Sasha's eye kept wandering away from the blank page resting in his open Divination text next to a deck of tarot cards to the Chemistry lab report perched on the top of his stack of books.  There was no argument as to which of the two study topics was more likely to capture his attention.  And, to some extent, the report really should take priority right now.  He needed to use his laptop to finish it and, once Akiva and Dreogan were home, the amount of magical...whatever...would make his computer act like it had the funkiest virus imaginable. 

Most afternoons, before dinner, found Sasha studying in the tackroom at the stables but the pressing need to study subject material that wasn't appropriate for a muggle setting had sent him home early.  He hadn't touched Divination since he'd left Hogwarts.  And, if he really wanted to do well - and get better than that ever persistent "A" he'd gotten since his third year - he couldn't get distracted. 

Studying Divination in class was hard enough.  Trying to figure out how to approach it on his own was paramount to finding Atlantis.  Quite frankly, Divination didn't make sense - reading tarot cards didn't make sense!  Sure, he could memorize the meaning of each of the symbols - that was easy enough.  But, when he shuffled the deck and dealt out the first five, it was simply a matter of chance that dictated which cards came up.  Statistically, he was just as likely to pick up a Hermit as Death.  It wasn't like the cards magically aligned themselves differently in the deck because you were having a bad day.  And, who wasn't to say, choosing certain cards weren't simply self-fulfilling prophecies.  The cards predict a bad day and your mind creates one to match.

But, his mind just wouldn't stick.  By the time he reached the end of a paragraph, his thoughts would have moved off Divination and onto the other study topics awaiting him in the pile.  Or, really, Fergie's letter and pictures tucked a few pages back in the Divination book as motivation to get through the chapter.  A motivation that was really only effective if he could find a way to keep the pages from turning until after he'd finished studying them.  Sasha abandoned the pretense of studying and tugged the folded letter and pictures free and set them on top of the page. 

It was several minutes later that he heard the clicks and whirs that signaled the arrival of either of the other two household members.  Calmly, Sasha gathered the pictures and tucked them back in the folded letter and slid the parchment between the pages of his history of magic textbook as Baldur and Gordon got up from their spots under the table.  They both trotted out the kitchen to greet the newcomer.  Sasha turned his attention back to the empty page and tried to extract a couple of intelligible lines from the textbook to, at least, give the perception that he was making progress. 

"Allo," Sasha spoke up to let whoever it was that had arrived home know he was there.  He glanced up from the page as Baldur trotted back into the kitchen and nudged him in the elbow.  As Dreogan stepped into the kitchen, Sasha lifted slightly from his chair and started gathering the books strewn across the kitchen table.    "I'll get all this cleared up right away."

Since his dismissal from school, both Dreogan and Akiva had insisted on several occasions that he wasn't too much of an imposition.  Sasha didn't doubt their sincerity, of course, but he knew he was there largely because of a sense of obligation.  A self-imposed obligation.  Sasha had been trying his best to keep out of the way as much as possible - classes, the new internship and helping Jacoba with the record shop helped considerably with that, as did spending as much of his study time before curfew at the stables.  The effort was made out of habit as much as anything else - after all, Sasha had always strived to keep out of his parents' way as much as possible and they'd had a genetic obligation to accommodate him.  Or, at least, his mother had.  And, as long as Gerhard insisted on keeping his wife's infidelity a secret from everyone, he had to pretend he had.  That obligation had been forced on them; Akiva and Dreogan had volunteered.  Sasha still didn't understand why but that made him all the more appreciative.  And, all the more dedicated to keeping as unobtrusive as possible. 

Which was, admittedly, much easier in a bigger house. 

Things had moved from a low rumble with Level Two to a more manageable, downward descent. Dreogan had tried to do what he could to avoid speaking with either Adon or Jonas. And Azize. And Archer. Really, anyone who might have something to do with that entire plan. With Sasha living with them, and in a very pivotal point in life, it didn’t profit anything to keep fighting against people who didn’t want his help, when there was so very clearly someone who truly needed it right under his roof.

Dreogan had been coming home earlier – which meant, for once, on time – and had been trying to make an effort to be more available, trying to let Sasha come to him when he was ready. But he was beginning to suspect that this would never happen. He’d have to go to Sasha. And today, leaving work thirty minutes early, this was precisely what he intended to do.

Dreogan heard the greeting that he was becoming accustomed to hearing, followed by the sounds of feline and canine paws on the wooden floor that Dreogan was certainly accustomed to hearing. Tabitha had been gone for a couple of days now, but Gordon and Baldur were welcome familiars.

“Hello, Sasha!” he called back as he made his way into the kitchen, following Baldur.

Sasha sat at the table, his books sprawled out across the surface. There was such an air of familiarity, that Dreogan was taken aback for a moment.  This was just what any student his age would be doing with his parents, in his own home. It was how Dreogan had studied himself, sometimes.

