2

The next morning, dark circles under his eyes, Harry made his way to breakfast. Ron and Hermione fell into step beside him, their faces etched with concern.

"Rough night, mate?" Ron asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and worry.

Harry shrugged, allowing a hint of teenage moodiness to color his tone. "Just thinking about stuff," he mumbled, pushing a piece of toast around his plate.

Hermione's brow furrowed further. "Harry, about yesterday... that warning to Malfoy..."

"Lucky guess," Harry cut her off, his voice a touch harsher than usual. He softened it slightly, adding, "Sorry, just... not ready to talk about it."

He saw the surprise in their eyes at his brusqueness. Good. Let them attribute it to puberty, to the stress of recent events. Anything but the truth.

As they sat down, Harry's mind raced behind his carefully constructed mask of teenage angst. The digesting potion tingled faintly within him, a reminder of his true purpose.

After breakfast, they headed to their first class of the day, Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall. Harry focused on the lesson, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The constant whispers and glances from other students were hard to ignore.

Next, they had Charms with Professor Flitwick. Harry found some comfort in the familiar spells, but his mind kept drifting back to the events of the previous day.

Lunch in the Great Hall was another exercise in maintaining his composure. Hermione and Ron kept a close eye on him, their concern palpable.

In the afternoon, they had Herbology with Professor Sprout. Working with magical plants was a welcome distraction, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

"We should go see Hagrid," Hermione suggested tentatively as they finished their Herbology class.

Harry nodded, not out of any real concern for Hagrid, but because it was what Harry would do. "Yeah, alright," he mumbled, pushing his food around his plate.

Malfoy's dramatic entrance barely registered. Instead, Harry was considering how he could use this situation to his advantage. Perhaps the chaos would provide cover for some discreet exploration of the castle.

As they left the Great Hall, Harry felt Ron and Hermione exchanging worried glances behind his back. He suppressed a smirk. Let them worry. Let them think Harry was changing, growing moodier with age. It was the perfect cover.

"You know you can talk to us, right?" Hermione said softly as they walked.

Harry turned, meeting her gaze with a carefully crafted look of vulnerability quickly masked by teenage bravado. "Yeah, I know," he said. "Just... not now, okay?"

As they made their way towards Hagrid's hut, Harry's mind was already racing ahead. Yes, they would play the part of concerned friends. But after that... after that, he had a castle to explore, secrets to uncover, and powers to develop. All while maintaining his cover and protecting his mind.

The path of the Fool stretched out before him, full of potential and mystery. And Harry was determined to walk it, no matter how carefully he had to tread.

Later, as they headed to the library, Hermione's determination became clear. She had a stack of books in her arms and an intense look in her eyes.

"Harry, I've been thinking," she said. "There has to be some magical explanation for your predictions. I'm going to research everything I can about Seers and prophetic abilities."

Ron looked skeptical. "Do you really think that's necessary, Hermione? I mean, Harry's just... well, he's always been a bit different, hasn't he?"

"That's exactly why we need to understand it," Hermione insisted, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and concern. "Harry, if you're seeing the future, we need to know how and why. It could be a gift, but it could also be dangerous if we don't understand it."

Harry nodded, appreciating her determination. "Thanks, Hermione. Anything you find could be really helpful."

As they delved into their research, Hermione's fervor was evident. She pored over books, scribbling notes and muttering to herself about various theories and magical practices. Ron, for his part, tried to help but often ended up looking more confused than anything.

Harry, meanwhile, kept his own counsel about the Seer potion, knowing that this was a secret he needed to guard closely. The future was changing, and he was playing a part in it, but how much to reveal and to whom remained a delicate balance.

As the night wore on, Harry found his thoughts drifting. The library, vast as it was, felt confining. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows, and the musty scent of old parchment filled the air. There were parts of the castle he needed to explore, secrets he needed to uncover. But how to do it without arousing suspicion?

Suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind: a small, wiry house-elf with eyes shining like polished marbles and a fervent desire to help Harry Potter. Dobby.

'Of course,' Harry thought, a plan forming in his mind. 'Dobby could be invaluable. He knows the castle, he can move unseen, and he's loyal to a fault.'

But how to contact him without raising questions from Ron and Hermione? Harry glanced at his friends, still absorbed in their research. He'd need to be careful, strategic.

"I'm going to check the Restricted Section," Harry announced, standing up. "There might be something useful there."

Hermione looked up, nodding approvingly. "Good idea, Harry. Just be careful not to trigger any of the protective spells."

As Harry disappeared behind the towering shelves, a small smile played on his lips. Yes, Dobby would be instrumental in his plans. The house-elf's abilities and loyalty could open doors - both literally and figuratively - that would otherwise remain closed.

Now, he just needed to find a way to summon Dobby discreetly. Another piece of the puzzle was falling into place, and Harry felt a thrill of anticipation. The path of the Fool was unfolding before him, and he was ready to take the next step.

The Restricted Section was eerily silent, the faint glow of enchanted candles casting long shadows on the ancient tomes. Harry moved quietly between the shelves, his mind focused on the task at hand.

"Dobby," he whispered, hoping the house-elf would hear him.

A moment later, a soft pop announced Dobby's arrival. The small creature looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes. "Harry Potter calls for Dobby? How can Dobby help?"

Harry knelt down to be at eye level with the elf. "Dobby, I need your help. There are places in this castle I need to explore, places that aren't easy to find."

Dobby's ears perked up. "Dobby knows many secret places, Harry Potter. Dobby will help!"

Harry smiled, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Dobby. We need to be discreet. No one can know what we're doing."

Dobby nodded vigorously. "Dobby understands. Dobby will be very careful."

Harry quickly outlined his plan, asking Dobby to scout out a few specific areas of the castle while he maintained his cover with Ron and Hermione. With Dobby's assistance, he felt more confident in his ability to uncover the secrets hidden within Hogwarts.

"Dobby, do you know about the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked, his voice low.

Dobby's eyes widened. "Oh, yes, Harry Potter! The Room of Requirement is a very special place. It appears when someone truly needs it."

"Can you take me there? I believe it might have some books and items that could be very useful," Harry said, his mind racing with possibilities.

"Dobby can show Harry Potter where it is," Dobby said eagerly. "But Harry Potter must be careful. The Room can be tricky."

Harry nodded. "I understand. And Dobby, if there are any books in the Room that seem dangerous or cursed, let me know. I have a way to determine if they're safe."

Dobby nodded, his expression serious. "Dobby will help. Dobby will make sure Harry Potter is safe."

Harry made his way back to Ron and Hermione, who looked up as he approached, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Find anything interesting?" Ron asked, trying to mask his anxiety with casual interest.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing yet, but I'll keep looking. There's bound to be something useful here."

Hermione's eyes sparkled with determination. "We'll find it, Harry. We'll figure this out together."

Harry nodded, appreciating their support even as he kept his own secrets. He glanced around the library, feeling the faint tingling of the Seer potion still digesting within him. Shadows flickered at the edges of his vision, hinting at the complex web of fate surrounding him.

For now, he needed to focus on the present and the next steps in his plan. But the future was always on his mind, a shifting tapestry of possibilities and challenges.

That night, after ensuring Ron and Hermione were safely back in the common room, Harry slipped out to meet Dobby. The castle was quiet, the only sounds the soft echoes of his footsteps on the stone floor.

Dobby appeared with a pop, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Harry Potter, follow Dobby. Dobby will show you the Room of Requirement."

They walked through the darkened corridors until they reached a seemingly ordinary stretch of wall. Dobby gestured for Harry to stop.

"Harry Potter must walk past this wall three times, thinking about what he needs," Dobby instructed.

Harry did as he was told, focusing his thoughts on a room filled with books and items that could help him understand and control his Seer abilities. As he completed the third pass, a door materialized in the wall.

Dobby opened the door, and Harry stepped inside. The room was vast, filled with shelves of books, strange artifacts, and other magical objects. Harry felt a thrill of excitement.

"Remember, Dobby," he said, "let me know if any of these books seem dangerous."

Dobby nodded and began to explore the room, while Harry moved to a nearby shelf. As he reached for a book, a faint tingling sensation ran through his fingers. He focused, letting his Seer abilities guide him.

The book seemed ordinary enough, but as Harry concentrated, he could sense a faint, dark aura around it. He pulled his hand back, deciding to leave that one for now.

Hours passed as they explored the room, Harry using his abilities to carefully select books and items that seemed safe. By the time they finished, he had a small collection of potentially useful materials.

"Thank you, Dobby," Harry said, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "You've been a great help."

"Dobby is happy to help Harry Potter," the house-elf replied, beaming.

As Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room, he couldn't help but feel that the night had been a success. The Room of Requirement held many secrets, and with Dobby's help, he was beginning to unlock them.

The path of the Fool stretched out before him, full of potential and mystery. And Harry was determined to walk it, no matter how carefully he had to tread.

The next morning, as Harry joined Ron and Hermione for breakfast, he noticed Hermione's intense gaze. She was practically vibrating with excitement, a thick, ancient-looking book clutched to her chest.

