HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

King's Cross Station, situated in the heart of London, stood as one of England's most vital transportation hubs.

It was still early morning, and the station wasn't yet teeming with tourists. Vizet entered the station smoothly, pulling his suitcase behind him. After some inquiries and careful navigation, he found his way toward platform nine.

As he approached the ninth platform, the scene gradually shifted. Small groups of people gathered, their attire and demeanor immediately standing out.

Some wore clothes in vibrant, almost blinding colors, reminiscent of circus costumes.

Others displayed startling contrasts in their clothing — padded winter jackets paired with shorts, as if they couldn't decide what season it was.

There were even a few individuals whose choices were downright bizarre, like a balding middle-aged man sporting a floral dress.

What united them all, however, was their strange behavior. They moved with purpose toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, then, without hesitation, walked straight into it — and disappeared.

Nearby, a puzzled middle-aged man in a business suit observed the peculiar activity. Frowning, he approached the pillar, tentatively stretching out a hand to touch it.

Before he could investigate further, a burly man in a pleated skirt appeared seemingly out of nowhere, brandishing a wand. He muttered something under his breath, and a soft flash of light followed. The confused businessman blinked, suddenly looking panicked. Without a word, he bolted from the station as though he had just remembered a life-or-death appointment.

Vizet wiped his forehead, his heart racing.

Everything about this place felt...off. The strangeness clung to the air, making him feel both captivated and uneasy.

A voice broke through his thoughts, melodic yet firm:

"Muggle Studies really should be required for all students — not just an elective."

Turning, Vizet saw an Asian girl standing nearby. She had a delicate face, framed by shoulder-length black hair, with a few faint freckles dotting her nose.

She wore a light blue hoodie with two dark blue "T" letters emblazoned across the chest and carried a suitcase in one hand. In the other, she held an old-fashioned broom, which was immaculately maintained. The handle gleamed, varnished to perfection, and the twigs fanned out in flawless symmetry — clearly, this broom had never been near dirt.

"You're Vizet, right? I thought you looked familiar," the girl said with a smile. "I remember seeing your face all over the Daily Prophet last month."

Her tone was friendly, but there was an undeniable flicker of unease in her dark eyes as they darted over him. Vizet caught the slight hesitation in her expression, the subtle shift in her demeanor.

"My name is Cho Chang," she continued, her voice steady but her posture slightly guarded. "I'm in Ravenclaw. What about you?"

"Hello, Cho Chang," Vizet replied evenly, trying to ignore the faint tension in her gaze.

Cho gestured toward the barrier with her broom. "It's time for us to go. You just need to walk straight into the pillar. Don't worry — the Ministry of Magic staff ensures no Muggles notice anything suspicious."

Vizet glanced toward the burly man in the pleated skirt, who was now scanning the area. "That's Ministry staff?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cho let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Hard to believe, right? This is exactly why Muggle Studies should be mandatory — and updated. They clearly don't understand modern Muggles."

She gestured at herself with an exasperated smile. "Look at me — I'm in a Tuthill Tornados uniform, carrying a broom, and I'm blending in better than they are. Muggles today are way more accepting than they think."

Vizet nodded but couldn't help wondering if the Ministry's outdated methods were hiding something more.

Cho continued with growing enthusiasm. "Can you believe it's 1991, and Muggle Studies still treats Muggles like we're stuck three centuries ago? It's ridiculous!"

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked briskly toward the pillar. "Come on!" she called over her shoulder, vanishing into the solid-looking barrier.

Vizet hesitated for only a moment before following. He clutched his suitcase tightly and stepped forward, bracing himself.

There was a fleeting sensation of darkness — a strange, weightless moment of transition — before the brightness of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters unfolded before him.

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Behind Vizet was no longer the bustling King's Cross Station Hall but a wrought iron archway. Above it hung an elegant sign — Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

The sound of a steam whistle echoed through the platform.

Before him stood the Hogwarts Express, a magnificent crimson steam locomotive that exuded a strong Victorian charm.

In truth, this locomotive was a relic of that very era, "requisitioned" by the Ministry of Magic from the Muggle world.

It had been the brainchild of Ottaline Gambol, a visionary Minister of Magic. During her tenure, she initiated one of the Ministry's most ambitious projects — constructing a safe and concealed transportation system for Hogwarts students. Despite opposition, Minister Gambol spearheaded the endeavor, which involved 167 Memory Charms, the largest concealment spell ever cast in England, and the construction of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

The steam locomotive itself had been completely modified. Once driven by coal and steam, it was now powered by magic. Renamed the Hogwarts Express, it became a symbol of the magical world's ingenuity and secrecy.

