A cloaked girl walks into the Hufflepuff dormitory, hood pulled forward to conceal her face. Quickly moving to her bed, she pushes the lid of her trunk up with one gloved hand and withdraws a small wooden box, closing the trunk. She holds it for a moment, then places it in the center of her bed, on top of the puce bedspread. Using both hands, she pushes back the hood of her cloak to reveal her thin face, the skin sickly pale even at the end of summer with dark circles present under her eyes. A worried frown tugs the corners of her mouth downwards as she unfastens her cloak and folds it, walking back to the trunk to close the lid and place the dark garment on top. Reaching into her messenger-style bag, she withdraws her wand before taking it off and setting it on top of her folded cloak. She takes the few steps back to the side of her bed – quickly and surely – and slips her left shoe off, bringing her stocking-clad foot up to kneel on the bed. Slipping off her other shoe, she crawls to kneel beside the box, tugging the hangings closed behind her to shield herself from the light of the fire.
“Lumos.”
A light appears at the end of her wand, illuminating the space inside her bed hangings. She holds it in her left hand as she reaches inside a small pocket in her dress to withdraw a key, inserting the delicate piece of metal into the lock of the box and giving it a quarter turn, the click audible even over the noise of the other girls coming to bed. She opens the box with one hand, taking out a white piece of silk and shaking it to unfold it before spreading it on the bed before herself. As she sets her wand down on the bed on the other side of the cloth, the light illuminates everything before her. Reaching out with both hands now, she takes a deck of cards from the box, closing the lid and setting it aside. Closing her eyes with a quiet exhalation, she shuffles the cards – once, twice, three times, then a fourth, before stopping and cradling the deck in her hands. After a moment, she opens her eyes and draws the first card inverted, placing it in the center of the white fabric.
Her eyes narrow at it, flinching back involuntarily.
The truth hurts. That itself is truth. Face it. The Page of Pentacles, inverted, symbolizing the darker implications of the card. Someone who enjoys wielding their power. But I don't enjoy it. I hate it. I hate every moment.She takes a deep, steadying breath and leans forward slightly again as she draws the next card in the deck inverted and places it underneath the first.
Seven of Pentacles. Pentacles. Why Pentacles?She frowns at the pair of cards anxiously, brushing a strand of hair back towards her right pigtail.
A promising situation that ends in failure. Is that what this feeling is? Knowing that I've failed at everything I tried to do? Those who I can still look in the eye won't do so in return. But was it ever actually promising?A brief look of regret flashes across her eyes before she narrows them, turning her expression cold again as she draws a third card inverted, placing it to the right of the first.
Six of Cups, but inverted. Representing a longing for what is gone, things that can never return.She tilts her head to the side slightly, her brows relaxing and her frown slowly disappearing as she considers the card.
I do fear that. I fear being caught by it, never being able to move forward. Always dwelling on what was, and what could have been.She looks down at the cards remaining in her hand, her eyelids almost closed so that she has to look through her dark lashes.
And another.As she draws the next card, placing it underneath the last one, she opens her eyes.
Seven of Cups. Odd, isn't it, how the dominions of Pentacles and Cups differ.Her gloved fingers linger on the card for a moment before she withdraws her hand into her lap once more, her frown returning as she considers the newest card.
One true path, the rest only distractions. I know this. I have known it for years. But this position, hopes and fears, that is not what it means. It is not trying to tell me it exists, but telling me that I desire it. And I do.She draws a fifth card inverted and places it to the left of the first card, a look of recognition and sadness coming over her features as she sees the image.
Ace of Cups. Joy, love, faith. But inverted, it is sadness. Depression. Despair. Aloneness.Taking a deep, steadying breath, she frowns at the card, the dim light from her wand reflecting off the tears threatening to slip down her cheeks.
I did not need tarot to tell me this. I can take the consequences, whatever they might be.She draws a sixth card inverted, placing it under the fifth and to the left of the second.
“No,” she speaks quietly, shaking her head as the card is revealed. “No, no, no...” Her gaze shifts from the newest card, the Moon, to the Seven of Cups, then back again.
Bad. Those cards should never appear together. Not ever. The need to find truth, paired with the inability to discern reality from illusion...Her eyes widen slightly in horror as the implications of the card sink in, then she closes her eyes tightly, twin tears trickling down her cheeks as she shakes her head again.
The last card...I don't want to finish. But I have to. You cannot stop halfway through.She takes another deep breath and opens her eyes, drawing the seventh and last card inverted and placing it above the first card.
Ace...Ace of Wands...inverted...She shakes her head violently again and sweeps her hands over the cards, gathering them quickly without a second glance and piling them in the center of the cloth. Staring at the deck, her hands clenched in her lap, she frowns, another tear finding its way down her cheek.
I don't want this. I didn't choose this. Why me?
