3

On the third night, under the cover of his Invisibility Cloak, Harry and Dobby stealthily made their way to the girls' bathroom on the second floor—Myrtle's bathroom, where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets lay hidden. The castle was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional creak of floorboards or the soft rustle of the wind against the windows. The tension in the air was palpable, but Harry remained focused. Dobby, though visibly nervous, remained close to his side, ready to assist.

Once inside the bathroom, Harry approached the sink where he knew the entrance was concealed. Speaking in Parseltongue, he commanded the hidden entrance to reveal itself. The sink moved aside, and the entrance to the dark tunnel below yawned open before them. The sight of the dark, forbidding tunnel sent a shiver down Harry's spine, but he pushed the fear aside. He had a task to complete.

"Dobby," Harry said, turning to the house-elf, "can you teleport us directly into the Chamber from outside? I need to know if it's possible to get in and out quickly."

Dobby hesitated, his large eyes widening further. "Dobby can try, Great Wizard Harry Potter, sir, but the Chamber is full of dark magic… Dobby will try his best!"

With that, they both descended into the tunnel, Harry sliding down first, with Dobby popping down beside him a moment later. The tunnel was as cold and damp as Harry remembered, but he pressed on, determined to reach the Chamber. The stone serpents lining the walls seemed to watch their every move as they entered the vast, echoing chamber.

Harry paused near the center of the Chamber and turned to Dobby. "Let's try teleporting out from here. If we can do that, we'll know it's safe to move freely in and out."

Dobby nodded nervously and grabbed Harry's arm. With a sharp crack, they both vanished, reappearing at the tunnel's entrance. The teleportation had worked, albeit with some difficulty—Harry felt the strain of the dark magic resisting their departure. Satisfied with the test, they quickly descended back into the Chamber to begin the real task at hand.

In preparation, Harry had brewed a potion that would help enhance his mental focus and energy, using a recipe Naddle had told him about. It wasn't the ideal potion, but it would serve its purpose. He downed the potion quickly, feeling a slight tingle as it took effect. With renewed clarity, he turned to the matter at hand.

Dobby had informed Harry earlier that Scabbers, or rather Peter, had been sneaking out at a particular time each night. They waited patiently for the rat to emerge. When the moment arrived, Harry was ready. As Scabbers scurried down the corridor, Harry stunned him with a swift, non-verbal spell. The rat froze in place, momentarily paralyzed. Dobby quickly grabbed Scabbers and, with another crack, teleported them both back into the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry stood over the unconscious rat, pondering the complexity of what he was about to attempt. Peter was no ordinary rat—he was an Animagus, and as such, his mind was different from that of a typical rodent. Memory magic on an Animagus was a delicate and complicated affair, further muddled by Peter's dark and twisted nature. Harry knew that Voldemort was exceptionally skilled in memory magic, and any significant alteration could be detected. Therefore, he needed to be careful, subtle even, in his approach.

For the next half-hour, Harry worked tirelessly, delving into Peter's memories. It was a daunting task; the memories were fragmented and distorted, a result of Peter being in his animal form. The process was further complicated by what seemed to be some mutation or enhancement in Peter's magic—likely a result of his prolonged association with Voldemort. But Harry pressed on, using his Seer abilities to navigate the tangled web of Peter's mind.

Eventually, Harry found the memory he was looking for. It was a relatively recent memory, where Peter had overheard a conversation about Harry Potter having Seer powers. Carefully, Harry began to alter the memory, not erasing it entirely but downplaying its significance. Peter would remember Harry as having Seer abilities, but he would view it as just another minor aspect of the boy, nothing worth reporting to Voldemort. Peter's focus would instead be redirected towards Sirius Black, reinforcing the rat's existing obsession with his former friend.

When Harry was finally done, it was nearly dawn. The Chamber, once cold and foreboding, felt oppressive, as if it were pressing down on him after the exhausting task. Harry staggered slightly, drained from the intense mental exertion. Dobby, sensing Harry's fatigue, immediately offered his assistance.

"Dobby will take you back to Gryffindor Tower, Great Wizard Harry Potter, sir," the house-elf said softly, his voice full of concern.

Harry nodded gratefully. "And return Peter to where we found him. Make sure everything is as it was."

With a nod, Dobby grasped Harry's arm and, with a final crack, they disappeared from the Chamber, reappearing in the boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. Dobby placed the now-unconscious Scabbers back in Ron's bed, tucking the rat under the covers where he had been before. Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak and climbed into his own bed, utterly exhausted.

As he drifted off to sleep, Harry's mind was filled with thoughts of the coming days. The memory alterations had been successful, but he knew that this was only the beginning. The shadows of doubt and the strings of fate were entwining more tightly around him, and he would need every ounce of his strength and cunning to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

Harry's eyes fluttered open, his mind still foggy from incomplete sleep. The dormitory was bathed in soft dawn light, his fellow Gryffindors still slumbering. As consciousness fully returned, the events of the previous night came rushing back—the Chamber of Secrets, Peter Pettigrew, the memory manipulation. It all felt surreal in the quiet morning.

