HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The evening had fully set in, and the streetlights lining Diagon Alley bathed the cobblestones in a gentle golden glow. The scene had a warm, almost intoxicating charm, as if the entire street had been steeped in the ambiance of a cozy pub.

Vizet stepped out of the pharmacy, his thoughts still lingering on the potion master's vague directions. He hesitated briefly before turning into a narrow, dimly lit alley.

The change was immediate and chilling. The warm, inviting atmosphere of Diagon Alley gave way to shadows and damp air that clung to the skin like icy mist.

The crooked brick walls loomed on either side, blotched with patches of fluorescent moss. These faintly glowing spots gave off a ghostly green light, casting eerie shadows that danced as if alive.

The path ahead seemed to shrink with each step, its end swallowed by an impenetrable darkness. It felt less like an alley and more like the gaping mouth of some malevolent beast, a place one might enter but never return.

Vizet's heart quickened. There was something unsettling about this place, an unspoken warning in the air that prickled his senses. He took a deep breath and moved cautiously forward.

Suddenly, a booming voice shattered the silence, echoing down the alley.

"Let me go! I don't want to buy it! Don't touch me!"

It was Hagrid's unmistakable roar.

A second voice responded, smooth and arrogant, dripping with mockery. "What's this nonsense, now? Didn't we have a deal? We even brought the dog here. Surely you don't want the poor thing to meet an unfortunate end, do you?"

Hagrid's anger flared. "Don't do this! The little one hasn't even opened his eyes yet! But you've gone and raised the price, and I don't have that kind of money! Just give me another day!"

The other voice was unyielding. "Another day? Do you think this is a charity? Either we search you, or I take back the deal entirely. Maybe we'll settle for the original price — if you cooperate."

"No! I won't let you do this!" Hagrid bellowed, his voice firm, even desperate. "I've only got what I brought, and I'm not giving you a knut more!"

Vizet froze in place, his mind racing. Hagrid was in trouble, caught in a conflict with what sounded like dangerous individuals.

The sensible thing to do would be to retreat to the safety of Diagon Alley and find help. He took a step back, ready to flee, when a cold voice cut through the air behind him like a knife.

"Well, well, what have we here? A fresh-faced student, judging by the cauldron and the owl. Lucky day, isn't it?"

Vizet turned, squinting against the pale light emanating from the tip of a wand held by a figure cloaked in black robes.

The man stepped closer, his tone laced with menace. "What's a kid like you doing here, wandering into places you don't belong?"

Vizet instinctively lowered his head, shielding his eyes with one hand while his other hand slipped into his pocket. His fingers brushed against something cool and solid — an iron plate Ollivander had given him.

The small enchanted plate, no larger than his palm, was a gift meant for emergencies. Vizet recalled the wand maker's instructions: Rub it three times to activate the Iron Armor Charm.

He hadn't expected to need it so soon, but the situation was dire. His heart pounded as he readied himself to use it.

"Follow me," the man commanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

Vizet reluctantly obeyed, following the black-robed wizard deeper into the alley. At the end of the path, an unsettling scene unfolded before him.

A strange, lilting tune hummed through the air, its rhythm both foreign and hypnotic.

Hagrid stood against the wall, fists clenched, his massive frame towering over three scrappy, ragged men. Despite their smaller stature — they barely reached Hagrid's waist — they exuded a predatory hunger, circling him like wolves ready to pounce.

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"Vizet... how did you come here?" Hagrid's voice was thick with surprise, but it quickly turned to anger as he roared at the group, "How dare you hold a child hostage!"

The black-robed wizard sneered, shoving Vizet forward. "So, you know each other. Well, then, he can only blame his bad luck."

The four wizards closed ranks, encircling Vizet and Hagrid.

Vizet's pulse quickened, but he forced himself to stay calm. His sharp eyes drifted behind the men, landing on the massive creature lying just beyond them.

A giant beast slumbered peacefully, its rhythmic snores punctuated by faint growls. The creature resembled an enormous pug, but with one unmistakable difference — it had three heads. Even sprawled out in sleep, its sheer size dwarfed Vizet entirely, each head lazily drooling onto the cobblestones.

A Cerberus

Vizet's mind raced, recalling what he had read in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. A Cerberus was a XXXXX-class magical beast, one of the most dangerous creatures in existence. Native to Greece, it was famed for its formidable size, near-impervious magic resistance, and insatiable appetite.

It was the kind of creature that few wizards could dream of taming — and exactly the kind of animal that someone like Hagrid would call "cute."

He glanced at Hagrid, who nodded reluctantly. "Yeah... I want to buy it," he admitted, his anger still simmering. "But these scoundrels upped the price! I brought enough, but now they're asking for 600 Galleons!"

