HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

"I cured all the diricawls!" Vizet said, pulling a small bottle from his pocket. The dark liquid inside sloshed against the glass. "I've encountered Acromantula venom before, so I recognized it."

"Oh... so that's how it is!" Hagrid exhaled deeply, his shoulders easing from their tense posture. He forced a smile, shifting the conversation away from the topic. "You managed to cure those birds — that's incredible!"

Yet despite his words, Hagrid's face remained shadowed with unease. His eyes flickered with worry, and there was a heaviness in his tone that hadn't been there before. Whatever he'd seen in the Forbidden Forest clearly lingered in his mind.

Strangely, Hagrid showed little interest in the vial of venom. He waved it off without a second glance, leaving Vizet to keep it for himself.

The days that followed proved the forest was far from peaceful. Injured magical creatures arrived at Hagrid's hut more frequently, and each time, he enlisted Vizet's help to treat them.

Vizet never refused. The opportunity to practice his magic — and quietly gather more Acromantula venom — was too valuable to pass up. The venom collection steadily grew, and with it, Hagrid's gratitude.

"Here," Hagrid said one evening, handing Vizet a bundle wrapped in coarse cloth. Inside lay a pack of unicorn hair bandages, shimmering faintly in the dim firelight. "Take these — for your help."

"You don't need to give me this," Vizet protested, pushing the bundle back. "I'm happy to help."

But Hagrid shook his head firmly. "Didn't we agree on this before? You treat the animals, I give you bandages — fair trade."

Vizet hesitated again; remembering just how much that bundle was worth. Seeing this, Hagrid shoved it into his hand.

Crossing his arms stubbornly, Hagrid added, "If I had to rely on just bandages, those poor creatures would take days to recover. Your magic makes all the difference — so take it, alright?"

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The following week proved to be another demanding yet fulfilling one for Vizet, packed with learning and practice.

Between studying the diricawl's magic circuit, poring over Dumbledore and Grindelwald's notes, revising materials on compound magic, and attending Quidditch training, Vizet barely found time to breathe.

The sheer volume of study material made him feel as if time itself were slipping through his fingers. If only he could materialize time like a tangible object — perhaps in the form of a few coupons — and redeem it whenever he needed more hours in the day.

On top of everything else, he still had to refine and complete his manuscript about the Halloween troll incident before the Christmas holidays.

Before he knew it, the weekend had arrived again. Vizet made his way to Professor Quirrell's office as scheduled.

Though he'd told himself it was no big deal, his nerves betrayed him. He arrived a full thirty minutes early and spent most of that time pacing the corridors, trying to calm his thoughts. Only when he'd steadied himself did he knock on the door.

Once inside, Vizet carefully placed the silverware he'd brought on Quirrell's desk and said solemnly, "Professor Quirrell, thank you for your help."

"Yeah," Quirrell replied curtly, his tone colder than usual.

Vizet couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Quirrell's complexion was ashen, the whites of his eyes streaked with red veins. Sweat clung to his brow despite the cold weather. He looked exhausted — as though he hadn't slept in days.

"Professor," Vizet said cautiously, "you don't look well. Maybe you should visit Madam Pomfrey?"

"No need..." Quirrell forced a brittle smile. "It's probably... just the cold. I'll adjust soon enough."

He drew a deep breath, his gaze avoiding Vizet's. "Sit down," he muttered. "Let's get started... Today, we'll study a more complex compound magic — the Hanging Neighing Curse."

The Hanging Neighing Curse was no ordinary spell. While it could be cast directly with a long incantation, it was far more dangerous when hidden in objects, turning them into deadly traps.

Quirrell explained that opals were particularly effective for this curse, amplifying its potency.

To demonstrate, Quirrell retrieved an opal pendant he'd prepared earlier. Without warning, he tied the pendant to the belly of a poisonous snake.

The effect was immediate. The snake's body slackened, its muscles going limp as though it had fainted. Then immediately, the snake's body jerked back to life — but this time, it floated in mid-air, writhing violently as if possessed.

A horrible, rasping hiss escaped the snake's mouth — a sound so shrill and pitiful that it made Vizet's skin crawl. The creature twisted and convulsed, its body writhing in painful spasms.

Five agonizing minutes later, the snake's struggles ceased. It hung limp in the air, lifeless and still.

Vizet swallowed hard, feeling a knot of discomfort tighten in his chest.

He glanced at Quirrell — and noticed that his condition had worsened. Beads of sweat poured down his face, and the veins on his temples bulged visibly. Quirrell's breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, yet he forced himself to speak.

"As you can see... this spell has multiple effects," he began, his voice thin and unsteady. "First, it renders the victim unconscious... then levitates them... and finally..." He paused, clenching his jaw. "...tortures them to death."

Quirrell's face turned ghostly pale, and his stutter returned.

Vizet let out a slow breath, composing himself. He tried to approach the conversation with calm curiosity, as if asking about an unfamiliar subject.

"Professor Quirrell," Vizet said carefully, "do I really need to learn curses like this? I already know the Sickness Curse... and you once told me I'm not suited for dark magic."

"Yes... I told you that," Quirrell muttered, voice trembling. After a long pause, he added, "But dark magic... is still just magic... It's not inherently evil. And..." He coughed and took a sharp breath, "...I'm good at it."

"You've learned the Levitation Charm, haven't you?" Quirrell asked, forcing himself to sound more composed. "The Hanging Neighing Curse builds on that — it's an extended form of the Levitation Charm... combined with modified versions of the Stunning and Body-Binding Curses."

As he spoke, Quirrell's focus sharpened, and despite his unsteady state, he launched into a detailed breakdown of the curse's structure.

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If one overlooked Quirrell's increasingly worrisome state, the content of this lesson had actually been quite rewarding.

The discussion about the Levitation Spell and its extensions had proven unexpectedly insightful.

Not only did it deepen Vizet's understanding of the spell itself, but it also opened a new page in A Wizard's Practical Guide.

Primordial Magic: Ascend

Guide primordial magic to cast magic... let your will transcend... defy gravity's grasp... lifting even the mightiest of beings and non-beings...

Much like the Improved Summoning Spell, Ascend held influence over living creatures — a rare trait for levitation-based magic.

Unlike the traditional Levitation Charm, which required it's precise incantation, like the other Primordial Magics, Ascend relied solely on intent and control.

More importantly, the primordial magic power used when acquiring this magic was miniscule relative to the other times. 

The day's lesson ended as the sun dipped low, casting golden rays across the office walls.

Quirrell appeared utterly drained. He slumped in his chair, shoulders sagging, as though the weight of the world rested upon him.

"Professor Quirrell... are you sure you're alright?" Vizet asked, his voice tinged with concern. "I really think you should visit the hospital wing."

"No!" Quirrell's voice cracked, sharp and strained. "I'll be fine... I just need to... to eat something. That's all..." He waved a dismissive hand. "Off you go."

Vizet hesitated but eventually nodded. "Professor... thank you."

As he reached for the door handle, something compelled him to glance back. Quirrell's face had grown paler still, his skin like stretched parchment, and his breath came in shallow bursts.

Quietly, Vizet reached into his pocket and placed a chocolate frog on Quirrell's desk.

Quirrell's gaze flicked toward the small gift — an unreadable expression crossing his face. He clenched his jaw, his eyes hardening with renewed resolve.