate at the school was somehow connected to him? It was nerve wracking not knowing, but Devlin knew that breaking down was exactly what Greyfrair would be hoping for... if this was indeed a test.

So was, for that matter, cheating. Devlin liked Wizards Poker for many reasons, the ease of which you could cheat being one of them. Considering how easily rules could be invented combined with sleight of hand and bluffing meant that Dev often left the game with his pockets several pounds heavier. But with the bear of the headmaster sitting across from him, Dev was apprehensive about attempting anything. If he was indeed on thin ice, he wasn't going to sharpen his skates. Instead, he stared at his cards and tried to think of any rule that might help.

"Fair nuff..." He said amicably, as an idea dawned on him. He shuffled his cards together but didn't relinquish them. "... But the Rule of 42 states that if the top three cards equal 42 or a quotient thereof, then the previously enacted rule is moot and the player gets to draw another card..." He reached out and flipped over the top three cards, revealing a jack, a 10 of hearts and a 4 of clubs. "... 25..." he frowned slightly before adding "... Though Arithmancy states that 25 can be transformed into 2 plus 5... so you can reasonably concur that it is a seven and I get another turn." He grinned as he pulled another card from the deck and added it to his hand.

As he moved around the cards in his hand, he glanced over them at the headmaster "... So to what again do I owe this pleasure...?"

Knox eyes when wide and he sat up.  Then he laughed loudly.  "The Rule of 42! Oh, I've underestimated you, Devlin!  I've only seen wizards over the age of 100 pull out that stinker!"

The headmaster sportingly snatched up the cards the cards he'd left in the pot for the Lethifold split, which was now moot.  His eyes still twinkling at the intellectual sport of it, he proceeded to answer Devlin while Knox contemplated his next move.

"To my knowledge, you're the only student who knows how to play," the Headmaster replied, moving his Mongolian Tiger of Nines to be closer in his hand to the Circe Chocolate frog card.  He deeply wanted to get rid of his Two of Cups which was useless without a Draw Two.  "The Rule of 42, for Merlin's sake!"

"But now that you mention it, I have been thinking on something - what're you at these days?"  His gaze was still fixed on his own cards, but for just a moment he glanced up to see how his question landed. 

He scratched his jawbone, then put a finger to his lip.  While he waited for Devlin to reply, he laid down three cards, face up, all in a row.

The Mongolian Tiger of Nines, a Nine of Diamonds and The Nine of Wands.  "Empty your pockets.  Display your inventory."  He was stalling.  So what.  The Inventory of Nines was based on an old rule that required the  players to reveal their weapons - always a good move if you planned to win handsomely.  But in modern times it had evolved to represent more of a survey of the field.  What others might bet with, or merely to hassle other players.

Knox shifted in his seat and begin to do the same as he had bidden Devlin - emptying his pockets.  His wand, of course, a letter folded up.  A handful of coins in silver and bronze.  Another cigar, a pencil, a vial of whole nightshade leaves, an amulet with the Greyfriar family rune on it.  All laid out on the table in front of him.

The headmasters glee at his archaic wizarding game knowledge cracked a genuine smile on Devlin's face. Most people found his love of old board and card games, muggle and wizarding alike, bordering on odd. He never understood why though. Poker in itself was fun, but wizarding poker had all the fun of regular poker with two.. no three times the creativity and cunning! It stopped being just a game of chance and became a game of chance and mental agility. It was right up Devlin's alley. Especially when there was money and housepoints up for grabs.

The smile faltered, however, when Greyfrair casually inquired about what Devlin was "Up to". So this wasn't a mere social visit after all. He was secretly investigating Devlin's misdeeds while disguising it as a mere game of poker. Outrageous! But Dev had to give him credit, he was certainly good at it. Not that he would get any real information from Dev, but he had the gall to try, and for that Dev respected him. He smiled in a not entirely friendly way.

"Oh this and that... " He paused here as the headmaster revealed his next move and the contents of his pockets. Dev's eyes rested on the coins breifly before he managed to tear them away. Without comment, he started emptying the contents of his pockets. His wand, naturally, it's tip already bearing the marks of his most vile habit (chewing). A nearly spent pack of chewing gum, a muggle notepad with a chewed up pencil shoved in its spine,  a worn muggle wallet with a couple pictures and a lone bill, a much smaller handful of coins, a slightly bent trio of cards, a marble (tools of the trade, these last two) and a well worn poker chip dangling from a leather strap. Before he set the chip on the table, Devlin almost unconciously brought it to his lips and kissed it.

With his treasures on the table, Devlin returned to his response, "... As I was saying, I am just preparing for the next long year of filling and shaping my adolescent mind into that of a functioning member of society..." Devlin surveyed his cards and pulled out one, tossing it on the table, revealing a 10 of Diamonds  "Diamonds High... Unless you have something higher, then I can choose to replace anything in the betting pile with something from your inventory..."