Sasha muttered something quickly about clearing up and out. Dreogan, instinctively held his hand out in protest. “Oh! no!” Dreogan said lightly. “Please. We usually eat dinner on the couch or on the stools, anyhow,” he said, then gave a lopsided smile, “as you’ve probably noticed.” To Dreogan, books suited a table much better than food.   

Interested, he moved to Sasha’s side, reading over hi s shoulder. “Tarot, hm?” he asked, trying to sound only casually interested as he reached down blindly to pet Baldur, fingers grazing only his tail.  He abandoned the effort before the motion was fully carried out. “And chemistry, I see. An interdisciplinary approach?” he asked. “Though I can’t see how that particular pairing’d work.” He felt Gordon sit on his toes heavily. This had a tendency of happening whenever Tabitha was gone and Dreogan had the misfortune to remain stationary for too long. He felt the slight rumble that indicated that Gordon was happily curled around his feet, purring.

Sasha hesitated, his hands stretched out across the table, poised to gather the furthest books first.  He considered Dreogan for a moment, trying to gauge the level of sincerity against the likelihood the invitation was made purely out of politeness' sake.  After the space of two breaths, Sasha reminded himself that, despite his usual first assumptions, Dreogan had very rarely spoken to him with anything but sincerity. 

He settled for, at least, straightening the piles of books and making them orderly enough for others to use the table (in case the situation changed) before lowering himself into his seat once more. 

"Yes."  Sasha offered a slightly sheepish grin as he nodded his head.  "It's different from home, of course-"  That went without saying.  If one thing could be counted on to be a consistent truth it was that life at the Eleor-Katz residence was nothing like life at home.  Or, life at his old home.  "I mean, it was a little more like that when it was just ... Edith was home."  Sasha hesitated a moment, giving the deck of tarot cards a moment of consideration before shrugging.  "Or when I was at school."  Sasha glanced up and over at the clock, assuming it was later than it was but then glanced back at Dreogan.  "You're home early?"

Dreogan's interested shifted over to the books on the table and Sasha followed his line of sight to the study material.  He shrugged and nodded, sighing slightly as he slid the deck of cards to the edge of the table and picked them up.  "It doesn't, really."  He glanced towards the chemistry report and grinned as he shrugged.  "Unless we believe that chemistry's at the root of all life functions, irregardless of the presence of magic."  Still, at this level - introductory, pre-university level Chemistry - they weren't a match.  "I assume it's better suited for psychology."  He shrugged and flipped over the upper most card - the four of cups.  "Chemistry works better with potions."

"I just keep getting distracted by the lab report," he admitted.  "Which would be fine except I have a whole two years to get ready for GCSEs and A-Levels and only three months to get ready for OWLs."  Slowly, Sasha shook his head, setting the cards with the overturned four of cups on the top and rubbed his face with his hands.  "I just don't get how that's anything more than pure chance.  There's an equal probability that card could have been any other in the deck - how can it have any control or impact on what's going to happen?"  His fingers had found the top of Baldur's head that had found its way into his lap. 

"Yes -- work's been tapering off," Dreogan said. Which was true. It was; because he'd made it that way. While reporting to his supervisor and Department Head, he was, more or less, the dictator of his own schedule. And with his new responsibility at home, as well as his resolve to get the Muggle Affairs issue started, his current job had competing priorities.

Dreogan gave a slight smile at Sasha's apparent frustration. It was one of the few instances where Sasha seemed to show his emotions, unbidden. He only wished they were more favourable, particularly towards one of his favourite subjects and, arguably, his best.

He invited himself to the table, dropping his briefcase onto the ground and pulling out a chair on the other side of Sasha. "Well, those would be more conventional pairings. I still think there's something to be said about truly interdisciplinary learning -- not just within genres. But I'll save that for Gaddol," he said with a grin. He was pleased to find that Beit Gaddol, pleased with his name and willing to call him an "alumni" now that he had done well enough for himself, that they were also willing to consider his more radical educational ideas. Like schooling squibs alongside other young witches and wizards.

As he listened to Sasha's grievances with Divination, Dreogan quietly took the Tarot cards and shuffled them once, twice, three times. Palms flat, he cleared a space on the table in order to lay the eight cards out in Mirror formation. He didn't like doing this -- not for himself -- but if Sasha was already uncomfortable with it, he wouldn't force a reading on him.

"Well," he said easily as he took the top eight cards, laying them down one by one. The top, the Empress, was upright. Dreogan smiled -- Akiva. He had no doubt about that. "I think the problem, Sasha, is that you are trying to be the scientist in all of this. But you're not." He then laid six out in two, straight columns running beneath the Empress.  "When you lay out tarot, you are the microscope. You're the means through which things come to light and you magnify meaning. You can't, as you set them out, be the reader. That happens only after the cards have come to rest on the table."

