Knight of Swords - upright: action, impulsiveness, defending beliefs; reversed: no direction, disregard for consequences, unpredictability


“I know it’s Thursday night,” Eta had told the others, the week before, “but it’s Lippy’s actual birthday, and we can’t go out on Friday because it’s full moon…”

As such, it was a midweek night out for Coven and friends alike, in London to celebrate the twenty-first birthday of Tulip Brown, former Hufflepuff turned server at Ascendio Italian and also Coven sister.

The group had started out in the Moke and Merrow, before passing Calaveras, giving the building the customary middle finger for their werewolf stance. They were now about to knock back some shots in Death & Co. A popular haunt within a stone’s throw of Spellpunk which was their final destination on their modest little crawl.

Tulip was in her element, encouraging everyone to take part in the shots. Suggesting they pool their money to pay for enough if they were short. They were always a bit short. Eta scrutinised the menus, already feeling a bit tipsy from the drinks at the Merrow. Was there one of these drinks that would help open her third eye?

“Why haven’t we ever written a cocktail menu for the Coven?” She asked Lucinda, “that would be so fun.” Eta had got acceptable for her potions NEWT so she was totally qualified to do that. “How are you feeling by the way?” Eta’s expression frowned, full of concern suddenly.

It was all her fault. February had been a month without a full moon. A rare treat for her werewolf friend and coven sister. They’d got comfortable one night and sat studying the tarot cards Lucinda had so generously gifted Eta from her travels. The major arcana, Lucinda had explained, was from Salem, the cups from Delphi, and Eta was cherishing them all. It was a very special deck and she insisted the first proper reading with them had to be about Lucinda since her friend had carried the cards around on her travels before gifting them to Eta.

Amongst the reading came The Tower (sudden upheaval, disaster), Justice (cause and effect), Eight of swords (imprisonment, entrapment, self-victimisation) and to represent Lucinda, The Fool (innocence, free spirit, new beginnings)[1]. Amongst other cards it was a most auspicious and worrying reading for Eta. Then again, as others in the Coven had assured them both, Eta was forever foretelling people’s death. She either was able to predict years into the future, or she really wasn’t about to divine anything with accuracy however much she tried.

Sometimes reading for people wasn’t a good idea, if they didn’t like the future foretold, but Eta believed better prepared.

1.	Quick meanings from here

Lucinda was loving the night, as much as she was able to given the full moon the next night, she had an unnerving feeling of the next full moon, a sense of impending dread coming with it, she wasn't sure what it was, the second transformation in January was tiring, but it felt...peaceful? It was still four weeks between transformations, the distance hadn't changed, but two in a month felt more tiring and as she was exhausted, she was more peaceful during it...but then not having a transformation for a month after, made her anxious and more full of energy.

She couldn't explain it, nor was she that confident in telling another Werewolf incase they found her weird, she knew she had odd ideas of their shared life states.

"I do have mixology training, what flavours do you reckon? I think Gooseberry..." She started to ponder before the next question was asked, she was worried, while she didn't always believe in Eta's predictions, sometimes they struck chords, her nervousness already didn't mix well with the prediction.

With a smile she leaned in to Eta, giving a friendly, and drunken, kiss to her cheek before she rested her head on her friends shoulder. "Hhhm, want TMI? Or want to keep a nice opinion of me?" She asked with a giggle, even though she was getting drunk, she didn't want to stress out Eta.

She moved upright again as she put some money down to help with the round, eyes scanning the bar. "You ever get the feeling you need to bite something but it can't be too soft, it also can't be too solid, you just end up chewing your cheek?" She asked as she pulled out a small pewter compact, even with her allergy to silver, she liked the aesthetic so Pewter would have to do. "Imagine that but my entire body, and it wants to just suddenly move but it does nothing to help."

Looking at the young woman leaning over the pool table, you would never expect her stance would be effective. Only a rookie's bridge technique would be like hers, fingers splayed out over the table, slightly raised from the palm. Yet anybody else with an actual bridge of skin between their lower knuckles had only so many configurations of the hands to guide the end of the pool cue.