One of the black-robed men spoke, his voice dripping with disdain. "Do you know what it cost us to bring this big guy here? One of our brothers was captured by the Ministry! That's our kin! So yes, the price went up!"

Hagrid's temper flared. "That's no excuse to break your promise!"

"Promise?" The wizard let out a shrill, mocking laugh. "Sure, we broke our promise! And guess what? Now there's another problem. This little brat here knows our secret!" He gestured toward Vizet with his wand, his grin widening into something predatory.

"So here's the deal. You go fetch the money. A thousand Galleons — tomorrow. Or do you want this kid's ghost to haunt you for the rest of your life!"

Hagrid recoiled, his massive hands waving helplessly. "You c-can't do this! Please, don't hurt him!"

Watching the giant of a man falter, Vizet felt a pang of frustration. Hagrid means well, but he's letting them control him. They can smell his fear, and they'll just keep pushing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting to keep his own fear in check. The scene in front of him was all too familiar. Life at the orphanage in his past life had taught him that backing down only encouraged bullies to take more.

This isn't the time to freeze up, Vizet told himself. His mind raced, searching for a way to shift the power dynamic.

They're not reasonable people. They need a reason to feel fear — something to remind them that they're not as in control as they think.

The four wizards erupted into laughter, their mocking voices grating against Vizet's nerves.

"Hehehe... Of course we'll do this!" one cackled. "Go home, raise the money, and pray we're feeling generous. Whether this kid survives the night is entirely up to you, big guy!"

Hagrid's face crumpled into panic, his towering figure visibly trembling. Vizet clenched his fists, his frustration boiling into determination.

If I let them see me as weak, I'm as good as gone. If I want to survive, I have to make them think twice.

Vizet stepped forward, his expression calm but his silver-blue eyes blazing with quiet defiance.

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Vizet cleared his throat, his voice steady but firm. "Everyone, you didn't even ask for my opinion and decided everything on your own?" His tone carried a subtle undertone of defiance.

"My family is waiting for me. If I'm late, they'll be worried… so I'm afraid I can't stay here overnight. Apologies for the inconvenience."

The four wizards froze, caught off guard by his calm demeanor. For a moment, the alley was silent — then their laughter erupted, coarse and mocking.

"Did you hear that? He's threatening us!"

"Oh, I'm shaking in my boots! A little brat with a cauldron — let me guess, you just bought your first wand today? What are you going to do? Lumos me to death?"

Another cackled, eyeing Vizet's simple clothing. "He doesn't look like a rich pure-blood's kid… But if he were, that'd be even better! Imagine the ransom — two thousand Galleons, easy!"

Vizet let their words wash over him, his expression unchanging. When they paused, he spoke evenly, his voice cutting through their jeers. "Do you know what an Obscurus is? Or do you lack the habit of keeping up with the news?"

The question landed heavily in the tense air. The men exchanged confused glances, their laughter faltering.

"Obscurus? What are you rambling about?" one of them snapped impatiently. "Big guy, go get the money before we lose our patience!"

Vizet sighed lightly, as though he found the situation tiresome. "Hagrid," he said, without looking away from his captors, "you had a copy of the Daily Prophet earlier. Do you still have it?"

"Oh! Still got it right here!" Hagrid fumbled through his pockets, pulling out a crumpled newspaper. He handed it to Vizet, who took it calmly and held it out toward the men.

"Go on," Vizet said, his voice cool, "take a look for yourselves."

The black-robed leader hesitated before snatching the paper, spreading it open with a flick of his wrist. The other three kept their eyes on Vizet, their expressions a mix of skepticism and unease.

The leader's face shifted as his gaze scanned the front page. Suspicion turned to confusion, then to something far more unsettling — fear.

He raised his wand instinctively, the tip glowing with a pale white light, illuminating Vizet's face.

Sweat began to bead on the man's forehead as his expression hardened.

Vizet tilted his head slightly, the faintest trace of a smile curling at his lips. "A natural black wizard," he said softly, his tone carrying an edge that felt sharper than any blade. "A walking barrel of explosives. An extremely dangerous person." He pointed to himself. "That's me"

The words hung in the air like a spell.

The black-robed leader swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he tried to maintain control. "Y-You say that, but who's to say the paper didn't make a mistake? The reporter could've — could've gotten the wrong photo! Written something fake!"

"He's not lying!" Hagrid thundered, his frustration spilling over. "You think he'd just make this up? He's had to deal with enough grief over it today already!"

The leader glanced back at his companions, all of whom now looked significantly less confident. Vizet watched them carefully, his heart steady but his mind racing.

He let a small smile play on his lips, stepping forward just enough to close the distance between himself and their fragile bravado. "Evidence, you say?" His voice dropped to a near-whisper, smooth and chilling.

"Perhaps you'd like a demonstration."