The first column carried 1) the Heirophant -- upright: knowledge, inspiration, and . . . marriage, 2) Death -- upright: life changes, beginning of a new life, and 3) the Hanging Man -- upright: dedication to a cause; sacrifice for that cause and suspension of progress in an area of life.

He folded the next three for the parallel  column, crisply. 1) The Moon -- upside down: exaggerated dreams, prophecy, and the need for secrecy. Despair and a desperate need for help. 2) The Magician -- upside down: hesitation and lack of coordination in your efforts. 3) Strength -- upside down: pessimism, feelings of inadequacy; tyranny or concession.

The final card, beneath the two columns, mirroring the Empress above, was laid out: the Hermit -- upside down: Refusal of counsel or assistance.  immaturity.  Isolation from others.  A negative resistance towards help. Groundless suspicions about the motives of others.  Imprudent actions or decisions. The continuation of bad habits or unproductive lifestyles.  Foolish obstinacy.  The reliance on one's own resources that are inadequate.

Dreogan looked at the cards with a light sigh. It always went thus: Dreogan could never display anything in Divination without it being textbook perfection. The statistical probabilities of two columns, one right side, the other upside down -- a literal mirror image, was very slim.

But what bothered him was that his life and his emotional state was laid out, quite plainly on the kitchen table in front of his surrogate son. "Well," he said simply before taking the remaining cards and shuffling them. He smoothed the cards out flat, face down, on the table with the skill of a card dealer and took the eight and tucked each one carefully into the pile, at differing intervals. "Perhaps one ought not to think of statistics. It is a faith-based practise, after all. You will get what you expect. And you, right now, it seems," he said, shuffling the cards once more, "are expecting nothing."

He took the stack in hand, tapping them against the table to bring them flush against his hand. "I, however," he said, laying the top eight cards out, "am constant to them."

The Empress.

"And they . . ."

Heirophant, Death, Hanging Man

"are constant. . ."

Moon, Magician, Strength

". . . to me."

He stared long and hard at the hermit.

He gave a sad smile. "You must think of it this way, of course. Otherwise, you run the risk of feeling there's a fate laid out for you that you can't help but escape . . . But in truth, Tarot are a way to know yourself better, so that you can face your present condition to improve your future."

He looked at the hermit.

He really didn't want to do that. An apology to Jonas would be -- well, but that was not necessarily what it called for, after all. "It's much easier," he said, "to begin working on others, rather than yourself. There are a lot of emotions -- and roles -- that get muddled when you are dealer, reader, and recipient. That's why, I suspect, you've been doing a lot of partner work in class. But the recipient always shuffles." He gathered the cards once more and shuffled. "There," he said, handing the deck to Sasha. "Why don't you give it a try?"

Sasha wasn't quite sure what it was about Divination that was so frustrating.  He'd launched into it his third year with the same determination and eagerness he'd shown all his classes.  It was safe to say the determination never waned, either.  He worked hard in that class.  He read and reread all his assignments.  Whenever he had the time and opportunity, he practiced the lessons diligently.  But, thus far, Divination and Defense Against the Dark Arts were the two classes he'd yet to earn an 'O' in.  He knew his shortcomings in Defense were due to his challenges with wandwork.  That gave him goals and destinations.  Specific targets to work on to achieve that higher grade.  And, last year, his 'E' had been the reward for those efforts.

But, Divination...  No matter how hard he worked outside of class, he couldn't get his grade past that 'A'.  It didn't help that Divination unnerved him most of the time.  For a young man that worked so hard to maintain discretion and emotional control, Divination was just a little too much like rigging oneself up to a lie detector in front of the whole class.  But, he'd tried not to let that effect his determination and, certainly, it never had limited the effort Sasha had put into his work. 

He wanted to do well in the class.  But, no matter how hard he tried, it remained elusive. 

His eyes followed the cards as Dreogan slid them off the table and into his hands.  There was that usual moment of anxiety and uncertainty when Dreogan shuffled the cards but Sasha reminded himself the cards were in Dreogan's hands.  He couldn't be doing a reading on Sasha. 

His gaze quickly moved away from the cards as Dreogan started to lay them out.  His parents had taught him a great deal about etiquette - whether watching someone lay out their own fortune was an invasion of personal space was one of those lessons his tutors had skipped over.  But, it did feel a bit akin to reading one's diary.  But, when he glanced back, Dreogan seemed relaxed and unperturbed so Sasha watched. 