It was her third visit to The Lazy Kelpie of Crovie, Scotland, that Heliotrope LeJean learned pool over a then recently acquired pool table, before it was sunk into a flooded cellar by a displeased hag. At the time, it was taught as billiards, which was a more agreeable term to young LeJean because the table contained scratch felt, not a tidal pool as expected by the colloquial term.

For this match, however, the whimsical pool tables of the bar did a better imitation of a 'pool' as Heliotrope lined up the shot. Ripples flowed over the table, the balls struck by the cueball briefly sunk under the surface, bobbing back up to chase other balls to clatter. Her last solid color chomped down on the opposing maroon stripe. Fish eaten by bigger fish, before rolling into the side pocket. A content smile.

"It's not even fair when you're still playing sober," her opponent complained.

"Fine," Heliotrope looked back towards the bar. Alcohol wasn't her forte but she wasn't a stranger to it. She always considered the nuances of beverages to be a land-dweller concept. Edging towards the bar, she squeezed in next to a row of other women. There was something familiar about them but for the time Heliotrope was focused on discerning the menu.

Coin was found. "Murky Lake, please."

"You can't order it alone, it's part of the TriWhisky Tournament."

A newfound frown. Heliotrope distinctly remembered that it was called the TetraWizard Tournament when she had gone to Hogwarts. A year punctuated by students from her mother, Danielle's, alma mater of Beauxbatons; learning to dance as couples; and chasing a renegade Clabbert that had snuck off the Salem's floating dragodirigible.

She blinked. Heliotrope LeJean tended to give off a strange vibe on account of the translucent eyelids. Her blonde hair was messy, slightly green at the tips, and there was a rough grayish tinge to her skin. To say nothing of the glimpses of webbed fingers and the fold of her gills just covered by the neckline of an oversized auqamarine sweater over her stressed jeans.

She wasn't going to order off The Reserve, she saw enough creature classifications at work. "I'll take a Murky Lake, please." Again she was corrected.

Nearby, she heard the other women at the bar talk about mixology training and Gooseberry, beverage related topics. Maybe they'd like to partake.

"Hey," she tapped the shoulder of the closet occupant. "The Whiskey Tournament is meant to be a competition. But not the one that takes all year. Would you like to share?"

Eta wrinkled her nose at Lucinda’s description of how she felt.

“That sounds so weird.” She agreed, “and gooseberry might work, yeh!”

Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Eta figured it was another one of the coven so didn’t jump at the touch. When she turned round to see what whoever it was wanted, she was surprised to recognise the face.

“Helio!” Eta exclaimed, all recognition and friendly excitement of witches who had spent seven years sharing a dormitory but now several years in their own lives. Absence they say, makes the heart grow fonder. Sharing a dormitory with other people while being a teenager certainly formed a very unusual bond too. “Oh my goddess, how are you?” She threw her arms open to sweep them round the other witch.

“I knew it,” she claimed, “I drew the page of cups earlier. Happy surprises![1] Here you are. Look Luce it’s Heliotrope what a coincidence.” Lucinda had been in their year too, but Gryffindor. While Helio had been known for her half-mer status, Lucinda had been known as a werewolf, disappearing with Professor Greyfriar (then the Headmaster) every full moon to transform.

Eta quickly rattled off introductions to the other coven members. Some of the girls were taking in the webbed hands and gills with real curiosity. “And this is the birthday girl of course, Tulip. You remember? Lippy was in the year below us…” Another Hufflepuff, of course. Tulip threw her arms around Heliotrope too, as if she was an old loved friend. Which, as far as Eta remembered, might have been true.

“You should totally join us. We’re going to Spellpunk after this. What did you say you wanted to share? The Tournament?”