"Harry," she began, her voice low and urgent, "I've been thinking about what happened with Buckbeak. It's not just about seeing the future, is it? It's about how you knew exactly what to say to change things."

Ron, mouth full of toast, nodded vigorously. "Yeah, mate. It was brilliant, but... a bit scary, if I'm honest."

Harry felt a flutter of unease. Hermione was too perceptive for her own good sometimes. He needed to tread carefully.

"I'm not sure what happened, really," he said, trying to sound uncertain. "It was just a feeling I had."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "A feeling that saved Buckbeak and potentially changed the course of events. Harry, that's not just intuition. Look at this."

She opened the book, pointing to a passage. "It's about something called 'Fate Weaving'. It's an incredibly rare ability, even rarer than being a Seer. Some wizards can not only see possible futures but actually influence the threads of fate."

Ron's eyes widened. "Blimey, Harry. You think that's what you did?"

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. This was dangerously close to the truth. He needed to deflect, and fast.

"Come on, Hermione," he said with a forced laugh. "Fate Weaving? Sounds like something Professor Trelawney would come up with after too much sherry."

Hermione frowned. "I'm serious, Harry. This isn't some Divination nonsense. This is advanced magical theory. And it fits with what happened."

Harry sighed, allowing a hint of frustration to color his tone. "Look, I appreciate you trying to figure this out. But maybe there isn't some grand explanation. Maybe I just got lucky."

"But Harry-" Hermione began.

"Drop it, Hermione," Ron interjected, sensing Harry's discomfort. "If Harry says it was just luck, then it was just luck."

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue further, but something in Harry's expression made her pause. "Alright," she said finally. "But I'm going to keep researching. There's something going on here, Harry, whether you want to admit it or not."

As they headed to their first class, Harry's mind raced. Hermione was getting too close to the truth. He needed to be more careful, to throw her off the scent somehow. But how?

The path of the Fool was becoming more treacherous by the day. Harry knew he'd have to make some difficult decisions soon if he wanted to keep his true nature hidden.

Harry Potter lay awake in his four-poster bed, the events of the past few days weighing heavily on his mind. Hermione's reaction to the Buckbeak incident had caught him off guard.

"Fate Weaving?" he muttered to himself, turning the unfamiliar term over in his mind. He'd never heard of such a thing in the Harry Potter books or movies. It was an entirely new concept, and that worried him.

His reaction to Hermione's discovery had been hasty, almost panicked. He needed to be more careful. Hermione was smart, and if he wasn't cautious, she would uncover more than he wanted her to know. Moreover, losing control of his thoughts as a Transmigrator could have catastrophic effects, disrupting not just his actions but potentially endangering those around him. Harry knew he needed to keep his mind guarded and his secrets well-hidden.

As the first light of dawn crept through the dormitory windows, Harry made a decision. He needed to guide Hermione's research in a direction that wouldn't expose his true nature while still satisfying her curiosity. He also realized that he needed to hasten his search for mind magic to ensure he could control his thoughts. Without proper management, his unique abilities could spiral out of control, leading to disastrous outcomes.

At breakfast, Harry approached Hermione, who was already nose-deep in another ancient tome.

"Hermione," he began, his voice low, "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday."

Hermione looked up, her eyes bright with interest. "Yes, Harry?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I don't think what I did was Fate Weaving. To be honest, I'm not even sure what that is. But... I do think you should keep researching it."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? But yesterday you seemed so dismissive."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that," Harry said, channeling sincerity into his words. "It's just... I'm not comfortable with the idea of having some grand, powerful ability. But I can't deny that something strange is happening."

Ron, who had been quietly munching on toast, chimed in. "So what do you think it is, mate?"

Harry hesitated, as if gathering his thoughts. "I've been wondering if it might be some kind of natural talent for Divination. You know, like being a Seer."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Divination? But Harry, you seemed completely lost in our first class with Professor Trelawney."

"I know," Harry said, "but think about it. I predicted the Dementor attack on the train, and now this thing with Buckbeak. That's twice now that I've had accurate premonitions outside of class."

Ron nodded vigorously. "He's right, Hermione. It can't just be coincidence, can it?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "You have a point. Two accurate predictions are quite remarkable, especially considering how you struggle with the methods we're learning in class."

"Exactly," Harry said, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. "That's why I'm wondering if maybe my... talent... works differently from what we're being taught."

Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity. "That's possible. There could be different types of Divination that we haven't covered yet. Maybe your ability manifests in a unique way."

"So you'll look into it?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed. "This is fascinating. I'll research different forms of Divination and Seer abilities. And I'll look into that Fate Weaving concept too. There might be a connection we're not seeing."

As they headed to their next class, Ron leaned in close to Harry. "Blimey, Harry. Two for two on the predictions. Maybe you should start giving us tips for our exams!"

Harry forced a laugh, but inwardly, he felt the weight of his deception growing. He was walking a dangerous line between revealing too much and not enough. How long could he maintain this balancing act?

That evening, Harry returned to the Room of Requirement, where Dobby was waiting. The books on Occlumency and Legilimency he had discovered earlier were proving to be invaluable. But Harry knew he needed to be cautious. Starting mind magic without understanding the full consequences could be dangerous.

"Dobby, keep an eye out for anyone approaching," Harry instructed the house-elf. "I need to focus on reading these books."

"Yes, the Great Wizard Harry Potter!" Dobby replied, his eyes gleaming with loyalty.

Harry sat down with the books, quickly skimming through the pages. The more he read, the more he realized the complexity and potential dangers of mind magic. He needed to discuss this with Hermione before attempting anything. The idea of losing control of his thoughts was frightening; it could not only affect his actions but could have severe repercussions for his safety and the safety of those around him.

By the time he returned to the Gryffindor common room, Harry felt a mix of exhaustion and determination. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him, their expressions a blend of curiosity and concern.

"Did you find anything useful?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Yes," Harry replied, nodding. "I've found some books on Occlumency and Legilimency. But Hermione, I need your help to understand them better. Mind magic is dangerous, and I don't want to rush into it."

Hermione's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and caution. "You're right, Harry. We need to approach this carefully. Let's study the books together and figure out the safest way to proceed."

Ron clapped Harry on the back. "We've got your back, mate. Whatever this is, we'll figure it out together."

Harry felt a surge of warmth at their support. He wasn't alone on this journey. With Hermione's intelligence, Ron's loyalty, and his own growing abilities, they were a formidable team.

As they headed to their dormitories, Harry couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead was uncertain and fraught with challenges, but he was ready to face it, armed with knowledge, determination, and the unwavering support of his friends.

The following morning, Harry Potter awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. The weight of his secrets still pressed heavily upon him, but the support of his friends had bolstered his resolve. As he made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast, he couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and trepidation about the day ahead.

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter. Sunlight streamed through the enchanted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the long tables filled with students. The clinking of cutlery and the hum of conversations created a familiar, comforting atmosphere.

Hermione was already at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by a small fortress of books. Her eyes lit up as Harry approached.

"Harry," she whispered excitedly, "I've been up half the night researching. There's so much more to Divination than what Professor Trelawney teaches us!"

Harry slid into the seat next to her, genuinely curious. "What did you find?"

"Well," Hermione began, her voice low, "there are accounts of Seers who didn't need tea leaves or crystal balls. Some could see visions in their dreams, others through touch. For instance, there was a 17th-century Seer who could glimpse the future in reflections on water. It's fascinating how diverse these abilities can be."

Ron joined them, stifling a yawn. "Blimey, Hermione. Do you ever sleep?"

Hermione ignored him, focusing on Harry. "Harry, I think your abilities might be more like these unconventional Seers. It could explain why you struggle in Divination class but can make accurate predictions outside of it."

Harry nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt. Hermione's theory provided a plausible explanation for his "predictions," but it also deepened his deception. "That... makes sense," he said carefully. "But what about the Fate Weaving thing you mentioned before?"

Hermione's expression grew serious. "That's where it gets complicated. Fate Weaving seems to be an incredibly rare and powerful ability. It's not just about seeing the future, but potentially influencing it. The texts I found were vague, but they hinted at great power... and great danger."

A chill ran down Harry's spine. He knew all too well the dangers of meddling with fate. "Maybe we should focus on understanding the Seer abilities for now," he suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from the more dangerous topic.

Ron, who had been quietly listening, suddenly perked up. "Hey, speaking of dangerous stuff, what about those mind magic books you found, Harry? Occu... Occlu..."

"Occlumency," Hermione corrected automatically. "And yes, Harry, we should definitely look at those together. Mind magic is incredibly complex and potentially risky."

Harry nodded, grateful for the change in subject. "I was thinking the same thing. Maybe we could meet in the library after classes?"

As they made their way to their first lesson of the day, Harry couldn't shake a feeling of unease. He was walking a tightrope, balancing between truth and deception, between his role as Harry Potter and his true nature as a Beyonder. One misstep could send everything crashing down.

The day passed in a blur of classes, with Harry only half-listening to the lectures. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Occlumency, Seers, and the looming threat of discovery. By the time they reached the library that evening, he felt mentally exhausted.

