HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Quirrell was the only one left in his office. Suddenly, he sprang from his chair, clutching the back of his head with a twisted expression.

Gritting his teeth, he cast a sealing charm on the door before tearing off the cloth wrapped around his head.

"Isn't this right?" Voldemort's hoarse laugh echoed through the room. "Do everything as I say..."

"Show him the Hanging Neighing Curse," Voldemort instructed coldly. "Then guide him to master it, little by little... Quirinus, I expect you to remain as obedient as ever."

Quirrell cast a sideways glance at the mirror, where Voldemort's distorted face sneered back at him. The sight made his stomach churn.

"Of course... my master," Quirrell muttered painfully, his gaze falling to the chocolate frog on his desk. "I will follow your orders... until you regain your strength."

"That's good," Voldemort's tone carried a hint of satisfaction. "Now — about the challenges beyond that room, and the cerberus... Have you found a way through?"

"There's a clue," Quirrell stammered, shivering slightly. "Professor Sprout seems to have set a Devil's Snare... but as for the cerberus..." His voice faltered. "I-I asked Professor Kettleburn, but... he doesn't know how to deal with it either."

"Is that so?" Voldemort mused darkly. "If even the Care of Magical Creatures professor doesn't know... then find someone else!"

Quirrell swallowed hard. "Master... do you have someone in mind?"

"That oaf — Rubeus Hagrid!" Voldemort spat the name with disdain. "His thick skull holds more knowledge of magical creatures than he realizes."

"Get close to him. He's loose-lipped — a few words should be enough to make him spill whatever he knows about that beast's weakness. Yes... that's what you'll do!"

Quirrell hesitated. "But... Master, you seem familiar with him... Is there a good way to approach him?"

Voldemort's expression twisted with disgust. "I remember... he adores those oversized, ugly magical beasts."

"Find him a XXXXX-level creature cub — something rare and dangerous. Then offer him some wine. He's fool enough to tell you everything once he's had a few drinks."

"Would that really work?" Quirrell's voice wavered. "And... a XXXXX-level creature cub isn't exactly cheap..."

"Quirinus," Voldemort's grin turned cruel, "are you questioning me again?"

Quirrell paled. "No! No... I understand!" He bowed his head in submission. "I'll do everything I can to see it done... I swear it."

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Sunday afternoon meant one thing — Snape's private lessons.

Today, the office felt unusually empty. Gone were the baskets of flesh and blood materials awaiting preparation, and there were no bundles of herbs that needed sorting.

Instead, a single table stood in the middle of the room. On it lay a crucible, tools for weighing and processing ingredients, and dozens of neatly arranged potion materials.

Vizet glanced at the materials and immediately felt a sense of familiarity.

Snape sat nearby, his expression cold as ever. He raised his chin slightly and gestured to the table.

"Get started," he said curtly.

Vizet gave a knowing nod, stepped forward, and carefully examined the potion ingredients laid out before him.

Snape was indeed testing his ability to identify the materials — proof that the notes he had taken that night had not been in vain.

Recalling the potion formula he had memorized, Vizet sorted the necessary ingredients from the rest.

"Frigus Exaresco!"

With a flick of his wand, he conjured a magical energy field, carefully placing the unused materials within it. He performed the spell without hesitation — a clear sign of how much his skills had improved.

Once finished, Vizet returned his attention to the table.

"Tell me their functions," Snape ordered, crossing his arms. "And the specific methods for processing them."

"Alright," Vizet replied.

He began by picking up a bundle of lavender.

"To make a tincture, lavender flowers and leaves must be chopped and soaked in alcohol," Vizet explained. "The soaking time depends on the desired concentration — typically four to six weeks in a cool place. Regular shaking is needed to ensure proper extraction. Afterward, the flowers and leaves are removed with a Summoning Charm, and the mixture is filtered three times to eliminate impurities. Finally, the tincture must be stored in a cool, dark place."

"Three filtrations?" Snape sneered. "That's standard practice, but excessive. A single Summoning Charm should be enough to remove all impurities."

"Yes," Vizet acknowledged smoothly, "I still have a lot to learn... and my magic needs improvement."

He reached for a jar covered with black cloth.

"This is moon nectar — honey that must be harvested at night, preferably under a clear full moon. Direct sunlight must be avoided when handling it," he continued.

"Moonstone should also be ground on a clear full moon night to maximize its effect. Wormwood requires a process similar to tincture-making, but it must be combined with morning dew for best results. And here," Vizet gestured to two smaller jars, "are finely powdered porcupine quills and unicorn horn dust..."

Vizet introduced each ingredient methodically. Throughout the explanation, Snape remained silent, save for the occasional twitch of his right knee.

From past experience, Vizet knew this meant Snape was satisfied — or at least not displeased — so he continued without pause.

"Impressive memorization," Snape said at last, lowering his arms. His voice was low, but there was the faintest trace of approval.

"It suits my impression of Ravenclaw," he added dryly. "At least now I know those ingredients weren't wasted."

"But," Snape's tone hardened, "this is only the foundation. Memorizing methods is something even a troll could manage with enough training. If a so-called potion master could do no more than that, I'd suggest they consider a career change."

The insult was classic Snape, and Vizet hardly reacted. He had long since learned to extract the important points from Snape's harsh remarks.

"Professor Snape," Vizet asked carefully, "should I stop?"

"Of course not," Snape snapped. "You've only memorized the steps — those ingredients are still just that... ingredients."

He paused, then added in a colder tone, "The potion you drank in the hospital wing... do you know what it was?"

Vizet shook his head.

"The Soul Soothing Draught," Snape said. "A high-level, improved version of the Draught of Peace. It doesn't just calm the mind — it deeply soothes the spirit and revitalizes magic in the body."

Vizet's interest sharpened. This was no ordinary potion theory — it was deeper knowledge, something rarely explained so thoroughly.

He listened intently as Snape continued, outlining theories and insights beyond the standard textbook material.

Vizet had encountered some of these ideas before, but only in passing — brief mentions in footnotes or whispers from older students. He had never heard anyone explain it so clearly, so methodically.

He tried to absorb it all, and as Snape's words unfolded, Vizet felt his understanding deepen. He began to grasp the true essence of potion-making — the intricate balance between precise technique and adaptive intuition.

When mastered, a skilled potioneer could adjust ingredients, compensate for missing materials, or substitute elements without compromising the potion's quality.

It was no longer just about following steps — it was about understanding why those steps mattered.