(I didn't know if this included cards as well or just pocket stuff )

Knox opened his hand towards his inventory, indicating Devlin was to take his pick. Fair was fair.  He was paying more attention to Devlin's polished pageant response.

"Tell us more about that," he said fully intending to follow up on the Ravenclaw's  smartass answer, picking through his own cards for his next move.  "Functioning in society, shaping your adolescent brain, all of that."

He paused them, almost making a move, then reconsidering.

"So then, Devlin, once the mind is ship-shape, and your societal functioning has passed N.E.W.T.-level specifications.  All for the glory of the tick-mark, a job well done? Or is it for some end?  A castle to cavort in and seminars in Norse Runic Magic - those don't come cheap out in the wild.   Take advantage now, but to what end?"

Knox thought back to his own youth, but thought better of it.  He was an idiot then, and those stories would perhaps only fuel Devlin's bad ideas - and Knox suspected the guarded teenage wizards already might have too many.

"Ah!" he said smiling.  After all that deliberation he'd come up with a good move.  He laid down a card with a golden half moon on it.  "Mornington Crescent.  Seventy-five points for me.  Your move, Matthews."

"Tell us more about that, Functioning in society, shaping your adolescent brain, all of that."

Devlin had just finished switching the Bluesmoke cigar for a good portion of the coins, mostly the large ones, when Grefrairs comment made the muscles in his back tense considerably. Why did he have to be interested now? Why couldn't he have asked Devlin this back when he was in his 2nd year, so he could rattle off how he wished to be an Auror or a professor, just like everyone else. Sitting back, he instinctively ran his hand through his hair, messing the already tossled locks up more. It was a distinctly nervous gesture. He had mastered the poker face, but failed miserably at the Poker body. He just hoped the headmaster didn't notice.

"So then, Devlin, once the mind is ship-shape, and your societal functioning has passed N.E.W.T.-level specifications.  All for the glory of the tick-mark, a job well done? Or is it for some end?  A castle to cavort in and seminars in Norse Runic Magic - those don't come cheap out in the wild.   Take advantage now, but to what end?"

The digging continued and Devlin thought hard on what to reply with, pretending to read his cards in the meantime. He couldn't very well say that he was going to go around conning old women out of their hard earned galleons, or marry a rich witch just so she could meet with an untimely accident immediatly after signing the insurance papers, or... well... he couldn't tell him any of his future goals. Licking his lips, he recalled there was one profession he was once interested in that could easily satiate Greyfriars desire for information.

"Oh nothing so fancy... I am a simple enough man..." Lies, all of it, but Devlin kept his apperance scruffy for that reason "... But I must say I have always been fascinated by debate and psychology. I will most likely look into Law. Barrister or judge maybe...." He replied smoothly enough, his offhanded tone disguising his nervousness. He was thankful when Greyfriar threw down a card and changed the subject.

"Ah! Mornington Crescent.  Seventy-five points for me.  Your move, Matthews."

Devlin picked up his pack of gum and removed one, sliding the spearmint scented stick into his mouth before chomping down on it loudly, chewing in thought. His hand suffered with his last move, and he couldn't really see any decent moves to pull from there. He could have pulled a Bulgarian Hail Mary, but he had a feeling that Greyfrair was hiding some powerful cards in his hand. Instead, he discarded a 4 of Stars and drew another card from the top of the teetering pile. "... Your move...." He murmured.

Deciding that the questioning regarding his future would go no where good for him, Devlin added as an afterthought "... What about you, Sir.... Surely caring for a bunch of snot nosed brats and teenage hooligans wasn't your career of choice...."

"There's more to this job than dealing with Slytherin," Knox joked with a twinkle in his eye.

 "But to be honest, I considered Healing for a good while.  I came to find that by the time people were broken, bloody and bungled it was so often too late to help them in any lasting way.  After a good deal of thinking," (eighteen years of studying History) "I decided perhaps helping my fellows closer to the cradle than the grave would be more fruitful.  Nursery school proved to be far too much of a challenge, so I pursued my second option."

If Devlin was going to be hiding things, Knox could never fault him.  His own history was a mixture of fibs, truths and jests.  He so regretted his youthful mistakes that when he saw effective, charming young wizards like Devlin with seemingly no aim, he expected the worst.

"What's funny, Devlin, is that so much pressure is put on young people to make lasting career choices at your age.  Your brain is misshapen and your soul is still swimming around inside your chest cavity in pieces, like the ankle bones of a little baby.  How you can be expected to make life-long choices in that condition seems like a gamble.

"Speaking on that... do you have any fives?"

((Ah... >< I forgot this thread *dies*))

"I may..." He responded to the question about the fives, as he stared down at his cards. There was a conspicuous lack of fives in his hand, but wasn't bluffing the point of poker? "... If you double the house points I might be persuaded to check."

Grinning a little, smugly, Devlin pulled a toothpick from the small pack in the pocket of his shirt and placed one between his teeth. Chewing on the bit of wood, Dev turned his attention back to the topic at hand "... But as you were saying... It is a gamble. Honestly I think that teens should have at least a year or two after school to meander around and find themselves...But then, usually your parents have to have money for you to do that. My father is worthless for that...."