Hermione had already claimed a secluded table in the back, away from prying eyes and ears. As Harry and Ron joined her, she cast a quick Muffliato charm to ensure their privacy.

"Alright," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "let's see those books, Harry."

As Harry placed the books on the table, he felt the weight of his deception grow heavier. These ancient tomes represented both salvation and peril – a means to protect his mind, but also a deepening of the web of lies he was weaving.

Hermione began to leaf through the pages, her eyes widening. "This is advanced magic, Harry. Way beyond anything we've studied so far. Where did you get these?"

Harry hesitated, considering his response carefully. "Dobby helped me," he said, opting for a partial truth. "I asked him if he could find some books on mind magic, and he brought these to me."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Dobby? That little house-elf? Blimey, he must really like you, Harry."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I suppose house-elves would have access to parts of the castle we don't. But Harry, you should be careful about asking Dobby to do things like this. We don't want to get him in trouble."

Harry nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt. "You're right. I'll be more careful in the future."

Ron leaned in, peering at the complex diagrams. "Still, this looks complicated. You sure about this, mate?"

Harry nodded, his resolve strengthening. "I have to be. If these... abilities I have are real, I need to learn to control them. To protect my mind."

Hermione looked up from the book, her expression a mixture of concern and determination. "We'll figure this out together, Harry. But we need to be careful. Mind magic can be dangerous if not practiced correctly."

As they pored over the books, discussing techniques and theories, Harry felt a glimmer of hope. With Hermione's intellect, Ron's unwavering support, and his own determination, perhaps he could navigate this treacherous path.

As the candles burned low and the library grew quiet around them, Harry felt a sudden chill, as if unseen eyes were watching from the shadows. He shook off the feeling but couldn't help wondering if his actions were drawing unwanted attention.

As they packed up for the night, Harry made a silent vow. He would master Occlumency, not just to protect his secrets, but to protect his friends. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he would face them head-on.

For he was not just Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He was Harry, a Beyonder walking between worlds.

Harry sat cross-legged on his four-poster bed, curtains drawn, eyes closed in concentration. The common room below buzzed with the usual evening chatter, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of his bed, he focused solely on the task at hand.

"Clear your mind," he whispered to himself, reciting the mantra from the Occlumency book. "Visualize a barrier around your thoughts."

For a moment, he felt it—a shimmering wall encircling his consciousness. But as quickly as it formed, it dissolved, leaving him frustrated and drained.

Harry sighed, opening his eyes. The candle on his nightstand had burned low, a testament to how long he'd been practicing. Progress was slow, but he couldn't afford to give up. The stakes were too high.

As he slipped out from behind the curtains, he caught sight of Ron watching him with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Alright there, Harry?" Ron asked, his voice low. "You've been awfully quiet lately."

Harry forced a smile. "Just tired," he lied smoothly. "Lots of studying, you know."

Ron nodded, but the furrow in his brow suggested he wasn't entirely convinced. "Right. Well, Hermione's waiting for us in the common room. Said something about reviewing our Divination homework."

As they descended the spiral staircase, Harry braced himself. Hermione's piercing gaze was becoming harder to evade with each passing day.

The bushy-haired witch was indeed waiting, surrounded by a sea of parchment and open books. Her eyes narrowed slightly as they approached.

"There you are," she said, her tone carefully neutral. "I was beginning to worry."

Harry settled into an armchair, acutely aware of his friends' scrutiny. "Sorry, I was just—"

"Studying?" Hermione finished, arching an eyebrow. "You've been doing an awful lot of that lately, Harry. Especially for subjects that aren't on our regular curriculum."

The accusation hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. Harry felt a bead of sweat form on his brow. "I just want to be prepared," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "After everything that's happened... I can't afford to be caught off guard again."

Hermione's expression softened slightly. "We understand that, Harry. But we're worried about you. You seem... different lately."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, mate. You know you can talk to us about anything, right?"

Harry felt a lump form in his throat. The concern in their eyes was genuine, making his deception all the more painful. "I know," he managed. "I just... I need to figure some things out on my own."

Hermione looked like she wanted to press further, but at that moment, a commotion from across the common room drew their attention. Neville Longbottom had somehow managed to set fire to his Herbology essay, and in the chaos that ensued, the moment for further questions passed.

As Harry helped extinguish the small blaze, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and everything could come crashing down.

Little did he know, the true test of his deception was yet to come.

The following day, Harry found himself in Divination class, the heavy perfume of incense making his head swim. Professor Trelawney drifted between the tables, her eyes magnified behind her thick glasses.

"Today, we shall explore the subtle art of palmistry," she announced in her misty voice. "Partner up and see what secrets the lines of fate reveal!"

Harry partnered with Ron, both of them stifling yawns. As Ron halfheartedly examined Harry's palm, tracing the lines with a finger, something unexpected happened.

A jolt of energy coursed through Harry, and suddenly, the world around him seemed to blur. Ron's voice became distant, as if speaking from underwater. In his mind's eye, Harry saw flashes of images: a dark corridor, a glinting object, and a pair of red, serpentine eyes.

With a gasp, Harry jerked his hand away, nearly toppling his chair.

"Mr. Potter?" Professor Trelawney's voice cut through the fog in his mind. "Are you quite alright?"

The entire class was staring at him. Ron looked pale, and even Hermione, skeptical as she was of Divination, seemed concerned.

"I... I'm fine," Harry stammered. "Just felt a bit dizzy for a moment."

Professor Trelawney's eyes widened with excitement. "Perhaps you've had a genuine vision, my dear! Tell us, what did you see?"

Harry hesitated, acutely aware of the danger. He couldn't reveal what he'd actually seen, but he needed to say something. "I... I'm not sure. It was all very vague."

The professor looked disappointed, but Harry caught Hermione watching him intently. He avoided her gaze, knowing she'd see right through him.

As they left the classroom, Ron nudged him. "What really happened in there, mate?"

Before Harry could answer, a silky voice interrupted them. "Potter. A word."

Professor Snape stood before them, his dark eyes glittering with suspicion. Harry felt his heart rate quicken. "Of course, Professor."

"My office. Now." Snape's tone made it clear this wasn't a request.

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who looked worried. "Go on," he said to them. "I'll catch up with you later."

As he followed Snape down to the dungeons, Harry's mind raced. What could this be about?

The dungeon office was as gloomy as ever, jars of preserved creatures lining the walls. Snape settled behind his desk, fixing Harry with an unblinking stare.

"So, Potter," he began, his voice dangerously soft. "Care to explain your recent... behavior changes?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "I'm not sure what you mean, Professor."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb, Potter. Your teachers have noticed. You've been distracted in classes, wandering the corridors at odd hours, and your performance has been... inconsistent."

Harry remained silent, unsure how to respond.

"Let me be clear," Snape continued. "We have confirmed reports that Sirius Black is in the vicinity of Hogwarts. This is not the time for you to be skulking about the castle, especially after dark."

Relief washed over Harry, quickly followed by a new wave of anxiety. At least Snape didn't know about the mind magic, but this was still dangerous territory.

"I understand, Professor," Harry said carefully. "I've just been... preoccupied with extra studying. I'll be more careful."

Snape leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "See that you are, Potter. The headmaster may coddle you, but I assure you, Black will show no such mercy if he gets his hands on you."

Harry nodded, fighting to keep his expression neutral. "Is that all, Professor?"

"For now," Snape said coldly. "You may go. And Potter? Stay out of trouble."

As Harry left the office, his mind was whirling. He'd dodged one danger, but Snape's warning about Black added a new layer of complication to his already precarious situation.

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Ron and Hermione were waiting anxiously. "What happened?" Hermione asked as soon as he entered. "What did Snape want?"

Harry sank into an armchair, suddenly feeling exhausted. "He wanted to warn me about Sirius Black," he said, deciding a partial truth was safest. "Apparently, there's confirmation he's near Hogwarts."

Ron paled. "Blimey, Harry. You need to be careful."

"We all do," Hermione added, her brow furrowed with concern.

The door of the abandoned classroom creaked shut behind them, the sound echoing faintly in the dimly lit space. Harry flicked his wand, casting a quick Muffliato charm to ensure their privacy. Dust motes floated lazily in the pale afternoon light filtering through the grimy windows, giving the room an almost ethereal quality. This forgotten corner of Hogwarts had become their secret haven—a place to explore ideas too dangerous to discuss openly.

"Are you sure we should be here, Harry?" Hermione's voice held a note of worry as she glanced back at the door. "After Snape's warning about Black..."

Harry met her gaze, his expression resolute. "I know, but we need somewhere private, away from prying eyes. Besides, I've placed some protection charms on the door. We'll know if anyone's coming."

Ron, already used to their clandestine meetings, helped clear some old desks to create a space in the center of the room. "So, what's this big revelation you wanted to share?" he asked, curiosity tinged with a hint of apprehension.

Taking a deep breath, Harry moved to a nearby table and placed the borrowed Occlumency book on it. "I've been thinking about mind magic from a different angle. In the Muggle world, there's a field called neuroscience that studies how the brain works."

Hermione's eyes brightened with recognition. "Oh, I've read about that! They use machines to visualize brain activity, don't they?"