1.	quick meanings from here again

Luce looked over as Eta directed her gaze, she gave a soft smile towards the half-mer, she remembered her somewhat though she'd never really spoken to the girl, always caught up in her own woes and self loathing to really take much notice of the Hufflepuff.

"Heya!" She said happily, shifting to lean her side onto the bar while keeping her hip pushed out, letting the others introduce themselves, she gave her own scan of the Hufflepuff, eyes lingering on the mer parts, she wondered with her own fondness of swimming...who might win in a race...she reckoned she might have a decent chance against the half mer...infact in her inebriated state, she was more confident of it then ever!

"Oooo I'll do the tournament!" She perked up excitedly, taking her newly made drink from the bar and sipping at the cocktail, looking between the two happily with an eager look on her. "I've heard the murky water can mess with you." She said excitedly over the prospect.

"I love your hair by the way." She said with a bit of a lower tone and a slyer grin, though she started to move her hand, she didn't reach make a move to touch it.

There was a small smile on Helitrope's face when Eta recognized her. She returned the hug with one arm. There had been too many Peppers at school in various years. Whenever the sisters of the family were mentioned, Eta Zeta & Theta kept getting confused in her head. That and the tarot stuff. That had been more of Obderedria's thing. Or rather, also Philo's thing with the combative Terr-Oh! game.

'Luce' she didn't recall as Heliotrope went to meet each other member of the party. The Hufflepuffs in the group, like Eta and Lippy, received warmer hugs, or what passed for them from a half-Selkie. Particularly for that time Lippy had been delighted by the Plimpies that had followed Heliotrope from Care of Magical Creatures class. Helio kept sneaking glances at 'Luce' trying to place her. Maybe in Gryffindor house.

"It's your birthday? Happy Birthday, uh, I don't know if I have a gift on me." She hadn't known in advance yet the gesture might be seen as nice. Heliotrope briefly crouched down, tugging at her purple, kelp-like mermaid's purse with its pouch cavity. A tin of sardines. Papers from work. A waterlogged school yearbook.

The search for impromptu gifts was forgotten. Still crouched, Heliotrope rapidly flipped through the wrinkly pages of her yearbook, in obvious Hufflepuff yellow. Looking for 'Luce'.

Increased interest in the Whiskey Tournament continued as Heliotrope shot back up on her feet, standing next to the bar with a look of triumph beyond that of the compliment offered on her hair. "Thanks, Lucinda Temple. Your hair looks lovely too." The book was shut in her other hand. Was Lucinda about to touch it? Was Heliotrope supposed to touch back? She did like the different textures of things yet for how much of her teenage years it took to learn regular social concepts, "drunk" behavioral norms were still a mystery.

"Sorry, no gifts. I guess that means I buy the first round? So that's..." However many pairs of the former school mates wanted to chip in, Heliotrope paid for the first pair of Tournament trays. She found a seat next to Lucinda and a trio of shots were sat next to them both.

Heliotrope looked eager to find herself in a new group ritual as shots were prepared. "So after this, Spellpunk." She heard of what they were doing before. This was pub-trudging, right? Going from bar to bar for drinks suddenly seemed more exciting than her pool game for after hours recreation.

You had to forgive Heliotrope, "crawling" was not a word used in most merfolk societies.

“Oooo, I’ll do the tournament!” Lucinda agreed. “I’ve heard the murky water can mess with you.”

“Hah, probably not Helly though,” Eta shortened her Hufflepuff friend’s name even shorter. “Geddit, water..”
“We get it,” Lippy confirmed, patting Eta’s shoulder affectionately.

“Is that, is that our leaving book?” Eta exclaimed, suddenly recognising what Heliotrope was paging through. “Goddess, we all look so young. I’ve aged already!” She clasped her cheeks in mock horror.

“… guess that means I buy the first round?” Heliotrope offered, seemingly flash with the cash.

“Bloody hell, if you’re offering,” Eta confirmed.
“So after this, Spellpunk/”
“Yep!” Lippy confirmed, arms up and doing a twirl. “It’s my birthday and we’re going to daaaance.” The other coven witches with them laughed.

