Late Afternoon, Divination Tower


Even in the Spring, it was cold up here in the mostly empty classroom. When he first arrived with a chill in his legs, Virgil had lit a fire in the hearth at the centre of the room - something leftover from the brewing of tea for a Tasseography session with the Divination Club earlier that day. An iron kettle burbled away now, floating serenely. Next to it was a jar of tea leaves ready for later. Low tables and cushions had been pushed aside so that he could take advantage of the cleared space.

Hogwarts was winding down from their two weeks of no lessons (or recovering from the mad bonfire). The seriousness of their NEWTs now took prominence, so it did not surprise the Slytherin when Schlagenweit made an appearance to go over the Tarot arts.

Virgil ignored his classmate, and continued to stand at one end of the room surrounded by miscellaneous objects strewn across the floor. Some were familiar from past Divination lessons[1] - paisley scarves, cosmetic cases, figurines. Others he had pilfered from around the castle, old books and knick knacks and a dusty pair of rain boots.

At this moment he held a plain gold ring and fiddled with it, feeling the smooth gild draw warmth from his fingers. It had been found in a heap of other odds and ends in the Room of Requirement. Virgil stared at nothing in particular before closing his eyes to feel for an emotion.

Anger. Not hateful but frustrated anger; it came through clearly just as he heard a yell coming from afar, indistinct squabble between lovers. The sound of something small and metal dropping. His mind's eye struggled to push through the veil of darkness, discerning unfamiliar features and silhouettes.

The image melted away and he opened his eyes, which had gone entirely white. Virgil made an irritated sound; the cloudiness faded, and he then delicately placed the ring in one of the piles before him. He tugged a notebook and quill from his back pocket, flipping the former open to jot down observations.

"Any predictions yet, Nostradamus?" the prefect continued to scribble away, vaguely aware of Sasha's ineffective methods on the subject. "Tall dark strangers in your future?"

1.	The Directionality & Nature of Sight - 2nd Sept 2010

In two months time, they - he - would be done with Divination!  Of all the exams Sasha would be sitting in June, that one worried him most.  Despite five years of effort, it was his only yet-unobtainable "Outstanding" (which was was no small source of frustration!). 

Sasha knew it would probably take a miracle to manage a top score on his Divination NEWT but he was also not willing to let that class to become his first, ever, failing grade. 

Over the course of the final few weeks leading up to Easter holidays, the stress of two pending sets of examinations (and lack of sleep, food and overabundance of sleep replacement draughts) had put Sasha increasingly on edge.  He'd become testy and impatient, sending more than a few first and second years scurrying from chosen table in the common room or library.  Thankfully, a little of the pressure was finally being alleviated. 

The tower was already occupied when the Ravenclaw reached the circular room.  He spared the Slytherin a brief glance and nod before surveying the array of symbolic fortune telling gadgets they'd be subjected to in two month's time.  He was quickly running out of time to perfect the fine art of opening his mind to vague, highly-interpretable  messages from ... some outer force ... wherever they came from ... It was time to resort to his tried and true methods. 

Rote memorization. 

Deck of tarot cards in hand, Sasha settled in a seat and began flipping them over onto a single discard pile one by one.  Nine of cups - "good luck," Sasha murmured as he revealed the card then set it on the discard pile.  Four of wands - "Have fun."  The chariot - "Determination."  So, combine the three and make up some vague story about having the luck to be determined about having fun.   

"Any predictions yet, Nostradamus?  Tall dark strangers in your future?" 

Sasha offered a noncommittal grunt.  "I wish," he muttered.  "I predict we're going to have exams in June."  That was what he liked about scheduled events.  They were easy to predict.  No spiritual communing required. 

The Ravenclaw glanced over at the Slytherin, caught a glimpse of the gold ring on the stack and scowled.  Had they done something with gold rings?  Was there some sort of 'interpret the light reflection' exercise.  "Zum Teufel."  Sasha rummaged in his bag for a stack of notes.  "When did we do jewelry?  Or does that fall under 'use of other objects'." 

