Deus Dunleavy Deres was in a good mood. It wasn't that he didn't like school. On the contrary, Hogwarts had a lot to offer: comfy bed, good cooking, fun people.  The problem was that Hogwarts also came with uniforms, rules, schedules, homework, and curfews. Sure, home came with rules, too but they were more along the lines of "Keep yer mout' shut when dem government officials come sniffin'" and "Stop flirtin' wit' de chef, lad, we want to KEEP 'im dis time", and of course, the usual, "Ye lazy, no-account, layabout youngin', stop runnin' around philanderin' wit' who knows who and wipe some gorram tables or Ah'll kick yer tail outta tha' loft ye never pay yer rent for." Deus actually did infinitely less of that than Pa Quigley grumbled about, but had a reputation to uphold at the Lazy Kelpie, so he let the crusty proprietor think whatever he wanted. The man obviously didn't mean what he said—in fact, the only reason Deus was on a train to London instead of heading straight to his pseudo-foster home was on a favor for the old man—who still expected him back at the Kelpie post-haste.

In any case, exams were over, and that was something to celebrate indeed…particularly since at least one or two of them hadn't gone so hot. Surely that potions proctor didn't really need both ears, and even if he did, it was probably re-attachable if you just trimmed off the burnt parts. And he was fairly certain, now that he thought about it, that the 1329 Battle of Grunruck Pass may not have absolutely or exactly involved tranquilizer spells, a draconic duel, and a singing goblin trio known as "Rusty and the Redroots" that sang folk songs and charmed enemy troops with their jaunty dance routines.

But two that had gone well (by his, admittedly, low standards) were the only two classes Deus put any kind of effort into at all—Charms and Transfiguration, and a demonstration of that aptitude was in full force.  Deus's Divination textbook—which, after predicting that his exam proctor would fall madly, desperately in love with a young Scot from a fishing village on the northern coast, and who had brown hair and hazel eyes, was just shy of 1.7 meters but still growing, he suspected he never use again—was now a violin, and an abandoned sock, now a spry bow. The charm he'd cast had the pair dancing in the air, belching out a merry jig. The bow was just a little bit floppy, and the violin tended to screech like a scared mouse on the high notes, and the pair of them kept slamming into the doors or ceiling, but the overall, the production was rather reflective of the uncharacteristically unrestrained energy of the usually mellow Slytherin.

Deus slammed open the door, whistling cheerily off key along with the violin, and in the same motion, reached for the nearest hominoid, fully intending to catch them round the waist and haul them off in a chaotically cheery polka through the corridors of the train. People were getting far too mopey about not seeing each other for his tastes.

There were always mixed feelings about a year end of Hogwarts, but by the time students were boarding the train they'd already said their teary goodbyes, promised to owl, and made plans to meet up during the summer holiday.   With the arduous O.W.L.s finally behind him, and weeks and weeks until his grades were delivered and he had to face the music, Figaro Flamel Sellaphix was among the students celebrating.

He was aboard the train, stomping down the corridor, shoving past the slower moving students.  He was singing some Quidditch fight song, stopping at each compartment to bang on the door, poke his head in, or say hi to his mates. 

Driving fiddle music was just one of the sounds to make it to Figaro's ears as the train began its journey, and in a sweeping motion, Figaro was taken up roughly by none other than the lanky frame of Deus Deres.  Startled for only a moment, Fig only stumbled one or two steps before falling into a triple-stepping jig in the arms of his fellow now-Sixth-Year. 

They got about half way down the very narrow corridor with valiant coordination for a pair of teenage boys dancing together.  (Maybe Deus could dance, but Figaro's mountain-goat tromping negated any native grace.)  Feet got crossed, and Figaro went down. 

But his spirits were high.  Laughing from the ground, Figaro stayed put to catch his breath. 

"You're a crazy bastard, Deres," he said.

Deus was not a person of complicated emotions. Or rather, if he was, there wasn't a soul alive who would guess it from his mannerisms. He made it a point to live down to people's expectations of him, with the occasional lapse in behavior because to his mind, no one really took you seriously unless they had good reason to think you might be a little crazy. It added a credibility he rather liked. When Figaro went down, Deus made a valiant effort to save himself, and he might have managed it had the door he'd been bracing against not opened and sent him tumbling backwards into a shrieking third year witch. "'Allo, doll. Loveleh knickers. Might wannae-" He rolled to avoid the door as it was slammed shut amongst high-pitched twitters of dismay before dusting off his knees and eyeing his dance--or something vaguely resembling it--partner.

