Sunday, October 16 at 9pm
The Leaky Cauldron

"Long-fingered witch, full run," Figaro declared and laid seven cards on the table, including a Morgana and a black cat.

"Illegal! Give us a button," declared Batsheba.

"It's fair if he has a water card left in his hand. Have you got one, young man?" asked Quin, leaning over to peek.

"Porky pies! Grimwold's rules changed that, or are you too young for that, Quin?" retorted Celestine tapping the table.

"I'm not giving my last button," Figaro and put his hands under the table protectively. "You sly old witch, I think you're trying to get me naked."

The three witches burst out in mirthful peals of laughter. Figaro was tying to take his mind off everything that had been going on so had come round to the Leaky Cauldron between shifts at the Daily Prophet. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but he'd managed to infiltrate a witches' poker coven. They liked him because he was polite, adorable, and cheeky.

"He's onto us!" cackled Celestine.

"You old horny bat, bollocks on Grimwold - I'm impeding." Quin laid down three water cards, kissing each one in turn. "Now he keeps his button!"

"And how much will that cost me?" Figaro said with mock scandal.

More laughter from the three old witches.

Figaro was far outmatched by Batsheba, Quin, and Celestine who'd of course been playing since the war of 1812 where they'd learned to play while disguised as male muggle sailors in Admiral Nelson's armada. Or so they claimed. The story seemed to change every time. Last time, they'd learned in Chicago speakeasys during muggle American prohibition. But, under their haranguing tutelage and backhanded reprimands he was taking to the game better than he expected. It was a welcome distraction.

They played around another hand and Figaro managed to gain a Galleon more than he started with - for a moment. Celestine called Pockets and transfigured it into a walnut. Well, shit. Was that permanent?

"Don't look now, but someone's staring at our Fig." Bathsheba whispered and nodded at someone near the bar.

"Oh, dear, you're in trouble now. Should we turn him into a frog so he can hide in my wig?" suggested Celestine.

"I knew that thing was a syrup!" cried Quin, knocking her knuckles on the table.

Fig turned to see who it was.

---

Wizards Poker

Sasha hadn't been staring at Figaro, exactly, but more at the happenstances at the table as a whole.  Yes, a familiar face had initial captured his attention, but it had been his minds' attempt to follow the seemingly nonsensical rules of the game that had held it.  At best, Sasha had surmised that the game was a wizarding card game equivalent of Calvinball[1]: a basic premise had been agreed upon and, from there, all bets were off. 

But, his curiosity hadn't gone unnoticed.  One of the witches had called attention to Sasha and drawn the former Hufflepuff's glance in his direction.  From outward appearances, the trio of witches seemed to be twittering with excitement about the development and Sasha was experiencing a touch of withdrawal after two weeks isolated at a muggle university. 

It could be amusing company, if nothing else.  And, it felt like it had been ages since he'd seen Figaro.

Sasha picked up his drink and, after straightening the cuffs of his wizard robes, crossed over to Fig and the Witches.  "Any objections to my joining you, ladies?" Sasha asked, nodding politely to each of the witches in turn and pulling out a chair when there were no objections. "Have you felt the subtle sprinkling of salt," Sasha whispered to Figaro as he got settled.  "They look ready to eat you."

"Who seems to be winning, so far?" he asked the table as a whole.

1.	Calvinball primer

The coven - Quin, Celestine, and Batsheba - were delighted when the tall, tidy young man asked to join and there was a shuffle of seats and a titter of arguments about where he should sit.

Celestine and Batsheba won out and tucked Sasha between them.

Figaro smirked at Sasha's quiet comment. He had suspected that early, but so far all they wanted to do was make him eat more and smack him in the head when he made an illegal or silly play.

"Aunties, this is Sasha, the oldest eighteen-year-old I've ever met. Sasha meet my entourage, Knives, Madam Darkness, and George. "

That ignited more commentary, but shortly they got around answering Sasha's question.

Quin: "I am winning of course."

Celestine: "Only because you haven't got a clue what's in my hand!"

Quin: "Only because I always win."

"I've got a walnut," Figaro declared, holding it up. He had no idea its big value - was it worth more than it had been as a Galleon? He had no idea.

"You know how to play, Sasha," Figaro asked. He realized he had absolutely no idea if Old Man Schlagenweit had ever played. He was old enough, but he was also sort of extremely muggle.

Sasha cast Figaro an amused grin as he settled into his allocated seat between the two witches.  Now this - this was familiar turf.  He'd spent the majority of his early life training to charm and impress strangers.  Sure, those strangers had generally been the acquaintances and business associates of Gerhard Schlagenweit's social circle, rather then a trio of excitable witches, but the underlying principles were still the same. 