Virgil slipped the little notebook back into his pocket, tucking the quill behind his left ear while Sasha fell into the mild panic of an academic. Lessons were easy enough if you had to memorise a textbook but a great many things in life required intuition... or at least the foresight not to jump to conclusions (the root cause of many a great classic tragedy).

The Slytherin approached his classmate's table and easily slipped on to it, folding up his lanky legs so as not to be too much in their way. He liked to sit on tables - it was higher ground, if somebody else wasn't standing, and reminded Virgil of the stage. "I was practicing psychometry," the clarification was impatient but far from sharp, "not scrying." It wasn't Schlagenweit's fault that he couldn't tell apart a forecast from a peek into history; that was impossible to casually discern.

"Do you want me to do you a reading?" Virgil picked up the tarot cards that had been discarded and began to slowly shuffle them as his gaze shifted to that of the Ravenclaw. "I can be your Diviner. Ancient Celtic method, naturally."

His shuffling quickened a bit, a harsh whisper of stiff cards. He stopped abruptly and held the stack in both hands - spindly white fingers arching at the corners. A small smile with just a touch of menace. "And you can do me next."

Sasha leaned against the back of his chair and set his notes to the side as the Slytherin encroached upon his desk, pressing a little too far into the Ravenclaw's personal space than he was perfectly comfortable with.  He draped one arm across the back of his chair (further opening up just a little more free space) and gathered up the tarot cards into a pile with one hand. 

He nodded at the correction, filing the bit of information for later revision but didn't otherwise respond.   It was admittedly taking a fair bit of effort to accept, without self deprecation, receiving a sup-optimal score in the class.  And letting the correction slip by without too much consideration was part of the practice. 

"Do you want me to do you a reading?  I can be your Diviner. Ancient Celtic method, naturally."

"I can be your Diviner.  That must be a song lyric somewhere.  If not, it should be."  That had always been his other challenge with Divination: Sasha was about as comfortable with being emotionally open as the Hulk liked being tickled.  But, just as it had for the last five years, pending exams trumped privacy and the Ravenclaw nodded.  Besides, most of what the Slytherin was likely to uncover was bound to be subjected to interpretation. 

"Sure," he agreed, lifting the cards from the table and handing them to Carstairs.  On one of his last trips to Amsterdam, Sasha had spent some time watching the flamboyantly dressed fortune tellers in one of the canals.  He couldn't help but wonder if they could come to the same conclusions that Carstairs could if the same spread was dealt. 

"Though, if you could avoid any omens of death, I'd greatly appreciate it.  I've had more than my fair share lately.  I read a message in my cereal this morning that said I'd earned a few free passes." 

            "Though, if you could avoid any omens of death, I'd greatly appreciate it.  I've had more than my fair share lately.  I read a message in my cereal this morning that said I'd earned a few free passes."

Virgil smirked, shuffling the cards once more without really looking at them while he deliberated on the presence of Sasha Schlagenweit. He could cheat. It wouldn't be hard to try and read the other boy's mind, scan for expectations and then extrapolate from there. People liked to have their suspicions confirmed.

But that would quite naturally be against the spirit of the subject.

"It isn't up to me to avoid omens," his voice was light-hearted and careless but he had stopped manipulating the Tarot. "You should request it of Fate. Or the deities of probability." Virgil held the pack dead centre in his lap, closing his eyes solemnly. He had come a long way from practicing this with Indi.

He sought the space inside himself that did not rely on external factors. An emotional free fall, abandoning trust of the senses upon which one would usually rely to derive cognisance. The closest thing he could consciously find of his Seer ability.

The Slytherin breathed in and out, and then spoke in a careful monotone. "The Celtic method demands a question before the cards are dealt..." he opened his eyes whilst turning the cards upside down, then flicked through them to find something. "You don't have to tell me what the question is but it would make my interpretation more accurate."

