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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.

Chapter Text

Upon exploring territory and establishing Hogwarts as his own, he decided to venture outwards for a role he could use to 'act'. He didn't necessarily need to become an officer of sorts, however he believed it helped to act as previous known roles to figure out the direction of his new one. He found that the Magical World's offices were too corrupt, in a sense, as if deliberately written to be taken over by an evil force and so he ventured to the human worlds. It was easy to use mystical items and blessings as well as his own abilities to create himself a role as a police officer, except, he also needed to revert back to his adult form, the one which bore no childish countenance and seemed to tower over others. After all, he did grow exceptionally well. In Hogwarts, he wouldn't appear frequently except for early in the mornings where he would pray to The Fool and recount the day before and his future plans, as well as recite a few passages from The Fool's Bible and so on. The only things he would properly memorise being prayers related to The Fool, even hymns.

Now, on this particular day, he had been sent out as an investigator, undercover to a bar in which he was to figure out details related to a case. His rank had risen greatly after all his recent exploits, and so he was being given work that others simply could not understand. The details reminded him of a peculiar day, where he had met quite the Demoness.

He'd just taken the Potion of Sequence 7, Interrogator, at age 20 before being sent out in search of a Demoness. His role was simply to find her location and report it to the Church, however, in a fit of reckless loyalty, he wished to capture the Demoness himself and bring her back, even if she was stronger than him. So, upon learning of her location, he set foot into the area and glanced around, eyes landing on an exceptionally beautiful woman charming those around her mindlessly. He paused, muttering a prayer to himself and taking comfort in the presence of His Lord before stepping toward her.

"I am Harry Potter, you, Miss?" He was smooth, as much as he could be with the knowledge most inclined to follow him with his Authority that had come with him since he was Sequence 9. Sliding into the seat beside her, he watched the Demoness's grin widen into something almost inhuman, before settling onto one which most could accept as normal.

"Alexandria." She responded in kind, her charm enough to break past Harry's mental barriers for a moment, yet not enough to overpower his beliefs, thankfully. "What brings this kind sir to my company?"

"I am a Priest of The Fool, I just wished for someone kind enough to listen to my preachings." He technically wasn't lying, as much as he was. He was originally planning to become a Priest before he learned he could instead become His Angel. "You see, many people are quite unfriendly to ones such as myself." He tipped his hat for a moment, pressing it to his chest before setting it aside.

"No need to be so formal with me, Harry." She began, fingertips tickling his arm and walking closer to where his collarbones lay exposed-in a new outfit decision he had. Eventually, her fingers stopped just as they were about to touch his neck. "After all, I know what you're here for."

Well, shit.

He failed his first mission as a Sequence 7 after disobeying direct orders.. He wished his death could be painless, well, he knew The Fool wouldn't kill him for blunders, that was simply how merciful He was, but it felt worse than death to know or experience the disappointment of The Fool. He gulped in a sort of silence, before speaking.

"And you still continue to speak with me?" He asked, half-wondering what Sequence she must have been to be so strong and so hidden before looking to the hand that rested on his shoulder, and then back to her eyes. Definitely stronger than him.

"Well, you're my type." She spoke, watching his lips pull into a sort of indescribable smile.

"Even though you're most likely originally a man?" He paused, letting silence fill the space between them, and then he spoke again. "What was your name, Alexander?" He chuckled, wondering if he should've become a Provoker instead before stopping himself, realising he wasn't made for that path-his tongue was far too lacking.

"I was born a woman." Alexandria remarked, clicking her own tongue in the sort of dissatisfaction of one who has faced the same provocation multiple times, yet still fell for it.

"I find that absurdly hard to believe, Ms.. Or Mr?"

"Should I prove it to you?" Before he knew it, both of them stood straight, and even as she was shorter, her finger rested beneath his chin, too close to his neck for comfort, and tilted his head up as if observing prey-or predator, if that had been her preference. His grin widened, sharp canines glinting under dim light in such a way he hoped he seemed more like a wolf than a puppy. "I'm quite skilled at proving my skills in these situations.." And under his breath, he managed to mutter a prayer to The Fool, the haze in his head clearing quickly. She tsk-ed.

"I'd much rather take my leave now, if you want to offer something as scandalous again, The Fool's Church is always open." He responded quickly, stepping back with a silent breath and leaving. Before he knew it that day, she appeared regularly, and had somehow become an ally from where she was previously an enemy, presumably.