'If Peter had gone to Voldemort with knowledge of my true Seer abilities,' Harry thought, 'it could have changed everything far too drastically.' The weight of his actions settled on him. As a Seer, he could glimpse the future, but that power meant he had to be cautious about altering it too much.

Harry noticed that the effects of the potion he had taken were about three-quarters digested—a significant milestone in his journey. His thoughts turned to the broader implications of his actions. If all the students at Hogwarts had learned about his true Seer powers, it would have spread like wildfire. Yet, he realized it might not have been as catastrophic as he initially feared. After all, rumors about Harry Potter were common in the wizarding world.

As Harry finally dragged himself out of bed, he noticed Ron stirring. His eyes immediately went to Scabbers, curled up on Ron's pillow, showing no obvious signs of distress or change.

"Blimey, Harry, you look awful," Ron mumbled. "Bad night?"

Harry shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just couldn't sleep well. Nerves, I suppose."

In the Great Hall, Hermione was already at the Gryffindor table. "Harry, are you alright? You look exhausted," she said, echoing Ron's earlier sentiment.

"I'm fine," Harry assured her. "Just a bit nervous about Quidditch practice."

Oliver Wood appeared, his face alight with enthusiasm. "Potter! Ready for your first practice of the year? We're heading down to the pitch after breakfast."

As Harry walked down to the Quidditch pitch with his teammates, his heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Quidditch was a game he'd only read about in the books he'd studied or seen in the movies, and now he was about to play it for the first time. It struck him as absurd—flying on a broomstick, chasing after enchanted balls, and all the while trying to avoid getting hit by Bludgers. The rules seemed nonsensical, even dangerous, yet there was an undeniable thrill in the air.

The moment he kicked off the ground and felt the broomstick respond to his thoughts, it was as though something clicked inside him. The wind rushed past his ears, the world blurred, and he was soaring above the pitch. His body moved instinctively, dodging a Bludger by sheer reflex, and he realized how different this experience was from anything he'd ever known. He had never been an athlete in his previous life. He had always admired sports from a distance, but this—this was something else entirely.

The game was a strange blend of chaos and order. Teammates shouted instructions, the Bludgers zipped around like angry hornets, and all the while, Harry was scanning the field for the elusive Golden Snitch. When he finally caught sight of it, his heart leapt. There it was—a tiny, winged ball flitting about near the goalposts.

He leaned forward, urging his broom to go faster, his focus narrowing until all that existed was him and the Snitch. In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties faded away. This was Quidditch, and for the first time, Harry truly understood why wizards loved this game so much. It wasn't about the rules or the logic; it was about the feeling—the rush of adrenaline, the sheer exhilaration of flying.

When the Snitch slipped through his fingers at the last moment, Harry wasn't disheartened. Instead, he felt a fierce determination settle in his chest. He would catch it next time. He knew he would.

As the day wore on, Harry found himself increasingly fatigued. He was sitting in the courtyard during a free period when Parvati Patil approached him.

"Hey, Harry," she said. "You look exhausted. Tough practice?"

Harry nodded, stifling a yawn.

Parvati's expression turned thoughtful. "You know, I was just thinking about my cousin. It's funny, I haven't heard from him in ages. We used to be close when we were younger."

Harry felt a jolt of surprise. "Oh? What... what was he like?"

"He was brilliant," Parvati said, her eyes distant with memory. "Always full of ideas and questions about the world. But he was also kind, you know?"

As Parvati continued to reminisce, Harry found himself struggling. Memories of his past life began to surface, conflicting with his current identity.

After Parvati left, Harry remained in the courtyard, lost in thought. The coincidence seemed too significant to ignore. 'Could this be a hint from fate itself?' Harry wondered. He had always known that as a potential Fool, his life would be guided by forces beyond his comprehension. But to have such a blatant reminder of his past life thrust upon him like this... it felt like more than coincidence.

Whether this was a sign from fate or not, it had served its purpose. It had forced him to confront the lingering conflict within himself.

'I have to think of myself as Harry,' he thought firmly. 'My past is gone. I am Harry Potter now.'

It was a difficult realization, but a necessary one. He couldn't keep straddling two identities. To fulfill his potential, to become the Fool and navigate the merging of two universes, he needed to fully embrace his current existence.

With this new resolve, Harry stood up, ready to face the rest of the day. He felt lighter somehow, more focused. The fatigue was still there, but it was overshadowed by a sense of purpose.

As Harry made his way back to the common room, he caught sight of Scabbers perched on a windowsill. The rat seemed to be watching him, and for a moment, their eyes met. Harry felt a chill run down his spine, but he pushed the feeling aside. He had done what was necessary, and now he had to move forward.

Back in the common room, as he settled into an armchair by the fire, Harry allowed himself to relax. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but he felt ready to face them. Not as someone reborn, but as Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, a budding Seer, and potentially, the Fool. It was a complex destiny, but it was his, and he was prepared to embrace it fully.

As the warmth of the fire and the chatter of his friends surrounded him, Harry felt a sense of peace settle over him. He had taken a significant step today, not just in his Quidditch skills or his magical abilities, but in his very identity. The path ahead was still fraught with dangers and uncertainties, but for the first time since his rebirth, Harry felt truly ready to face them.