A pause as he drew out the Knight and Page of Rods[1]. Virgil had to choose a Significator to represent Sasha but did not know if his schoolmate was considered a Young Man or a Youth.

"Hm. Are you a virgin?" It slipped out in a businesslike fashion and he looked up from the two cards.

1.	Rods - the suit attributed to people with blonde hair and blue eyes

The Ravenclaw was tempted to point out that he would be content with not being informed of any omens, but that wasn't liable to work.  After all, he wasn’t oblivious to the meaning in the cards.  Matching the dealt cards with their associated meanings had never been the challenge. 

“Deities of probability?”  Sasha repeated, eyeing the other seventh year closely for any indication of jest or satire.  “You mean that symbolically, I presume.  Not-”  Sasha shook his head and returned his attention to the cards. 

Sasha dropped his arm from the back of his chair, his eyes shifting from the pack of cards to Carstairs and back.  Despite all his own struggles with the mastering the art, he was fascinated with Divination on a theoretical level.  Why else would he have put up with the class, otherwise?  Being good at it himself would, certainly, simplify matters but he could achieve many of his goals by observing others, instead. 

"The Celtic method demands a question before the cards are dealt.  You don't have to tell me what the question is but it would make my interpretation more accurate.”

“I don’t have any reason not to,” Sasha replied. 

From Sasha’s perspective, there were two different approaches to posing a question.  A more specific, close-ended question would provide more insight into the practice and methods of the reading; a way of highlighting the abilities and limitations.  It would focus more on the art of the reading.  A more organic, open-ended question, he assumed, would focus more on the process and the reader. 

“In these last few months at Hogwarts, what would I benefit the most from focusing on?”  And, Sasha did mean the question in terms that were broader than simply academics. 

"Hm. Are you a virgin?”

The Ravenclaw blushed slightly but nodded his head.

He snorted softly and did not deign to reply when Sasha questioned the symbolic intention of his quip - luckily realising its flippant nature. At least the Ravenclaw was trying to take this seriously. Skeptics were delicious to pull apart but Virgil preferred it when his fellow NEWT pupils were willing to set aside their personal prejudices to accomplish something worthwhile. His interest in Divination was well established.

Question posed, he nodded in approval of its phrasing before carefully setting down the Page of Rods at Sasha's admission.

Virgil smiled a little just then. Virginity as a physical concept was ridiculous but as an emotional one, he would assume it to be the barrier of maturity. At least for this session.

"Here," the pack was handed over for Schlagenweit to shuffle. "Don't forget to focus on the question."

Quiet prevailed in the tower classroom as he watched the other boy smoothly go through the usual motions, shifting the cards about before cutting them into three on to Virgil's right side. The little kettle on the fire continued its low whistling and the soft patter of rain outside joined the muted sounds of their surroundings.

A pause as Virgil considered the cut cards. "I'll begin," he warned Sasha and collected the stacks into a single pack before drawing cards out one by one. The first two covered the Significator straight and then horizontally, while other cards went in various positions around this[1].

"This covers you... crosses you, crowns you. This is beneath and this is behind." Virgil spoke softly and decisively. "This is before you." The final four cards on the right were placed in quick, wordless succession.

Finally the Slytherin looked up and drew in a deep breath. On first glance it was a jumble of information.

• (Main Issue) - KNIGHT OF CUPS [REVERSE] - Seducer unworthy of trust, examine all propositions
• (Barrier) - THE HERMIT - Meditation on meaning of life, a meeting/counsel with one who will inspire him
• (Unrealised Hope) - THE CHARIOT [REVERSE] Failure in carrying out project, litigation
•   (Foundation of subject) - THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE - Constant change, either positive renewal or misfortune
•   (Past Influence) - THE WORLD [REVERSE] - Fear of change, stagnation
•   (Future Influence) - KING OF SWORDS - An authority in medicine/law/government, brilliant and wise
•   (Subject's Attitude) - QUEEN OF RODS- Honourable woman or success in business
• (Environment/Family/Friends) - TEMPERANCE - Mature adaptation to life, individualised existence
•   (Hopes and Fears) - SEVEN OF SWORDS -Possible failure in plans and expectations
•   (Ultimate Outcome) - THREE OF SWORDS - Rupture, seperation, absence, delay

He allowed a moment for Sasha to consider the cards, and then held his own hands above them. His fingertips tingled like insect wings were beating against them. To him this meant there was something genuine in this order.