Muggle or wizard, the tactics were universal.  Only the details and tools changed.

Sasha arched a curious eyebrow back at Figaro, trying to surmise if the designation of Aunties was genuine or in play.  Asking, of course, would spoil the mystique of the act so he turned his attention to the next opportunity for flattery.  Especially given the flurry of reactions that Figaro's introductions produced.

"Come, now, Figaro.  I hardly believe that to be the case.  Those are far too inelegant of names for such delightful young witches.  Please, how would you like me to address you fine ladies?" he asked, once more making eye contact with each of them in turn.  He'd almost forgotten how fun this could be.

Given the way they squabbled over winning, Sasha suspected they could very well be sisters.  Triplets, even.  Surely, triplet witches must have some sort of weird, superstitious significance in the wizarding world. 

"A walnut?" Sasha repeated, trying not to laugh as he glanced towards Figaro.  Thankfully, the round, brown nut he was holding in his hand confirmed he'd been speaking literally. 

Regrettably, Sasha shook his head.  "I'm afraid, I don't.  But, I can certainly try to pretend, if you can tolerate some lousy strategy and self-sacrifice."  He knew, from his initial observations that the game was bound to be far more complex then he could pick up in a mere few minutes of education.  But, at the same time, he certainly didn't need to worry about loosing anything in the process. 

"What's the ante?" he asked, digging in his pocket.  "And, any chance you might go easy on a newbie?"

Figaro had to shrug and smile. He was going to be unseated as the coven's favorite if he didn't up his game. The witches coo'd and fussed and preened in dramatic comedy when Sasha asked their names.

"I'm Quin, and these are Celestine and Batsheba, but I think you should call them Knives and George."

"I hardly think I'm a George!" - Celestine

"What a good lad. Figaro take notes! - Batsheba

"Absolutely not! He's a good lad, too, if he is a little dim." - Celestine

Celestine got smacked by the other two. "Rude!" "Old bat!"

Figaro took up the deck and filled up everyone's hands and set up Sasha with a half-dozen cards of his own. But suddenly he stopped and covered Sasha's cards with his hand, flat on the table.

"You did not just say that..."

There was a moment of shocked silence and suddenly everyone started talking at once and both Celestine and Batsheba began swatting as Sasha. It was hard to tell who was saying what!

"Go easy! Does he think we play for knuts! Who raised you! We should cut off our fingers and serve them in a jelly! Figaro you shouldn't associate with this one! Bad influence! Tosser!"

"Oi!" Figaro laughed and tried to fend them off. "He didn't know! He's a very nice boy, I swear! He has a lot of money!"

Sasha nodded to each of the witches, doing his best to commit the trio of names to memory.  Quin was easy to remember.  He shouldn't have too much trouble with Celestine, either.  But, it'd be a miracle if he got Batsheba right on the first try.  It was like Sheba the cat food and bat.  Bat and Sheba the cat food. 

As long as he didn't include 'food,' he should be fine. 

Sasha started to pick up his cards, but was thwarted mid-gesture by Figaro's hand.  It was the first, subtle hint that he'd said the wrong thing. 

His socialite training had failed him; cultural differences had gotten the better of him, clearly. 

Fig's subtle warning was quickly followed by the witches' much less subtle objection.  As Sasha ducked his head and closed his eyes against the swatting, he was certain there were more hands batting around him than there were witches and arms that could account for them. 

"It was merely a question, not a demand," Sasha tried to point out, mid-swat.  Assuming Fig knew his way around this trio better then he did, Sasha followed his lead about money and being able to keep pace.  "And, certainly not an effort to weasel my way out of betting my fair share.  Just, perhaps, move slower."  Hell, he didn't even know enough to know if playing slower would even be advantageous.  "And," what had really been his goal, "maybe don't hex me if I make an innocent mistake."

To prove his, and Figaro's point, Sasha fished his coin purse out of his pocket and dropped it on the table with a chlunk. 

Tentatively, Sasha drew his cards to the edge of the table and picked them up.  Nestled between his more standard clubs and hearts was a Hanged Man from a Tarot deck and a troll from a deck Sasha had never seen before. 

He cast a quizzical glance across the table at Figaro and sucked on his front teeth, briefly.  Now what?

The coven relented at Figaro's request but mostly at Sasha presenting his coin. They began tittering backhanded but well-meant apologies.

"Figaro will help you. Then you'll have no unfair advantage," said Batsheba gently patting Sasha's arm.

Figaro took the jab at his prowess in stride and laughed a little. He didn't know where to begin!