"I am?"  Sasha glanced up at Dreogan before looking back down at the spread of cards.  He grinned, slightly, and shrugged.  "I'm not?  But-"  He was the microscope.  The instrument that magnified the meaning.  He could understand and buy the analogy.  Whether it was reassuring, he wasn't sure.  It provided an explanation but not a complete one.  "So.  Who's the scientist?  Is this..."  He hesitated a moment, glancing from the cards to Dreogan and back.  He vaguely remembered touching on this topic before but an underlying awkwardness had quickly skirted them away from it.  He licked his lips before settling back in his chair, pulling one knee up and resting it against the side of the table.  "Is this like a God question?" 

He flipped back through the pages of his notebook, skimming through until he found his notes on the cards' meanings.  For most of the major arcane (which seemed to make up all of Dreogan's dealt cards, Sasha noted with curiosity), Sasha had the meanings memorized.  At least, for the primary meanings.  For those that were upside down, it was a little bit more fuzzy.  He glanced up at Dreogan, once more, looking for verification it was, in fact, alright to look. 

But, Dreogan gathered up the cards and reshuffled them.  "I'm not expecting nothing," Sasha said in his own defense as he watched, brow wrinkled in consideration.  "I think I'm wanting nothing," he elaborated, with an awkward grimace.  To him, it was an important distinction.  He didn't look down on Divination in anyway - not that he thought.  As Dreogan lay the cards out, once more, Sasha's leg slowly dropped to the floor as he leaned forward, staring at them.

"How's that possible?"  He asked.  That ... that was downright spooky.  "I mean ... what do they do?  Do the pictures not exist until you deal them?  Are they just ... I don't ..."  Yes.  They were magic.  Sasha had picked up on the general inexplicability of things in the magical world.  Why this should surprise him after all this time, he didn't know.  But ... if Dreogan could just do that ... and the cards would always be the same ... there was no lying.  There was no ... someone or something knew everything. 

Sasha grimaced and nodded.  "I hate it," he confessed to Dreogan's suspicions that they did a lot of partner work.  "I mean, it's alright if you get an okay partner.  I -"  He took the offered deck of cards and considered the top most one.  He took a deep breath and started to lay them out:

Five of Wands, upright.  Princess of Cups, upright.  Ten of Cups, upright.  And, Queen of Cups, upright.

Followed by Nine of Disks, upright.  The Sun, upside down.  The Moon, upside down.  And, finally, Temperance right side up. 

He regarded them a moment before shrugging.  "They're different.  So, I'm wrong - and they mean nothing, right?  But, you shuffled them.  I can't change them just by dealing - the pictures were where they were when you handed them to me!"  He hadn't even done anything and he'd gotten the wrong answer!  He understood why he wasn't doing well in DADA - this ... this just wasn't fair. 

"Is this like a God question?"

Dreogan's surprise was such that not even he was able to  suppress the bright burst of laughter. His eyes sparkled as he regarded his young charge with an amused curiosity. This, he managed to temper eventually; the boy seemed uncomfortable, after all, dreading a sentence to at least 10 minutes' discussion on theology.

"I didn't think it was, no." He glanced sidelong at Sasha before leaning back in his chair. "Though, if you want to take it in that direction, I'd say . . " he grinned. "No. I meant only that you can only act in one position at a time. When you lay out the cards -- at least until you've reached a certain level of expertise -- you're supposed to be removed. You're just an instrument, not an actor in this. You then, once the cards are laid, become a very objective, removed sort of . . . well, scientist. But that is only at the very end. Like a healer or a doctor, you can't let any personal bias sway you, or the prophecy will only be as good as your prejudice."

He considered Sasha's amendment to his comment. "And that," he said, looking at him with raised eyebrows, "is where desire -- and wants -- come in. You can't let that factor in. Do you think a microscope, when magnifying a . . ." -- what did they magnify? -- "item wants something? And even a scientist, looking for a particular . . . finding . . . might want it, but would his evaluations or his observations be worth anything if he allowed his bias to determine what he saw?"

He hoped this was making sense. Dreogan was no scientist. But Kiva's father was something of one. No, he was a Mathematician. Dreogan didn't know the difference, but it seemed plenty scienc-y. "It's why they speak of the Clear Eye. You need to remain empty of emotions and motives when you do this. Most people never achieve that level of clarity or isolation. I've a feeling if they did, nearly everyone could be Seers."

At Sasha's question, Dreogan smiled toothily again and tapped the cards. "That I don't know. But you're running awful close to a 'God answer' with that one. . ." He glanced at the boy. He'd not go into that answer. Dreogan knew very well that not everyone -- most, in fact -- did not teach magic as they did at Beit Gaddol. Magic was the power and gift of God given to men. Magic was divine, benevolent interference at times. They didn't explain this at Hogwarts, because people didn't believe it there.

People didn't see God, even when he was all around them. Dreogan had accepted this a while back, but it still brought a slight, sinking feeling to his stomach when he considered it.

Sasha had laid out the cards and in a despairing voice that displayed more frustration and -- nearing on anger -- than he usually manifested, Dreogan's smile grew sympathetic. "It's not wrong. Certainly there is no one Truth in my life right now. Just like I am both a son and a brother -- they exist simultaneously." He looked at the cards.

