five — two of swords.

upright: difficult choices, stalemate, indecision

reversed: lesser of two evils, no right choice, confusion

( alternatively: the magic word! )

|

AS IT NEARED the end of November, the student body started to grow restless, anxiously awaiting for the first trial. Verity had finally found her footing again, somehow managing to balance her chaotic schedule. Some days were worse than others, but for the most part she'd finally gotten the hang of it. She'd found herself adjusting to the new presences in her life, along with the lack of other presences.

Firstly, there were the Durmstrang students she'd grown surprisingly close to. Since it had been a few weeks since they started attending classes at Hogwarts, they no longer need to seek her or Cedric out for help, but a few still sought her out, namely Niko. Wherever Niko went, Anastasia was never far behind, and wherever she went, Viktor usually trailed at a distance. Verity had tried to understand the strange dynamic between the three at first, but had given up after it became clear not even they understood how it all worked.

Secondly, she'd gotten accustomed to the sinking of her stomach every time morning passed and a new letter from her father failed to appear. She'd gone as far to hide away in the Prefect bathroom in the early hours of dawn, drawing tarot card after tarot card in the hopes something, anything really, would disprove the small voice nagging in the back of her head.

He isn't coming home this time.

Each time, without fail, she'd draw the same two cards over and over again.

At some point when Verity had been making her deck a few years ago, she must've subconsciously associated those close to her with a particular card. Because of this, whenever she ask her deck for clarity on her father, one card (his card, as she'd come to associate it) would appear with a secondary card for her to interpret. The secondary card was subject to change depending on what she asked and gave her a fragmented answer she had to piece together.

Verity sits in an empty classroom during her free period, shuffling the black cards a few times. Currently, one side of the cards were blank while the other side had a border of gold lining it, nothing inside the border.

It's second nature at this point to shuffle the cards quickly, her gaze unfocused as she thinks of her father. She spreads the cards out and closes her eyes, holding a picture of him in one hand and slowly moving her free hand over the deck. Her hand jolts to the side, the faint sensation of pins and needles urging her to select the card. She takes it out of the pile and places it in front of the deck, repeating the process once more.

Verity opens her eyes, the bordered side of the cards staring up at her. She tucks the picture of her father into her pocket before hovering her hand over the first card, "Ostendo."

She watches quietly as thin threads unravel from the border, weaving together to create a familiar image.

The King of Wands, her father's card, was one card she'd long since memorized. A throne crafted of fire, the suits element, flickers with life while the king leans back in it. His left hand is curled around a staff etched with whorls that moves languidly, creating pictures of battles and showing the king's history. The king himself is in minimalistic yet regal robes, his face calculating and partially hidden by the shadow of the crown resting on his head.

Upright, the King of Wands most commonly represented leadership, seeing the bigger picture, and overcoming challenges. Reversed, it represented unachievable expectations, volatile temper, and broken promises. Thankfully, to this day, she'd never drawn the card reversed.

Verity gently traces the image with her index finger, frowning as she turns to the second card. She whispers again, dropping her hand as the image weaved together, her frown deepening.

The second card was one she'd rarely drawn before this week. The Two of Swords was depicted by two sharp blades crossing over each other, their hilts decorated in the same gold that outlined the card. In between the two swords rested an upside down crescent moon, a sun surrounding it with the rays only encasing half of the circle. Some days it was upright (difficult choices, stalemate, indecision) while other days it was reversed (lesser of two evils, no right choice, confusion).

Verity couldn't decide which one was worse.

Today it was upright and she resists the urge to redo the drawing, knowing it would only yield the same results and put her in a bad mood for the rest of the day. She lifts up the two cards and blows on them softly, watching the images retreat back into their respective borders.

She packs up her cards into the soft velvet pouch Professor Trewlaney had gifted her after she'd made the deck, tucking them securely into the bottom of her bag. She hoists her bag onto one shoulder, gathering her textbooks into her arms and leaving the classroom with a heavy heart. It's rare for her to find herself alone, having spent the last week or so with Imogen glued to her side and she looks for her on instinct before remembering she'd gone back to the dorm room to take a nap.