"You know muggle Poker? It's like that with a thousand more rules because old people are bored and mad. But yea, we'll put something in the middle start of each hand, go around and make bets, change cards, and play hands. Do you know any hands?"

Figaro narrowed his eye in thought. "I mean matching cards are good. Usually. Not trolls. Shit. You'll sort it out."

It was a game best learned by doing, at least that's how Figaro had learned. You could buy books on the rules but it was considered a bit posh.

Figaro started them off, and put his walnut in the center as an ante.  The other three witches did so as well, with antes usually being a few sickles, but Celestine ante'd one of her cards, a Perthro rune card. Once Sasha had ante'd up, the players started changing out cards in the deck, seemingly out of turn.

Fig discarded two, face-up. A four of diamonds and a Welsh green dragon. Then he dug in his pocket for a pair of sickles.

"Two sickles," he declared.

Celestine did the same, Batsheba lit her wand and set her whole hand of card on fire, and Quinn elbowed Sasha.

"Your turn," Figaro prompted, watching Sasha closely. He hoped he was having fun. Fig preferred people have a good time and he knew Sasha was prone to, well, being Sasha. The man deserved a night off.

"We weren't really a Poker playing family," Sasha admitted, with a bemused grin.  He knew the basics of muggle poker from various forms of entertainment and his friends' attempt to play the game as nine-year-olds, but that probably wasn't worth a whole lot right now.  "But, I'm a pro at Sabacc[1] and Magic the Gathering, so I'll figure it out." 

"Ooo.  Are you part of a gathering?" Batsheba asked with a slightly unnerving amount of interest.  In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best of muggle references to use, in present company. 

Sasha closed out the initial ante, matching the sickles that had already been presented, and wishing he was a bit more mouse-like when it came to keeping odds and ends in his pockets.  Having such a trait might be worth the clutter if it meant losing a walnut rather then a galleon.  (Little did he know the true identity of that walnut.)

He watched, carefully, as the witches and Figaro tossed discarded cards on the table and added to the betting pool.  He tried to identify some patter or rhyme and reason to why different cards were tossed aside but could find none. 

"This will start you all off nicely," Quin offered with a smug grin as she set a three of cups and a joker down on the table.  With that, Figaro turned to Sasha.

"My turn," he acknowledged, casting Figaro a dubious grin.  "So, how many opportunities do we have to discard?" he asked.  All he knew was he didn't, currently, have any matching cards and he did have a troll.  Fig hadn't specified whether all trolls were bad or just when they were in matching sets but Sasha didn't have any better ideas for strategy. 

He discarded the troll, a five of clubs and a king of hearts face up, as Fig had done, and picked up the three replacement cards.  "And, just to make this interesting-" he didn't have any nuts or berries or buttons in his pocket, but he did have a spattering of leftover coins from his summer of worldly travels.  He set down a pair of bronze coins from his trip down to New Zealand and sat back in his chair.

Batsheba seemed to take delight at his offering and patted his arm with a simper.  "You're doing excellent.  Keep at it."

Whether he was doing excellent for her or himself, she didn't specify. 

"Is this what you've been up to since leaving the stony walls of our youth behind?" Sasha asked Figaro.  Somehow, it wasn't that surprising. 

1.	Version of poker from Star Wars

Fig watched Sasha carefully take a few actions, keeping an eye on the witches who he knew could pounce on him for a rules violation at any moment. For the moment they seemed satisfied.

"So, how many opportunities do we have to discard?" asked Sasha.

"Depends?" responded Figaro with an apologetic shrug. That was almost always the answer.

"I think you're done for now, though," he guessed. He only knew the rules about two months or so longer than Sasha, and about ninety years less than their companions. He was sure there was some trump or counter that granted more privileges in the deck.

Sasha's ante of foreign coins seemed acceptable to the coven as they made no comment. Fig had to be impressed - Sasha hadn't been smacked once.

Whap!

Figaro earned his own smack on the back of the head from Celestine.

"Delay of game! Thinking of a lost love? Bet!"

It didn't hurt. Figaro grinned. "Alright alright!"

He added a few more sickles to the pot to match Sasha's addition, then laid down three of his own cards: a constellation, a centaur rampant, and a kraken.

"Who taught him that one!" laughed Quin as she was apparently compelled to give one of her cards in hand directly to Fig. "Figaro, who taught you that?"

"Not telling!"

Play continued around and Figaro had a moment to answer Sasha's question.

"I mean, yea. My work schedule's all over the place so I barely see anybody.  Went out with Moira a few weeks ago. Seen Virg around. But this lot's bearable company when they're not trying to transfigure me into something or take all my buttons."