With the memory still firmly embedded, he chuckled under his breath, stepping into the bar, this time openly in uniform. Yes he needed to stay undercover, but he was powerful enough to compel others to forget, or willingly ignore. He was a demigod, for fuck's sake. He looked around, easily Investigating every detail and such before a girl had bumped into him. Deliberately, he lifted his cap to look at her better, even if she was shorter. Bingo, he'd caught the criminal.

Upon his return to Hogwarts, he decided it was time to put the side things away to focus on his main task. Converting this school into a Church for The Fool! He was led by an unimportant and avoidant student to receive a 'Wand', which upon taking the weapon (paying no mind to the rambling worker), as he conceived it as a weapon, he immediately became proficient in terms of using it, spells flooding his mind as if directly fed to his mind. Useful, but not necessary, honestly, he'd much rather be praying to His Lord.

Chapter Text

After Harry's hour long morning prayers to His Lord, The Fool, he stood and turned to the doorway before speaking.

"Show yourself, before I judge you an enemy and eliminate you." He doesn't need to ask to know he's there, but he still asks to judge whether the hidden person will take the gracious chance he had given them. "Concealment doesn't work on me." And, just like that, the person dispels his own spell and crosses his arms, a frown on his lip as he observes the room, and almost steps in before being suddenly stopped. "This place prohibits the presence of non-believers."

"... I'm Draco Malfoy, I already know who you are, I just heard that you only appear around here." Draco answers, easily the moment their eyes meet and he looks away before he can comprehend himself and the dryness in his throat. What would've happened to him if he was already in the room when the Prohibition had been placed? He'd only seen the spelless spell used once before, but its effect remained firm-how none could even attempt to yell for a long while after. His eyes remain on the area where he is considered to have entered the room. "What do you meanly non-believer?"

"People who do not truly believe in My Lord cannot enter. Simple as that, if you are not willing to follow Him, then do not think of attempting to break Law." Harry answers, he's used to answering questions about his own curious abilities, and thankfully he holds the patience to answer them.

"Why do you believe in him?" Draco questions further, and when he receives a glare from Harry, he audibly gulps. Really, pressure gets to a point with 'normal' humans. It's not like Draco could handle the wrath of a partially Mythical Being.

"He is My Lord." Harry says, heavy emphasis placed on the pronoun intentionally spoken with a usual light emphasis before he continues, as if changing the topic. "Do not believe in the benevolence of any God, except for The Fool."

"But you call.. Him, a Fool."

"That is His title." Harry smiles slightly when Draco finally properly refers to The Fool, eyes shaking with a common hesitation. "He is the one who saved me when I was young. He is the one to have guided me when I was confused. He is truly a benevolent God for His believers." He doesn't need to look to see Draco's brows furrowing, but he stares at Draco, looking at the boy who can't look at him directly. "Come in, I will teach you how to pray."

Draco can't handle a ritual yet, so the proof of His Lord will wait.

Another hour has passed, and the Hogwarts day has long since began by the time Harry finally lets Draco free, and out of courtesy for being the first technical believer within this world, Harry decides to become his companion for the day. He follows Draco around, listening to the tour of the boy and the brief explanation of things before they stop at Draco's first (second) class, and enter. Harry sits beside the blond politely, glancing around with little interest (he could've spent this extra time to pray to The Fool (this is a recurring thought whenever something is disinteresting)). It's a Charms class, and Harry doesn't bother to learn, after all, he'd become proficient in such simple spells from the moment he held a wand.

He watches Draco struggle for mere moments before quickly grasping the spell and theory, fulfilling the task and even pushing himself to do more. Harry follows, he doesn't try, and simply casts the required spell and continues on for more difficult tasks. Each success is followed by Praising The Fool, and by some point Draco is so lost between practice and the only thing (besides spell names) that escapes Harry's lips that even he begins to Praise The Fool unconsciously.

The next class is disinteresting, and the day continues with half attention on Harry's end. He'd already achieved half his goal of bringing a single believer, and didn't need to push further lest it bring malice to His Lord instead. Due to his lack of need for sleep, he decides rather than pretending to sleep, he would just pray through the night.

Chapter Text

Upon Harry's entry to the Divination Classroom during a day of following Draco Malfoy and instilling the beliefs of The Fool into him, he blinked, hearing the false and overly dramatic divinations the woman inside was giving. He waited outside for a long moment, having to forcefully control himself to stop himself by grabbing the definitely false seer and shaking her for insulting His Lord with all her actions and embellishments. Maybe he'd only rest easy if she died. But, he walked in, and blinked, immediately seeing something.