It turns out her best friend was quite an effective deterrent at warding away Oliver Spratt, who was rumored to be wishing to ask Verity to the Yule Ball. However, it was a double edged blade, for while Imogen scared Oliver away, she also managed to scare the rest of the male population away as well, leaving Verity dateless.

It wasn't that big of a deal, in all honesty, but she'd prefer to secure a date now before her only choice was Oliver.

Cedric had offered once more to go to the ball with her, only to turn a shade of red that would make a tomato jealous after Verity pointed out that he'd have a lot more fun with Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw Seeker he'd harbored a crush on since last year. He'd nearly shoved her into a wall as she wiggled her eyebrows, and then he'd actually shoved her out of the way when they saw the aforementioned Seeker making her way towards them.

Verity had figured there were two possible reasons for his actions. The first was because Cedric didn't want Cho to think there was something between them (unlikely, considering most knew of their close friendship, but still plausible since he was flustered enough for all common reason to exit the castle) or if it was because he knew she'd embarrass him thoroughly (she may be considered quiet by some of her peers, but Cedric knew just the type of humor Verity had and had likely anticipated what she'd say).

It was the latter, she decided, definitely the latter.

A hand touching her shoulder draws her out of her thoughts and she skitters away from the person, wishing her hands weren't full so she could draw her wand.

Oliver Spratt smiles at her, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "Hey Vera."

Fuck off, she thinks vehemently.

"Spratt." Is what she says instead, adjusting her grip on her textbooks.

"I've been trying to talk to you all week," he says, flashing the same smile he gave her every time he saw her. Verity didn't trust his smile, after all, people use very different muscles when their smile is genuine versus when their smile is being used to disarm or charm. She'd bet her tarot deck Oliver's smile wasn't genuine, not in the way that counted.

Verity doesn't respond, settling for staring flatly at him. To his credit, his smile doesn't falter, and he waits for a moment to see if she's going to say anything before continuing.

"I've been thinking," he starts off, hands tucked into his robe pockets, "that we don't know each other too well. And you know, we should get to know each other better. Talk about interests or hobbies, you know, something other than Prefect duties. Plus, you're cute, and I'm fairly handsome if I say so myself, so it would be a good time—"

Verity got the distinct impression that the thing Oliver wanted to do with her didn't involve nearly as much talking as he was suggesting, the lies he spoke flowing off his skin like rainwater, cascading around them inky droplets.

"—which is always an option. Anyways, this is my long way of asking you if you'd be my date to the Yule Ball?"

Verity keeps her face carefully composed, "No, thank you for asking though."

That not-quite-genuine-not-quite-fake smile of his finally falters, "...what?"

She doesn't wish to give him any false hope, but at the same time, she knows Oliver is just as human as her (even if he did annoy her more then anyone else she'd ever met), so she takes a few seconds to think of a proper answer, "My answer is no. I appreciate you asking, but I'm going to have to decline."

Now he's frowning, a little angry, a little embarrassed, a little sad, and utterly human, "Why not?"

Because I don't feel comfortable around you. Because you only want to ask me not because I'm cute— cute implies there's more to me then looks —but because you think I'm hot and that's all you care about. Because I've never had a conversation with you where you didn't lie. Because I'm pretty sure you have a bet going on with your friends about kissing me. Because the Yule Ball is just a means to an end for you. Because I don't like you and I doubt I ever will and I'd rather not go than go with you.

Verity debates lying, she debates saying one of the truths, she debates walking away with a half-hearted excuse.

Luckily, she doesn't have to do any of those.

"Ver-ah!"

Verity has never been so thankful to hear Niko sound out her name, his footsteps sounding out as he nears the two. Oliver's eyes flicker between them, and without Verity having to say or do anything, draws his own conclusions.

"You're going with him, aren't you?" His words are clearly sharper than he means them to be and he clears his throat, "That's why you said no."

"What is he talking about?" Niko whispers to her, looking at Oliver curiously.

"I'll tell you in a minute, just play along, okay?"

Her friend makes a quiet noise of confirmation, and Verity switches back to English, "Yes."