"Exactly," Harry affirmed, his excitement building. "And I think we can use some of those principles to understand Occlumency better."

He began explaining his theory, drawing parallels between neuroscience and mind magic. As he spoke, he moved to the dusty chalkboard and started sketching rough diagrams, illustrating how different parts of the brain might interact with magical energy.

"So you're saying," Ron interjected, his brow furrowed in concentration, "that when we do magic, we're actually changing how our brains work?"

Harry nodded eagerly. "In a sense, yes. Occlumency might be about controlling those changes, directing the flow of magical energy through specific neural pathways. It's like training your brain to react in a certain way, almost like muscle memory but on a mental level."

Hermione was furiously taking notes, her quill flying across the parchment. "This is fascinating, Harry! But how did you come across all this information?"

For a moment, Harry hesitated, realizing he'd let his enthusiasm carry him away. "I, uh... I've been doing a lot of reading. Muggle science books, you know? Thought it might give me a different perspective on magic."

Hermione looked impressed, though there was a flicker of suspicion in her eyes. "That's brilliant thinking, Harry. But how do we apply this to actual Occlumency practice?"

Harry turned back to the chalkboard, outlining a series of exercises designed to target specific brain functions. "If we can figure out how to strengthen certain neural connections, we might be able to create mental defenses that are more resistant to intrusion."

Hermione, after listening intently, added, "Occlumency isn't just about blocking Legilimency or hiding thoughts. It's about organizing your mind—understanding your own thoughts, emotions, and memories so well that you can control how they surface. It requires discipline and a deep self-awareness."

Harry nodded, his mind racing with the possibilities. "Right, and that's where neuroscience comes in. If we can understand the underlying mechanisms, we might be able to create mental structures or pathways that are more resistant to intrusion."

Hermione continued, her voice taking on a thoughtful tone, "It's like training your brain to respond in a specific way to certain stimuli. Just like practicing spells, you repeat the process until it becomes second nature. Occlumency could be about strengthening certain neural pathways that allow you to control which memories or thoughts are accessible at any given moment."

Harry added, his excitement palpable, "And maybe it's not just about blocking Legilimency attacks. Maybe Occlumency could be used to enhance memory recall or focus in other areas of magic. Imagine being able to access any spell or piece of information instantly in the heat of battle."

Ron, who had been listening intently, looked between them, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue. "So, it's like... building a fortress in your mind? But one that can change and adapt?"

Hermione smiled, nodding. "Yes, Ron. Exactly like that. A well-constructed Occlumens mind is like a fortress, but one that's constantly shifting and evolving to counteract any attack. But it's more than just defense. It's understanding your own mind deeply enough to manipulate it to your advantage."

Harry's thoughts were a whirlwind of ideas and connections. "If we combine the principles of neuroscience with magical theory, we might be able to create new techniques for Occlumency—methods that could make a mind nearly impenetrable."

Suddenly, a soft chime interrupted their conversation—the alarm spell Harry had set on the door. They all froze, listening intently as footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, then faded away.

"That was close," Ron whispered, his face pale with the thought of being discovered.

Harry nodded, his heart pounding. "We should probably call it a day. But we're onto something here, I can feel it."

As they packed up their things and prepared to leave, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm, her expression filled with concern. "Harry, this is incredible work. But... are you sure you're okay? You've been so intense lately, with all this extra studying and sneaking around."

Harry met her worried gaze, feeling a pang of guilt for the secrets he was keeping. "I'm fine, Hermione. Really. I just... I need to be prepared, you know? With everything that's happening..."

She nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. "We're here for you, Harry. Whatever you need."

As they started to walk out, Harry suddenly stopped and turned to Hermione. "Hermione, do you think I could ask my parents to send me some books on psychology or neuroscience? I think it could help us dig deeper into Occlumency and mind magic."

Hermione's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "Of course! I'd be happy to help with that. If you find some titles you need, just let me know. I can pay for them or cover the cost of any other books related to science or psychology. I think it's a brilliant idea, Harry."

Harry smiled, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Hermione. I'll make a list and send Hedwig to get them. I think these books could be really useful."

"Absolutely," she agreed, her tone serious and thoughtful. "The more we understand about how the mind works, the better chance we have at mastering Occlumency. We'll pick this up again soon, Harry."

As they finally parted ways and headed back to their respective common rooms, Harry couldn't help but feel a growing sense of determination mixed with unease. The parallels between neuroscience and magic were opening up new possibilities, but they also brought new challenges. He made a silent vow to himself: he would master this magic, protect his friends

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the high windows of the Potions classroom, casting a soft glow over rows of bubbling cauldrons. Harry sat at his usual spot between Ron and Hermione, his mind still buzzing from the intense discussion they'd had the day before. The connections they'd made between neuroscience and Occlumency had opened up a new world of possibilities, and Harry was eager to dive deeper.

Professor Snape's voice droned on in the background, detailing the intricacies of their latest potion, but Harry's thoughts were elsewhere. His eyes drifted to the worn leather-bound books on the shelf behind Snape, wondering if any of them might hold further clues to understanding the mind's magical potential.

Hermione nudged him, breaking his reverie. "Harry, pay attention," she whispered, her eyes darting nervously toward Snape. "We can't afford to mess this one up."

Harry nodded, focusing on the potion in front of him. But even as he measured out ingredients and stirred the mixture, his thoughts kept returning to the idea they'd discussed: using the principles of neuroscience to enhance their Occlumency practice.

After class, as the trio made their way to the abandoned classroom that had become their sanctuary, Harry shared his latest idea. "Remember how we talked about organizing the mind like a fortress? I think we can take it a step further by using a method Sherlock Holmes used—his mind palace."

Hermione's eyes lit up with recognition. "The memory technique where you visualize a location in your mind and store information in different rooms or areas! That could be a brilliant way to structure our thoughts for Occlumency."

Ron frowned, clearly struggling to keep up. "So, we're turning our brains into houses now?"

Harry chuckled. "Sort of. The idea is to create mental spaces where we can store and organize memories, making it easier to control what surfaces when. By combining this with what we know about neural pathways, we might be able to strengthen our mental defenses even further."

As they entered the classroom, the anticipation in the air was palpable. They quickly set up their books and notes, ready to begin their next experiment. Little did they know, this session would lead to discoveries that would challenge everything they thought they knew about magic and the mind.

They spent the next hour practicing visualization techniques, each constructing their own unique mental space. Harry imagined Hogwarts itself, with each room and corridor holding different memories and thoughts. Hermione's mind palace resembled a vast library, while Ron's took the shape of a sprawling Quidditch pitch.

"Okay," Harry said finally, "let's try a simple exercise. We'll each take turns trying to sense if the others are thinking of a specific object, without using words. Just focus on the image in your mind."

They started with basic objects—a book, a broomstick, a wand. At first, their attempts yielded little success. But as they continued, they began to notice subtle changes.

"I think... I think I got a glimpse of something red when Ron was concentrating," Hermione said excitedly after one attempt. "Were you thinking of a Quaffle?"

Ron's eyes widened. "Yeah, I was! But it was probably just a lucky guess, right?"

Harry shook his head. "Maybe not. I felt something too—not an image, but a sort of... excitement? Like the feeling you get before a Quidditch match."

They continued their experiments, each time refining their approach. They weren't performing Legilimency or Occlumency in any real sense, but they were starting to understand how thoughts and emotions could be organized and potentially shielded.

As the afternoon wore on, Hermione pulled out her notes. "This is fascinating. It's like we're developing a new framework for understanding how our minds interact with magic. We're not doing real mind-reading, but we're becoming more aware of our own thought processes."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! And if we can understand that, maybe we can start to build better mental defenses. It's not Occlumency yet, but it's a step in that direction."

Ron looked both confused and impressed. "So, we're not actually doing magic, but we're learning how to think about magic differently?"

"That's it, Ron," Hermione beamed. "It's all theoretical right now, but it could lead to practical applications later."

As they packed up their things, agreeing to meet again soon, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something important. They hadn't performed any extraordinary magic, but they were laying the groundwork for a new understanding of how the mind and magic interacted.

But with each new insight came new questions. How would this theoretical knowledge translate into practical magical skills? And what would happen if their unconventional approach was discovered?

As Harry lay in bed that night, his mind buzzing with ideas about neural pathways and magical theory, he reflected on a moment he hadn't shared with his friends. During their last exercise, when it was his turn to "sense" what Hermione was thinking, he had experienced something extraordinary.

For a brief instant, it was as if a veil had been lifted. He saw, with startling clarity, the image Hermione had been focusing on—a detailed vision of the Hogwarts library, right down to the dust motes floating in a shaft of sunlight. The image had been so vivid, so real, that for a moment Harry had forgotten where he actually was.

He had kept this breakthrough to himself, instinctively knowing it was too advanced, too sudden to be explained by their rudimentary experiments. Part of him wondered if his unique background—his true identity as Harry and his experience with the Seer pathway—had given him an unexpected advantage in this realm of mind magic.

The success both thrilled and terrified him. On one hand, it confirmed that their theories about combining neuroscience and magic had merit. On the other, it was yet another secret he had to keep from his friends, another wedge driven between his two identities.

