My mistake, Bernadette conceded to herself. Not everyone is as sharp as Cattleya.
Audrey turned back to the Fool and said, "I consider that answer to be of very significant value. I can't in good conscience accept it without offering something in return, Mr. Fool. What would you like?"
"More of Roselle's diary — or…" Klein paused before adding, "Any information about the Antigonus family. Even things you may think I already know."
Bernadette gave a small start. Why would the Fool be asking about the Antigonus family? That ancient bloodline should hold no secrets from a god whose life spans centuries.
Unless… He was newly ascended to godhood, or had simply slumbered for a very long time. Combined with the significance of the title "Fool" and the fact that He was actively collecting the diary — perhaps that explained the interest in the Antigonus family.
If that were the case, the likelihood of Him being Father fell considerably. The Astrologer Pathway and the Mystery Pryer Pathway had no neighbouring relation. Thinking that, Bernadette felt faintly self-deprecating. That was an unfounded guess to begin with.
(Note: At this point in the story, Bernadette is still unaware that Roselle had shifted to the Black Emperor Pathway.)
Alger spoke up calmly. "Mr. Fool, as it happens, I know something of the Antigonus family."
Klein felt a spark of interest, though he kept his voice even. "Go on."
"The Antigonus family is an ancient bloodline…"
Alger laid out what he knew — a broad overview, ending with a summary: "The Pathway that the Antigonus family commanded… Two words keep appearing in every account: uncanny. And terrifying."
As Klein and Audrey were still absorbing this, Bernadette's voice followed:
"The Pathway the Antigonus family commanded is the Fool Pathway."
The Fool Pathway?
Klein felt a jolt move through him, because he himself was a Beyonder of that very Pathway. The original Klein Moretti had died because of the Antigonus Family's Notebook — and yet after his own transmigration, he had become a Beyonder of the Pathway that same family had once controlled. The irony of it was almost too neat to be a coincidence.
A moment later, he smiled — calm and faint. "Very good. That answer satisfies me."
Alger pressed a fist to his chest and gave a measured bow. "The honour is mine."
After that, Audrey asked something that made Klein quietly amused — whether an animal that drank a Sequence potion would undergo any change. The implication was fairly obvious: the "if" had already become a reality. Yet the fact that she could even ask the question meant the animal in question hadn't died, gone mad, or lost control and turned into a monster.
Brain not quite up to scratch, but her luck more than compensates, Bernadette assessed.
Audrey puffed her cheeks out again. She did it again. I've been looked down on by Miss Lovers. Again.
What of it?! So she entered the extraordinary world earlier than me — that means nothing. Who ends up ahead of whom is a story that hasn't been written yet.
As the gathering neared its close, Bernadette had weighed it over and finally decided against asking the Fool about the mysterious room she'd discovered. If the room had nothing to do with Him and her question only piqued His interest, that could make things awkward. And if the room was His doing, then asking or not asking changed nothing at all.
There was also something else that had lodged in her mind: when the Fool was informed that she and that man — Vincent — shared a body, He had seemed genuinely surprised. Did that mean He wasn't aware of her true identity?
Klein said then, "There is one matter that requires your cooperation."
He noted the flicker of tension that passed through all three of them, and smiled reassuringly. "No need for concern. It's quite a small thing… In your spare time, you might try a brief ritual — nothing formal is needed…"
A thought stirred in Bernadette. "You want us to pray to you?"
"Precisely."
Klein gave a slight nod.
Audrey looked intrigued. "And the chant?"
Klein tapped the edge of the table with one finger, his tone unhurried and unreadable, and answered in Hermes:
"O Fool who does not belong to this age,You are the mysterious sovereign above the Gray Fog,You are the Yellow and Black King who commands fortune…"
The Emerald City. A half-open chamber.
Bernadette opened her eyes.
The soul that had been outside the body all this while slipped back in at once, merging with the soul already dwelling within and swiftly absorbing every memory of what had transpired.
In the space of a few seconds, her expression went through several changes.
That "Fool" — that self-styled evil god — truly could read the script Father had created?
He had to have some connection to Father. There was no other explanation.
Bernadette sat very still for a while, letting her thoughts settle before she arrived at a decision: whatever purpose the Fool had in convening this peculiar gathering, the simple fact that He could read Roselle's script was reason enough to keep attending. She needed to see this through.
It was, after all, the only lead she had found in over a hundred years that connected back to Father. She couldn't afford to let it go. The thought ignited a sudden urge to pray to the Fool that very moment and ask — but she held herself back, dreading the possibility of an answer she didn't want to hear.
Most likely, the Fool doesn't know where Father is either — otherwise why would He be collecting the diary?
A new thought surfaced: the recent flurry of diary-collecting in Backlund — could that be traced back to the Fool, or to one of the other members? The girl with the title "Justice," perhaps?
She didn't dwell on it. Instead, she turned her mind to the next gathering. By her calculations, it would be Vincent's turn. She would need to prepare diary pages for him in advance, along with questions to put to the Fool — and he, in turn, would bring back whatever answers he exchanged for them.
One great circular relay. What a nuisance.
Though if it hadn't been for Vincent, she might never have joined this gathering at all. She might never have known that somewhere in this world, someone could actually read Roselle's script and was searching — just as blindly as she was — for any trace of Father's trail.
Perhaps this was what Father had always called fate's arrangement — the idea that what is meant to find you, will.
She rose, slipped through the spirit world, and descended to the deepest underground chamber of the Emerald City. Inside was a room rebuilt to be an exact one-to-one replica of Emperor Roselle's own study.
Bernadette took a thick volume of Roselle's diary from the nearby shelf, tucked the single page back inside, and gazed at the familiar handwriting for a long, quiet moment.
After a while, she shook her head, replaced the diary, and turned her thoughts to what needed to be prepared before the next exchange.
The Harry Potter World.
After their trip to Diagon Alley, Vincent spent the two days that followed at home — recording an extensive library of videos for Bernadette's next arrival: covering the magic textbooks, and the materials for the Muggle Studies course, in fine detail.
In the middle of all this, he also made a trip to Hogwarts Castle to sign his formal employment contract as the new Muggle Studies professor, with the requirement that he arrive at the school on — or before — the 1st of September, in time for the Opening Feast.
And then, almost without notice, the evening before the swap arrived. Vincent was doing his final checks, making sure he hadn't overlooked anything, and had just finished washing up and was about to turn in for the night.
When Dumbledore appeared.
"Ah, good evening, Vincent."
He was in full pyjamas and nightcap, his expression carrying a trace of apology. "I'm terribly sorry to disturb you at this hour."
Vincent looked at him and allowed himself a small joke. "Professor — have you come to invite me to a pyjama party?"
"I did come rather in a rush," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile. "In any case — I hear… you and young Harry have gotten rather close?"
"???"
Vincent went completely blank.
To be continued…