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Chapter Text

Upon the consumption of his Potion to advance to Sequence four, accompanying the almost loss of control, Harry had come to another realisation. He was from another world, of course, analysing the details of his case, he quickly learned the story held behind such an absurd revelation. When he was a child, or a baby, a couple from the world he was currently in had undergone a ritual to summon themselves a child spiritually. As Harry naturally had a higher spirituality, even as a non-beyonder, he had been summoned and separated from his parents, who he had long since known died due to circumstances he couldn't truly understand. Though, as a byproduct of their ritual, his 'adoptive' parents went mad on the spot due to the inability to properly carry out the ritual. 

From then on, The Church of The Fool had found and taken him in, raising him as a part of them, and subsequently a beyond of the Arbiter Pathway. Harry wanted to become one of the swords of The Fool, strong enough to at least prevent His Lord from needing to act Himself. Which was why he advanced so quickly compared to his peers. When they were taking breaks to prevent losing control, he was simply holding single sessions with Lady Justice before throwing himself into more missions, when his peers had only digested their potions halfway, he had already been ready to consume the next. It was the product of someone who was prepared to throw away his humanity simply for the right to at least sit by the table of His Lord.

"The Fool That Does Not Belong To This Era,

The Mysterious Ruler Above The Grey Fog,

The King of Yellow And Black That Wields Good Luck."

And as expected, he was finally brought to the Grey Fog, where he had only heard tales of the Tarot Club and their exploits. Though, before he could lose himself in admiration, he looked to The Fool, His Lord, instinctively looking at His feet so to not bring punishment to himself upon their first meeting. But from the minuscule moment he observed, he could see a light smile on The Fool's face, as if He had found it all amusing, as if He had already watched from the start.

"Do you wish to return to your world?" The Fool finally began, and the only way Harry could describe His voice was.. Well.. Benevolent. He was a kind God, despite being so powerful, he responded to many prayers and rarely struck down believers or non-believers. Sometimes Harry would wish His Lord was a little harsher on those who would refuse to accept the unique, benevolent nature of Him.

"Yes, Mr Fool." He finally responded with after a long moment. And he could see a faint dream rising, to build a Church of The Fool himself, and bring believers who would act as Anchors for The Fool to prevent His loss of control and humanity. He'd also briefly consulted a Seer on the matter long ago, back when his knowledge now had only been suspicion. The result of Divination had been quite profitable, in his own opinion, learning it would be a good chance to start finding his own Anchors (as an orphan, he tended to need to create more connections than others to serve as early Anchors, because he had no family to act as the strongest type).

"You are strong enough to handle what might have previously harmed you." The Fool spoke again, His voice so soft Harry wondered how He was so human yet so divine. Maybe it was only The Fool who could handle such a perfect balance, after all, he felt his own humanity slipping away rapidly, each emotion and care dulling sharply, especially with his ascent to partial Godhood. He only felt more admiration to The Fool, admittedly. "I will open A Door for you to enter, however, keep care to remember that none in this world is strong enough to handle your Mythicality. Do not lose control, and take care to keep your strength to a minimum."

Harry nodded his head reverently, bowing his head as the Grey Fog wandered around his head in a silent blessing, before nudging him toward the door. He didn't feel nervous, not as an Imperative Mage, not after meeting The Fool. So, he walked, glancing back to The Fool and uttering a few words.

"Praise The Fool."

On the Second Year of Hogwarts, a Door suddenly appeared beside the sorting hat of first years. From there, stepped out a boy with the presence of Power itself, an authoritative gaze, emerald eyes, and a peculiar lightning scar adorned upon his forehead. With each observation, gasps resounded and the first year that had previously been approaching the sorting hat froze in her steps, a gasp escaping her like a scream. His gaze swept over her, and she cowered, looking away first before bowing completely, as if it was the pressure of his very presence.

"Rise." He muttered, and like it was a command she complied, standing slowly from where she had somehow fell to her knees. Yet her eyes avoided his like the plague, bearing no more than a single second to glance at the captivating colour. "He was right, as always. They are too weak." He whispered, though the words seemed to flow to everyone's ears perfectly. His tone when speaking of someone unknown seemed quite... Curious?

"It's Harry, my boy!" An old man stood straight, expression radiating a pure joy which did not befit his age. Dumbledore, Harry somehow deduced was his name, already began to charge to him, reaching to grab him before their eyes met, and like a silent order, he stopped in his tracks. Truly, the power of a Demigod.

"This place prohibits loud volumes." The boy continued, silence sweeping over the room like a wave. Well, not silence, but close to. Those who intended to yell had felt as if it was law to only whisper now, and those who were about to could no longer feel their voices intending to escape.

"The Chosen One.." However, was one collective murmur that gathered and converged.

"I am Harry Potter of The Church Of Fools." He began, understanding instinctively that the blessing given by The Fool allowed for smooth communication across language barriers. Meaning, none would tell he was actually speaking another language unless they looked closely. However, he didn't truly care whether they found out or not, he never intended to hide it anyways. "A Believer of The Fool, and now it seems.." He looks over again, locking onto details, expressions, grasping just enough thoughts to clear himself the truth. "A student of this school." He looks over to Dumbledore. "I will participate in this ceremony, however I request that you prepare a prayer room for myself. I would like to continue my daily prayers to The Fool."

"Uh- Yeah." Dumbledore stuttered in a rare spout of bewilderment, blinking as Harry walked forward, set the hat upon his head with the grace he'd observed from Lady Audrey and learned from various books and sat there before a voice sounded in his head.

You're.. Completely hidden from me?

"You would go mad if you saw everything. It is courtesy to prevent unnecessary deaths, My Lord would not appreciate it."

Alright?... You're strong, cunning, and fiercely loyal.. You hold many positive traits-are you truly only a teenager?

Harry simply chuckled.

For this, I consider your bravery. As one brave enough to face madness even when the path of peace holds clear, I will sort you into... Gryffindor!

Cheers erupted as if most had expected it, well Harry figured he would make do with whatever House he made it into, since in the end it was utterly meaningless to him. He set the hat away, and left to find his own territory. Yes, little could threaten him in such a world, but he learned well from The Fool's teachings, and one of them was to always be prepared for what you expected least.

Upon his approach to the exit, he could feel an inexplicable connection with few, so his gaze drew to them naturally.. A blond haired boy his age, whose eyes seemed to sparkle when they met. A ginger and brunette who both watched with pure adoration, and a few others who didn't seem notable enough. Before his exit, he looked back to the sorting hat and decided to start instilling faith into the ones around him.

"Praise The Fool." He spoke, smiling before leaving.