As he drifted off to sleep, Harry made a silent vow. He would continue to push forward with their experiments, but he would also need to be more careful than ever. The potential was too great, the stakes too high, to turn back now. But he couldn't risk exposing his true nature, not when they were on the brink of something so monumental.

Little did he know, the true test of his resolve—and his secret identity—was just around the corner.

Harry felt the weight of anticipation as he sat at the Gryffindor table the next morning. His mind lingered on the mind palace exercise they had practiced the day before. It was a revelation—an exhilarating blend of magic and neuroscience—that had the potential to reshape their understanding of Occlumency.

In his mind, he visualized the grand library he had constructed, each shelf meticulously organized with his memories, knowledge, and visions. The exercise had helped him compartmentalize the chaotic influx of information from his Seer abilities, creating a sense of order in the turbulent sea of his consciousness. But as exciting as these developments were, Harry knew he couldn't let them distract him from his immediate goal: mastering his Seer abilities.

The visions that had once seemed erratic and disjointed were becoming clearer, more coherent. They were no longer mere glimpses of possible futures but threads of fate weaving together a larger tapestry—one he needed to understand. His thoughts drifted to the dream he'd had the night before, a dream so vivid that it left him both intrigued and unsettled.

In the dream, he found himself in a misty landscape, surrounded by shadowy figures of his classmates. One figure, whom he recognized as Lavender Brown, stood out clearly. She was reaching for a shimmering dress that seemed to float in mid-air. As Lavender's fingers brushed the fabric, it began to unravel, the threads transforming into silvery snakes that slithered away into the mist. Behind Lavender, he saw a mirror, and in its reflection, he caught a glimpse of a sinister shadow lurking, its eyes gleaming with malevolent intent.

During breakfast, Hermione noticed his distraction. "Harry, are you alright? You seem a bit off today."

Harry looked up, meeting her concerned gaze. "Just thinking about the dream I had last night. It was strange... but it felt important. I think it might be connected to my Seer abilities."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "Do you think it was a form of dream divination?"

"Possibly. The images were so clear—almost too clear," Harry said, lowering his voice. "I saw Lavender Brown in a dress that started to unravel. It felt like a warning, but I'm not entirely sure what it means."

Ron, listening in, raised an eyebrow. "You're really getting deep into this Seer stuff, mate. Just make sure you don't predict any more doom for Malfoy, alright?"

Harry chuckled, appreciating Ron's attempt to lighten the mood. But as they finished breakfast and headed to Divination class, the weight of the dream lingered.

In the shadowy confines of the Divination classroom, Professor Trelawney began the lesson with her usual dramatic flair. "Today, we delve into the mysteries of dream divination—a powerful tool for those with the Sight," she intoned, her voice soft and mystical. "Your dreams are windows into the future, but only those truly gifted can interpret the messages hidden within."

As the students settled into their seats, Harry felt a surge of determination. He had a rare opportunity to validate his Seer abilities in a controlled environment, and he wasn't going to waste it. When Professor Trelawney called for volunteers to share their dreams, Harry waited patiently, observing the reactions of his classmates. He watched as Lavender Brown hesitantly raised her hand, recounting a dream where she was shopping for a beautiful dress in Hogsmeade.

The details of her dream matched the vision Harry had seen. He closed his eyes, allowing his mind to replay the dreamscape he had experienced the night before—the misty landscape, the shadowy figures, and the unraveling dress. With a deep breath, he focused on the image and the feelings it evoked, trusting his intuition.

"You should be cautious when shopping," Harry said quietly, his voice steady and calm. "I saw your dress... it started to unravel. There's something you might overlook, but it could ruin the dress if you're not careful. And..." he hesitated, deciding whether to mention the shadow he'd seen, "...be aware of your surroundings. Not everything is as it seems."

Lavender's eyes widened, her hands instinctively reaching to touch her robes as if protecting them. A hush fell over the room as the other students exchanged glances. This was the second time Harry had made an eerily accurate prediction, and the murmurs of disbelief were impossible to ignore.

Parvati Patil leaned towards Lavender, whispering loudly enough for others to hear, "That's incredible! How does he do that?"

Seamus Finnigan, sitting nearby, looked skeptical. "Come off it, Harry. You can't possibly know that."

Neville Longbottom, however, seemed both awed and slightly frightened. "Do you... do you think you could predict something for me, Harry?" he asked nervously.

Professor Trelawney clasped her hands together, her eyes alight with approval. "Wonderful, Mr. Potter! It seems your Inner Eye is indeed awakening. You must continue to hone this gift."

As the class progressed, Harry remained focused, absorbing every detail of the lesson on dream divination. This was not just about impressing his classmates or earning Trelawney's praise—this was about gaining mastery over the chaotic visions that had plagued him since he'd embraced his Seer abilities. He needed to control them, to wield them with purpose.

When the lesson ended, Ron and Hermione joined Harry as they left the classroom. Ron, clearly impressed, nudged him with a grin. "Blimey, Harry! You're really getting good at this Seer stuff. If I ever dream about spiders, remind me to keep it to myself."

Hermione, however, was more focused on the implications of what Harry had just done. "Harry, that was incredible. It's like you're starting to truly understand how to channel these visions. How did it feel compared to your other experiences?"

"It was different," Harry admitted as they walked through the halls. "The vision wasn't as chaotic—it was more like... piecing together a puzzle. I could see the connections more clearly, like threads weaving together."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "It sounds like you're beginning to refine your ability to interpret what you see. Maybe the dream divination technique will help you gain more control."

As they made their way to the Gryffindor common room, the conversation turned to the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Harry, knowing that he wouldn't be able to go since his permission slip hadn't been signed, was secretly relieved. It would give him the perfect opportunity to focus on his divination practice and further develop his skills.

"I won't be going to Hogsmeade," Harry said, trying to sound nonchalant. "But I think I might use the time to work on my divination abilities. Maybe even start that Divination Club we talked about."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "That's a brilliant idea, Harry! We could use that empty classroom on the fourth floor. It'll give you a quiet space to focus, and it could help other students who are struggling with the subject."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and it'll be nice to do something useful while everyone else is off drinking Butterbeer."

Excited by the prospect, the three of them spent the evening planning the first meeting of the Divination Practice Club. They brainstormed potential activities, combining magical techniques with scientific approaches.

"We could start with basic meditation exercises," Hermione suggested, "to help everyone clear their minds and focus their inner sight."

Ron chimed in, "And maybe we could use some of those mind palace techniques you've been working on, Harry. You know, to help organize all the visions and stuff."

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "That's a great idea. We could also incorporate some dream interpretation exercises, and maybe even experiment with different divination tools like tarot cards or crystal balls."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, "We could also explore how different cultures approach divination. It would be fascinating to compare various methods and see how they might complement each other."

As they continued to plan, word spread quickly about the club. By the time they headed to bed, several students had already expressed interest in joining, including some skeptics who were curious to see Harry's abilities firsthand.

Before heading to bed, Harry decided to test his abilities further. Turning to Hermione, he said casually, "I have a feeling you're going to buy a book on advanced Arithmancy tomorrow. It'll have a blue cover with silver lettering."

Hermione smiled, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "That's quite specific, Harry. I suppose we'll see if you're right."

Ron, intrigued, asked, "How do you come up with these predictions, mate?"

Harry shrugged, trying to downplay the complexity of his process. "It's like piecing together clues—what I know about Hermione, her interests, and... well, a bit of intuition. It's hard to explain, but it feels right."

As they were preparing for bed, an owl tapped at the window, delivering a package for Harry. Inside were the neuroscience books he had requested from his relatives: Cognitive Neuroscience and The Brain: A User's Guide. Hermione was immediately fascinated by the titles.

"These are excellent resources, Harry!" she said, flipping through the pages. "We can definitely use these to further our understanding of how the brain interacts with magic."

Ron, however, looked puzzled. "How's neuroscience supposed to help with divination?"

Harry smiled, seeing this as an opportunity to bridge the gap between the two worlds he was navigating. "Well, divination is all about interpreting signals from our minds and the world around us. If we understand how the brain processes those signals, we might find new ways to enhance our abilities."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "Exactly! We could incorporate some of these concepts into the club sessions. It could give us a completely new perspective on how divination works."

As he lay in bed that night, Harry felt a sense of accomplishment. The dream divination had gone better than he'd hoped, and the formation of the club would provide a safe space for him to continue honing his abilities. He knew he was on the right path, but he also understood that this journey was just beginning.

For now, he was content to take it one step at a time. With Ron and Hermione's support, and the resources he had at his disposal, Harry felt more confident than ever in his ability to navigate this complex world while staying true to his unique perspective.

As sleep finally claimed him, his mind buzzed with possibilities for the Divination Club and the potential to blend magical and scientific knowledge in ways that could revolutionize the understanding of Seer abilities. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for the first time since arriving in this world, Harry felt truly excited about the future.

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement as students returned from their Hogsmeade trip. Lavender Brown burst through the portrait hole, clutching a glossy shopping bag to her chest, her face flushed with a mix of exhilaration and lingering shock.