The platform buzzed with activity. White plumes of magical smoke swirled above the train, mingling with the chatter of parents and students. Children darted about, their pets — owls, cats, and the occasional toad — scurrying underfoot.

Parents leaned against the windows of the Hogwarts Express, giving their final instructions with a mix of sternness and affection. The children nodded earnestly, though many looked far more interested in their upcoming journey than their parents' advice.

Vizet paused and activated his Eye of Insight. Through this enhanced vision, he could see the ancient magic that permeated the platform. The silver-blue currents of magical power shimmered faintly in the air, so abundant it seemed almost ready to overflow.

For weeks, Vizet had been studying A Wizard's Practical Guide, a mysterious notebook that delved into the secrets of primordial magic. It was unlike any other magical text, seemingly tailored to unlock his unique abilities.

In a way, the notebook reminded him of a video game from his past life, where characters acquired "special skills" or "SP abilities." The shield spell he'd first cast, and the Eye of Insight he'd obtained in Diagon Alley all stemmed from this source.

The notebook mentioned two types of primordial magic:

Obscurus-born Magic — A chaotic and explosive energy, untamed by nature. Once refined, it could be harnessed for controlled spells and powerful effects.

Ley-line Magic — Magic that emanates from places steeped in magical history. These places, imbued with centuries or even millennia of spellwork, exude primordial magic that can be absorbed. This type of magic could strengthen the Eye of Insight or unlock new pages in the notebook.

Vizet's thoughts wandered, piecing together his growing understanding of this ancient power. He was abruptly brought back to reality by a familiar voice.

"Feeling overwhelmed?" Cho Chang asked with a knowing smile as she appeared beside him. "I was the same way when I first saw it. Trains like this are antiques — you'd only expect to see them in museums."

The train's first few carriages were already filled with students. Some played games in the corridors, others scribbled homework into last-minute scrolls, and a few leaned back in their compartments, chatting with friends.

A lively conversation caught Vizet's attention as they walked along the platform.

"Why'd you bring a toad? Is this some sort of trend now?" one boy asked, eyeing another's pet skeptically.

The owner of the toad, a round-faced boy with a nervous expression, replied, "His name's Trevor. My great uncle Algie got him for me. He's really proud that I'm a wizard..."

The first boy laughed, shaking his head. "Are you sure your great uncle's proud? Or maybe…just old-fashioned? I mean, toads as pets? Who still does that?"

Cho Chang smirked as they passed the scene. "Some traditions never die, I suppose," she whispered, her tone filled with humor.

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Cho Chang was an energetic and enthusiastic girl. After navigating through the crowded platform, she led Vizet toward the middle of the train and found an empty carriage.

"Here we go," she said cheerfully, helping him lift their suitcases onto the overhead shelf.

As they settled in, Cho leaned back and glanced out the window at the bustling platform. "You know," she said with a sly grin, "those kids rushing to finish their homework at the last minute? They're almost always Gryffindors."

Vizet raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "How can you tell?"

Cho grabbed a rag from her bag and began polishing her gleaming broomstick again, even though it was already spotless. "It's just a pattern I've noticed," she explained. "Gryffindor students tend to fill their summers with adventures — exploring wizard ruins, practicing Quidditch all day, or just goofing off. Homework is, uh… not exactly their priority."

Vizet chuckled at the image of carefree students scrambling to finish assignments. "So the night before school starts, they're stuck deciding whether to finish their homework or actually get some sleep?"

"Exactly!" Cho laughed, tossing her rag aside.

Suddenly the compartment door slid open, revealing a boy who looked about their age. He was a dark-skinned student, roughly 5'6", wearing his Hogwarts uniform already, though the tie was askew and the shirt untucked.

"Hey, mate!" the boy greeted, his voice full of urgency. "Any chance I could borrow your homework to copy? I swear, I've got something worth trading!"

Vizet blinked, caught off guard by the sudden request. "Uh… what?"

The boy grinned and stepped closer, holding up a small, enchanted glass jar. Inside was a glittering, eight-legged creature — a spider about the size of a Galleon. Its body shimmered faintly with a pearlescent glow, and venom droplets glinted at the tips of its fangs.

"This," the boy said proudly, "is an Umbra Spider — straight from Africa! Its venom causes swelling so fast it looks like you've turned into a balloon. But don't worry, I've got the antidote! Wanna touch it?"