There are many safe places to train with unstable divine tarot energy.
Hogwarts was not one of them.
Especially not when Rick Wyllis had decided to set up his "training camp" inside the Forbidden Forest because, quote, "trees make good punching bags."
At the edge of the forest, Loki sat under a magically-reinforced parasol, sipping enchanted tea and watching through binoculars as Rick summoned the Fool's card again.
Across the clearing stood Professor Lupin, three Ministry-approved combat golems, and Deadpool, who was already yelling, "FINISH HIM!" before the fight even started.
"Okay," Rick muttered to himself, "just like Klein said. Channel the card. Focus on the intent. Don't let it override your brain."
He raised the Fool card.
It pulsed once. Then it glowed.
Then it exploded.
Kind of.
Reality folded, snapped, and briefly turned inside out.
For exactly 3.4 seconds, Rick was simultaneously a frog, a god, and a sentient philosophical idea about butter.
Then everything snapped back.
He blinked.
"Oh hey," he said. "That almost wasn't a disaster."
Deadpool clapped. "Ten outta ten! You turned me into spaghetti noodles for a second, but I liked the flavor."
Professor Lupin, now with eyebrows slightly singed, gave Rick a wary thumbs-up.
Loki, from afar, muttered, "If he survives this, he might actually become unstoppable. Or worse—respected."
Back at Hogwarts, Harry Potter was not having a great day.
First, someone transfigured the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom into a literal battlefield for "practical experience."
Then, someone taught the Slytherin second-years how to summon minor demonic accountants.
And now... a time portal opened in the Great Hall.
Out stepped Dumbledore.
Not the current, mildly transparent ghost version who mostly offered cryptic riddles about balance and bedtime.
No—this was Time-Traveler Dumbledore, wearing steampunk goggles, a cloak made of runes, and carrying what looked suspiciously like a miniature TARDIS on a chain.
"Harry," said Time Dumbledore. "We have a problem."
Harry sighed. "Which one?"
"The punchy one," Dumbledore said gravely.
Cut back to Rick, who had successfully broken the training dummy by asking it too many existential questions.
Loki approached, hands behind his back.
"News from the timeline," he said. "Apparently, your little divine-fist incident in the dream realm… destabilized two minor realities and accidentally summoned an angel of fate."
Rick tilted his head. "Did I win?"
"No. You proposed to it."
Rick blinked. "Oh. Did it say yes?"
"It said 'the stars aren't ready.'"
"Pfft. Classic angel line."
Loki cleared his throat. "Also, Time Dumbledore is here. He says you've caused a rupture in the Wheel of Destiny. Again."
Rick groaned. "Man, I just fixed that thing."
"No you didn't," Loki said. "You stapled it back together using sentient paperclips."
"They seemed happy about it!"
Inside the Room of Time (yes, Hogwarts had one—it just moved around a lot), Rick met Time Dumbledore for the first time.
"Ah," the old wizard said, peering at Rick through ten layers of magical sight. "You are… complicated."
"I get that a lot."
"You carry pieces of paths you were never meant to touch. Fool, Red Priest, Chaos Seeker, Mad Baron…"
Rick gasped. "Baron?! That's the coolest one!"
"This is not a compliment," Dumbledore said. "You are a walking fracture in fate. Even the Norns argue about you."
Rick crossed his arms. "Look, I'm just trying to help people. Punch evil. Hug weird gods. Not explode."
"Intentions are noble. Execution is… enthusiastic."
Before the wizard could say more, the room flickered.
And then it wasn't the Room of Time anymore.
It was a frozen battlefield—snow falling over shattered statues, ancient symbols, and giant broken tarot cards scattered like gravestones.
Rick looked around. "Uh. This isn't Hogwarts."
"No," Dumbledore said softly. "This is a possible future."
They watched as a version of Rick—wiser, older, radiating divinity and madness in equal measure—faced off against a being of pure entropy. His arms glowed with every pathway's light. His smile was terrifying.
He said only one thing before charging into battle:
"LET'S GOOOOO."
And then he vanished in a flash of impossibility.
Rick blinked. "Okay. That was either super inspiring… or horrifying."
"Yes," Dumbledore said simply.
Back in the present, Rick sat on the Astronomy Tower, tossing one of his tarot cards into the air.
Harry joined him with two butterbeers.
"You okay?" Harry asked.
Rick took the bottle. "Yeah. Just saw a version of me go full god-mode and scream 'let's go' before possibly punching the concept of death."
"So... a normal Tuesday."
Rick snorted. "Guess so."
They sat in silence for a minute, watching the sky shift as ley lines twinkled overhead.
Harry finally said, "You're dangerous, Rick."
"I know."
"But you're trying. And that's what counts."
Rick smiled.
And then the sky cracked open again, a portal rending itself wide.
Out stepped a knight in golden armor, holding a staff shaped like a serpent.
"The Church of the Storm sends its regards," the knight said. "You've broken three prophecies, unleashed a forbidden aspect of the Fool... and you owe us a goat."
Rick stood, stretched, and cracked his knuckles.
"I'm all out of goats."
Then he grinned.
"But I got plenty of fists."