"You won't believe what happened!" she exclaimed to Parvati Patil, who had stayed behind to finish a Charms essay. "Harry's prediction... it almost came true!"

Parvati's eyes widened. "What? Tell me everything!"

As Lavender launched into her tale, more students gathered around, eager to hear about the latest development in the growing legend of Harry Potter's supposed Seer abilities.

Meanwhile, Hermione Granger entered the common room, a thoughtful expression on her face and a book-shaped package tucked under her arm. She scanned the room, noticing the crowd around Lavender but choosing instead to approach Neville Longbottom, who was tending to a curious-looking plant by the window.

"How was Hogsmeade, Hermione?" Neville asked, looking up from his horticultural endeavors.

Hermione hesitated for a moment before responding. "It was... interesting. Have you seen Ron? Or Harry?"

Neville shook his head. "Ron's still out, I think. And Harry's been in the library most of the day. Working on something for that new Divination Club, he said."

As Hermione nodded and turned to leave, Neville couldn't help but notice the corner of a blue book peeking out from her package, its silver lettering catching the light.

Seamus Finnigan plopped down in an armchair near Lavender's growing audience, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. "Go on then, Lavender. What's this about Harry's prediction?"

Lavender's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Well, you remember in Divination class, Harry warned me about being careful while shopping for a dress?" The group nodded, leaning in closer. "So there I was in Gladrags Wizardwear, trying on this gorgeous silvery dress..."

"It was stunning," Parvati interjected, having heard the start of the story earlier. "Go on, tell them what happened next!"

"Right, so I'm admiring myself in the mirror, when suddenly I hear this ripping sound. I turned around, and there was this loose nail sticking out from the dressing room wall. It had caught on the dress and torn a huge hole right down the back!"

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the gathered students. Dean Thomas, who had been listening nearby, furrowed his brow. "But didn't Harry say something about the dress unraveling?"

Lavender nodded vigorously. "That's the thing! When I took the dress off to examine the damage, I noticed that the tear had caused a seam to come undone. If I hadn't noticed it right away, the whole dress might have fallen apart the next time I wore it!"

As the discussion around Lavender grew more animated, Colin Creevey bounced excitedly on his toes at the edge of the group. "This is brilliant! Harry's becoming a real Seer. I wonder if he'd let me take photos for the school paper?"

Across the room, Hermione had settled into a quiet corner with Ginny Weasley, who had just returned from Hogsmeade as well. Ginny eyed the package in Hermione's hands curiously. "New book?"

Hermione nodded, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "Yes, it's an advanced Arithmancy text. I found it in a small bookshop off the main street."

"Let me guess," Ginny said with a knowing smile, "Blue cover with silver lettering?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly. "How did you...? Oh, of course. Ron told you about Harry's prediction?"

Ginny shook her head. "No, actually. I overheard Harry telling Ron about it yesterday. But it looks like he was spot on, wasn't he?"

Before Hermione could respond, the portrait hole swung open again, and Ron clambered through, arms laden with Honeydukes sweets. He made a beeline for Hermione and Ginny, grinning widely.

"You'll never guess what happened at the Three Broomsticks," he said, dropping into a nearby chair. "Madam Rosmerta was telling everyone about some sort of premonition she had last night. Said she dreamed about a black dog wandering around Hogsmeade, and then today, she swears she saw one sniffing around behind her pub!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "A black dog? You don't think it could be... you know, the Grim?"

Ron shrugged, already unwrapping a Chocolate Frog. "Who knows? But with all this talk about Harry's predictions coming true, people are starting to take these things more seriously."

As the evening wore on, the common room continued to buzz with excited chatter. Stories from Hogsmeade were exchanged, each one seeming to circle back to Harry's growing reputation as a Seer. Some students spoke in hushed, awed tones, while others expressed skepticism or even concern.

Near the fireplace, Neville found himself in conversation with a group of fourth-years who were eager to hear about the upcoming Divination Club. "Do you think Harry will teach us how to make predictions too?" one of them asked eagerly.

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not sure. Harry hasn't really said much about it. But I suppose we'll find out at the first meeting."

As the night deepened and students began to drift off to their dormitories, the absence of Harry himself became more noticeable. Whispers and theories about where he might be and what he might be doing added an air of mystery to the already charged atmosphere.

Up in the third-year girls' dormitory, Lavender and Parvati were still discussing the day's events as they prepared for bed.

"You know," Parvati said thoughtfully, "I'm starting to wonder if there's more to Harry than we've realized. First the thing with Malfoy in Care of Magical Creatures, now this... What if he really is developing the Sight?"

Lavender nodded, her eyes wide. "I know! It's incredible, isn't it? I can't wait for the Divination Club to start. Do you think he'll tell us how he does it?"

As they continued to speculate, neither girl noticed Hermione, who had paused in the doorway, listening to their conversation with a mixture of curiosity and concern etched on her face.

As the Gryffindor common room slowly emptied, a small, unremarkable rat scurried along the shadows of the walls, its beady eyes darting back and forth. This was no ordinary rat, but Peter Pettigrew in his Animagus form, hiding in plain sight as Ron Weasley's pet, Scabbers.

The rat paused near a group of stragglers, his ears twitching as he picked up snippets of their conversation.

"...and then Harry predicted exactly what would happen to Lavender's dress!" a young Gryffindor was saying excitedly.

"Not just that," another chimed in. "I heard he warned Malfoy about something in Care of Magical Creatures too. Saved him from that Hippogriff, apparently."

The rat's whiskers quivered, a very un-rat-like look of concern crossing its features. This was troubling news indeed. If Harry Potter was developing true Seer abilities, it could pose a significant threat to certain... plans.

Scurrying closer to Ron's abandoned bag of Honeydukes sweets, the rat continued to eavesdrop.

"Do you reckon he can see the future then?" a third student asked in a hushed tone.

"Dunno, but my sister said he's starting some kind of Divination Club. Reckon he might teach others how to do it too."

The rat nearly forgot to maintain his cover, almost rising onto his hind legs in alarm. A Divination Club? This was worse than he'd thought. If Potter was not only developing these abilities but also teaching others, it could completely upset the delicate balance of...

Suddenly, a shadow fell over the rat. "There you are, Scabbers!" Ron's voice boomed from above. The rat barely had time to squeak before large hands scooped him up. "Been looking all over for you. C'mon, time for bed."

As Ron carried him up to the boys' dormitory, the rat's mind raced. He needed to find a way to relay this information, and soon. But how? And to whom? The risks of exposure were great, but the potential consequences of Potter's growing abilities were far greater.

In the darkened dormitory, as Ron's snores filled the air, the rat lay awake, his tiny heart pounding. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow, he will find a way to send a message. For now, though, he needed to stay put, to observe, to gather more information.

After all, knowledge was power.

And in the dangerous game he was playing, Peter Pettigrew needed all the power he could get.

The excitement of the Hogsmeade weekend buzzed through the corridors of Hogwarts as students eagerly headed toward the village. Harry Potter, still grappling with his unusual situation, waved off Ron and Hermione with a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. You two enjoy yourselves," he said, knowing that this solitude was precisely what he needed.

The common room emptied, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. The absence of students was a welcome reprieve, and he took a moment to revel in the quiet before gathering his materials—notes on Divination, his newly arrived book, Cognitive Psychology and Physiological Psychology, and a blank journal for documenting his experiments. He made his way to the library, expecting it to be nearly deserted.

The library's silence was a balm to his overactive mind. He found a secluded corner and opened his book, diving into the intricate connections between the brain and behavior. As he read, Harry couldn't help but draw parallels between the scientific concepts and his own experiences with magic, particularly his burgeoning Seer abilities.

The chapter on neuroplasticity caught his attention, and he began to theorize about the magical implications. "If the brain can rewire itself in response to new experiences," Harry mused, scribbling in his journal, "then perhaps magical abilities, especially Divination, work similarly. Each prediction, each vision, could be strengthening neural pathways specific to Seer abilities."

He turned to a section on quantum mechanics, his mind racing with possibilities. "The uncertainty principle... Could it explain the nebulous nature of prophecies? And entanglement... is that what allows Seers to perceive events at a distance?"

Harry sketched a diagram, mapping out the potential connections between quantum states and magical divination. He hypothesized that the act of observation in quantum mechanics might have a magical counterpart in the act of prophecy, both seemingly affecting the outcome of future events.

Moving on to cognitive psychology, Harry found himself pondering the nature of magical learning. "If schemas and mental models shape our understanding of the world," he wrote, "then perhaps the biggest obstacle to mastering new spells isn't magical power, but our preconceived notions of what's possible."

This line of thinking led him to a breakthrough regarding the Seer potion. "What if the potion isn't just altering my body, but restructuring my mental models to allow for precognition? The feedback loop I've noticed... it could be the potion's way of reinforcing these new neural pathways and cognitive frameworks."

Excited by these insights, Harry began drafting a theoretical framework that merged magical practice with scientific understanding. He envisioned exercises that would challenge the Divination Club members to expand their mental models, to think beyond traditional magical constraints.