That didn't seem right.

"The other possibility is, Sasha," he said in a level voice, knowing this would be unwelcome news, "that perhaps you've not yet mastered this spirit of isolation; did you shuffle them with the desire to read my fortune -- whatever it may be? Or the desire to get the same cards?" Quickly, he added, "It takes practise. Unless you're born with a natural affinity towards it, I think it is ambitious to think that children can acquire the skill in full by the time they leave Hogwarts. But your calculating mind, your ability to compartmentalize and isolate -- Sasha, that's as great a skill you could have in this." He looked back down at the cards.

"But here. Let us go through what is here. What do you see in the cards for me?"

Color sprang, quickly, to Sasha's cheeks when Dreogan laughed but he offered a slight, sheepish grin across the table at him.  The relief was, visibly, more profound and genuine when he was certain they weren't making Divination into the wizarding world's version of catechism.  Divination was spooky enough without the element of the sense that someone else was arranging the cards. 

The relief was only temporary, though.  All too soon the familiar frustration came back.  He still wasn't sure he fully grasped the analogy - not, at least, when his mind kept wanting to play the academic devil's advocate.  By all that was logical, it shouldn't matter how involved one was in dealing the cards.  The cards were still separate entities!  And not just separate entities - separate inanimate objects.  Whether a microscope was indifferent or not had absolutely no impact on what was actually, physically, on the glass slide. 

Sasha opened his mouth, on the verge of blurting in a spat of frustration: but a microscope has no brain.  It couldn't want a specific outcome.  And, it certainly couldn't fear it.  But, he managed to avoid stating the obvious. 

"But, that's impossible," Sasha ended up saying, instead.  There was actually some chance that this line of conversation could make sense - or, at least be relevant.  In contrast to the topic of whether or not microscopes possessed the mental capabilities of experiencing desires.  "Nobody's ever really truly free of motives.  Everyone expects something from you.  Nobody's every unconditional."  Granted, Dreogan, Akiva and Fergie came as close to that as Sasha had ever experienced but some uneasy, uncertain part of him still wasn't ready to drop its guard. 

Sasha's brow furrowed and he quickly shook his head, indicating he definitely didn't want to linger on any answer that included the prospects or absence of God.  He still didn't know where he stood on that.  He knew, without a doubt, where his parents had stood on that issue.  He'd known long before that letter from Hogwarts had arrived.  Whatever Beit Gaddol might have taught, his own education had been very, very different.  And, it hadn't come from Hogwarts.  Sasha had known what the New and Old Testament said about magic long before he'd known he, himself, possessed it.  Ever since his admittance to Hogwarts, Sasha had been struggling to find some sort of reconciliation between what he'd been taught and what had become the reality.  He hadn't been able to.  And, with what his family had said after they'd, finally, found out about Hogwarts and the events on Christmas, it had only gotten more confusing.  Ignoring that topic was, on the whole, easier. 

"So, how can they grade you, then," Sasha blurted, gesturing his hands at cards on the table.  "Eight random cards.  Laid out at random.  If they're just a different perspective on truth, how can any random assortment of cards be wrong?"  How was it that he could still just have an "A" when there were no right and, therefore, wrong answers?  Even more so, how could he ever go about finding a way to improve his grade when there wasn't anything that defined what that was?

Sasha scowled.  He was looking down at the cards through his still outstretched hands, watching them even as Dreogan voiced his questions.   His focus hadn't been reading Dreogan's fortune - nor had it been to get the same cards.  All he'd wanted to get the right answer - whether that meant getting the same cards or not.  He'd really only wanted to see the part of Dreogan's fortune that Dreogan had wanted him to see.  And, to some extent, he'd been afraid of what he'd find.

But, now they were there.  He rubbed his face with one hand as he pulled his notebook towards him.  There were only two cards from the  major arcana.  As if, somehow, fate was trying to mock him, the two cards that he might have had memorized were upside-down - which meant he still had to look them up. 

He rested a finger on the first card[1], chewing his lip as he read the notes.  "Strife and competition.  Or oppos-"  For the briefest moment, Sasha hesitated and glanced up at the card before turning back to the notebook and finishing, "-ition."  Of course, these were all vague.  They could indicate anything and it wasn't likely that Dreogan could deduce anything from just that.  "Princess of cups is for marriage or birth."  Which, made sense.  Dreogan was engaged.  "Ten of cups.  Happiness and security but, perhaps, not necessarily to a positive.  Maybe too complacent."  Which, didn't seem to apply.  He shrugged it off.  "Queen of cups which is... emotions and affection.  So, a lot of focus on family life."  Except, of course, for the opposition.  Which, Sasha conveniently avoided repeating. 

