The Celtic Cross, part 3
Sirius shook this memory off as well as he could and returned his attention to Kreacher and the Tarot-reading he was currently undertaking.
“Are we ready to begin, then?” he said to Kreacher. “Courage screwed to the sticking point? Lips stiff? Peckers up and all that? Let’s see…”
He turned the first card up, the one that signified the atmosphere surrounding the central issue.
“The Eight of Swords,” Sirius said. “Interference. Criticism, censure, and the imposition of external restrictions. Confusion leading to powerlessness. Hmm, not an auspicious beginning, is it?”
Kreacher said nothing, but stared intently at the cards, clearly too fascinated to keep up his usual steady stream of hostile muttering.
“All right, then, here’s the one you asked about earlier, the Obstacle,” Sirius said, and turned up the card that had been athwart the Atmosphere card. “The Fool, reversed.”
“Is this Master’s fortune, or Kreacher’s?” the house-elf could not quite resist asking. Sirius supposed it would be impossible for Kreacher to hear the word ‘fool’ spoken aloud without thinking of his hated Master.
“More sticks and stones, old friend? Do you want to know what it means, or would you prefer to sling insults all day?”
“Kreacher is quite sure he doesn’t have the slightest idea what Master is talking about,” Kreacher said sniffily. Then he lowered his voice to a reluctant whisper, and added “What does it mean?”
“Reversed, the Fool signifies apathy, negligence, and dangerous carelessness. Unquenchable wanderlust. Obsession with someone or something. Losing all sense of proportion. Dear me, perhaps you were right to ask which of us these cards are talking to, eh? Vanity, delirium, folly, and oblivion. Seems like one of us will have to look sharp to avoid causing himself a spot of bother. Shall we go on?”
“Yes, please …” Kreacher answered, still fascinated.
Sirius turned up the card just above the Obstacle, the one in the Goal position.
“Ah, this is more like it,” Sirius said. “Providing we can overcome the Reversed Fool, Judgment can be found. It suggests the resolution of a matter long unanswered, a swift and conclusive decision.”
“Is that … good?” Kreacher asked.
“From whose point of view?” Sirius answered. “Now me, I hate waffling about forever over a decision, I’d much rather settle things quickly, whatever the resolution. But this card suggests a marked and rapid change from the status quo, and that might not be entirely to your taste.”
Kreacher looked up at Sirius. “Master has it in his power to put the riffraff he’s opened his House to out on the street this very night. That could be the marked and rapid change Master sees in the cards.”
Sirius smiled, a bit unpleasantly. “Not at all a likely interpretation, I’m afraid, old boy. For one thing, the Judgment card also signifies a final balancing of karma, and that idea doesn’t quite fit in with your view. For another thing, it’ll never happen, and the sooner you get that through your stubborn old skull, the happier you’ll be.”
“Kreacher can never be happy as long as his home is filled with mutants and Mudbloods,” Kreacher muttered darkly.
Sirius thought for a moment of ‘mutants and Mudbloods,’ and the youthful faces of Remus and Lily in the Muggle fortune-teller’s tent appeared once more before his mind’s eye. Oh, how he’d loved them both. He’d been so happy, that night, he remembered, so happy to be with his dearest friends, so happy to be among them, to be one of them, so lucky to be considered a part of them.
John Fiddler had turned up another card.
“You got a strange fortune going here, you know it?” Fiddler had said to him. “Got a lot of doubling showing up in your cards. Seems like you’re leading a double life, but you’re also a mite young to be cheatin’ on your wife and kiddies, I’d say.”
James and Peter, no doubt thinking of Padfoot, had both chuckled quietly. Remus had started to gaze at Fiddler with an odd kind of wary respect. Remus, Sirius knew, never had much cared for anyone who seemed a little too alert.
Another card went face up, and Fiddler stared at it for a moment. Then he’d looked up at Sirius, and then at the others, briefly.
“A great conflict,” he’d said. “And more of this doubling. When it looks like you’re losing, that’s just when you won’t be. It’ll be damned hard to knock you off your feet for good, boy. You’ll always have too much of a cussed streak to stay down. You’re gonna be full of surprises all your life.”
“Confusion to the enemy,” James had remarked softly.
“Amen to that,” Remus and Lily had both murmured in unexpected unison.
Fiddler had again glanced at each of the six young people in turn, curious.
Sirius smiled once again at Kreacher. It was so good to have access to his best memories again, so long out of his reach in Azkaban. It was a little like being brought back from the dead, in a way. It was hard to stay angry with the unhappy old house-elf for long, really, no matter how unpleasant he might be. Not when so much of what Sirius most remembered as the very marrow of his life was available to him once more.
“Well, let’s move on to the Foundation, then, shall we Kreacher?” He tapped the card just below the central cross. “Maybe we’ll be able to agree on that one.”
Sirius turned the card face-up. It was the Ten of Cups.