"By approaching Divination from both a magical and scientific perspective," Harry concluded in his notes, "we might unlock abilities far beyond what traditional magical education allows. It's not just about predicting the future... it's about understanding the very nature of time, probability, and the human mind's role in shaping reality."

He spent the morning reading and taking meticulous notes, alternating between scientific theory and his observations on magic. The meditation techniques he'd been practicing seemed to bear fruit, and as the morning wore on, he found himself slipping into a focused state more easily, sensing faint threads of potential futures.

Around midday, his stomach growled, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast. He made a quick detour to the kitchens, where the house-elves eagerly provided him with a hearty meal. As he ate, Harry's thoughts wandered to the ethical quandary of accepting the elves' service, something that nagged at him given his memories of a different world. Still, he reminded himself that in this world, adapting was necessary for survival.

Returning to the library, Harry resumed his work, this time focusing on drafting a plan for the Divination Club. The club wasn't merely a cover—it was a crucial part of his strategy to digest the Seer potion more quickly. He needed to perform as many divinations as possible, drawing on the feedback to solidify his connection to this new ability.

As he planned, Harry felt a subtle shift within himself. The accurate predictions he had made earlier—like Lavender's choice of dress and Hermione's book purchase—had created a feedback loop, enhancing his abilities. He reconfirmed that each successful prediction not only maintained his cover but actively strengthened his Seer powers.

The curriculum he designed for the club was ambitious, blending traditional magical practices with his unique insights from neuroscience. He envisioned a program that encouraged members to explore various divination techniques, pushing them to make predictions that could be tested and validated, further feeding the feedback loop that was essential to his progress.

As evening approached, Harry felt an inexplicable urge to visit the Room of Requirement. He packed up his materials, including the psychology book, and made his way to the seventh floor. He paced back and forth three times, concentrating on his need for a space where he could practice and develop his Seer abilities.

When the door appeared, Harry stepped into a room that seemed to be a perfect fusion of the Divination classroom and a modern research lab. Crystal balls sat next to brain models, tarot cards lay beside neurotransmitter diagrams. It was a space designed for intensive study and experimentation.

Harry spent the next few hours experimenting with different methods of divination, pushing himself to make as many predictions as possible. He carefully recorded each attempt, knowing that tracking the results was crucial for processing the Seer potion. His concentration was intense, and as he delved deeper into his exercises, he suddenly experienced a vivid vision—Hermione in a bookshop, reaching for a blue book with silver lettering. The clarity of the vision was startling, and Harry quickly jotted down every detail.

Satisfied with his progress, Harry left the Room of Requirement and returned to Gryffindor Tower. As he entered the common room, he was greeted by the lively chatter of students returning from Hogsmeade. The sight of everyone gathered around, sharing stories of their day, made him feel a pang of loneliness, but he knew his solitary path was necessary.

He spotted Ron and Hermione near the fireplace, deep in conversation. When they saw him, Hermione waved him over. "Harry, you missed a great day out," she said, her tone warm but slightly concerned. "But I'm sure you had your reasons."

Ron, however, seemed less tactful. "Yeah, you could've been with us if—"

"Ron!" Hermione cut him off sharply. "You know Harry doesn't have permission from his guardian. It's not fair to say things like that."

Ron looked sheepish. "Sorry, mate. I didn't mean it like that."

Harry smiled slightly, appreciating Hermione's defense. "It's alright, Ron. I had some things I needed to do anyway."

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she changed the subject. "Did you get any studying done, at least?"

"A bit," Harry replied, careful not to reveal too much. "And I've been thinking more about the Divination Club. I want to get it started soon."

Hermione looked intrigued. "What's the plan?"

Harry explained the basic idea, emphasizing the blend of traditional magical practices with a more analytical approach. He noticed the way Hermione's eyes lit up at the mention of combining magic with logical study, and he knew she would be on board.

As they talked, Harry noticed Ron's rat, Scabbers, watching him intently from Ron's lap. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered who Scabbers truly was, but he forced himself to stay calm. Now was not the time to act on that knowledge.

Instead, Harry focused on the conversation, steering it toward the events of the day. They talked about the shops, the food, and the people they had seen. Hermione mentioned a particular book she had seen but hadn't bought yet, and Harry couldn't resist testing his earlier vision.

"Was it blue with silver lettering?" he asked casually.

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Yes, actually. How did you know?"

"Just a hunch," Harry said with a grin, leaving it at that.

As the night wore on, the common room gradually emptied as students headed to bed. Harry followed suit, his mind still buzzing with the day's events and his growing abilities. As he climbed into bed, he couldn't shake the feeling that his prediction about the book had solidified something within him—a deeper connection to his Seer powers.

Tomorrow, he decided, would be the beginning of a new phase. The Divination Club would be the perfect cover for practicing his abilities while gathering useful information from others. It was time to take the next step, to prepare for the challenges that lay ahead and what he could do about a certain rat.

With that resolve, Harry drifted off to sleep, his dreams filled with fleeting visions of the future and the paths he would need to navigate to survive in this world.

Harry's eyes snapped open, the darkness of the dormitory pressing in on him. The air was still, heavy with the weight of pre-dawn silence. He could feel the sweat cooling on his forehead as the last remnants of the dream clung to his mind, vivid and unsettling. For a moment, he lay motionless, trying to still his racing heart, but the images from his vision refused to fade.

A rat, pursued by a dog and a wolf, escaping into the coils of a snake that, inexplicably, did not strike.

Harry took a deep breath, the chill of the early morning air sharp in his lungs. This wasn't just a dream—it was something more, something deeper. He had read enough about true Seers to know that their visions often came in the form of dreams, cryptic yet heavy with meaning. As a Seer himself, these dreams were not to be taken lightly.

Sitting up in bed, Harry reached under his pillow for the journal he kept hidden there, the one where he recorded every strange occurrence, every vision. The soft scratching of his quill was the only sound in the stillness of the dormitory as he hastily jotted down every detail he could recall.

"The rat must be Pettigrew," he whispered to himself as he wrote, the words grounding him in the reality of the vision. "The dog and wolf… Sirius and Lupin?" He paused, tapping the quill against his chin in thought. "But the snake… Voldemort? Why wouldn't he kill Pettigrew?"

The behavior of the animals gnawed at him. As a former biology student, Harry was used to analyzing the instincts and behaviors of creatures, but this dream defied simple explanations. The rat's cunning, the predatory nature of the dog and wolf, the snake's restraint—it all seemed significant, but the exact meaning eluded him.

He glanced over at Ron's bed, where he knew Scabbers—Peter Pettigrew—was likely curled up in a nest of blankets. The urge to act, to seize the rat and end the threat, itched at him, but a deeper instinct urged caution.

"If I change too much," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness, "I lose my advantage. My knowledge of the future becomes useless."

Yet the ethical weight of his inaction bore down on him. Could he really stand by and allow Pettigrew to escape, knowing the horrors that would follow? The thought of it sickened him, but the consequences of altering the future were equally daunting.

Needing clarity, Harry slipped out of bed and quietly made his way to the common room. The embers in the fireplace had burned low, casting faint, flickering shadows that danced across the walls. In the dim light, he set up a makeshift divination space on the floor, pulling out his tarot cards and a scrying crystal.

Closing his eyes, Harry focused his mind on the lingering dread from his vision, searching for answers in the murky depths of his consciousness. Images flickered through his mind: a full moon hanging over the Forbidden Forest, a large black dog prowling the grounds, a rat darting through the underbrush, and a snake coiled tightly around a tombstone. The visions were fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite fit together, but they carried an undeniable sense of looming danger.

He breathed deeply, centering himself as he laid out the tarot cards before him. His fingers hovered over the deck before pulling the first card: The Tower. A shiver ran down his spine at the sight of the crumbling tower, a symbol of sudden and catastrophic change.

"The danger is immediate," Harry murmured, his voice tight. He drew the next card: The Devil. The card showed a figure bound in chains, surrounded by dark forces.

"The danger is from betrayal," he whispered, his mind racing. "Pettigrew... he's planning something."

But there was more. The final card he drew was The Hierophant, a symbol of tradition and institutions, but also of secrets and hidden truths. Harry stared at the card, a cold realization dawning on him.

"There's another danger... something in the future," he muttered, his thoughts spinning. "A letter, or maybe a message. Something that will change everything."

The cards were clear: there were two dangers. One was immediate, stemming from Pettigrew's imminent betrayal. The other was more insidious, a threat from the future tied to a message or communication. And both could be catastrophic if left unchecked.

As the first light of dawn began to seep through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over the common room, Harry packed away his tools, his mind spinning with possibilities. He needed to observe Scabbers more closely, to keep tabs on Pettigrew without arousing suspicion. Perhaps he could offer to help Ron take better care of his pet, disguising his true intentions as concern for a friend.

But as Harry considered his next move, a new thought struck him. It wasn't enough to just foresee danger—he needed the means to control it.