"Common misconception." Deus replied lazily, uprighting himself with a languid stretch, and cracking most of his joints in a creaky symphony in the process. "Me ma was married tae me da when Ah was born. May nae been traditional, 'course, but Ah'm pretteh sure 'twas legal." The fiddle was still jangling along down the corridor without him, and Deus waved it a fond farewell as it slapped into some unwary first year who hadn't ducked quite fast enough. Deus smiled wickedly and saluted the instrument as it made its way into the next car. It had his spirit. He admired that. Naturally.


"Figaro, m'dear fellow, ye're a man wit'out grace. 'Tis a shame, pretteh face ye got." Deus's smile softened the insult a bit, and lunged with both hands as though to pinch the fellow not-really-a-fifth-year's cheeks.

Fig swatted away Deus's hands which could have just as easily been going for his throat as his face.  Deus was the kind of bloke who mostly did whatever he wanted.  "Geddoff you...!"

He got up off the floor as the Hogwarts Express hurtled on through the countryside.  The girls from the disturbed compartment were still chattering excitedly, their high-pitched voices leaking from under the closed door.  The fiddle had gone on its merry way.  Train ride took about 4 hours, so there was still time to kill before the food cart came around.  And there'd be more to kill after that, once they'd all gorged themselves on sweets they could very easily get at home, but something about buying it on the Express twice a year made it taste better somehow. 

"Oi! We should play snap," Figaro said suddenly, already reaching into his pocket for his well worn, and singed-around-the-edges deck of exploding snap cards.  The game was Figaro's go-to.  The rules were simple (until you added the house-rules variants), it was loud, and involved wands and hitting things.  Hufflepuff even played with a special rule that allowed for 'checking' (no head shots, nothing below the belt).  All previous Heads of House had forbidden the practice upon finding the students throwing elbows over cards, but as they say - what happens on the Hogwarts Express...

Without so much as waiting for Deus's say-so, Figaro cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Looking for more! Exploding Snap!" 

Wise man, that Sellaphix. Deus's hands fell back to his sides and he shoved them in his pockets, leaning casually against the walls of the train. Frugal as he was, Deus was far more prone to mooching off his peers than buying things from the food cart, but then, he would agree that made things sweeter. Of course, he had a full pack dutifully charmed out of the House Elves in his robe pockets (charmed, of course, for extra depth), but where was the fun in admitting that?

Deus did a mental scan of what he had stored in the noggin on the young Mr. Sellaphix. It wasn't anything personal, it was more of a mental exercise for him.  Family owned apothecary in Knockturn Alley, one younger sibling, parents weren't an inkling as sociable as their son from what Deus could gather. As for Figaro himself, Deus grinned, easy. God-awful at anything involving a broom if first year was any indication, talked enough for two people, and, in Deus's humble opinion, one of those rare, genuinely well-meaning kind of kids.

Which didn't mean  Deus wouldn't try and fleece him if he got the chance.  "Explodin' Snap, eh?" Deus's features slid into the picture of slightly puzzled, innocent nostalgia. "Ah dinnae ken th' last time Ah played. Been a bit. But Ah wouldnae mind puttin' a sickle o' two down fer competitions' sakes. Wantae add a wee wager?"

"I'll take you to the cauldron!" Figaro erupted stabbing a finger in Deus's chest.

He was de-bloodly-lighted that Deus was down for snap and some gambling as well.  Figaro wasn't good at much, but he played snap more than anyone he knew.  He usually cleaned house in Hufflepuff commonroom (unless the Fayettes were playing - they could elbow you across the room), and while most of the other badgers had learned not to throwaway their spending money on snap, Figaro always ached to make things more interesting. 

He didn't have much on him, but he'd think of something.  He could always use the pile of sickles he intended to lay down on junk food.

Figaro, though, hadn't really thought twice about playing for keeps with a kid like Deus.  One might wonder if Figaro would have even cared that the game might not be as casual as it was with the Hufflepuffs.  Nah.  He'd play with anyone if he was bored enough.

Now all they needed was a couple more people and a space to play.  Figaro just started opening the compartment doors nearest him.

"Snap for keeps, want in?"

"Snap? Playing for money! You game?"

And so on.

Philo was looking forward (meaning he wasn't) to a boring ride on the train. He almost thought of trying to find Drea's compartment and work up the nerve to sit with her but he found her in a compartment stuffed with trees and other students. Rather then force his way in he found a less occupied seat.

