HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

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Hey everyone, LuxRadium here, I'm sorry for today's delay in release, and also to inform that there will be a hiatus for a week since I'm having exams. I hope you understand and thank you for reading. maybe multiple releases after hiatus ;)

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The riddle still lingered in Vizet's mind as he repeated it to himself one last time. "I'm here and I don't know it. If I leave it alone, I will die?"

He glanced at the bronze eagle, its lifelike eyes fixed expectantly on him.

"Is it… air?" he said, his voice steady. "It's all around us, invisible, but without it, we wouldn't survive."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a smooth creak, the eagle stretched its wings, and the heavy doors swung open, revealing a spiraling marble staircase bathed in soft candlelight.

Penelope clapped her hands. "Perfect answer! Well reasoned." She smiled at the group of wide-eyed first-years. "This is the Ravenclaw way. Welcome home."

Vizet followed the others inside, climbing the stairs until they emerged into a vast, circular room at the very top of the tower.

The ceiling was painted with constellations, blending seamlessly with the floating crystal orbs that drifted lazily in the air, casting soft rippling light over the common room. The marble walls were pale and smooth, almost glowing in the dimness, while the deep blue carpets and curtains gave the space a quiet, contemplative air. Bronze fixtures gleamed here and there, solid and timeless.

Bookshelves were built into the walls, their shelves packed with thick tomes, the gold lettering on their spines catching the candlelight. A few older students were already sitting in the plush armchairs near the windows, books in their laps, gazing absently at the endless stretch of stars outside.

Some of the first-years rushed toward the windows, pressing their faces to the cool glass, whispering in awe at the breathtaking view of the castle grounds below, the Forbidden Forest stretching out in the distance like a sea of shifting shadows.

Penelope gave them a moment before she clapped her hands again. "Alright, listen up! You've had a long night, and I know some of you are barely staying awake." She raised an eyebrow at a boy who was swaying slightly where he stood. "So let's get you to your dormitories before you collapse right here."

She led the girls away first, disappearing through an arched doorway.

Vizet wandered toward the center of the common room, where a tall, elegant statue stood.

Rowena Ravenclaw.

The figure was breathtakingly detailed — a regal woman, her long, flowing hair cascading past her waist. She wore a delicate crown, her robes caught in some unseen breeze. She had a look of quiet wisdom, but also something distant, untouchable.

At the base of the statue, an inscription read:

"Extraordinary intelligence is the greatest wealth of mankind."

Vizet stared at her for a moment longer, lost in thought. Something about the way she had been carved — her expression, her posture — made it feel like she was watching him in return.

Penelope returned, leading the boys toward their dormitory. On the way, she pointed at a set of polished wooden doors.

"This is the bathroom. If you need to wash up, come here."

The Ravenclaw dorms were surprisingly spacious, the hallways twisting upward in winding staircases. It was easy to see how someone could get lost in this place.

"This is your dormitory," she said, stopping outside one of the doors. "I won't go in, but one last thing —" She smirked. "The stairs to the girls' dormitory are enchanted. If any of you try to sneak up there, they'll turn into a slippery slide. So unless you want to go rolling down in front of the entire common room, I suggest you don't try it."

One of the first-years frowned. "Then why can you come in here? Is it a prefect thing?"

Penelope laughed. "Nope. The founders just figured girls were more responsible than boys. Can't say they were wrong."

With that, she left, and the boys pushed into their dormitory.

The room was cozy, with tall four-poster beds draped in rich blue curtains embroidered with bronze eagles. Each of them had a personal desk and wardrobe, and a thick navy carpet covered the floor, muffling their footsteps. Their trunks had already been delivered, their beds made, the scent of fresh linens and sunlight filling the air.

One by one, the first-years collapsed onto their beds, too exhausted to even change their clothes.

Coo, coo, coo!

Vizet turned to see Sol, his owl, hopping impatiently on his perch, clicking his beak against the cage bars.

"You're restless too, huh?" Vizet sighed, unlatching the door.

The owl fluttered out immediately, landing on Vizet's open trunk and pecking insistently at the fabric.

"Alright, alright, I get it." Vizet pulled out a cloth bag, untying the knot. The scent of chocolate and sugar drifted up as he revealed the snacks he had bought from the trolley witch.

Sol fluffed his feathers in excitement and, without hesitation, tore into a Chocolate Frog, gulping it down before it had a chance to hop away.

Vizet chuckled, stroking the owl's crest. "You're just as bad as Luna."

Sol let out a satisfied chirp, hopping onto the desk as Vizet pulled out a blank parchment and quill.

But as he dipped the quill into ink, he hesitated.

He had never written a letter to anyone before.

Where was he supposed to start?

Should he write about King's Cross Station?

Or about crossing the lake?

