Chapter 257: The Tenth Trial Chamber

"Ah, let me read this," the Minister said seriously. "To Harry James Potter, I leave the Golden Snitch he caught during his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, to remind him that skill and strength are both indispensable."

He pulled out a small pouch and placed it in Harry's hands.

"We all know the Golden Snitch remembers the first person to touch it, so you can go back and look again," the Minister said. "But judging by its weight, it may be empty—nothing hidden inside."

Harry carefully tucked the pouch close to his body.

"The matters between Dumbledore and you have been settled. Now, Harry, you must go to the Department of Mysteries. Your friends may leave," the Minister said. "I still have piles of paperwork to get through… What's going on?"

Ivy stuck out her tongue and pressed the Deluminator again, and the Minister's desk lamp flickered back to life.

"Let's go, don't disturb him," Harry whispered softly. The children filed out one by one.

"I can't believe it—I mean," Ron flipped through the fairy tale book, confused. "I barely knew Dumbledore. We barely spoke a few words in total."

"I don't think this is necessarily for you," Neville said. "He reminded Harry that skill and strength are both indispensable. Perhaps he saw you as the 'strength' Harry was missing."

"Me?" Ron's eyes widened in shock, then his ears turned bright red as he scratched his head awkwardly. "But what does strength have to do with this book?"

"I think Dumbledore was guiding us," Neville said. "Even though the Hype Time spell failed, for some reason, the original Time-Enhancing Spell worked better and felt easier. So perhaps this book holds the direction you're looking for."

"So my path to strength is turning lights on and off?" Ivy fiddled irritably with the Deluminator.

"Perhaps Dumbledore saw you as the 'skill' Harry was missing," Neville said gently.

"Then what are you?" Ivy shot back, annoyed.

"I'm the reminder," Neville shrugged.

Two men strode forward; one placed his hand directly on Harry's shoulder, and the children fell silent.

"I need to take Harry to the Department of Mysteries," Johnny said. "Paul, take the others back."

"Alright, see you later, Harry," Ron said. "What are you planning to do this year?"

"We'll call," Harry made a phone gesture, then followed Johnny toward the elevator.

Unlike the Minister's office, the Department of Mysteries was on the tenth basement level—the lowest button on the elevator. After Johnny pressed it, they had to stop and greet wizards passing through every floor, listening to their compliments about Harry.

Finally, the elevator reached the bottom. There was only a long, empty corridor and a simple black door. Just as Harry thought they would enter, Johnny pulled him to the left, where a gap led to a staircase.

"We go down," he whispered. "The elevator doesn't reach this deep. Leslie sealed everything away. We could only hide the last few things here—where no one would think to look."

They descended to the bottom of the stairs and walked down the corridor. It hadn't been touched in years; the rough stone walls spoke of ancient age. Torches had long burned dry, their faint glow sustained only by magic. The doors they passed were heavy wooden ones with iron bolts. Harry read the plaques: these were Trial Chambers.

At the very end stood a massive iron door, rusted and smeared with black oil. Johnny glanced warily around, then turned the handle.

Inside was a deep, dark chamber. Rising tiers of empty benches surrounded the room. In the center sat a chair, and on it, a figure—Ollivander.

"Oh, Harry," the old man's eyes were dull with despair, his leather jacket torn and frayed. "I never wanted things to end this way—or, as Little Ten would say, we had no choice."

Harry wanted to say they might have been tricked by Barty, but the dead deserve silence. He stayed quiet.

"You didn't come just to receive his belongings. You came to inherit the entire Doctor Project's legacy." Ollivander stood and gently touched something. Harry's eyes widened—he saw an invisible wall, and as Ollivander moved, it became visible: the TARDIS.

"Wasn't the TARDIS destroyed?" Harry asked.

"The TARDIS has paradox functionality. So as long as the Doctors promise to return it, multiple TARDISes can exist in the same timeline—they're fundamentally from different time streams," Ollivander said. "This is the last one. I intend to give it to you."

"Me?" Harry exclaimed. "But I'm not a Doctor. And what would I even do with it?"

"We want you to secretly restart the Doctor Project," Johnny interjected. "Both Ollivander and I are under the Ministry's watch, and we each have our own duties. But we agree on one thing: this project must not be halted."

"It only retains spatial movement now—no different from Apparition," Ollivander said, placing his hand on the blue shell. "But the Doctor's true power was never time travel. It was this: when you need him, he always appears."

"Take it away. Hide it," Johnny said. "There's a manual on the console, and a magical artifact left by Little Barty: the Spirit Paper. It can display anything you wish."

"I hope you become the first Doctor," Johnny patted his shoulder. "Don't be the last."

"We should go. She's yours now," Ollivander sighed, then pushed open the heavy iron door, which groaned loudly.

Harry walked into the TARDIS in a daze. The interior differed slightly from what he remembered from third year, but overall, it was the same. He approached the console and found the manual and the Spirit Paper. Basic operation wasn't hard: set the time and space coordinates, then pull the lever.

Now, the time setting was locked. The space setting used latitude and longitude—simple and clear. No wonder Ollivander thought a child under fifteen could be left alone here. If Harry wasn't too stupid, he'd understand how to use it within half an hour, then Apparate freely to any place he wished.

Harry quickly located Tang Dun on the map and began turning dials to adjust the spatial coordinates. But just before he pulled the lever, he suddenly remembered something and let go.

Among Tang Dun's servants were Soviet spies—or perhaps even the butler Carson had been bribed. Before, Harry hadn't cared. After all, the Soviets bribing low-paid servants to pass messages was easy. He thought nothing about Tang Dun held secrets worth protecting.

But now, he had to think carefully: if Yanayev learned the Doctor Project had been restarted, would he scoff, actively sabotage it, or be frightened? Harry wondered—if Yanayev learned Dumbledore had secretly restarted the Doctor Project, he'd lose sleep. But if he learned Harry, about to enter fifth year, was preparing to restart it, he'd probably just laugh.

Realizing this, Harry immediately knew his destination. He opened the map of Southern Europe, found Albania, and—just as luck would have it—the Doctors had marked a red dot on Gilmire, with a set of coordinates.

When Harry finally began operating the TARDIS, he understood why the Doctors said its positioning was imprecise. The numbers on the space display kept jumping erratically near the target, never stabilizing. He decided waiting was pointless and hit the brake.

Nervously, Harry opened the TARDIS door. Sunlit grass stretched before him, and in the distance stood a low white building. Lupin, Sirius, and Tonks raised their wands, watching warily. Before them lay a large tablecloth covered with various foods.

"Oh, hello," Harry said. "As you see, the Doctors left me the last TARDIS."

"But why here?" Lupin lowered his wand but still looked puzzled.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sirius laughed. "I bet the first place Harry goes after learning Apparition will be here. Your new toy's impressive—it startled us all."

"It's not a toy," Harry said seriously. "Ollivander wants me to restart the Doctor Project."

"Ah, a good idea," Sirius nodded. "Ollivander or Johnny must be under close watch, so they could only put their hope in you."

"But how can a machine that just replaces Apparition help?" Tonks asked.

"The archives," Lupin said for him. "It holds countless theoretical texts, lab records—everything the Doctors poured their hearts into. Am I right?"

"Yes," Harry nodded deeply. "If I'm to restart the project, the first people I think to turn to are you."

"Alright, but we're not exactly free either," Sirius shrugged. "Lupin's buried in paperwork here, and I have to attend Death Eater meetings sometimes—oh, speaking of meetings, want to come?"

At Harry's confused look, Sirius grinned mischievously. Lupin sighed and rubbed his forehead.