Hmm...what to do? His satchel only had Arlaug and a box of Fudge Flies in it. His reading materials and omnioculars project were in his trunk. Fiercely guarded by a rug that would latch onto his face if he was foolish enough to open the trunk. No other games or entertaining objects.

Whe Philo looked out in the hall to see if the snack trolly was coming along, he heard a shout from along the car. "Looking for more! Exploding Snap!"

Exploding Snap! There was something. Philo gathered his bag, imagining he would be changing seats for the whole ride. He reached the compartment where an older Hufflepuff boy was hanging out.

"Um, is this the compartment for the Exploding Snap? I, err..." This was Figaro Sellaphix heading along the other direction looking for players, wasn't it? And a sharp faced Slytherin boy Deus on the bench. Philo got a foreboding feeling on what would happen if he stuck around for a game.

"Snap for keeps, want in? Snap? Playing for money! You game?" Figaro said working his way down the hall.

"Um, nevermind, I don't have any money," Philo said, looking to excuse himself. He had enough Knuts on him for a Jelly Slug. A single Jelly Slug.

OOC: Sheesh, sorry guys! I seriously thought I'd replied to this already. Sorry abou that.

It wasn't that Deus was good at Exploding Snap. It was that he was good with cards. Fast, nimble fingers, long sleeves charmed to keep a number of things in them. The speed did help him in the legitimate aspect of the game, and his other skills helped him…well, practice for the future is how Deus liked to phrase it. Still Fig's deck looked pretty worn, and no doubt the Hufflepuff knew each one of them like the back of his hand, judging from his enthusiasm. Deus flexed his hands idly, in a ripple of unpleasant-sounding knuckle pops. So he'd just have to be creative, fair enough. Besides, his pockets were a little heavier than usual—he'd made quite a profit this OWL/NEWT season.

Deus whistled cheerfully, following Fig around with his hands in his pockets and winking at the third years from earlier.

"Um, is this the compartment for the Exploding Snap? I, err..."

Deus grinned at the kid who'd entered. Shrimpy little fellow—freshly graduated first or second year, if Deus's mark was on. Not from his house, but, eh, Deus was the sort of fellow who was fairly socially apathetic. You could get something from everyone if you were careful enough. Had to admire the kid for coming up to talk to the older kids—Deus warmed to him quickly, and his general sort of sympathy for kids kicked in.

"Aye, 'tis." Deus's smile was the easy sort of smile you'd expect from a shark who'd just eyed an unwary seal, but it was tempered by the easy mirth in his eyes. "Eh, we'll lend ye a knut'r two. If not, we can play fer sommat else." In a second, the predatory gleam was replaced with angelic innocence as Deus turned to Fig, rocking back on his heels. " Raid on the prefect cabin if ye lose?" He scratched his chin thoughtfully, wondering what else they could play for. School was over, but Deus wasn't above calling in favors at the start of the next one.

"Yer Philo, right?"  Figaro asked the young kid who'd accepted the invite to play.  Fig knew almost everyone, or knew of them. It was harder with the younger kids, but Philo had a weird name - like his - so it was easier to remember.

Even as Deus was making suggestions about what to gamble with when Philo said he didn't have any money, Figaro just waved off the concern.  "We'll think of something, no worries, mate.  We'll get creative. 

In the compartment, they folded out the table from the wall and Figaro got settled in on the bench seat under the luggage racks, and started in with shuffling the cards.  Even as they hummed and snapped beneath his fingers, sometimes a spark or two would fly up.

"Knut per card, sickle max, face cards are doubles, dragon cards are triples, blocking's okay - you both cool with that?" Figaro said rapidly, easily rattling off the little rules variants they always used in Hufflepuff house.  The pentagonal cards were now sat in a stack in the middle whilst Figaro dug out his ante.

His little sack of money was heavy with food money - food money ripe for the wagering.  It was mostly knuts and sickles, but there were two galleons in there that he'd been holding on to.

"Then take seven," he instructed, nodding at the cards, prompting the lads to take their own hand of cards.


I don't actually have an inside scoop on how this game is played.  I'm imagining something with the hitting of Egyptian Ratscrew or SlapJack, but with explosions.  I say just go with it and come up with the little play-by-plays as things seem to be fun and make sense.

