HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The Ravenclaw common room buzzed with energy as students launched into an impromptu debate, their minds sharpened by years of theoretical study. Discussions like these were common among them — analyzing scenarios, proposing spells, and exchanging ideas about real-world magical combat.

Tonight's topic was particularly thrilling: how best to handle a mountain troll.

Naturally, all eyes turned to Vizet. He was, after all, the only one among them who had actually faced one. They wanted his judgment — whose strategy was most effective?

The Sickness Curse had been his ace in the hole. The combination of the Levitation Charm and Projectile-Craft had also been critical.

But these were Vizet's secrets, and he wasn't ready to share them just yet.

Instead, he crafted a more believable tale, blending elements from stories he had known in his past life. In his version, it had been a collective effort — a group of students working together to bring down the beast.

It was a far more reasonable narrative. After all, the idea of a first-year single-handedly defeating a troll was simply too fantastic, even in the wizarding world.

Satisfied, his peers hung on his every word, their curiosity sated. But as the adrenaline of storytelling ebbed away, exhaustion settled in. Vizet rubbed his eyelids, barely suppressing a yawn.

Penelope and Cho Chang noticed at once.

"That's enough for tonight," Penelope announced, taking charge.

Cho clapped her hands. "Everyone, off to bed! Vizet needs rest."

With some reluctance, the group dispersed. His roommates, just as exhausted, barely managed a "good night" before collapsing onto their beds, not even bothering to change into pajamas.

Vizet took his time, washing up and slipping into his nightwear. Just as he was about to settle in, a tapping sound came from the window.

Turning his head, he spotted Sol perched outside, rapping at the glass with his beak. A small, bulging letter was tucked under his talons.

"Thank you for your hard work!" Vizet whispered, opening the window to let him in. The night air was cold, and he cradled the owl gently, sharing warmth. "You didn't have to come tonight — you could've rested and brought this in the morning."

Sol hooted softly and shook his head, ruffling his feathers.

The familiar scent of herbs clung to him — the distinctive aroma of the owlery's feed, personally prepared by Professor Sprout to aid an owl's recovery.

It was a reminder of the expertise of Hogwarts' professors. Each Head of House was a master in their field, their knowledge extending into areas far beyond their official subjects.

As expected, the letter was from Luna. The moment Sol sensed Vizet had returned, he had flown in immediately to deliver it.

Vizet unfolded the parchment. Inside were warm Halloween wishes from both Luna and Xenophilius.

And, at the bottom of the page, a small, hand-drawn smiley face.

"In the candy, there's a little surprise from Daddy!" Luna had scribbled playfully.

That explained the envelope's unusual bulk. Tucked inside was a packet of homemade sweets.

Unwrapping the package, Vizet found an assortment of toffees — each one meticulously shaped. Some resembled dirigible plums, others took the form of owls, and a few had the round, delicate appearance of colorful ball fish.

Luna had even painted the details with such precision that the candies looked almost lifelike.

He picked up a ball fish-shaped toffee, popped it into his mouth, and chewed slowly.

The first taste was a delightful burst of sweetness — milk, vanilla, and caramel blending into a rich, creamy harmony.

But as he chewed further, a bold new flavor emerged. The gummy center was infused with Gurdyroot juice and honey.

Vizet paused.

It was… an unexpected contrast. Imagine biting into a vanilla caramel ice cream, only for the next bite to taste like a scallion pancake dipped in honey.

Of course. That had to be Xenophilius' surprise. He was fond of using Gurdyroot in his tea, swearing by its mystical properties.

For most, the combination would have been jarring, but for Vizet…

He closed his eyes and smiled.

"This," he murmured, "is the taste of home."

Sol cooed, nudging against his neck.

Vizet exhaled, grounding himself in the present.

Gently stroking Sol's feathers, he whispered, "You should get some rest. I hate making you fly back and forth so much."

Sol tilted his head, then gave his hand a light peck, as if to say he didn't mind.

Vizet chuckled. "I'm planning to send a manuscript to Mr. Lovegoodb— it'll take me a while to finish. So take the night off, okay? Pick up the letter tomorrow afternoon instead."

Sol gave an approving hoot, flapped his wings, and took off, disappearing into the night sky.

Vizet unwrapped another toffee and slipped it onto his tongue.

This time, he didn't chew. He let it melt slowly as he reached for his quill and parchment.

Perhaps it was the familiar taste or the warmth of Luna's thoughtful gesture, but suddenly, he didn't feel tired anymore.

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Two months could change a great many things.

For Vizet, it had.

His understanding of magic had deepened, he had learned a dangerous curse, and his reservoir of primordial magic had grown considerably.

And then there were the smaller, more personal victories — like how replying to Luna's letters had become second nature, his words flowing easily onto parchment.

As for the night's adventure? That was a different matter entirely.

Instead of recounting it exactly as it happened, he decided to weave a more dramatic tale, drawing inspiration from the novels of his past life.

It was no easy feat. By the time he had outlined the general framework of the story, the sun had already begun its ascent.

Standing by the window, Vizet stretched, greeting the golden light spilling into the room.

"A brand new day."

Today was Friday.

First-year Ravenclaws had no morning classes — a rare luxury. It meant they could sleep in, a blessing he fully intended to take advantage of.

When he finally woke, it was already noon.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting the blue carpet in soft, shifting hues, making it seem as though he were floating among the clouds.

Still drowsy, Vizet wandered to the window and gazed toward the Forbidden Forest.

Autumn had nearly given way to winter, yet the dense woodland remained shadowed and foreboding. Only when the first snow arrived would its darkness be softened, its trees cloaked in silver.

A small movement caught his eye.

On the windowsill, the potted dirigible plum had sprouted. The seedlings stretched toward the sun, basking in its warmth.

Under Professor Sprout's guidance, they were thriving.

A voice interrupted his thoughts.

"We took care of it for you this morning."

Anthony stood in the doorway.

Behind him, his roommates filed in, their arms laden with small bags of food, the rich aroma of baked goods curling through the air.

Chris set his bag down first. "You never showed up to the Great Hall, so we brought some back for you."

Vizet opened his mouth to thank them, but Michael cut him off.

"No 'thank you's. When we don't wake up on time, you always bring us breakfast."

Vizet huffed a quiet laugh.

"Oh, but it's such a shame about last night's Halloween feast." Terry sighed, closing his eyes as if savoring a distant memory. "The Yorkshire pudding with pumpkin filling was unforgettable…"

Michael smirked. "If you loved it that much, maybe you should transfer to Hufflepuff."

Terry shot back without missing a beat. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have even tried it! You belong in Hufflepuff."

Anthony chuckled, shaking his head. "You know what? I say you both transfer together."

Vizet was more than used to their playful bickering by now.

With a small smile, he picked up a piece of apple pie, took a seat at his desk, and enjoyed the show.

Somehow, sweets always tasted better on an empty stomach.