Or maybe the Sorting Ceremony?

Even with the Guardian Meditation Method, his thoughts felt tangled, drifting in too many directions at once.

"How do I even begin?" he muttered.

Coo? Sol tilted his head, then leaned down and gave Vizet a small, sharp peck on the forehead.

Vizet winced, then laughed. "You've definitely picked up some of Luna's habits."

He dipped the quill in ink once more, and this time, he didn't hesitate.

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The room was dimly lit, the warm glow from the floating candles casting long shadows across the polished wood of the headmaster's office. The scent of parchment, old books, and a faint trace of lemon drops lingered in the air.

Snape entered without hesitation, his black robes billowing behind him as he strode forward, his face set in a hard, grim expression. He didn't bother waiting for permission before speaking.

"A Boy-Who-Lived, an Obscurial, and now a young hellhound running around the castle..." His voice dripped with sarcasm, his dark eyes locking onto Dumbledore's twinkling gaze. "Hogwarts is certainly lively this year, wouldn't you agree, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore, seated behind his grand desk, placed the Sorting Hat gently on the table. His fingers lightly tapped the polished surface as he nodded. "Indeed, quite lively."

"Heh." Snape let out a mirthless chuckle, his arms crossing over his chest. "I must say, I never expected to return from summer break to find Hogwarts in such a… safe condition."

The word safe slithered off his tongue with unmistakable bitterness.

His lips curled slightly as he leaned forward. "Tell me, Headmaster — what exactly is your plan for protecting Harry Potter? Do you truly believe that as long as the prophecy remains unfulfilled, we can consider it a victory?"

He didn't give Dumbledore a chance to answer before pressing on, his voice dropping lower, sharper.

"And yet, despite all the supposed precautions, you have approved the enrollment of a child who — if he loses control — could unleash destruction. An Obscurial, a walking time bomb, sitting in the same classrooms as the boy the Dark Lord still seeks?"

Dumbledore smiled faintly, unfazed by the accusation. He reached for a teapot and flicked his wand, causing delicate china cups to appear on the table.

"Severus, patience," he said, pouring the tea with a steady hand. "Would you care for a cup?"

Snape's frown deepened, but after a moment, he sat down stiffly, the chair creaking beneath him. He did not touch the tea.

Dumbledore took a sip from his own cup, the steam curling softly around his half-moon spectacles. "Might I suggest a new reading material for you? The Quibbler has been quite fascinating lately."

Snape's nostrils flared. "The Quibbler?" He said the name as if it personally offended him.

Dumbledore nodded, setting his cup down. "It has been publishing rather insightful pieces on Obscurials — how they live, how they think, and most importantly, how to understand them. As I understand it, the response has been quite positive."

Snape scoffed, his fingers tightening around the arms of the chair. "As I understand it, the editor-in-chief of The Quibbler is Xenophilius Lovegood." He paused meaningfully. "And the Obscurial in question also happens to bear the name Lovegood."

"That is correct," Dumbledore confirmed, stirring a bit of honey into his tea. "Which tells us something quite valuable, doesn't it? Xenophilius, for all his eccentricities, has clearly recognized Vizet. And not only recognized him — he's openly supporting him."

Snape was silent for a long moment, his fingers tapping against the chair. Then, at last, he spoke. "And what exactly do you find interesting about that?"

Dumbledore's smile widened slightly as he glanced at the Sorting Hat. "Oh, not just that," he murmured. "I found something even more curious — something the Sorting Hat shared with me."

Snape's gaze flickered to the ancient, worn hat sitting on the desk.

The rip near the brim split open, forming a jagged mouth, and the hat let out a low chuckle.

"That boy is not simple," it said, its voice scratchy, like old parchment crumbling. "When I placed him under my brim, I felt his mind… but I couldn't see it clearly."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

The hat shifted slightly, as if mulling over its own words. "It was a most peculiar sensation. Normally, a student's mind is almost like an open book to me — I can see their surface thoughts and also some more deeper — their desires, ambitions, fears."

"But this one… Oh, he let me in, no doubt. He wasn't hiding. And yet, it was like gazing through a foggy window — I could sense the shapes, the thoughts swirling within, but they wouldn't form into something tangible. It was as if they were… blurred. Not locked away. Just —"

The Sorting Hat hesitated, searching for the right words.

"Just beyond my reach."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled with intrigue. "Fascinating, isn't it?"

Snape said nothing. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers had stopped tapping.

The Sorting Hat let out a satisfied sigh. "That boy, Vizet Lovegood… He is friendly, I'll give him that. But…"

It chuckled again.

"Let's just say he reminds me of someone — someone who happens to just be in this room."

Snape's frown deepened. His voice, when he spoke, was measured. Careful.

"You mean to say…"