"You have been examining all prospects in regards to what can benefit you." Virgil closed his eyes, frowning gently. "Your introspection and analysis of each is what stops you from making a decision. It is possible you don't want to succeed. Perhaps you are not used to success?" he tilted his head slightly like he could see Sasha from behind his eyelids. "Historical precedence is not hopeful. It is erratic, anxious. You will seek advice from somebody in a position of power."

A short silence followed in which Virgil thought about the last few cards and tried to ascertain their legitimacy in this reading. He breathed out in understated frustration. "Your precociousness and good manners won't help. You do not truly expect success, whatever it is you choose to focus on, and success will not find you unless it is too late."

The Slytherin opened his eyes, which were unusually clear now. His frown eased. "Does that help?"

1.	Reference - Ancient Celtic Method

Even before the deck of cards was in his hands, Sasha’s mind was delving into a myriad of logistical questions.  What, exactly, did focusing on the question accomplish and would the results be discernibly different if he focused on something different?  Or nothing at all?   These diversionary curiosities were nothing new.  Not two weeks before break, their class had discussed how different water samples could influence one’s scrying.  He could see how the salinity of sea water could increase the water’s density and make the light patterns change slower but was the difference significant enough to change how one might interpret an event or person?   

When it had come time to practice, Sasha had struggled to keep his mind from darting down mental rabbit holes whenever he was supposed to be focusing on the lights and shadows shifting on the water’s surface.  He'd managed to put together a cohesive interpretation by the end of class, but it had definitely lacked depth. 

He’d managed, for a brief moment, to shift his thoughts squarely on the appointed question.  But like rats scurrying back to their burrows when a cellar door flies open, Sasha’s thoughts darted reflexively back to logistical considerations as the cards were turned up on the table.  Did thought and intention actually influence the placement of the cards as they were shuffled or was it all complete chance?  If they shuffled and laid out a new deal, would the overlying message still be the same?  If the dealt cards were omitted from the deck for the second deal, would the deck … or his energy … or this deity of probability … still find a way to convey the same information?  All questions that were much cozier destinations than the questions raised by the dealt cards. 

But, those cozy rat hole thoughts wouldn’t help him on his NEWTs.  With a slight sigh of frustration, Sasha turned his attention back to the cards, their positions and meanings. 

There were more than a few indicators of failed plans, changes or other upheaval in one form or another.  Not an optimistic thought this close to examinations.  Though, weren’t those…as Sasha glanced over the spread, it seemed most of those cards gravitated towards the aspirational positions.  And, change seemed a given.  They were months away from graduating and Sasha had spent the last 13 years of his life at boarding school. 

Knight of cups - untrustworthy seducer.  There certainly was an obvious explanation there and he had come to hope that, at least for now, it was a non-issue.  Unless, Sasha was overlooking something - or someone - else and he hadn't recognized it.  In which case, that could be anyone.  It could even be indicating himself.  Which could only help to make someone paranoid. 

The rest of the spread, from his initial overview, only made sense as individual cards.  Taken as a group, in their respective positions, they seemed disjointed and convoluted.  There certainly were no significant women in his life - of any repute.  Unless one counted his grandmother.  Overall, it was about as helpful as a fortune cookie.

At the sound of Carstairs’ voice, Sasha looked up from the cards.  His brow furrowed and his gaze slowly fell once more to the cards.  The rats were diving for cover, again.

There were plenty of things people might suspect of him.  But, not wanting to be successful?  He’d spent the last … he wasn’t sure he could identify when he'd first been driven towards towards success.  Gerhard had been unrelenting.  He could see someone making a point for him not expecting success.  But, not wanting it?