Depends didn't really help Sasha feel like he had any idea what he was doing, beyond tossing cards randomly on the table.  But, the company was entertaining and the drink was good, so what did it really matter? 

He caught a sly wink from Celestine as she took a sip of her drink before the witch proceeded to wollop Figaro upside the head.  Reflexively, Sasha couldn't resist raising a hand and running his fingers over his head, just in case his own hair had somehow fallen out of place in sympathy or solidarity. 

"No need, no need.  It's fiiiine" chided Batsheba, firmly grasping Sasha's hand and setting it back down on the table with a strength Sasha didn't anticipate from the wrinkled, bony hands. 

"Delay of game! Thinking of a lost love? Bet!"

"Were you?" Sasha couldn't help but ask as he glanced across at Figaro with a slight grin.  Not that he doubted the witches were just giving him a hard time to give him a hard time.  His question did seem to spark some mild interest in Quin who leaned a little closer to Figaro.  But, even as he did, something very strange happened.  Fig set down a trio of cards and Quin handed over a card, demonstrating no shortage of interest and dismay. 

He was tempted to ask, but decided the question would be better served when they were no longer in the company of the three witches.  However, he'd have to try this whole strange card combination routine.  Just to see what happened. 

Sasha turned back to the play but couldn't avoid grinning at Figaro's answer to his question.  "You sound so industrious," he admitted, what with the busy work schedule.  How, exactly, was Figaro making Sasha feel ... not lazy, but ... as if he should be doing something more.  "Well, my schedule is pretty flexible so if you're ever looking to hang out-"  he tossed out.  Somehow, he'd ended up with more free time on his hands then he'd ever, really, remembered having. 

"Are we invited, too?" Batsheba asked, stirring an excited round of chit chat about various possible activities.  Not all of which sounded all that appealing to Sasha.  Until, at least, Sasha decided on his next move.

As if someone had switched off a radio, the chatter was cut short when Sasha discarded his Hanged Man and his recently acquired red ehwaz on the table. 

"Were you?" Sasha had asked.

Figaro mouthed 'no' with shake of his head and furrowed brow, a performance his intended to be ambiguous between sincere and Doth Protest Too Much.

A bit later, Sasha's compliment about Figaro's 'industriousness' was well received - Fig hadn't expected what was high praise from Sasha. Between the two, it was Sasha who was always busy and moving forward. Although, if Sasha knew the details of Figaro's work he might not think so. But that would have been status quo and not at all a slight. The catching up continued and it felt to Fig that things were back to normal, like back at school. A comforting thought.

But all of a sudden the witches fell silent. Which had never happened in Figaro's recollection. Quin stared at the cards, Celestine was staring at Sasha, and Batsheba was staring at Quin. Figaro glanced between all four. Um.

For the long seconds that passed, Figaro couldn't tell what Sasha had done. Had he done something wrong or had he done something right?

         Batsheba was the first to speak. "Quin! Why is that card in my deck! Are you trying to get us all cursed!?"

         Celestine: "It's not even a legal play! You can't pair those two."

         Quin: "I did not! And how was he supposed to know? What are the changes, anyway!"

         Batsheba: "It wouldn't have happened in the first place if you had thrown out that Hanged Man when I told you to!"

         Quin: "I won it fair and square!"

Figaro gave Sasha an 'I have no bloody idea' look.

"Oi." He tried interrupting the witches argument which was now past and ado and approaching a din.

"Oi! What's wrong? What'd he do?" He raised his own voice to yelling. Only then did the witches seem to remember he and Sasha were there.

         Celestine: "Doesn't matter! Not a legal play!"

         Batsheba: "It is! You can play the Hanged Man with anything."

         Quin: "It's the Hanged Man, Figaro. Some old hedgewitches believe it's a cursed card. That harm befalls any table who plays it. But I say porky pies! It's my! I won it!"

         Batsheba: "Because he died!"

         Quin: "He was already dead!"


Um, what? Figaro hadn't ever heard of actually dangerous plays, and this is the first he'd heard of Quin having the cards of a dead man.

"So what do we do?"

The three witches stared at him. Quin, looking stubborn. Batsheba looking annoyed. Celestine with pity.

Silence.  Then, mass confusion. 

Sasha blinked and sat back in his chair, even sliding back from the table if only to take himself out of the crossfire as the witches set to fussing about cards, fates and dead wizards.  Glancing, helplessly, across at Figaro seemed to confirm Sasha didn't just make some obvious, stupid rookie error. 

Figaro looked as clueless as he felt. 