“You want to come with?” Eta asked Helio. “Seems only fair if you’re buying a round. What did you say you did these days?”

Not far from the pool tables, drinking alone, Norman Shufflebottom kept an eye on the coven of witches gathered round the other end of the bar. That half selkie witch who had been playing pool joined them. There were whoops and one of the witches flung her arms up.

Norman had followed them from the Moke and Merrow, watched them all flip the middle finger at the Calaveras doorway and then head in here. As a wizard it hadn’t taken much to get served before the witches, who from what he could see, were pooling their coins on the bar top to afford drinks. They were destined for Spellpunk, but the way their finances were, he wondered if they’d get that far.

Galloglass had assured him that the ginger girl from Praedico Predico was out with that werewolf tonight. Janus, like Norman, was part of ELF. It was a natural progression, given Norman’s views. He flocked to anything that might give him a job or an edge given his frequent stays in Azkaban and destitute upbringing. His estranged, youngest brother Amos - known these days as Jules - was best friends with the werewolf who ran the ‘werewolf wing’ at the Ministry. The only wing werewolves needed was a sanatorium one to lock them into all year round, in his opinion.

But even with ELF, Norman was on the back foot. He didn’t have the business nounce of Janus Galloglass. Lots of the ELF sorts were hoity-toity, because the Foundation needed money, and word was that the mysterious founder was loaded. Norman wasn’t. He was living out of his strange hut on the beach in Slandermouth, with barely two knuts to rub together. He’d only managed to pay for his beer because he’d picked a pocket of someone playing pool when he’d arrived. They were easy pickings, distracted by their game.

If he nabbed a werewolf just before full moon, he could be someone in ELF. This Lucinda Temple one had form - she’d run away before at full moon and had the lot searching for her. This time the Capture Unit might not take it seriously, until it was too late. Or even better, Kerrigan and the goons could take it so seriously the little werewolf was banged up in Azkaban like they all should be.

He sipped his beer, and fingered the potion in his pocket. Nice little thing. Night-night in half an hour or so for anyone who drank it. There were the drinks, lining up to go to the girls. Be a shame if this potion were to drift over the top and drop into those drinks… Such a shame.

Drip, drip, drop.

Norman slid his wand back into his green-brown wax jacket, his eyes glued to Lucinda Temple.

She tried her best, but she burst into laughter at hearing the Half-Mer Hufflepuff say her full name, she wondered if this would be a thing with her, did she always address people by their complete names? Should she do the same in return? Or had she forgotten and just read it up?

She got excited at the sound of free drinks however. "Free drinks are always welcome." She said happily. "And yes! Spellpunk after! Dancing, getting close to someone, being found against a wall making out with her...finding out she has a boyfriend, getting into a bar fight...kicked out and waking in a gutter in the morning..." She sighed gently and stared off into the distance wistfully.

Then as the drinks arrived she blinked and looked down at them. grabbing the first one happily she lifted it up. "Happy Birthday Lippy!" She gave the fellow Coven member a delicate kiss on the cheek before she downed her first shot, shuddered and put the glass down.

"And thank you Helly for helping with the round." She smiled warmly, a soft wink towards her.

Heliotrope was tight lipped, her cheeks puffed out slightly in embarrassment on being caught with her yearbook. Unlike the nostalgia prompted by the rest of the witches, for Heliotrope it was mainly a memory aid. She had a small fleet of tutors and mentors in her Hogwarts years. It had taken a few to zero in on Heliotrope being a visual and spatial learner. You didn't have that many written texts in loch culture, anything printed instead of carved required waterproofing charms. The heavy reading, writing and lecture curriculum had taken considerable adjustment as her first formal education.

Likewise, close friends for Heliotrope were few and far between. She'd been improving in her middle years although events immediately before and after her O.W.L. exams had provided many a setback, including socially. Still, she was a far cry from from the creepy first year who transfigured Every-Flavor-Beans into Tadpoles.[1] Cinnamon and Orange Zest tadpoles, it turned out.