But, as usual, when Sasha spoke, his focus had shifted decisively back to the process and logistics.  “When you closed your eyes, were you just considering what you had already seen,” he gestured towards the spread of cards.  “Or, did you - was there something more?”  Something that he wouldn’t have gathered from simply looking at the cards. 

Or, put slightly differently. 

“If I were someone else, but the same spread was laid out, would your-“  He didn’t really know what to call it.  Mystical message seeking?  Divining?  that probably made sense.  “Might you have concluded something different?” 

As easily as flicking a switch, Virgil let the walls in his mind dissolve once he had delivered the prediction - and what had been an incomprehensible background murmur now spilled forward from the other wizard's mind, a flood jolting past a broken dam. His eyes narrowed a shade as Sasha's thoughts flipped over the different aspects of what had been said. An active mind but something like a tunnel mind as well.

The allusions to success clearly hit some manner of sore spot. Schlagenweit was all about success... but the cards said what they said.

"I was trying to sense which facet of the cards would ring true to you." Virgil answered with a shrug and plucked one of the words from his classmate's consciousness, "They each have multiple meanings and not all can be simultaneously useful to a Divining."

He glanced down at the cards and reached for the tenth one, lean fingers sliding it off the table. "If you were someone else then you would have shuffled the cards differently and your question might have been a different one," the prefect stared at the Three of Swords and swiped his thumb across the pierced heart. "This isn't a science experiment, you know. You can't replace specific variables without changing the layout altogether."

His fingers tingled again. He handed the damning card over to Sasha: he held it out like an offering. Perhaps there had been misinterpretation? A rupture rather than a delay? It wasn't as if his Divinings were always accurate.

"Think of it as a story. You can hypothesise, for example, what would change if we plucked Hamlet from Denmark and placed him in Othello's Venice as its protagonist. But then it is no longer Othello." Virgil smiled indolently and leaned back on his hands, form splayed out on the table but for his crossed legs. "What is your idea of success anyway? Your question was about benefit, but benefit to what end?"

The notion crept into his skull and rapidly took root, causing Virgil to think about how fickle Divination could be. "Sometimes the tarot answers the question it thinks you should have asked. I might be a Seer but there's no telling how that part of it works."

The Ravenclaw took the extended card between two fingers and turned it over, looking at both sides as if examining a coin.  He had no problem seeing how unlikely it was that, if the cards were dealt once more for someone else, the spread would be different.  Basic probability would ensure that.  But, that wasn't exactly what Carstairs was getting at. 

His implications were that Sasha had had some subconscious influence over the placement of the cards when they were shuffled.  “So, basically, butterfly effect,” Sasha summarized after the story analogy.  “Except, the same reasoning could apply if a factor other than the character was changed.” 

A topic they’d discussed in class many times before, but Sasha still had a hard time wrapping his head around.  It still didn’t make sense but he doubted that that would in June.  Performing, interpreting and ‘feeling’ the cards was likely what they'd be focusing on during their NEWTs.  The testers would likely be less concerned about their ability to explain the nuances of how shuffling puts the cards in their resulting order.  Even if, from a personal standpoint, the other question was the one that really interested the Ravenclaw. 

“Success is the attainment of a goal,” Sasha answered.  “At the same time, it’s a pitfall.  Striving for a goal fosters motivation but one can always strive for greater.  If your goal is anything but being at the top, success is another word for complacency.”  After a few seconds, Sasha cocked a grin and shook his head.  “Aren’t family mantras the best?” 

“What were you sensing,” he asked.  Just as quickly, he rephrased the question.  “Not - not what you just answered.  I mean, what did you sense?  What were you experiencing that made you think you were sensing the right or wrong thing?  What was happening to you?"

          "Except, the same reasoning could apply if a factor other than the character was changed."