"I can-" Sasha tried to interject.  "What if I just-"  If it had been such a troublesome move, he could just pick the cards back up and play another hand.  Or, he could forfeit the turn.  Or, the whole hand and his wager for all he cared.  He'd started to reach for the cards but Batsheba sharply whacked his hand. 

Somehow, Figaro managed to catch their attention but they just grew quiet, again, and stared at him.

"Look, I'm sure it's just a superstition," Sasha said, partly to break the silence and partly for his own benefit.  The witches slowly turned their stare from Figaro to Sasha. 

Finally, Batsheba broke their silence with an ominous pat on Sasha's arm and a knowing, "if I were you, I'd pay a visit to the hag with the herb shop down Knockturn.  Especially if you start to experience odd occurrences."

"Like blind cats," Quin offered. 

Sasha grinned at Figaro, certain the other would return the grin in an unspoken acknowledgement that this was all the craziness of old ladies.  Perhaps he was too much of a muggle, but he'd never been one to buy into superstitions.  "I think Fig meant something a little more short term.  I mean, what if I just take the hanged man back and - maybe - the curse will just stay with me?"

After a short pause, Celestine frowned and nodded, perfectly conversationally.  "I don't see why not." 

          Quin: "If you're agreeing to take it on your head."

          Batsheba: "Best take the Hanged Man with you to the hag" Again, the witch patted Sasha's arm as he shrugged at Figaro and picked up the Hanged Man, slipping it into his coat pocket. 

"I'll just put down this instead and - how about two simple sickles."  He was going to avoid any oddball moves for the time being, so put a simple three of hearts down next to the rune card. 

"Excellent.  Your turn, Figaro." Quin prompted, seemingly back to normal.

What the hell just happened?  Stranger than the row over the cursed card, stranger than the apparently common knowledge Quin killed a man, was that Sasha had managed to diffuse it all. Would wonders ever cease?

Figaro, son of Sellaphixes, knew better than to write off curses as superstition and knew better than to put a dead man's card in his pocket. But Sasha was Sasha and everyone but Fig had apparently moved on.

"Right, then. I fold. Who wants another drink?"

He had enough coin left to buy the round, and he had enough buttons left on his trousers so they's stay up on the walk to the bar.

The witches all waved him off, teased him about having taken all his money (even unable to keep hold of a walnut), and declared their intentions to disappear into the night.  They finished out their hand and the winnings in the pot were doled out according to the rules.

Pats on the head, kisses on cheeks, and fare-the-wells came upon both of the young wizards. For Figaro there were orders that he stay sweet, be good to his mum, and eat more. For Sasha, their new favorite, they sprinkled a powder on his shoulders, warned him again about blind cats, and suggested he put his affairs in order.

"Good night lovelies!" they called as they moved to the door. They almost seemed to float under their voluminous robes, chattering and laughing all the way.

Figaro and Sasha were left at the table. 

"What'd you end up with, other than a horrible death waiting around any corner. Any moment. Any day."

He drummed his fingers on the table.

The rest of the round seemed to pass without further incident, for which Sasha was incredibly grateful.  As the trio of witches declined Figaro's offer readied themselves to leave, Sasha had pushed himself to his feet and offered polite pecks on the cheek and good evenings all while graciously accepting their doomsday preening. 

Wisely, Sasha waited until the door had closed securely behind the witches before pinching a little of the unknown powder off his shoulder and rubbing it, with a half-curious grimace. 

He was in the midst of wiping his fingertips on his trouser legs when Figaro asked about his remaining hand.  With a carefree and amused grin, Sasha shook his head.  "Apart from the two diamonds I played at the end, a jack of spades, some weird suit-less queen and I think some sort of mushroom.  So, how long have you been playing with that lot?  They seem...interesting." 

"You don't actually believe that Dead Man's Hand superstition, do you?"  Sasha fished the stray Hanged Man from his pocket and flipped it over in his fingers.  "I've had it since the first deal - if it's cursed, I was doomed from the beginning."  But, superstitions were for those that were looking for an explanation where one didn't need to exist. 

"Few months," he answered, regarding his dalliance with the cards witches. But there was a more pressing issue at hand than his strange social life.

Sasha was oddly not concerned about the card.

"I don't believe in superstition," Figaro said folding his hands and leaning forward. "Superstition is not changing tighty whities for the Quidditch World Cup. Pocketing Quin's bloody murder card is tempting fate. Who knows where she got it - there's a distinct possibility that card is cursed."

"They're nice old ladies, but they're old school, mate. What're you going to do with it?"

Figaro was doing a decent job keeping the mood light, but he was starting to get a bit worried that Sasha might not be taking this seriously enough.