((OOC: I could see this like you want to get most of the deck. I forget the name of the game, but such a game I played recently you could slap on 2 same denomination cards, a sandwich of 3 cards of 1 between 2 of the same denomination, and on face cards having to up the ante like in War to beat with another face card. But of course, there are explosions!

Philo found himself compelled into the cabin anyways, although he was unnerved by the older students. Raids on cabins, Knut-Sickle values for cards, what? This was not going to be a simple game of Snap!

He took his seven cards, shuffled them, then held the stack in prime flip over and slap stance. The first card was flipped over on the pile, Philo put down his own in the first round, nothing yet slappable.

Deus held back as a wince as Figaro launched into a spirited recitation of the rules, fighting the strong suspicion he may have just made a serious rookie mistake in challenging the Hufflepuff. He bit back a resigned sigh and shook his head almost imperceptibly. Well, he'd just have to push for a shift to non-monetary gambles sooner rather than later. You know, for Fido's—that was his name, right?—sake. And, well, what was a few knuts and sickles for the sake of a good time.

Notably, he didn’t roll up his sleeves. He did mutter a fireproofing enhancement spell before pocketing his wand, though.  He took his seven cards and ran a magician's shuffle on them, letting them fly in a quick blur from hand to another with some faint hisses and sparks.

"Al righ'. Apologies in advance fer the black eyes ahn burnt eyebrows, laddies."

Hope it's okay to take a few liberties with speeding up a quick game.  We all can do it, and pause for interludes of action!

All three players were eye-balling each other, shuffling their cards.  "Ah sweet!" Deus know how to do a magician's shuffle - he'd have to learn that.

Philo went ahead and got things started as Deus postured like a good teenaged bloke should.  "So's yer old man, Deres," Fig responded in kind, with a non sequitor come-back.  "Let's do this!"

After the first round, with both Figaro and Deus dropping cards, Figaro reached into his back and took out three knuts.  "Lay something down, gents," he instructed.  In so few things was Figaro invested, on the ball, and aware.  But for all the time the kids spent on this obnoxious hobby, he was in the zone.

As another round passed and then another of the lads laying down cards in quick succession, the anticipation started to build.  Clearly deck was cold - something had to come up. 

"Ssssha!" Suddenly Figaro's hand came screaming down onto the deck, with little regard of who's hand was in the way.   He punctuated it with a cry and as soon as his hand hit the deck, he snatched it away.  The stack of cards (about 20) by now, cracked in a small explosion of sparks and smoke. 

"Dragons, you bastards!" he declared and pulled what was in the pot over to himself.

He dropped another card down in the smoldering ashes, pitched a few knuts into the pot again and nodded at the others. 

"Go."

"Lay something down, gents." Oh great, they really were gambling over this game? Philo, reluctantly, placed one Knut of his few Knuts on the pile. He was going to have to be stringent on the antes or he'd be out all his money in minutes.

He noticed Dragons much too late, Figaro's hand knocking his out of the way as a Snap was triggered. The sparks stung his fingers. Philo sighed at the loss of his Knut. No jelly slug on this ride home.

They started again. After the wait until Dragons Philo hadn't expected another Snap so soon. But when placing his card he noticed it matched one two bellow in the stack.

"Sandwich!" Philo said, just managing to get his palm on the pile--and he winced with pain from other hands coming down on his own like sledgehammers. He even thought there were sharp fingernails in there!

Deus snickered at Figaro's comeback, but made no other response because the game was on.

 When he saw the matching cards come up, he didn't go for elbows—he went for knees. He snapped  his foot out in a sweeping arc in an attempt to knock his competitors off balance in the very literal sense, his hand flying out to slap solidly on the pile where two sullen phoenixes lay smoking against each other.  Whether or not the diversionary tactic worked was fairly irrelevant—Deus had quick hands, even if his attention tended to wander at times.

Without thinking much of it, Deus tossed a few knuts at Philo for him to throw in the pile. He was relatively confident they'd wind up back in his pocket eventually. He seemed too rabbitty to get into it as much as Fig and Deus though he WAS holding his own, and if Fig took the majority of the pot, well…Figaro was fairly comfortable with the kind of close, arm around the neck, dancing down the hall kind contact that made it easy to pick pockets. Deus had no kind of reputation for being honorable about monetary issues, and it was well known he had a seriously sketchy family background, even if the details and extent of his pseudo-foster family's crimes weren't widely advertised. One engaged Deus Deres in gambling endeavors at their own risk, and people didn't tend to hold onto his money for long, for one reason or another.