Distracted by Lippy's birthday celebration and Lucinda/Luce's extended explanation of pub-trudging, Heliotrope missed the phantom raindrops of what was added to some of the drinks. She turned back to Eta's question. "Junior clerk on Level 4. Beast Division, Mermish Translator."

She was practically the whole of the small office but way, way down on the Ministry hierarchy. It hadn't been too stressful of a job, until recently, although that was already half her pay for the week for Heliotrope's previous bar tab plus the pair of Whisky Tournaments. As long as she paid her rent on time she knew how to hunt her own food so she wasn't that concerned with money.

They were starting now. Heliotrope raised her glass in cheers. There was an odd residue in her shot but she was catching up on the conversation. "Who's Helly? Am I Helly?"

Heliotrope had been so focused on tasting Murky Lake and reuniting with her peers that she had forgotten WHY it was she didn't have Firewhisky all that often. Being a half-breed of the water the elemental clash was strong and immediately evident once the scorching alcohol went past her lips. Ooogh! Not as hot as the Dragon Handlers' special elsewhere on Level 4 but something about this wasn't agreeing with her. Had this been substituted with Death & Co's Flaming variant? No smoke came out of her mouth but her voice was a raspy screech/belch with her tongue rolled out.

She tried to return Luce's thanks of buying the first round with her own wink and smile, yet the only expression she could manage was --HOT!!!!!-- much like when her school roommate Obderedria brought spicy turkey wings to a quidditch wireless party. Her choice of hot sauces likely came from former History Professor Jowd.

"Next..shot... Heliotrope wheezed, feebly reaching to keep up with Luce.

1.	Friends, Romans, First years - May 4 2009

The shots went down with a hall of mirrors set of expressions from the coven witches and their companions. Eta let out an unexpected burp after hers. Followed by profuse apologies and giggles.

“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed. “If I have too many of those I’ll not make it to Spellpunk.” Eta flapped her hands either side as if she were fanning her face for heat. The pink her cheeks was excitement and the rush of alcohol around her blood in truth.

“Alright?” Eta turned in pleasure at the address, recognising her cousin, Ambrose. What a coincidence! There he was looking easy on the eye to anyone who wasn’t related to him, in a favourite worn leather jacket, jeans and looking all confident. He made eye contact with Helio and nodded, repeating his greeting to his colleague from Level Four.

“Ambrose!” Eta flung her arms around his neck happily. She released him. “It’s Lippy’s birthday drinks.” Instead she ushered the birthday girl to the front of the group. “Luce - look who’s here.”

Some time later…

The witches were well and truly tipsy with the shots. Lippy in particular, as birthday girl was sporting two of the Death & Co. crowns and Ambrose hoisted her aboard his back to carry her to Spellpunk. She whooped and yelled some kind of birthday battle cry which the rest of the coven seemed to recognise and raise their wands for.

Ambrose had only taken a few shots by the time they declared they were making a move. But the group had got frayed at the edges with the comings and goings of friends and acquaintances. With a restrictive list of guests at their coven house, when the witches were out they took advantage of being around wizards like Ambrose. He was glad to hang out with them spontaneously - his two years as an apprentice had been lonely with his friends group from Hogwarts still mostly studying their NEWTs while he had bailed out after OWLs. Now it was a distant memory and his friend group stretched both geography and age.

But for tonight, he was with the crazy Artemis Coven girls and they were off to Spellpunk. As Tulip's ‘steed’ in the most platonic of senses, Ambrose led the charge with the birthday girl, out the Death & Co. doors and along the alley to Spellpunk.

In their wake, Eta was arm in arm with other witches, talking animatedly about some gossip she’d overheard, her mind completely off her earlier prediction for Lucinda, and the fact her coven sister was approaching her transformation night. They were all inebriated enough to have forgotten the finer details of their worries.