Though his pride is wounded after being shot down, Oliver is more appeased by this answer then any of the others Verity would've given. She said no because she had a date already, not because of him, or at least that's what she assumed he was thinking. Annoyance flickers inside of her but she snuffs it out, figuring this was the best possible outcome for the time being. Perhaps one day he'd finally give up, hopefully sooner rather than later.

Oliver walks off quickly, leaving Verity to let out a guttural sounding sigh of aggravation.

"Explanation now, yes?" Niko inquires, poking her in the side.

Verity jumps, "Stop doing that!"

He giggles and she wonders how such a soft-hearted boy can look so intimidating, "But your reaction is very funny."

She scowls half-heartedly, "Let's walk and talk."

The two stroll through the castle, Verity switching to Russian to keep the conversation a little more private and also so Niko doesn't have to sift through her words as much. The black-haired boy was fluent in four languages (Russian, Bulgarian, Romanian, and English respectively), but had admitted to her that he struggled the most with English. So they traded off between the two languages, Niko practicing his English with her and Verity refreshing her knowledge of Russian with him.

He listens attentively as she talks, the two slowly making their way towards the courtyards, the chill of winter bringing a natural flush to Verity's cheeks. Niko seems unphased by the cold air, dressed in his Durmstrang uniform without the jacket and partial cape, instead wearing the crimson long-sleeve top that looks to be made out of a sweater like material with a mock turtleneck. It's asymmetrical, with three gold buttons starting near his right shoulder that create a neat line and it looks a lot comfier then the dress shirt and blazer combination Verity wore.

By the time Verity finishes they're on the long bridge overlooking the Black Lake and she watches Niko turn to face her, leaning back against the railing. Verity keeps a healthy distance from the railing, focusing on Niko rather then the water far below.

"So he thinks we're going to the ball together because you didn't want to tell him you think he's an asshole?" Niko clarifies, staring at her with an bemused expression.

"Yeah, but don't worry, you don't actually have to go with me. It was just to get him off of my back and since I have to work with him for another year, I don't want to make things too terrible."

Niko hums thoughtfully, "You don't have a date yet though, right?"

Verity shakes her head, "Not exactly my top priority right now."

"Is there anyone you were hoping to go with?" He asks curiously, switching to English now that the bulk of their conversation is out of the way and Verity was done explaining, crossing his arms loosely across his chest, head tilting to the side.

In a way, he reminds Verity of a puppy... if the puppy was a tall teenager who looked as though he could tear you apart without breaking a sweat and has a hidden heart of gold.

His question makes her pause and she blinks a few times, realization striking her. She'd been so worried about Oliver, she hadn't even thought if there was anyone she wanted to go with. She presses her lips together as she thinks, sorting through her short list of male friends. She wouldn't have minded going with Cedric, but she'd much rather he go with his crush than feel obligated to go with her. There was Viktor, but they were more of mutual acquaintances than anything else, and Adrian had already asked Imogen to the dance a few days ago.

She was friendly with a few of the other Prefects, but none that stood out to her, and at the very end of the list were three names, two of which she crossed off without a second thought.

Somehow, someway, the infamous pranking trio of Gryffindors had decided that she was their friend. She hadn't noticed at first, but it became more apparent that the Weasley twins were going out of their way to interact with her and Lee Jordan, someone she'd spoken to maybe twice before, had regularly started saying hello to her in the halls.

Verity didn't mind any of them, though their sudden interest in her was a bit suspicious (she couldn't tell if it was because of her returning their parchment, the cauldron explosion, her smearing ash onto George's face, or something else). What she did mind, however, was the small yet effective pranks the twins had subjected her to (she was still finding glitter on her robes despite casting several cleaning spells and somehow the material had spread to most of her wardrobe).

It was easiest to dismiss Lee, practically everyone knew about him and Fianna Jones's (one of the sixth-year Hufflepuff Prefects) sort of relationship. The two were in a perpetual state of 'sort of together' with neither confirming nor denying any questions regarding their relationship.

With that, came Fred. He was easy to strike off as well because she'd never had a one-on-one conversation with him and he was a lot sharper around the edges then George was. It hadn't been too noticeable until she'd interacted with his twin and started to silently pick apart the differences between the two out of habit.

And then there was one.