"Beyonder. Wanderer." He spoke, bringing the ragged woman out of her daze as she straightened to look at him. And, as if a switch had been flipped, he blinked to see her appear shortly in front of him, her face almost blank. Harry was quiet when he looked up at her, minding he was still in a young form, but still watching closely. "Who do you follow?"

"... You're the kid The Fool sent under my care." She responded after a long moment, thoughtful, staring down at him as he stepped back instinctively. He wasn't strong enough to give her a piece of his mind for disrespecting The Fool's favoured pathway. After the quiet and extremely short conversation, she burst into a wide smile (almost as if she was supposed to be digesting the Clown potion). "We talk later. For now, I have a class to teach!"

"Praise The Fool." He says, calm after the multiple realisations and already walking to where Draco had sat down.

From Harry's knowledge, there were mainly two types of demigod-level beyonders. The ones who exaggerate their expressions and selves to make up for what they lack within, and the ones who decide to stop attempting to be human, and give up on showing any emotion for the fact they may soon lose them all. Surprisingly, more often, the latter goes crazy whilst the former retains more of their original selves. It's the fact that to survive madness, you have to ultimately become one with it.

Harry knows well of this teaching, yet he finds it difficult to not follow the Order and Law of acting to his true self. Though, he supposes he cannot truly remember how he'd feel properly anyways.

Quietly, he observes the teacher as she acts.

"Alright, I know you came here. Why?" She asked, her face dropping immediately after the last non-beyonder had left the classroom and she no longer had to act emotional, even if it was to retain humanity. Such an act of madness was difficult when there was no audience, she wonders for a moment whether she should've just become a Seer.

"To spread the faith of The Fool here, and prepare my anchors for when I reach Angel-level." He answered truthfully, placing his hand on his chest and bowing slightly, and then sitting down to the chair that had appeared quite suddenly. He looked at the table, and then to the woman. "Why act so absurdly, and why disrespect The Fool's pathway, Lady Trelawney?"

"It isn't disrespect. I was allowed." She said, without any further explanation as she sips at some suddenly appearing tea. It's uncanny to talk to a Door Pathway Beyonder, though Harry would consider he finds speaking to many Beyonders quite jarring. Especially the ones who take to madness.

"I'm Harry Potter-"

"-I know-"

"-And if you had not been a follower of The Fool, and someone so powerful, I would've made sure you were dead by now."

"Don't forget the commandments of The Fool." She began after a quick moment, still calm. She really didn't see Harry as a threat, and to be honest he didn't think himself one either. Especially not to a Sequence 3. "You already know why I act so different."

"I still feel the need to question." He mentioned quietly, sighing as he stood. "I can understand a few things. You are to keep me protected within this world, despite there being little to threaten me, whilst also remaining here to relay any important information to the Church and Our Lord."

She doesn't respond, only nods quietly with each statement.

"But that seems much too dull. Join me in my task of bringing the students to become The Fool's believers." He finished, and for the first time in awhile, he feels like a child facing an adult. Maybe it's how he worded his sentencing, or seemed overly idealistic, or facing someone more powerful than him, but he doesn't bother beyond speculation.

"My credibility isn't strong among the ones of this world." She retorted, bringing out a book from nowhere in particular to read before suddenly becoming dazed, and then sitting up. "It seems my new mission is to assist you."

"Praise The Fool." Harry has to force himself to speak calmly, slowly sitting back down and watching her place the book away somewhere to let it disappear. After this, he decides to pray to The Fool for a whole day (not that he doesn't usually do that).

"Just go." She waved him away, sighing quietly. "Every moment I spend with you, my carefully crafted character collapses further."

He watches her for a long moment, and though he isn't of the spectator pathway, there is one true thing he can see. Her clownish-timid act is no lie. Whether it was her old personality or not, the moment one acts for too long, the act becomes their true self, and their true self becomes the act. He doesn't know how long she had been in this world, acting so absurdly, but he knows truly, that she had already become the act. Harry wonders for a moment when it will be his turn to let himself descend into madness so bravely.

He's about to leave, when he finds himself speaking.

"Ah.. What's your true name?" He asks, quiet as he glances back, then turns to the doorway, stopping shy of the exit with the curiosity that holds him back.

"I have forgotten." She answers. "Just call me Sybill. Or, Wanderer would fit too."