"You might be coming on some unexpected inheritance or something.  But, there-"  His finger moved from the Nine of Disks to the inverted Sun, lingering over it a moment.  Troubled marriages or relationships.  Misjudgments.  Both in contradiction to what had been said above.  "I'm not sure," he admitted, moving on.  But, again, his finger just hovered over the inverted moon as he read his notes.  Deception, inability to discern reality from fiction.  Confusion.  Can often be attributed to a compulsive liar. Sasha shifted uncomfortably. 

The last card was the only one that didn't require any reference to his notes.  He shifted uncomfortably, sitting back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the cards in front of him.  "Having too much concern for physical matters."  He grimaced apologetically.  "Failing to understand others or poor judgement.  I-"  He shrugged, looking around the room.  He looked back towards the cards, shrugging awkwardly again. 

1.	Just as an FYI, all the cards listed in the spread, except the first, were dealt from a tarot deck.  Only the first one was actually pre-selected for plot purposes.

"No, and you're quite right about that -- no one ever is able to remove themselves from their ideological frameset. It's much too easy for personal motive and desire to intermingle with 'fate' when prophecying. That's why, you find, that the best Seers -- the ones who make it into history -- are the ones who seem to physically detatch, almost completely. They go into some sort of trance where they are not themselves, where they lose their own sort of agency and become merely vehicles of the prophecy."

He cleared his throat. "Now, that's all fine and well, if you are a Seer; some have a natural prediliction for that sort of thing and are more or less vulnerable to that sort of interference. But then there's the more practical, applicable way of remaining detatched, which, unfortunately, we can't entirely practice here: the other sorts of famous Seers are complete strangers to the subjects of their prophecies. Think of the Seer telling Caesar -- beware the Ides of March. How different it might have been if that had been Brutus delivering the message; one would have thought it not a prophecy at all. Merely a notification that Brutus had picked a date to kill his friend. But because the Seer had no personal relationship with Caesar or Brutus, the prophecy is all the more credible.

"It's always much better to have your cards read by a complete stranger. There's always a certain level of emotion -- whether it be guilt, delight, or the desire to please -- when you read the cards of someone you know. You're invested in their outcome. And those emotions -- as important as they are -- cloud objectivity. Which is why, when you lay them out, you must become as close to objective as you can. Do you see what I mean by 'becoming the microscope?' You don't need to go into a trance, but if you can remain as. . . disconnected as you can, the reading becomes more accurate. Divination isn't the nebulous art of 'feeling' like some people'd think. It's actually a very precise art which focuses on mastering your own faculties of emotional control and logical thinking."

He gave a wry smile. "It's as logical as any other part of magic. But tarot cards do not function on probability. No. In fact, I'd be surprised if the cards were completely rigid and inanimate. I'm not sure the faces of the cards are completely set until they touch the surface of the table. Perhaps the fingertips of the dealer. I'm not certain."

He filled his lungs with air as he considered Sasha's question on grading. With a bit of a sad smile, Dreogan released his breath. Sasha, he had long known, was a grade-driven student. Dreogan himself didn't much believe in grades. "Well, Sasha," he said, embarking on an answer that he knew would not be satisfying for the young man, "I don't rightly know how they can grade that. It feels a bit like grading your ability to draw. Unlike History of Magic, there is no one way, and no one set of facts to master. Divination is about mastering yourself, and really, only you can be the true judge of that. So I'm not sure if I could even come up with a concrete rubric for you. There are specific things you can work on, though. Interpretation exercises -- they might not seem very related to Divination, though. . . Once you've laid out the cards, we can discuss that a bit more," he said. Getting ahead of himself.

"How about we work on making you a better Seer before we worry about getting you a better grade? It's just a thought, of course, but I think the latter might accompany the former."

Dreogan waited patiently through all of Sasha's explanation, keeping his face open, impassive, and concerned as the boy grew increasingly frustrated. "Okay." He said, nodding, as Sasha finished. He boy sighed and shifted away from the cards in his seat. "Alright -- it's alright," Dreogan said, leaning forward into the cards to tap each one, considering.

"There's more than one way to do a reading, and more than one reading for each person. This is good. And certainly true. But do you remember what I said about the Seer and Caesar? How the Seer didn't know everything about him? Do you think there's just a chance that maybe -- perhaps? -- the Seer didn't know everything about Caesar? Like what would happen on March 15th? Or who would do it? Or if it was even inevitable?"

He looked once more at the cards. "You've laid out possibilities here. And you've given me information to think about. For instance, this one--" he said, pointing to the princess of cups, "could be because Akiva and I are engaged and planning the wedding." Well, they weren't really planning yet, even though the wedding was two. . . three months away? Dreogan grimaced slightly and gave a nervous laugh. "Well! But this one," he said, pointing to the inverted Sun, "could be about Akiva. Or it could be about my boss. Or Adon." He looked at Sasha. "You can't really know for sure, can you, Sasha?" He smiled. "You know me, but not everything about my life situation -- and you don't need to! Part of the work is for me to go home and think about it, to look for signs in my own life."