Verity supposes that her and George are kind of friends. Maybe. Sort of. Probably. Definitely not the kind of friends trading secrets and knowing each other like the back of their hands, but still friends. The sort that nod in the hallway and, because he was George, pranked her and in the same breath asked her with a cheery grin beautiful morning, isn't it Finch? He was easy-going and easy to get along with, despite his mischievous tendencies.

Yes, she wouldn't mind going with him, but she hadn't been hoping to go with him either considering they barely knew each other and she figured she wasn't on his radar as a possibility.

"Not really," she answers Niko, "I'd be fine going with pretty much anyone."

He straightens up, eyebrows furrowing together as he phrases his next question, "Then we go together, yes?"

"I-, you want to go with me? Not with Anastasia?"

"Yes. You. Not Ana, it's secret between us but Viktor is trying to find courage to ask her. We will have fun," he pauses, "this not me... hitting you? I forgot the word, shit."

It's Verity's turn to laugh, "Hitting on me?"

He nods, "Yes! That's it. I'm not, erhm, making a move so don't be afraid of that. We go as friends, be hottest duo there, watch Ana and Viktor be terribly awkward and laugh. Is a win-win, yes?"

"Okay."

"Okay? You can give me better answer then that," he teases, "I just poured heart and soul to you, and I get 'okay'?" He raises his voice slightly to mimic her.

"Oh, that was your heart and soul?" Verity shoots back, "I call bs."

Niko narrows his eyes at her, "Very well, you leave me no choice."

He turns his back to her and Verity watches, equal parts amused and confused, as he runs his fingers through his hair and straightens out his shirt. He takes out his wand and Verity tries to see what he's doing, but isn't able to hear the spell he whispers. Without warning he turns around and takes a few steps forward, stopping in front of her, offering her a purple larkspur flower.

"Ver-ah, will you accompany me to the Yule Ball?"

Verity takes the flower, "I'd love to."

He grins and claps his hands together, "Excellent!" A bell sounds out in the distance and his face pales, "Oh no. I have class. Bye!"

She watches him dash off, tucking the flower into her pocket next to her wand. Unlike Niko, she doesn't run back to the castle, instead picking a brisk pace and burrowing her face into her scarf to combat the cold. She spends the rest of her free period wandering through the castle, not feeling motivated enough to work on her homework.

The rest of her day passes quickly enough, spent going through her final class of the day followed by stuffing her face at dinner and scrambling to finish assignments due the next day before she meets up with Adrian to do the night rounds.

They'd gotten the second to last shift, which meant sixth and seventh years were allowed out still, but all the underclassmen were supposed to be in their respective common rooms.

They walk side by side as they methodically comb through the dungeons and make their way up. When it comes to going through the library they split up, Verity quietly ushering a group of sleepy Hufflepuff fourth years out of the library with a gentle reprimand. The small group walks off and she's mildly concerned that they may fall asleep before they reach their common room.

"What's the point of being Prefect if you don't deduct house points?"

George's whisper causes her to jump in shock, Verity whirling around to find the tall ginger grinning down at her, her heartbeat thrumming in her chest (apparently the goal of everyone she interacted with today was to scare her).

She crosses her arms over her chest, "Would you like me to take some off for you?"

He grins, his magic rippling around him in a glimmering haze of mustard yellow and auburn orange, lingering hints of red running throughout, "And what would your reasoning be? Because I'm so handsome or because you're such a wimp?"

She hums softly in thought before saying, "For giving me a heart attack. Let's see, ten points from—"

His face contorts with shock, "Wait! Shit, no no if you take away points then I'm gonna lose a bet. Don't be heartless, please."

Verity laughs, "Only because you said please."

His eyes glimmer with mischief, "Oh, is that the magic word for you, Finch? As long as I say please you'll do what I ask?"

Verity shakes her head, "Now I never said that."

"You haven't even heard what I was going to say!"

"Then say it."

"Well now I don't want to since you're being mean."

Verity purses her lips, "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. Let's hear it."

George taps his chin thoughtfully, and for a moment Verity thinks he might leave her in suspense. He flashes her a surprisingly endearing smile, "Go to the Yule Ball with me, please?"