His thoughts flashed to a scene from the second year: Gilderoy Lockhart, attempting to perform a Memory Charm with Ron's defective wand. The resulting backfire was comedic, but it highlighted the raw power of memory magic, a power that could be devastating if used correctly. Harry recalled the look of confusion on Lockhart's face as his own spell erased his memories, the wand snapping with a loud bang, followed by the utter destruction of his mind.

Then another image surged into his mind, this time from the seventh year: Hermione standing in her parents' home, the air thick with tension. With a wave of her wand, she whispered, "Obliviate," erasing herself from their memories. The pain in her eyes as she watched the photos of her slowly fade was a stark reminder of the weight such a spell carried. It wasn't just about erasing memories—it was about severing ties, altering reality.

Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he contemplated the implications. Could he do something like that? Could he erase the memories of someone like Pettigrew, or even alter them to serve his purpose? The thought was both terrifying and tempting.

"Mind magic," he murmured to himself, the idea forming like a shadow in the back of his mind. "If I could master memory charms, I could protect my secrets and manage any... complications."

The thought of tampering with someone's mind made his stomach churn, but he couldn't deny the appeal. Survival in this world might demand actions he would have once considered unthinkable.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs jolted him from his thoughts. The dormitory was waking up, the familiar routine of school life beginning once again. Harry pushed his plans to the back of his mind as Ron and Hermione entered the common room, both looking slightly bleary-eyed from sleep.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione greeted, her eyes sharper than usual as they scanned his face. "You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep," Harry replied with a casual shrug, forcing a smile. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Ron yawned widely, completely oblivious to the tension simmering beneath the surface. "Probably just worrying about that essay for Transfiguration. It's giving me nightmares too."

Harry laughed lightly, though the sound felt hollow to his ears. "Yeah, something like that."

As they chatted about the day ahead, Harry's mind remained partially locked on his earlier visions. The fragmented images, the cryptic symbolism—they were a constant reminder of the dangers that lay ahead, and the difficult choices he would have to make.

Even as he went through the motions of his morning routine, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. The dream, the visions, the snake—they were all pieces of a puzzle that, once assembled, could change everything. And now, he knew he had a week to act, to eliminate the immediate danger and prepare for the one that would follow.

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual breakfast chatter, but Harry barely registered the noise. His mind was consumed by the visions from the previous night, the weight of foreknowledge pressing down on him. He mechanically spooned porridge into his mouth, nodding absently at Ron's Quidditch talk while his thoughts raced through the intricate plans he needed to set in motion.

As soon as he could politely excuse himself, Harry slipped away from his friends and made his way to an empty classroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open, the silence inside a stark contrast to the bustling halls outside. He shut the door softly, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room.

"Dobby?" he whispered, his voice tense with urgency.

With a soft pop, the house-elf appeared, his tennis ball-sized eyes wide with excitement and concern. "Harry Potter, sir called Dobby! How can Dobby help?"

Harry knelt down, speaking in a low, urgent voice. "Dobby, I need your help with something very important and very secret. Can you find me books about memory charms? Especially advanced ones? But you can't let anyone know, not even Dumbledore."

Dobby's ears quivered with a mix of concern and determination. "Dobby will help Harry Potter, sir. Dobby knows where to find such books. Dobby will be most secret!"

As Dobby vanished with a determined nod, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He was asking a lot of the little house-elf, and for something that made his stomach churn with unease. But the memory of his visions steeled his resolve. He had to be prepared, no matter the cost.

Within an hour, Harry found himself poring over arcane texts on memory magic, the pages filled with complex diagrams and dense explanations. The ancient parchment crackled under his fingers as he took furious notes, his quill scratching across the paper. The complexity of the spells was daunting, and a deep unease settled in his chest as he absorbed the implications of what he was learning.

As he meticulously copied a particularly intricate charm, another thought occurred to him. "Dobby," he called softly, and the elf reappeared with another soft pop. "I need some rats for… practice. Ones that look like Ron's rat, Scabbers. Can you get those for me?"

Dobby's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded vigorously. "Dobby can find such rats, Harry Potter, sir. Dobby will bring them tonight."

With that piece in place, Harry turned his attention to the problem of rendering the rat unconscious. His first thought was chloroform, but the idea was quickly dismissed as impractical. How would he even begin to procure such a Muggle chemical at Hogwarts?

During Herbology, Harry sidled up to Neville, who was expertly pruning a Venomous Tentacula, its sinuous vines writhing under his careful hands. "Hey, Neville," he began casually, trying to keep his tone light, "you know a lot about plants. Do you know of any that could, say, knock someone out? Or a small animal?"

Neville looked surprised but thoughtful. "Well, there are Sopophorous beans. They're used in sleeping potions. And Valerian sprigs can cause drowsiness. Why do you ask, Harry?"

Harry shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just curious. Thought it might come in handy for Potions or something."

Neville nodded, but there was a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. "You sure you're alright, Harry? You've been a bit… distracted lately."

Harry forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind."

That evening in the common room, Harry noticed Ron looking anxiously at Scabbers, who was huddled in the corner, eyeing Crookshanks warily. Harry saw his opportunity.

"Ron," Harry said, "Scabbers looks stressed. Why don't I look after him for a while? Keep him away from Crookshanks?"

Ron seemed relieved. "Would you, Harry? Thanks, mate. I've been worried about him."

As Harry carefully picked up Scabbers, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him. The common room blurred, replaced by flashing images: moonlight on grass, a black dog's snarl, a rat scurrying through shadows. He stumbled, catching himself on the arm of a chair.

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, concern etching her features.

Harry forced another smile, though his head still throbbed with the remnants of the vision. "Yeah, just tired. Think I'll turn in early."

As he settled into bed, his thoughts were consumed by the day's events. He had successfully arranged for the rats, learned about potential knockout plants, and gained Ron's trust with Scabbers. Now, he had to focus on the next stage of his plan.

In the privacy of his bed curtains, Harry set up a small makeshift enclosure on his bed, hidden behind the drawn curtains. He placed the stunned rat, which looked remarkably like Scabbers, in the center. Then, he carefully positioned a small piece of cheese a short distance away from the rat.

"Rennervate," he whispered, reviving the rat.

The rat's nose twitched as it caught the scent of the cheese. It began to move towards the food, whiskers quivering in anticipation. Just as the rat was about to take its first bite, Harry raised his wand.

"Stupefy," he said softly, and the rat froze, falling onto its side.

Heart racing, Harry opened the book on memory charms. He had studied the theory extensively, but this was his first practical attempt. His hand shook slightly as he pointed his wand at the unconscious rat.

"Obliviate," he murmured, concentrating on erasing the rat's memory of approaching the cheese.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, a faint silvery mist seemed to emanate from the rat's head, dissipating quickly in the air. Harry held his breath, his heart pounding in the silence of the enclosed space.

"Rennervate," he said again, his voice barely audible.

The rat stirred, blinking as it regained consciousness. It looked around, seemingly confused for a moment. Then, its nose twitched again, catching the scent of the cheese. To Harry's amazement and relief, the rat began to approach the cheese as if seeing it for the first time, with no hint that it remembered its previous attempt.

Harry felt a surge of excitement mixed with a twinge of guilt. The spell had worked, but at what cost? The rat's blank stare as it approached the cheese again unnerved him. He was playing with something powerful and dangerous, and the ease with which he could manipulate the creature's memory made his stomach churn.

Encouraged by his success but disturbed by the implications, Harry decided to repeat the experiment several times, each time erasing the rat's memory of approaching the cheese. Each attempt was successful, with the rat consistently behaving as if it was seeing the cheese for the first time.

As he concluded his experiments, Harry felt a mix of elation and unease. He had proven to himself that he could perform memory charms effectively, even on a small scale. This was a crucial step in his preparations for the challenges ahead.

As he tidied up the last of the mess, his mind began to wander to the next step in his plan. He needed to practice on a larger scale, perhaps with more complex memories. The weight of his goals settled upon him, and he felt a familiar sense of determination wash over him.

Just as he was about to settle into bed, his gaze drifted towards the window, where the moon cast an eerie glow. That's when he saw it - a shadow flickering at the edge of his vision, a silent reminder that the line he was walking was dangerously thin.

In that moment, Harry took a deep, steadying breath. Whatever the cost, he had to be prepared for what was coming.

For the next two days, Harry immersed himself in experiments with memory magic. His primary subject was a rat he had "borrowed" from the school's supplies, intent on exploring the effects of memory spells on animals. It was tedious work, requiring precision and a keen understanding of both magical and psychological principles. Harry's previous experience in physiology came in handy, allowing him to approach the task with a methodical and scientific mindset. However, his attempts yielded inconsistent results; while he could implant and alter simple memories, the effects were unpredictable, often leading the rat to behave erratically.

During this time, Harry also entrusted Dobby with a crucial task: to keep an eye on Ron's rat, Scabbers. Dobby, ever loyal, took to this task with enthusiasm, his large, expressive eyes narrowing in determination. For two nights, Dobby observed Scabbers closely, noting his movements and reporting back to Harry. He discovered that the rat exhibited unusual behavior, slipping out of the Gryffindor dormitory at the same time each night. Harry, already suspicious of Scabbers' true identity as Peter Pettigrew, found his suspicions confirmed.