Luce was feeling odd, she'd celebrated the arrival of Ambrose like most of the other girls, though while she noticed some gave him large, and longing eyes at him, Luce was just happy for another person to spend time with, but as they drank more she felt...different.

She wasn't sure if she'd just gotten more drunk then usual, if its the drinking and the moon...it must be that...or something...no...no one had been their drinks right? It had to be the moon! That was it! The moon was always getting in her way over being happy, she finds a girl who's hot? The moon interrupts anything between the two! Honestly she wondered what she did to anger the Moon so much.

"I'm gonna go pee!" She called out to one of the girls of their group, she wasn't sure if she'd been heard, she knew they were going Spellpunk soon but it wasn't yet right? She started to make her way to the bathrooms, unsteady on her feet and...maybe it was the moon making her sleepy and...

On her way towards the bathrooms, amongst the crowds in the busy bar, made busier by the party lot, she'd fall sideways, ultimately landing onto someone she had never met before as the potions effects with the alcohol finally wore her down.

Norman waited, and waited, and waited. Then at last his patience paid off. Lucinda Temple was making for the ladies toilets, unaccompanied and unsteady as a newborn foal. He moved from his perch at the other end of the bar, heading in the same direction, acting as nonchalantly as a Shufflebottom could, stalking his prey. He skirted past the group of friends, the birthday witch hoisted up on the back of one of the wizards. It looked like they were heading out, so surely they would look for Temple any moment now…

He kept a weary eye as he approached the toilet entrance, but luck was clearly on his side as the group of friends headed out of the doors of Death & Co. with a triumphant whoop. At the same moment, Lucinda Temple collapsed sideways, into his waiting arms. She stared up with confusion at his face before she succumb to the potion’s strong sedation.

“Whoops,” Norman muttered to cover anyone glancing their way. “Think I need to get you home my friend.”

Exit Lucinda and Norman

In the present

Somehow it transpired that Heliotrope had not gotten her Last Chance. The shot that had ended the Whisky Tournament, not her chance of winning. The first shot of Murky Lake had been the relief she was seeking from the Firewhisky. And whether it had been from Lucinda’s or Eta’s tray, she had accidentally grabbed a second shot of Murky Lake instead of the finisher.

Which had caused a hilarious pratfall when she tried to swim off her stool when leaving the bar. Because Heliotrope was currently viewing the world as if London had been flooded by a deluge of lake water.

The stars above were ripples on the surface. The janky Diagon Street all the more twisted by supposed underwater refractions. And the half-mermish Hufflepuff turned Translator was bobbing in and out of the group, slipping within the knot of Coven witches walking arm in arm, still unsure why she couldn’t just swim up to the top of the Magical Menagerie to keep watch for kelpies.

“Your crown, your Champions-ness,” Heliotrope stopped to pick up the fallen crown before it floated away. The birthday girl Lippy had both her party and Whisky Tournament champion hats. “I’ve got it. Right back…there…”

Heliotrope was known for her coordination. Normally. Said inebriation and supposed water pressure was making it difficult to line up getting the crown back on Lippy’s head. Eventually she got it there, although poised to fall on Ambrose’s head.

Speaking of another worker from Beast Division that joined the pub-trudging: “Hey Brosey, how’d the trip with, her-name, go with the Hippok,” she knew the difference between a hippokampus and a hippogriff, but it was hard keeping the distinction with quasi-equines of different biomes right now. “Hippa. Hippokrampiffs. The Spectecal Herd.” The Department Head’s family.

Heliotrope needed an anchor before she drifted away in the current, looping arms with Eta Pepper again. “The Leaky Bucket won’t be much to stop his. Like Luce taking a leak, hopefully there’s no backflow.” The exact count of their party was lost on her. “If Spellpunk also got flooded I can show you proper twurgburb. It’s better when you can twirl upside-down.”[1]

1.	A half-Mermish term which is equivalent to synchronized swimming/dancing