“Ahhh,” Sirius breathed, a bit surprised. “This is a very good card. It signifies fulfillment and joy in life and love. Taking delight in one’s own good fortune.”
Kreacher looked disgruntled to hear this interpretation. “Master is making fun. Kreacher has never thought he was lucky.”
Sirius recalled the many things in his life that once had, or now did, give him joy. He thought of Remus, sweet Remus, both then and now. A fixed and unchanging body of wonder in Sirius’ personal firmament. Kreacher, he thought, the pitiful little thing, might never have considered himself fortunate, that much was true.
But I have, Sirius affirmed to himself, smiling again.
“Well, let’s have a look at the Passing Influence, then, Kreacher. This one to the left of the cross. Maybe this one’ll be morose enough to suit you.”
He turned the card over and remarked “Ah, yes, morose indeed. The Five of Cups. Disappointment. A past tragedy. The nagging feeling that you’ve made the wrong choice and everything is all your fault. Satisfied? Gloomy enough for you?”
Kreacher just glowered, looking decidedly ill-tempered. And Sirius had to admit, he himself was no stranger to the idea that everything was all one’s fault.
“But it’s only a passing influence,” Sirius added quickly, not quite sure whether he was addressing Kreacher or himself. “There’s still more to see. Here’s the Approaching Influence.”
The King of Wands turned up.
“Oh, so sorry, Kreacher old boot, this one isn’t very gloomy either. The King of Wands is the essence of fire, acting as air, as in lightning. It signifies a daring leader who inspires others to rise to challenges alongside him. A dashing and magnetic personality. Think the cards mean you?”
“Master always liked his little joke,” Kreacher muttered, an ugly look on his face. It was one of his very favorite things to say. He never had thought Sirius’ jokes were funny, not even when Sirius had been a child and the vast majority of his jokes had been of the knock-knock variety.
“Dumbledore, maybe …” Sirius was musing to himself, a faint frown line between his brows. “What else have we got here ..? This card at the base of the staff is the Querant’s Attitude. Let’s see what your attitude is, eh?”
Sirius turned the Base card up.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “The Three of Wands, reversed. A great act of betrayal set in motion. Not cooking up a spot of mischief, are you, Kreacher? A nefarious scheme to purloin my socks? Planning to put salt in the sugar-bowl?”
“Kreacher is a faithful house-elf and would never betray the House he serves,” Kreacher snapped in response and folded his arms across his chest. But he was looking at the cards with a visible bit of wariness. “If these cards really speak of betrayal, perhaps it is Master who should look to himself. Kreacher never broke his mother’s heart or filled her house with blood-traitors.”
Sirius stared at the house-elf a moment more, thinking that it was often said that the best defense was a good offense. Kreacher did look like he might just be feeling a bit caught out by the cards. Was it possible that the demented old thing might really be capable of some serious deviltry?
Surely not. What real harm could possibly be in him, as sad and pitiful as he was, however malignant?
Surely not …
Sirius glanced at the next card in the layout, the one second from the bottom of the staff, and then touched it with his index finger.
“Ah, well,” he said. “I expect the meaning of that last card will come clear in time, one way or another. Shall we look at this next one? It’s the Environment - the people and things you interact with now. What do you think?”
Kreacher said nothing, but looked at the face-down card under Sirius’ fingertip with a mixture of caution and curiosity. Finally, he glanced up at Sirius and nodded. Sirius turned the card over.
“Oh, dear,” Sirius said. “Another gloomy card. The Six of Pentacles, which signifies Success, but reversed, which is quite another matter. Overconfidence, bad material decisions, contempt for those less fortunate. Deception and petty disputes driven by greed and envy. Perhaps you’d better think twice about whatever schemes you may be brewing, mate, and better take a good hard look at any confederates you might have, too. It appears you may be in danger of getting exactly what you wish for, and you must have heard how badly that can turn out, hmm?”
Kreacher glowered. “Master is most wrong,” he said, stubbornly. “Master’s foolish Muggle cards cannot see anything bad, because Kreacher has never wished for anything but good for the noble House he serves, and there could never be anything bad in that.”
“Are you certain?” Sirius retorted. “Surely you’ve noticed, in your long life, how often it turns out that the very best intentions are just the ones that cause the most harm? And you’ve never been a very fortunate soul, have you?”
“But Master’s precious cards have had their say, haven’t they?” the house-elf remarked, furtively darting a malicious and strangely sly glance at his Master. “Perhaps Kreacher’s luck is about to change.”
Luck. Sirius put his hands on the desk-top; felt the wood beneath the pads of his fingers. On that long-ago night when Sirius and his friends had visited the carnival, he and Fiddler had sat across a wooden surface from one another too, a Celtic Cross layout of cards between them, just as he and Kreacher did now. It had been a summer’s eve, Sirius recalled, and John Fiddler, a Muggle with unexpectedly clear vision, had also spoken of luck.