He went on, disregarding the fact that he was spilling dangerous emotions to the one man who could destroy everything he worked so hard for "... Which is why I have to find a way to make money as soon as I step foot from this school. It's that or starve..."

The Headmaster shrugged and put his cards down on the table for the moment.  He was using his finger to poke around through the pot.  Counting the sickles and knuts, considering the cigar, the bits of paper with house points written on them.  (It may not have been in the true spirit of what house points were for, but he was the Headmaster and he certainly had one or two he could throw around every so often, right?)

"You father can't be all bad, can he?"  Knox asked, placidly, "He taught you Wizards' Poker did he? Very paternal activity to play cards with your son."

The old Hufflepuff, of course, was childless.  After breaking with his wife all those years ago, he'd been kind of ruined on the idea of a family.  Instead, he had found great fulfillment in mentoring the younglings here at Hogwarts.  But of course, as his aunties and sisters had told him - it wasn't remotely the same as fathering your own son.  The old Hufflepfuf wouldn't hear it.   He preferred teaching to wiping bottoms and wiping noses anyday.  How fortunate was he that most first years were adept at both?

"I learned from uncles," he added.  "And my swindling cousins, who only ever played fair when it came to this game."

Greyfriar didn't notice, or at least didn't appear to notice, the effects his words had on Devlin. While he was poking around in the pot, jovially retelling how his cousins taught him the game, Devlin was staring at his cards with a face carved from stone. The temperature around him seemed to have dropped several degrees and Devlin stewed in his anger for a moment before he bit it back and swallowed it painfully. He managed, with a little difficulty, to look like he was thinking rather then stewing.

Finally, after a moment, he spoke "... My father didn't teach me. He couldn't teach a bum how to be a loser even though thats the only thing he is good at...." He took a deep breath and sighed "... No I was taught by a 7th year in my house when I first started... I think he assumed that I would be an easy mark for a few knuts..." Devlin chuckled at the memory of the boys face when he cleaned him out after only a few rounds "... Boy was he wrong."

Frowning at his cards, which were proving useless, Devlin shuffled them together and dropped them on the table " Weasley Twin Fold. I draw a new hand, you get half the pot back..." It was a sacrifice, but he wasn't about to admit total defeat. "... It helped that I spent several summers in Monte Carlo... You learn the ins and outs of cards there..." He failed to mention who taught it to him and why, but that was none of Geryfriars business anyways.

When the Headmaster looked up from the pot, he saw a different Devlin.  His guards seemed more strained and the casual, charismatic looseness he usually had about him had gone somehow icy and rigid.  He knew Devlin's father was alone raising the Matthews crew.  Knox shook his head.  What made boys detest their fathers?  Knox only knew admiration for his own.  Sure, it dimmed during his rebellious, stupid-ridden years of adolescence.  But for all his father's shortcomings, Knox admired his own father.

But he was taken more by surprise by Devlin giving up have the pot for a new hand.  Rookie move!  The old man broke out in a smile and began to divvy it up, sliding coin and cigar his way, leaving the house points up for grabs for the one who could use it.

"Well, whatever ends up for you - be it your father's path or something better - you'll need to show up for class.  It all adds up in the grand alchemy of things.  You're lucky to have a father like the one you've got.  You can see clearly where the wrong way is and you can run like hell in the other direction."

He scratched his chin.

"But then... who can know.  The future's a fog.  And... I call!" His last words were incongruous with his philosophizing.   But as he laid his cards on the table, the suits spelled his name.

King of Hearts. Nine of Wands. A zero. And a ten of rings. 

He sat back in his throne-like Headmaster's chair, feeling confident he'd taken the whelp to class.  A full 'House of Your Mother's Son' was hard to beat.

For once in his life, Devlin was silent. No remarks on the futility of attending class or the useless thing called grades. No comments about where Greyfriar could place his misguided opinion of Devlin's father. Nothing. Devlin just stared at his new hand with his hazel eyes dark and unreadable. His thoughts were elsewhere and winning the game had long since drifted from his mind. He didn't even blink when Greyfriar put down his cards, the suits forming his name like a taunt.

"But then... who can know.  The future's a fog.  And... I call!"

Devlin stared at the old school "House of the Mother's Son" blankly for a moment before looking down at his own cards. The cards were no match for this move and he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that he had let the old fool get to him and throw him off his game. There was a glimmer of admiration for the man's tactics flickering in the back of his mind, but it was quickly squelched by a sense of outrage and irritation.  He carefully arranged his cards to spell out his response and laid them on the table.

A Six of Rings, a Dunce, a Zero and a Five of Flames

"I call it the Son's Response." He said, an edge of hatred in his voice, as he managed a thin smile. Standing, he straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. "Well played, sir... Maybe next time we can talk about your father." Without adding anything else, Devlin turned and stalked off, hands deep in his pockets and a frown marring his face.