He'd considered telling Sasha this. There was a long silence. Opening his mouth, he found his words taking an alternate route. "You ever read Muggle horoscopes? They're very, very vague. But almost everyone reading them can identify something in their own lives that they can connect it to. That doesn't make it untrue -- that makes it true."

Again, the silence. Clearing his throat, he once more tapped the inverted sun card. "And, really, when I think about this, the many possibilities that only I know about. . . I think, if you had told me that I have a strained relationship right now, even I would acknowledge that it was with my brother." He looked away, bending down a bit to gather a dropped pencil and then searched the table for a notepad.

"So really, what you ought to have said, when that card came up, is not 'You and so-and-so are in a strained relationship,' -- because really, you cannot know enough about me to determine who that might be -- you should say 'I See you are encountering a troubled relationship.' You may be misjudging." He wrote a line on the piece of paper: "card-specific interpretation, not person-specific."

"If the Caesar's Seer had tried to focus on Caesar himself, and not the prophecy, he might have tried to make a guess about what would happen on the Ides of March. And he might have guessed wrong. You state what you know. And I think you know the meaning of this card, right? The rest, really, is up to the fortune-recipient to interpret."

Dreogan looked down at the cards, silently evaluating, before giving a bit of a sigh. "There's a theme in both your reading and mine, you know . . ." he said. He looked at Sasha. "Without delving into specifics or personal situations -- focusing on a card-specific interpretation, what do you See?"

He looked up earnestly at Sasha. "The first thing you need in order to be a Seer -- even before being able to master your own emotions -- is to not be afraid of how your message will be received."

That's why, you find, that the best Seers -- the ones who make it into history -- are the ones who seem to physically detatch, almost completely. They go into some sort of trance-

"Or, take hallucinogens."

Sasha was still staring at the cards, his mind so focused on what was being explained and trying to read the cards that he hadn't really registered what he'd said.  But, after a beat, he realized he could still hear the sentence in his own head - like an echo.  His eyes widened and he glanced up, looking for some sort of verification in Dreogan's demeanor that he'd actually, truly, said that aloud.  He turned scarlet and quickly shook his head.  "I ... that ... I meant like-"  He sat up straighter, hesitated a few moments before laughing at his own seemingly random statement.  "Professor Frasier, you know, teaches us about indigenous cultures.  He talked about how some of the mystics or leaders used hallucinogenic herbs and plants to ... do whatever they do.  I - that was ... yeah."

The example of Caesar was much less awkward though the chuckle had helped break him a little from his frustration.  Sasha turned his focus to the new concepts, nodding his head as he considered the information.  The example of the microscope was starting to make more sense.  "So, you're the tool of investigation?" he asked, glancing up for verification.  And, really - "mastering emotional control and logical thinking?"  Sasha cast an ironic grin across the table as he shrugged, slightly.  If he had any deficits in Divination, it didn't come from being unable to control his emotions or think logically.

"I'm not sure the faces of the cards are completely set until they touch the surface of the table."

"Does the light ever really go off when the fridge door is closed?"  Sasha, indeed, wasn't exactly placated by the answer concerning grades.  If he managed to pull his DADA grade up (which, with Professor Storm's help, he was hoping to), he stood the chance of having that one Divination score being the one thing marring an otherwise perfect performance.  It only added salt to that particular wound to know that there might not even really be a legitimate way to grade his work.  That still wouldn't make him give up - that just made the endeavor feel somewhat ... like it was lost before it had even begun.

He listened closely to Dreogan's encouragement and explanations.  What he said made sense - at least in theory.  Putting it into practice was trickier, though.  Very little of Sasha's work could be described as vague - answers were only kept vague when someone didn't actually know the full answer.  Which was the point Dreogan was making.  Sasha sighed, scratching the side of his head.  Somehow, he'd have to make not giving complete answers okay.  Curiosity flickered across Sasha's face when Dreogan mentioned his strained relationship with his brother but glanced down at the notebook as Dreogan started writing.

His eyebrows arched as his mind attempted to put all the vagueness into concepts he more readily understood.  "It's passive voice rather than active," he commented, considering the two examples before shifting in his chair to lean over the table and look at what Dreogan wrote closer.  Suddenly, for whatever reason, the explanation just clicked in his brain and made sense.  At least, he thought.  Or, perhaps, just hoped.