“There’s things you’re not saying,” Fiddler had remarked idly to Sirius as he’d turned up another of Sirius’ cards. “Things all of you ain’t saying. And that’s fine, no skin off my nose if you young folks got some almighty big secrets you don’t care to discuss with just anyone.” Here he stopped and waved his hand over the cards on the table before him, before gazing once more at Sirius.
“But these cards of yours, they’re talking up a storm. So - I’m thinking maybe you might not want to hear much more of what the cards got to say - or maybe you just don’t want to hear it while old John Fiddler’s listening in. I could stop telling your fortune right now if you want, boy - hell, I’ll even refund your money. My deck don’t keep secrets too well.”
James and Lily both stared at Fiddler intently, and Peter looked a bit surprised, while Amaryllis just looked mystified and entertained. Remus closed his hand around Sirius’ shoulder and squeezed lightly. Sirius looked up at him and could just barely see the almost imperceptible shaking of Remus' head. Sirius looked back toward Fiddler, trying to see anything he could of the man’s heart.
After an awkward, silent moment, Fiddler laughed.
“Just like gawking at a specimen in a zoo, ain’t it? Don’t you folks beat all. Well, what’s it gonna be, young Sirius? Yes or no?”
Amaryllis breathed an excited “Yes.” In the exact same moment, Remus breathed an emphatic “No.” Sirius glanced toward James, who shrugged slightly, which Sirius instantly understood to mean whatever you think, mate in nonverbal best-friend code. Lily subtly inclined her head toward Fiddler, and then gave a minute nod of approval. Peter made a show of putting his arm around Amaryllis’ waist and made a silent appeal to Sirius with his eyes. Sirius returned his gaze to the fortune-teller. His friends had each cast their vote.
“What do you think, Mr. Fiddler?” Sirius suddenly asked the man. “Do you want to go on reading?”
Fiddler laughed again. “Well, you’re something of a specimen yourself, young fella. I ain’t never seen a fortune quite like this one. I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t a mite curious to see how it’ll all come out.”
Sirius grinned at Fiddler. “You know, I’m getting a distinct impression you’re not a great one for lying, Mr. Fiddler.”
“Well, no, sonny, I guess I ain’t. My old ma used to say I was about as blunt as a shovel, back in the day. I ain’t much for lyin’, that’s right. And my deck don’t lie neither. So, what do you say? Pack ‘em up or lay ‘em out?”
Sirius grinned again. People weren’t meant to be afraid to look; young as he was, he was still certain of that. “Lay ‘em out, sir,” he said to Fiddler. “I’ll make the venture.”
Fiddler nodded and quickly turned the last three cards in the spread face-up. “Cards kinda thought you would,” he remarked softly, bending his head over them in a gesture of intense concentration.
After a time, Fiddler raised his eyes from the cards and gazed at Sirius. “A great conflict, coming up again. And that’s a little strange, sonny, seeing as how there ain’t no great war on just now that I know of, but you’re in one just the same. And this war-that-ain’t-there - well, it’s gonna define your life, all the way through. You won’t never see the end of it, but-”
Remus had interrupted the reading with an involuntary murmur of dismay. Fiddler glanced quickly up at him, and then back at Sirius. A faint, gentle smile curved his lips and he spoke directly to Remus. “But in another way, I was about to say, he will see the end of it. Still a lot of doubling going on in these cards. It’s like his fate is moving along two different tracks as it plays out, all at the same time. Folks who love him sure are going to see a lot of heartache, that’s true. But there’s always going to be a little hope mixed in, too.”
“‘Hope is the thing with feathers’,” Remus quoted in a low, rather cynical voice.
Lily frowned, and then reached across James and very lightly smacked Remus on the back of his head. “Shush, Remus …” she said, softly.
Fiddler hadn’t been paying much attention to this by-play. He’d been staring at the last card in the layout, The Outcome. Sirius gazed at the Muggle man, waiting for him to make his conclusions. Eventually, Fiddler looked up and into Sirius’ eyes.
“Well, Mr. Fiddler?” Sirius asked him. “What’s your last word on the matter?”
Fiddler continued to gaze at him for a time, and then glanced once more at his cards.
Finally he spoke to Sirius. “Well, you got a lot going for you, that much is plain to see. You got gifts, a whole crowd of ’em.”
“Well, who doesn’t know that?” Peter interrupted. “Anyone can see that, just by looking at him.”
Lily looked like she might want to smack Peter too for a moment, and James gave him a quick, sharp hand-signal to keep quiet.
Fiddler ignored the interruption, just as though he hadn’t heard it. “Born with a lot of gifts, you were, boy,” Fiddler repeated. “And you’ll find a use for ’em all, in this mysterious conflict you all got going. You do have a lot. But …”
Fiddler had paused, and was gazing at Sirius with a strange expression on his face, an expression that was, perhaps, a mixture of admiration and … pity.
“But what?” Sirius asked, gazing directly back at Fiddler, unafraid.
“But you ain’t lucky, boy.” Fiddler answered, softly. “You ain’t never gonna be lucky.”
Part Four