Virgil shrugged, neither here not there, and unfolded himself to slip off the table. It wasn't difficult to explain what he meant - in fact it was easy now that they had been through years of defining or redefining Divination concepts - but something about Schlagenweit refused to yield. The Slytherin stepped over to the classroom fire to extinguish it, charming the kettle up to pour a bit of hot water into his jar of tea leaves.

The scent of lightly smoked black tea, almost vanilla, permeated the air.

"Any factor can be changed to different result but the fact is, every element in the chronology of our lives lead up to one moment - and then the next and the next, in a specific order that is rarely unalterable." Virgil brought his drink back to their table, setting it down and perching himself on the ledge this time. "You can never repeat and isolate the moment to change a different factor."

Unless one had a time-turner of course... but even then, the cards would adjust or any Diviner would claim it had already been taken into account.

Sasha's definition of success was dull. Virgil was starting to think that perhaps the Tarot was right. Perhaps the Ravenclaw didn't really want to succeed, because who would really want to live so comprehensively?

He sipped his tea quietly, frowning a bit at the way the question was being phrased and rephrased. What was happening to him? That was an odd way to approach Sight, as a force that exacted itself on you.

"It's... instinct? I feel," Virgil raised his free hand into the air and danced his fingers over an imaginary piano. "Tingling, but not quite.  It's like when you know someone is lying; subconsciously, you pick up on the little tells and expressions. And I trust that feeling."

Pausing, he put down the tea and glanced towards the windows. The rain was coming down harder. "Visions are less gentle, they hit you and you have to roll along with it. Mine, anyway."

Virgil looked away from the rain as his frown disappeared, a sardonic little smile taking its place. "Take my reading with a grain of salt if you must. Your success sounds like a fool's quest to me," he began to collect the cards from the reading - drawing out The Fool dramatically.

"Il Matto[1]. Or as I like to call him, The Madman."

1.	Typically in Italian decks, which are popular.

“It sounds a lot like faith.  Prayer.”  Sasha shook his head and leaned back in his chair.  If a reading was that sensitive to changes, then it could never be repeated.  Which meant that it would be difficult to verify the meaning or validity of a reading.  It was what you interpreted and chose to put your beliefs behind.  A skeptic could dismiss the information and, by virtue of their own dismissal, ignore or overlook any relevance the reading might have. 

Sasha wasn’t a skeptic.  He honestly didn’t know what, exactly, it was with him and Divination.  It wasn’t a lack of effort; Eamonn had once tried to explain to Sasha that too much effort could sometimes be a hinderance.  He just couldn't make it work. 

“At this point, it’s safe to say it’s an instinct I don’t have.”  The Ravenclaw shook his head.  “Guess it’s lucky I’m not planning on having it be my day job.  I just need to survive exams.  As long as the testers can’t magically figure out if I’m tingling anywhere, I should be good.” 

The Ravenclaw quickly shook his head as Carstairs withdrew the Fool, glancing from the card to the Slytherin and back.  “I’m not dismissing or distrusting the reading.  Please don’t take it as that. It’s - mystifying and uncomfortable and sometimes a bit…”  Vulnerable, was how the sentence ended in his head.  But, if Sasha really simply dismissed what they’d learned in this class, he would have dropped it years ago.  “That’s just a topic I haven’t quite separated what I believe from what was sixteen years of familial has taught me.  I’m sorry.  I do appreciate you trying to help.” 

“Visions sound less than pleasant.  Are they, you know, useful at least?  Or, are they random and vague?”  Sasha had absolutely no experience to go off of, as the last few minutes had thoroughly suggested, but nothing Carstairs described sounded pleasant. 

His smile, usually a sharp and patronising affair, softened a little when Sasha observed that the act of divining was similar to faith. It was. And faith was difficult to have - moreso difficult in wizarding society, perhaps, where all manner of wonders were visible to the naked eye. How does one trust what one cannot see?

Or in his classmate's case, feel?