"It's like ... a lab report," Sasha said, the potential revelation bringing an obvious increase in enthusiasm.  He shuffled through his stack of books and pulled out a binder, extracting his most recent chem lab report and setting it next to Dreogan's note.  "You establish your question-" in this case, Dreogan.  "- set out the instruments that present the data-" in the form of laying out the tarot cards, "gather the data.  Which, in lab reports, should be passive voice.  Because, you're just transcribing your findings."  Which, was the card reading.  "Then, in this case, you ... just leave the interpretation of the results up to the subject?"

If that really, truly was the case ... Sasha blinked and looked down at the cards.  He pushed himself to his feet and moved over to the fridge, grabbing himself a can of apple spritzer, the activity giving him an opportunity to step back from the cards for a moment before going back to them with this new, fresh perspective.

He sat down once more and, after a sip, drew the notebook and pencil to him as he considered the cards in front of him.  For several long minutes, he sat in silence, jotting down the occasional note.  Finally, he set the pencil down once more and scanned over the cards one last time.  Keep it vague and keep it passive tense.  Just report the findings.

Sasha pointed at the first card.  "Well, in the big picture, there's conflict - either internally or externally though,"  he pointed at the last card, "I suspect there's inner conflict that's preventing a balance from being established."  He wrinkled his nose.  Writing lab reports in passive voice was one thing.  Speaking in passive voice was another entirely.  "There will be growth in the area of family life and interactions though some of it might be unexpected.  There's doubt, though," Sasha said, pointing to the inverted sun and moon.  "And, perhaps that conflict is preventing that forward progression."  He took a deep breath and then a long drink of apple spritzer before looking up at Dreogan with a shrug. 

Dreogan blinked abruptly at the mention of hallucinogens. "Well, usually, one doesn't--that's much more of a poet thing, isn't it?" he managed. Or teenagers, he supposed. He frowned a bit. Was Sasha involved in that sort of stuff? It certainly came readily enough. "You'll find that's not really helpful--to many things, really." He looked slightly troubled as he regarded the boy at the table. He gave a smile as Sasha seemed to laugh, explaining away the random comment. "Professor Frasier, huh?" he said with a sly smile. "Well, Muggle Studies sounds like an interesting class, at least."

"So, you're the tool of investigation?"

"Yes--when you lay out the cards, you are--you want to be as objective as you can. Because the cards, and what is Seen, can be governed by external forces. You don't want to be one of those forces, since you personally can be subjective. Does that makes sense?"

Well, technically, it wasn't passive voice--they were simply changing actors. But Dreogan wasn't going to fight semantics. Especially if they helped Sasha understand the concept. "Exactly," he said with a broad smile. "You provide facts. The recipient makes it a situation from there."

He listened to the reading before giving an approving nod. Not a fully favorable reading, but-- "Good. Very good. Do you see what you've done? You've kept it vague enough for it to be accurate. You've let the cards--and what they say speak." He smiled. "That was actually very good, Sasha. You'd almost have me fooled as a Seer, if I weren't one myself."

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at the cards. "You'll find, with more practise, I think--or perhaps this is singular to Seers--that you'll get individual, strong promptings in correllation with your readings. Words you think you should say, or images or subliminal, secondary meanings. Those can often augment a reading. But they have to be prophetic promptings, or else, again, you're likely to give a very subjective reading."

He considered Sasha. "What you have just done, though, is quite good. It wasn't specific enough to be innaccurate. You were speaking from what you knew, rather than mere conjecture. Have your divination professors taught you how to ask subjects questions in order to narrow down readings? Or is that beyond the scope of your OWLs?"

"I'm sure-"  Sasha looked up but quickly shook his head at the expression on Dreogan's face.  "I - no!  I don't ... I wouldn't ..."  Did Dreogan really think he'd do that kind of stuff?  Granted, he supposed it was possible.  On a few occasions, Sasha had heard stuff whispered in the school corridors but Sasha usually tried to steer as clear of those conversations as possible.  He was awkward enough under normal circumstances.  "I like my brain chemistry the way it is," Sasha ensured Dreogan.  "I barely have enough time for everything already.  I - no." 

Moments of drug-related awkwardness aside, things were starting to make a little more sense.  At least, in theory.  He supposed it took practice to get the feel for where that line was between too much information and too little.  For one who spent so much time on worrying about providing sufficiently detailed answers, it was not easy to focus on the exact opposite. 

But, the details of implementing it aside, Sasha was at least starting to understand the idea.  He wasn't entirely sure he could describe what it was he'd done but he'd done something.  And, it had sufficed.  Perhaps, more than sufficed if Dreogan's accolades were earnest.  Sasha grinned, quite content with the praise

"I don't think so," Sasha answered, after a little consideration.  "At least, not that I remember.  But, I've missed a lot of classes and we've had several new Divination professors this year.  We covered reading people at the beginning of the year - but that was more like trying to analyze their apparent age and ethnic or economical background.  We didn't really ask questions, though - and, we didn't really apply it to readings."  So, Sasha highly doubted it related to what Dreogan was asking.