Her stomach sinks and it takes her a second to place the emotion. She's disappointed, not because he's asking, but because she can't say yes. Something must show on her face because his smile ebbs away to make room for concern.

"Did I step over bounds?" George asks cautiously, "You can say no, you know. Don't feel obligated to say yes, I'd hate to get a pity date because you felt like you needed to go with me. Besides, I happen to handle rejection really well. "

"My answer is no," she says quietly, the disappointment curdling into guilt at having to turn him down, "but not because I wouldn't want to go with you. I already agreed to go with someone else, I'm sorry."

He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head, "Don't be sorry. It's my fault, I should've asked sooner."

The silence that follows presses down on them and Verity shifts, unsure of what to do, eyebrows furrowing together as she thinks. She doesn't know if she should apologize again, she feels like she should, but it wouldn't be a very sincere apology considering she already said it and that it

She freezes as George leans down slightly, reaching out to poke her forehead, the ginger snickering, "You're gonna get wrinkles if you keep making that face."

"I feel bad," she blurts out, watching as something indiscernible flashes across George's face before it quickly morphs into an expression she'd gotten used to seeing on him. The problem with this particular look was that George tended to either prank her or say something teasing but well-meaning, and she could never tell which one it was going to be.

"If you feel bad, there's something you can do for me then," he's grinning again and she's a little surprised by how quickly he bounces back.

A little wary, she hesitates, "...what?"

He holds out his hand, "Promise me you'll save me a dance."

She reaches out to shake his hand, "That I can do."

George's smile widens as they shake hands and for a moment they stand in the hallway, Verity vaguely aware of her own matching smile.

"I'll see you around, Finch."

He walks away, hands linked behind his neck as he whistles.

The rest of the rounds pass by painstakingly slow, her mind determined to keep replaying the moment in the hallway on a continuous loop.

Verity slips inside her dorm room, quietly gathering her pajamas and taking a quick shower. She makes sure her curtains are drawn tight around her bed and whispers a cloaking spell before illuminating the tip of her wand, tucking it behind her ear. She opens her tarot card bag again, taking her cards out.

Should she draw again? Probably not. Are the two cards going to change? Unlikely. Is still she going to? Absolutely.

Shuffle. Pause. Flick through. Repeat.

Verity closes her eyes and clears her thoughts, spreading out the deck. She doesn't think about her movements, just lets a combination of instinct and muscle memory guide her, her mind the clearest it had been in weeks. She holds onto the good feelings that had occurred throughout the day, discarding the rest, and then thinking of her question.

How is Alexander Finch?

She selects a card, pauses, then selects another. Another question creeps into her thoughts and she tries to shut it out, but it's too late, and when she opens her eyes there's a third card.

The first card; King of Wands. The second card; Two of Swords. The third card—

Her hand hovers over the card, Verity silently chastising herself for asking a question she didn't really want to the answer to.

"Ostendo." She breathes out, dread sinking its wicked teeth into her as the golden strands begin to stitch together an image upside down. A field of skulls litters the landscape, a woman standing in the midst, one foot on top of a nearby skull. Her long hair is unbound and tangled with victory, a cruel crown with iron teeth encircling her brow, an almost haughty look painted on her face. She wields a single broadsword and it's pointed towards the ground, her plain black dress spanning from the top of her neck to the bottom of her feet, pieces of armor overlaying the material in strategic areas.

When upright, this wasn't a terrible card, for it represented complexity, perceptiveness, and clear mindedness. But the card was reversed, which meant it currently represented cold-heartedness, cruelty, and bitterness.

Verity picks up the card, a tremor shaking her hand, her lips pressing into a thin line. She was an idiot for doing this, she should've just discarded the card and never read it, never touched it, never revealed the truth to herself. On some subconscious level, she had known the answer to her question, and once again, she'd foolishly hoped to be proven wrong.

But she'd learned a long time ago that she could never escape the truth.

Who is my father hunting?

She stares down at the card, resigned.

The Queen of Swords glares back.

Evangeline.

thanks for reading!

let me know what you think :)

& since verity can't seem to catch a break, here's a few things to light the mood

my hp oc's as things my friends have said:

some incorrect quotes of verity and george, ft. fred and imogen: