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Chapter Text

Klein was not expecting this. He does not even recall what he was doing previously, yet his head seemed like it was about to burst.  He held his throbbing head, lightly massaging it, in hopes of making the pain go away. It did not work, so he stopped and attempted to open his eyes. He could hear pained groaning sounds coming from multiple people. They sounded as if they were in similar state as him.

Peeling his eyes open, he looked at his blurry surroundings. He could make out eight figures on the ground, some trying to get up and others remaining on the floor. The place he was in was also unfamiliar; the walls crème coloured with carvings on them. It looked ancient, yet unaffected by time. The ceiling was high; he had to completely turn his head upwards to see it. Of course, it was nothing compared to Sephirah castle where the ceiling is barely even visible.

He turned his attention back to the people on the ground and blinked a few more times adjusting his vision. He saw that they were also attempting to look around.

They were teenagers, he realised. He could make that guess thanks to their built and height.

Finally managing to sit up, he glanced at his own clothes. These too, were unfamiliar, he was certain he owned nothing like it. He wore a robe that reached his feet and, trousers and shirt that seemed to be part of a uniform. He also donned a blue striated tie. The robe was also blue inside.

Despite not being something he owned, he could recognise the outfit. It was famous in his original world; a uniform of the wizarding school. Whether the books or movies, it was incredibly well known. Klein himself has seen the movies, but he did not read the books. He had a general understanding of the plot.

Suddenly, the pain in his head intensified. He held his head and bit his lips to prevent himself from groaning in pain. He heard the others around him groan again, one of them even screamed.

His mind was abruptly inundated with information. He had to wait for it to stop before he could sort through them. He realised that this situation had happened to him before. It was similar to when he first became Klein Moretti and received fragments of his memories.

These memories were also of a boy named Klein Moretti. He was a sixth-year student at Hogwarts. He was a half-blood wizard who lived with his brother and sister. Their parents were dead. His mother had passed earlier, a year after his little sister Melissa’s birth and his father only passed away two years ago which greatly impacted the siblings.

Since Benson, the eldest, was the only legal adult and the only one who finished school, he took care of his siblings. Being quite a skilled wizard, he had gained a job as a curse-breaker at Gringotts. He made sure his siblings had all their needs met and even occasionally managed to spoil them. Melissa who already had a talent for magic, was to join Hogwarts next year.

Klein was a good student. He was someone who often got good grades, particularly in History of Magic. He attended most of his classes, except when his friends Welch and Naya managed to drag him to do something else. They would sometimes end up in detention for staying out after curfew or for their repeated attempts to access the restricted section of the library. They have never succeeded. Additionally, he had a white cat, with black eyes named Arrodes as his required pet. Klein was quite amused by that information.

This supposed world he had just been transmigrated to, seemed to be a parallel of his world. The people in Klein’s life were constant, his interests were constant and his love for his family were also constant. Welch and Naya are still alive in this world. His siblings know he is alive and there are no such things as beyonders.

He finally looked at the people in front of him and quickly realised that he could recognise them. They looked much shorter, and their faces looked younger, but his faceless abilities allowed him to remember faces easily. It is the members of the Tarot Club, he observed.

They were all wearing the same outfit except the women – girls, Klein quickly corrected – had on skirts instead of trousers. From his memory, he could gather that they were all of the same year aside from The Sun who was a year younger. They all seemed to have received memory fragments of the body they were currently occupying, judging by their pained and confused expressions.

Mr Hanged Man and Miss Hermit still retained their odd hair colour but, in this world, it was dyed using magic. They shared the same house, indicated by their striped, green tie.

He quickly identified each member and their respective houses. Miss Magician was in the same house as him. The Sun and The Moon wore yellow and black striped tie. The other three members of the tarot club were of the same house, that is Gryffindor.

This was indeed the wizarding world from the movies he had watched, and it seemed Harry Potter was also still a student. Last year, this already famous student’s popularity increased as he won the Triwizard tournament in a rather unfortunate way.

---

Audrey opened her eyes, glancing at her surroundings. Despite the headache she was experiencing, she managed to see everything and everyone around her. She blended with the odd crowd of teenagers around her, her skills as an experienced spectator allowing her to observe all of their expressions.

Foregoing the people and environment for a while, she inspected her own memories. Memories she was unfamiliar with but for some reason felt as if they belonged to her, as if she had lived through it.

She was a student at this school called Hogwarts and she was in the house representing bravery. She was a sixth-year student and had fairly decent grades, excelling particularly in Transfiguration. She was quite famous for ethereal beauty and charming personality, but her circle of friends only consisted of Xio and Fors. She also often talked with her owl Susie, who accompanied her as the pet needed for school. This Susie could not talk, she sadly realised.

She lived with her family who had riches considered to be on par with that of the Malfoy family. They were a family of pureblood, who did not care about magical talent unlike the Malfoy, their focus was on trading with muggles and other ways of gaining funds. The Malfoys seemed to have a rivalry with her family, though it was rather one-sided.

She was the youngest of her family. Her brother Alfred had graduated from Hogwarts last year and joined their family business. She had done great in her OWLs last year, for which her family spoiled her more than usual.

She also gained knowledge on something entirely new. Words like muggles, quidditch and Azkaban flooded her mind, and she realised she knew what all of them meant. The knowledge included spells, charms, curses and potion recipes that were very different from those of the beyonder world.

Looking at the people around her, she realised that she knew three of them; Xio, Fors and Mr Star. Based on their confused expressions, she could infer that they were also dealing with memories that were not theirs. Xio was only recently added to the Tarot club; she has only been to a few gatherings above the grey fog.

They were teens, same as her. There was barely any difference with herself as she was only two years younger.

She did not know the others, but the hair colour of two of them stood out. They had the same hair colour as Mr Hanged man and Miss Hermit. This led her to believe that it was them and that the others were also Tarot Club members. She kept looking but could not find Gehrman Sparrow instead, there was another person whom she found completely unfamiliar.

Was Mr World spared from this odd experience because he was a blessed of Mr Fool? What was even happening?

She was confused and a little scared. The first time she experienced something this odd was when she met Mr Fool. But she is no longer a naive little girl who was fascinated by mysticism, she is now experienced in such things. Keeping calm, she tried to find a reason for what was happening.

Chapter Text

With his head throbbing in pain, and eyes barely kept open, he managed to observe his surrounding. Looking around, Alger realised that despite having never been here, he could recognise the place. There were others in the same state as him, though they looked younger. No, not younger - he was also a teenager, he realised.

His hand brushed against an unfamiliar fabric. Looking down at himself, he saw a uniform. It was a school uniform with a green tie; Hogwarts, Slytherin, his mind supplied.

These words rippled in his mind, awakening not-quite-new memories. It was of a boy with the same name. He grew with only his mother and had never known his father. His mother is very loving, and Alger equally adored her.

He was aware that he was a half blood, so it came as a surprise to him when the sorting hat placed him in Slytherin.

As a first year, he had faced discrimination from his own house mates for being a half blood, but he quickly established himself as someone not to be trifled with. He was very proficient in his studies and did not have any close friends. He talked to anyone who talked to him but did not have anyone he was constantly hanging out with.

In his second year, a first year Hufflepuff named Derrick started to follow him around, being impressed by anything he did. Alger eventually grew fond of the kid, and they became friends. He occasionally helped him with his studies, and they had their meals together. They were still friends, even now as sixth- and fifth-year students.

Still analysing his memories, he realised he could speak another language – English.

He then pulled at his hair, trying to soothe the pain. Blinking through the pain, he took in his surroundings; a Hogwarts hallway and within which were eight other people were struggling. He could recognise two of them -Cattleya, the admiral of stars and Derrick. He had worked with her before, and even if he had not her wanted posters were enough to recognise her. She was wearing the same colour scheme as him, indicating that they were in the same house.

He observed the other’s face, trying to put a name to their face. He discerned that he could assign tarot cards to these people, instead of names. Derrick is the sun – they even shared the same personality. Miss Judgement had a recognisable height. The one who looks like a vampire is likely Mr Moon. Long flowy blonde hair indicated Miss Justice and the slightly messy long brown hair indicated Miss Magician. Out of the two remaining individuals, he separated the one with longer hair as The Star.

He kept staring at the last person, but he could not place him. He briefly considered if the latter was Mr Fool but stopped at once. It was too blasphemous a thought to assume Mr Fool would fall for a measly trap that the others of the tarot club fell for.

The unknown person most likely had associations with the tarot club. Perhaps, another blessed of Mr Fool? But that also raises the question of where Mr World is. Unless, that person is yet another disguise of The World...

...

Derrick blinked up at the ceiling, disoriented. The first thing he noticed was that the place he was in was illuminated without an apparent source of light. He slowly looked around and saw no candles, but he could still see to the other end of the hallway.

This... this must be light from the sun. The sun. He was sure - he was subconsciously aware of what light from the sun was supposed to look like.

Even with the persisting pain, he felt elated. He completely overlooked the people surrounding him in favour of looking how sunlight was reflecting on every surface.

The sunlight spilled across the room like liquid gold, catching on every surface it touched. The walls and windows gleamed with a soft brilliance, each glimmer scattering into a thousand tiny sparks. Dust motes swirled lazily in the glow, suspended in mid-air.

The pain hit him once more and he groan in pain as his mind was flooded with memories.

His name was Derrick Berg. He was a fifth year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry. He belonged to the house of loyalty, known as Hufflepuff.

He was a good student and had average grades, aside from Care of Magical Creatures - where he excelled. He was very well liked amongst his housemates thanks to his happy demeanour.  When he first joined the school, he shared chocolate frogs with his roommates, and they attended all their classes together.

Later on, he was fascinated by a student a year older than him. The second-year student was of the green house and was called Alger. He could perform the most amazing water magic, which had Derrick captivated. Since then, Derrick followed him around and kept trying to talk to him. Until he finally did and it evolved into a friendship.

He was now a fifth-year student and at the end of the year he might have to take the OWLs. It depends on whether the exams would be cancelled again this year or not. As his assigned pet, he had a brown owl. This companion allowed him to send letters to his parents without using a school owl. 

Parents, Derrick's pupils trembled, his mouth quivering. His parents were alive here. He still had his parents in this world. 

This Derrick also grew up under his parents’ care, but he did not have to kill them with his own hands. He sent his parents weekly updates of his school life in letters and received responses full of love and encouragement. He was a half blood – his mother was a descendant of giants while his father was a muggle. His parents always made sure that their son lacked nothing. Due to his lineage, he was taller than others of his age.

Tears flowed down Derrick's cheek soundlessly. He sat in stillness, as his heart clenched with a bittersweet ache, as the memories of this Derrick and his parents played in his mind. 

                                                  ---

Fors pulled at her long brown hair, clenching her teeth to muffle her pained groans. Unfortunately, these sorts of pain were not new to her, but she has not experienced any for months.

Prying her eyes open, she made out the blurry sights in front of her. As she was sitting up and leaning on one of her hands, she saw her clothes. A skirt – shorter than the ones she usually wears, an odd pair of shoes with long socks, a robe, a shirt and a blue tie.

Looking further, she realised she did not know where she was. At first, she thought it was a case of kidnapping. A scary situation to be in, but she has been in worse – for example anytime she met with Gherman Sparrow. Seeing as she was untied, it was unlikely to be something as simple as kidnapping.

Hogwarts, her brain provided her with an answer. This seemed to trigger a new set of memories. As the pain suddenly intensified, she let out a scream. She was not looking forward to dealing with this pain, without Mr Fool’s intervention. She muttered his honorific name under her breath.

...

No response.

There has never been a case of Mr Fool not replying, none that she is aware of. What was happening?

She could not think more due to the pain, so she decided to analyse what was already in her mind. It was of herself, rather a younger and witch version of herself.

She was a muggle born. Just like her past, this Fors’ father also left when she was young. She grew up to the age of seven with her mother, who was a muggle doctor. Her mother later died due to an infection that had no cure.

Fors stayed in an orphanage for a while, until she was adopted by Mrs Aulisa. Mrs Aulisa discovered her prowess for magic and took her in as her daughter, allowing her to experience the warmth of a family once again. Fors was hence integrated in the famed Abraham family. The Abraham family gained its prestige in the wizarding world due to the famed wizard Bethel Abraham who invented the teleportation spell and some other spells. To this day there is only one teleportation spell, which is why even though it happened several centuries ago, the Abraham family is still well known.

Fors still went by the name Fors Wall, as a memento of her mother - so it was not known that she was apart the Abraham family.

Fors was not the ideal student. She would look for loopholes in all classes or teachers’ behaviour, to see which classes she could skip without getting in trouble. Her homeworks were always handed in at the last minute and any work that the teachers said were not compulsory, she would completely ignore. Her scores depended on how much revision a subject required. If it was mostly knowledge that seemed logical, she would ace the test and if it was anything that required revision she would score average.

She liked reading and writing so history of magic and ancient runes were her favourites. She disliked potions because Snape scared her, but she still chose potions as a subject for her NEWTs.

She would sell newspapers of her own making mostly amongst Ravenclaw students, every month – just because she lived with a rich family does not mean she was comfortable using all the money they provided her with. Her newspapers sold out quickly as everyone knew she wrote everything – including rumours and anonymous accounts of other students – on what is happening at Hogwarts.

Of course, even those outside of Ravenclaw knew of it – some teachers included – but it was ignored just like the Weasley twin’s business. The other houses' students also tried to get their hands on them, but it was usually sold out before leaving the Ravenclaw common room.

Fors was impressed by this version of her and approved of her means of making money.

She glanced at the other people with her. She could recognise most of them; Mr Hanged Man and Ma’am Hermit were the easiest to assign a card to – their hair stood out. Little Sun was taller than anyone else and Mr Moon looked like a vampire in the books she has read. She already knew Miss Audrey. Mr Star had an odd air about him. Fors wondered if he would allow her to write a novel about him, he certainly had the looks for it.

And the shortest person here, Xio. Xio, who was her closest friend here as well and while they were not roommates here, they spent almost all their time together, sometimes joined by Miss Audrey.

The last person was only present in the memories of this Fors. She knew him from having the same classes. His name was Klein Moretti, and he was usually the one with the best grades in history of magic.

Fors knew that he must have some connection with the Tarot Club as well or he would not be here with them but how? Is he a blessed of Mr Fool?

Chapter Text

It was quite humiliating for someone of his kind to be in this situation. What situation? He did not know yet.

What he knew was that this was quite frustrating and he had no idea how he got here. It reminded him an awful lot of that time he was locked in the church of the mother goddess - another situation where he had no control. The main difference - that he could take notice of - was the horrible headache he was victim to right now.

Emlyn, who at first attempted to bite his lip to muffle the pained groans, realised that he could not. The motion he was used to, did not work.

He momentarily froze, foregoing the obnoxious pain in his head and used his tongue to lick his teeth.

Normal.

Abnormal by sanguine standard.

He frantically reached for his teeth with his hand. He could not feel his canines - the canines that come exclusively with being a sanguine.

They were gone.

His teeth were humane excluding the fact that his canines were pointier than the normal human.

No. No way.

Emlyn considers his ancestry and being a sanguine his biggest pride. And now that was gone.

He wanted a mirror. He needed to see if he at least retained his red eyes.

Barely managing to open his eyes, as he became conscious of the pain once again, he looked from his position on the cold floor. Through blurry vision, he made out the things and apparently – people that were around him but to his dismay there was nothing remotely useful to look at one’s reflection.

His hand reached for the wall beside him. Leaning on it, he tried to stand with shaky legs. The biting pain could not even compare to the fear of having possibly lost his defining features.

He felt his legs about to give out again and completely leaned his back against the wall. His mind rapidly filled up with information – that of a life he’s never lived.

He was a sixth-year student at Hogwarts in the house of loyalty. Pride welled up in his chest as he thought about it – indeed, his loyalty to the sanguine should never be doubted.

While average in other subjects, his talents in potion classes were unparalleled. He did not have any friends, not that he cared to. He would speak to his housemates when spoken to. He was considered weird due to his obsession. The sanguine had a collection of dolls at home and he would often be busy sewing clothes for the dolls at school. Everyone knew of it at this point, not that he attempted to hide it.

Surprisingly, he was favoured by Snape, a professor who would not usually pay much attention to a Hufflepuff. He would often speak to the teacher about his ideas of new potions, and his ideas would be genuinely considered for testing.

He lived with his parents, who both worked at St Mungo’s hospital. They were both doctors of two different fields. His mother specialised in healing using spells, and his father created antidotes with potions.

He was an only child and his parents’ affection for him knew no bounds. Despite being constantly busy, they would make it so both of them had time to spend with him.

He not-so-gently hit his head to the wall behind it, willing the pain to go away. With blurry eyes, he turned his head to look at the people around.

He could recognise two of them even with them missing a few years and the identity of one had him widening his eyes. There was a boy with black hair and green eyes whom he was sure he had met before, and the other person was Sherlock Moriarty!

Sherlock, who he had not seen for months. Emlyn forgot to look at the other people around him as he focused on the detective.

---

Cattleya focused on her surrounding despite the pounding in her head. An ancient building, surrounded by teenagers and herself being one.

Mr Hanged Man was easily recognised by his hair. The others she had to look at for a long time before assigning them with code names. Miss Judgement experienced no change in height even though she turned into a teenager. Mr Sun was no longer two meters; his height was reasonable. Miss Justice and Miss Magician could be told apart by their different hair colours. Mr Star and Mr Moon both had defining features; one had long hair, and the other had red eyes.

The only one missing to complete their merry band was Mr World. Though, she had a suspicion that the unknown individual was actually him. She had long known that Gehrman Sparrow was a fake name but whether he was using his real face or not, that she did not know.

She started at him. In her mind, there was absolutely no way that this scholar was Mr World, they were too different. Perhaps instead of Mr World, another blessed of Mr Fool was sent along with them...

As a pirate, she would often have to confirm of her surrounding before taking any action, whether from opposing pirate crews or the authority. Hence, after confirming her safety, she analysed the memories that kept amplifying the pain.

Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. Slytherin. The top student in her year. She was friends with alternate versions of her crewmates, she realised. Nina being the one she was closest to, followed by Heath Doyle, Frank Lee and the others. She actually needed glasses here. She was the prefect of her batch last year.

She spent most of her time studying in the library or writing long winded letters – never missing any details - to her adopted mother Bernadette Gustav.

She had never known her biological parents, though for some reason she knew she was a muggle born. At the age of 3, she was picked up from the orphanage by Bernadette. In this world, she called Queen Mystic a variation of the word mother. Back in her own world, she had never dared addressed her as such in her face but apparently here it was not an issue.

Her mother was a single woman, who was in charge of a branch company that she had inherited from her father Roselle Gustav. Cattleya addressed said emperor as grandfather in this world, was constantly spoiled by him. She had no grandmother, apparently the latter had passed away long before she was adopted. Both of them were muggles but they were incredibly well known in the muggle world. Roselle’s inventions had taken the world by storm, and they still do.

Cattleya stayed in shock for a few seconds. The emperor, Queen Mystic and she lived like an actual family in this world...

---

Leonard bunched his fingers against his temples because that was what one did when one wished the world to be quieter. The pain did not cooperate. It insisted on being loud, on filling his skull with static.

Without even opening his eyes, he mumbled, “old man?”

No reply.

His eyes snapped open, but he could barely see.

“Old man!” He hissed more urgently. Still nothing.

He focused on his surroundings and saw a gaggle of teenagers in the same state as him. He looked down at himself and was surprised to see that he was also a teenager. He was wearing a uniform; the top two buttons of his shirt were undone and a reddish tie dangled untied at his collar. A notebook was peeking out of his pocket.

His uniform represented a magical school that he apparently attended. He was in Gryffindor and very well known in his year, thanks to his good looks and undeniable charm.

His student ethics on the other hand were questionable. He attended almost every class but barely followed any. He was always doing something else; personal projects or writing poetry. Unlike his counterpart, this Leonard was good at poetry.

He was often caught wandering the halls after curfew - claiming he was not feeling sleepy – and was sent to detention. Due to the reason for his detentions, most of them were with Filch and the man really disliked Leonard’s easy-going attitude.

Despite being quite the troublemaker, his grades were better than average. The teachers never bothered telling him to pay attention, because his grades told a different story than his behaviour.

He was friends with Cindy and Bob here as well, but they never accompanied him in his nightly escapades. Being famous meant, other students would randomly strike up conversations with him and he was able to keep up, matching the energy.

There was also this odd thing, where other students shipped him with a certain Miss Hall, despite those two barely being seen together. That Leonard did not like it much and the current Leonard had no idea what been shipped with someone meant.

He used to live in an orphanage, and when he turned 7, he joined the Zoroast family despite being a muggle born. He was adopted by Pallez Zoroast and he called the man grandfather because he thought the man looked old. Through this he also became family with Mobet Zoroast, who was more than fifteen years older than him. The guy whom Leonard considered as a cousin, was happily married to a woman named Siatas.

His grandfather was really nice but would never admit it, but his actions were already living proof of it.

The Zoroast family used to be famous. While it is not the case anymore, it still retained most of its riches, so none of the family members actually cared about the lack of recognition.

Leonard quickly realised that he will not receive any response from the old man for as long as he was here because the parasite was not only living normally here but was also his legal guardian.

After concluding his life here, Leonard looked at the others.

He noticed a face he could recognise anywhere. It was Klein though as a teenager. He never knew the latter when they were that young, they met as adults after all. His brown hair and eyes reflected the sunlight and to Leonard, the seer - who was still adjusting to his surroundings - looked absolutely ethereal. Leonard stared for a while.

He then looked at the remaining teens. They were members of the tarot club, he could infer. The hair colour of the Hermit and the Hanged Man. The height of the Judgement and the Sun. The different coloured hair of Justice and the Magician. He already knew Mr Moon.

---

Xio’s first instinct was to grit her teeth and sit up, though the motion sent a sharper pang through her skull. The headache clawing behind her eyes felt almost alive, but she forced herself to treat it as secondary. Pain could wait - answers could not. She drew in a slow breath, then another, grounding herself the way one did after a fight. Only when her heartbeat steadied did she dare to sift through the flood of alien knowledge pressing into her mind.

Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Sixth year. A Quidditch player, chaser. Prefect in her fifth year. The title still carried a faint echo of disbelief, as if everyone she knew -including herself - had once questioned how she of all people could wear the badge. She was notorious for detentions, her record long and varied: hexing bullies, starting fights, even punching upper years when they pushed too far. Yet perhaps it was precisely that streak that had earned her the role. She never backed down when she believed she was in the right, and she carried punishments without complaint.

Her grades, at best, were middling. Average in most subjects, though she thrived in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Quidditch practice or time with Fors and Audrey ate up the rest of her days. That balance, oddly, felt right.

The life being pressed into her mind unfolded further. A pure-blood household: her mother and younger brother. Her father - a shadow now - had been an auror. The Ministry delivered his body one day, claimed he’d fallen in the line of duty, and handed over money as compensation. But Xio’s gut twisted even in this false history, the same way it did in her real one. It reeked of cover-up, of silencing. She could almost feel her teenage counterpart’s suspicion coil inside her. Perhaps this Xio, too, would grow to see the Ministry as nothing but a nest of liars.

She shuddered faintly. Their lives mirrored each other too closely. Her fists clenched in unconscious solidarity, and a strange pride sparked as she cheered on this alternate self. If this girl wanted revenge, she would not stop until she had it - just as Xio would have to confront George III eventually if she wanted revenge.

At last, she tore her attention away from the pounding in her head and scanned her surroundings. Fors was nearby, hair dishevelled and Xio heard her scream at one point. Xio’s sharp eyes lingered, searching for injury, before she allowed herself to move on. Audrey was there as well, composed despite the strange situation. The rest of the group began to take shape in her vision, familiar and yet not.

One by one, she assigned them their Tarot identities - the Hermit, the Hanged Man, the Sun and the Moon, each recognizable by some distinct feature. And yet one card was absent. Gehrman Sparrow was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a stranger among them. He didn’t radiate the same suffocating menace as the Hunter, not even close. Still, something about him tied him to their circle. Xio narrowed her eyes, the question settling heavy in her chest. He was definitely related to the Tarot Club though, but how?

Chapter Text

Their migraines collectively subsided, leaving behind a dull ache that felt almost like an echo of the foreign memories lodged in their skulls. One by one, they straightened, exchanging tentative glances as they got to their feet.

The silence stretched. It wasn’t the comfortable quiet of trusted companions but the sharp-edged stillness of strangers testing the air. Each of them already understood, in their own way, that they were all caught in the same impossible state: inhabiting someone else’s body, saddled with memories that weren’t theirs yet pressed into their minds with suffocating insistence

Audrey could practically feel the unease flowing out of her companions and she wanted to say something. She didn’t – the unknown person present making her reluctant to divulge anything.

Emlyn and Derrick had eventually taken in the images of the others. Derrick was rather elated as he realised, he could recognise most of them. Emlyn took a while to figure out that these were the other members of the tarot club, but that raised the question - how was Sherlock Moriarty involved with them?

Leonard at first believed it was a side effect from the Nightmare potion that he had long digested - because why else would Klein be here? But he knew there were too many unknowns for this to be something conjured by his mind.

The silence threatened to stretch on forever, until finally someone had to give. It was The Sun – he could barely hide his joy from meeting the ones who have been helping him. Having been victim to all sorts of illusions, he could tell that this was not one.

“You are all here… You are all really here!” He blurted, his voice raw with certainty. His wide eyes darted from face to face, “Mr Hanged Man! Miss Justice! It’s… It’s nice to finally meet you all.”

He was speaking in English – a language they all subconsciously understood. His vocabulary of Hermes was limited as he only knew what the others had taught him above the grey fog.

The words landed heavily in the silence, cutting through the tension. For the first time since waking, their defences slipped. There was no danger presiding over their heads, so the conversation was inevitable.

Mr Hanged Man cleared his throat, shifting his weight awkwardly. “It’s… it’s good to meet you too,” he said, his voice careful, almost rehearsed. His eyes flicked to the others before returning to Derrick, a pleasant expression on his face.

Miss Justice gave a small nod and a gentle smile. “I suppose introductions are in order,” she continued. “But first, who might you be?” She faced Klein, still wearing a gentle smile.

Before the stranger could speak, The Star replied, “That’s Klein.” He knew Miss Justice would understand without further explanation.

The others, however, were left puzzled. How did that clarify anything? Audrey’s eyes widened, the surprise threatening to spill from her voice, but she managed to keep it contained. “Mr World?!” she said, a mix of awe and disbelief lacing her tone.

Flushing slightly, she murmured an apology – she believed her reaction was too exaggerated. The others – aside from Leonard – turned their far more astonished expressions towards the Ravenclaw.

The World sighed. “Yes… I am the one you know as The World.” He did not need to see their faces to know what kind of expression they were wearing. He might as well admit it – they were in a situation where none of them knew what was happening.

Somehow, that confession made it even more unreal because even the voice was different. His usually hoarse voice was smoother and carried a humane softness. How were they supposed to associate this feeble looking guy to the terror of the seas Gehrman Sparrow? Granted, he was currently a teenage version of himself – a very scrawny teenager.

Fors was in denial – she could not accept it. She was completely afraid of the hunter but there he was, looking like he might trip over his own feet. Her heart raced, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant curiosity, as she tried to square this impossibly young version with the formidable figure she had known.

“But… But you are Sherlock Moriarty. I’m sure of it.” Emlyn said, his voice wavering. He did not want to believe his friend did not tell him about changing his identity.

Klein met his gaze steadily. “Klein Moretti, Sherlock Moriarty, and Gehrman Sparrow,” he admitted at last, each name landing like a stone dropped into still water. “All me.” He had already realised most of them must know his true name—after all, in this world, they were classmates.

Emlyn’s frustration boiled over. “You told me praying to The Fool was dangerous!” His tone was sharp, almost accusatory. In truth, the sting wasn’t from theology - it was from the thought that Sherlock had returned and never told him.

That admission drew almost every eye to Klein, the Tarot members exchanging perplexed looks.

Klein exhaled, the corners of his mouth twitching with a humourless irony. “I was parading as a believer of the Church of Steam and Machinery. To tell anyone that I actually worshipped an unorthodox god…” His lips curved in something between amusement and weariness. “…would have been dangerous.”

The Tarot Club members knew of the shared identity Dwayne Dantes, but this - the revelation of an identity before Gehrman Sparrow - was new. Sherlock Moriarty. Several of them recognized the name; a detective of no small repute in Backlund, a man woven into the city’s very rumours.

“It’s best to let go of this at the moment and address the problem at hand.” Klein tried to speak very firmly, but the thin, adolescent timbre of his voice betrayed him. He pretended to ignore it, “I am The World, otherwise known as Klein Moretti. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He gave a shallow bow, only to falter briefly at the realization that he wasn’t wearing a hat.

“Justice or Audrey Hall, likewise.” She lifted her robe slightly in a small curtsy. The others followed their examples; the atmosphere charged with something ceremonial.

“Hanged Man, Alger Wilson.”

“Sun, Derrick Berg.”

“Magician, Fors Wall.”

“Moon, Emlyn White.”

“Hermit, Cattleya – Cattleya Gustav in this strange place.”

“Star, Leonard Mitchell.”

“Judgement, Xio Derecha.”

They had been shadows to one another for so long, but now - face to face - they stood revealed. Their identities were not a secret to this place so there was no need to keep it from each other.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. The silence was no longer heavy with suspicion, but with the fragile awe of recognition.

“We are in an unfamiliar place and are occupying the bodies of an alternate versions of ourselves. It's best to address each other by name instead of the usual code name... Mr Moretti, Mr Mitchell, I believe the three of us have been a somewhat similar situation before.” Audrey’s voice was soft but steady, her poise barely disguising the undercurrent of unease. She looked at Klein and Leonard, searching for confirmation that the strange familiarity wasn’t hers alone.

“Yes.” Klein’s reply came after a brief pause; his brow furrowed in concentration. “Groselle’s travel was also a world of its own. But this one…” He glanced down at his own hands; at the scrawny frame he now wore. “…this one incorporated us into it the moment we arrived—giving us new lives, new memories. These alternate versions of ourselves either already existed or were immediately created to accommodate us.”

He hesitated, his eyes distant as if chasing a thought just out of reach. “But I don’t recall interacting with any mystical items… Actually -” his expression tightened “- my memories after today’s Tarot Club meeting are missing.”

The others stared at him as he spoke. His tone was calm, measured, even bookish - so utterly unlike the ruthless pirate hunter who had terrified the seas. It was a dissonance that none of them could easily reconcile. Associating this pale, scrawny teenager with Gehrman Sparrow felt almost absurd, like trying to believe a candle flame could masquerade as a roaring inferno. Fors hugged her arms tighter around herself.

"My memories are missing too. It does feel similar... Hopefully, there's no Hall of Truth here." Leonard grinned, looking at the two. 

Audrey covered her mouth with her hand and laughed while Klein glared at Leonard. 

The others looked at the exchange. Gehrman Sparrow was showing a lot more emotions than he usually would. They feared a little for Mr Star's life since his joke was not appreciated by Mr World.

Klein rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his expression and further analysed their situation.  "While it is similar, I don't think this is the result of a mystical item. I can't feel any connection to the spirit world. Miss Wall, I believe it's the same for you?”

Fors still a bit dazed, had to blink a few times to collect herself." Ah, yes. It's the same for me."

She suddenly recalled something and spoke once more, "Also, I prayed to Mr Fool but did not receive any response." 

All of them were surprised. Some of them even attempted to recite Mr Fool's honorific name to see if they would get a response. But such trials were in vain. 

Klein was alarmed. He controlled his facial expressions to not show his astonishment. He just saw the Tarot club praying to him, but he did not hear any illusory prayers in his ears. None. 

The last time he lost access to Sephira Castle was et the Hornacis mountain and it was one of his most horrific experiences. Yet, he did not feel the same foreboding he felt at that time.

Before any of them could speak again, there was the sound of someone clearing their throat. It was not a voice that any of them knew.

They looked in that direction and were met a lady in full pink outfit. She was the new Defence against the dark arts teacher, Dolores Umbridge. She was introduced to them on the first day of this year, merely a week ago. Their mind unconsciously supplied them with the knowledge.

“Skipping class on the second week? Detention.” Her voice was squeaky, irritating to anyone listening. “I expect to see you all at my office, after class today.”

“Now, get to class. I do hope you will inform your professors why you are late.” She pursed her lips, the look in her eyes conceited.

They stared at her, a strange mix of disbelief and indignation flickering across their faces. Alger’s jaw tightened, Derrick looked bewildered, and Emlyn’s lip curled in distaste.

Detention was not a term they have heard used in such a way. Almost none of them had any formal education after all. But they were subconsciously aware of many such things thanks to the memories.

Klein, however, reacted fastest. He dipped his head slightly, suppressing the urge to sigh. Of course it had to be her.

“Yes, Professor,” Audrey answered sweetly before anyone else could react. Her impeccable courtesy smoothed over the tension, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Umbridge waited till they started heading to their specific classes before she left, her heels clicking against the stone. The pink of her outfit was almost aggressively out of place against the gloomy corridor.

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws headed one specific direction along with Derrick, since their classes were close while the Gryffindors and Emlyn headed in another.

Klein was already feeling the beginnings of another headache. Detention with her. From what I can remember, this will hurt. Truly, fate is cruel.