             “I’m not dismissing or distrusting the reading... It’s - mystifying and uncomfortable and sometimes a bit…” 

Without meaning to, Virgil caught the tail-end of the sentence finished in Sasha's mind. Vulnerable. He glanced into his tea to distract himself while the other boy continued, and to breathe in the rich fumes. Smokey and sweet. A burnt vanilla.

"It's fine. It wouldn't matter even if you did distrust it," the Slytherin set his mug aside and leaned back to rest on his hands, stretching his lazy spine with a satisfied hum. "That's between you and the-" a vague gesture to the air around them, "- the powers that be, or whatever we call them."

Clearly Schlagenweit was trying to give Divination the benefit of the doubt, and that was all they could really ask of people who did not naturally have the gift of Sight.  An open mind.

Virgil narrowed his eyes at his schoolmate, not quite glaring. Visions were still uncertain things to him that would drop by unexpectedly or if incited by another's ability. "I don't know. I had... I had one[1] when we were taken, in February. Maiko was scrying for us. That was useful, to know we could be reached. It gave me hope. I wouldn't call it unpleasant, circumstances aside. It was simply beyond my direct control."

He rubbed a hand over his face, and then through his hair as he shook it out like a cat trying to wake up.

"I have to experiment with different mediums and triggers, to understand more about it." Virgil observed the tarot cards briefly, attention then shifting back to Sasha. "Not cards, anyway. Do you want to try to read me now?"

1.	This Could be Hell, We Could be Dead - 14th Feb

"That's between you and the powers that be, or whatever we call them.”

Sasha grinned, again, shaking his head.  “I guess that does explain a fair bit.”   

He’d been having some permutation of this conversation longer than he’d known he was a wizard.  Like many of his classmates, as a child he’d been susceptible to the uncontrolled magical ‘hiccups’ brought on by strong emotions.  He’d learned quickly to limit them by keeping his emotions carefully under control, but without any reference for their occurrences, he’d turned to the safest and most logical person who might understand unexplainable phenomena: their church’s priest. 

In retrospect, Sasha suspected he’d committed some breach in the Statute of Secrecy but, at the time, he didn’t even understand what he was discussing, let alone consider whether there was any sort of statute. 

Sasha gathered up the cards and gave them a preliminary quick shuffling.  “I can see how that would be helpful,” he said.  If he’d had the ability to connect with someone on the outside during his own incident, it could have made a difference.  “Perhaps not as helpful as forewarning."

After straightening the cards with a few taps on the table, Sasha handed them over to Castrairs for true shuffling.  “I suppose, given the circumstances, it would be insensitive to ask if you’d be interested in participating in some research.  Highly non-invasive, of course, and potentially well-compensated."

Virgil laughed once, softly, at the measure of his vision's helpfulness. It had exhibited his sensitivity as a Seer but hadn't really been an apt example of looking into one's future - one day he might be better at that. What scope and reason there was to Divination could only do so much; it was an art of unpredictable tendencies.

The Slytherin accepted the cards from his classmate and began to shuffle them. His fingers moved quickly and with the skill of one who could perform a good sleight of hand.

            “I suppose, given the circumstances, it would be insensitive to ask if you’d be interested in participating in some research.  Highly non-invasive, of course, and potentially well-compensated."

A corner of Virgil's mouth turned up sardonically. A sharp light entered otherwise listless eyes. He began to cut the pack of cards into three piles to his left, for Sasha to collect and draw from.

"You're going to have to sell it better than that," he pointed out and then dropped his voice down to the timbre closest to Sasha's usual one. "It won't hurt and I'll pay you, is all you're saying now. But I don't need money and I don't mind pain."

He scooted back slightly on the table to give the other student space to set out the cards so that they could both examine what the fates had to offer. The rain outside fell heavier than it had a moment ago but it was the winds that made a noise, this high up in the castle.

"It's a good thing you're rich because you'd make an awful businessman." Virgil continued, sighing theatrically and then clicking his tongue. "Sell the research. If the research were interesting, the other things wouldn't matter as much. What's it about?"