HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The ability to summon a broom was only the first step.

These brooms were old and worn, making them unreliable at times. Even when responding to a call, some would falter mid-flight, tumbling back to the ground with a thud. Others shed twigs as they rolled, leaving a small trail of debris behind.

Once everyone had secured their broomsticks, Madam Hooch continued with her instructions, her tone cautious and meticulous.

She carefully guided the students through the correct posture and safety precautions, pointing out common mistakes and demonstrating the best way to mount a broom without slipping.

"Alright..." she said, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness as beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. "When I blow the whistle, push off the ground with your legs, and you'll lift into the air."

She glanced around at the students, her sharp yellow eyes scanning each one as if ensuring none of them had any reckless ideas.

"Remember! This is a flying lesson, not a competition. There's no need to compare yourselves to others. Just focus on getting comfortable in the air — no pressure!"

Her tone softened, though the tension in her body remained.

"Hold onto your broomsticks tightly. If you want to ascend, pull the handle up slightly. If you want to descend, lean forward and press the handle down. The broom will follow your movements and bring you back to the ground safely."

Taking a deep breath, she placed the whistle between her lips and kicked off the ground, her own broom rising smoothly into the air.

The students followed suit, each pushing off with varying levels of confidence.

To Madam Hooch's relief, everyone rose into the air without incident.

She exhaled, her grip on her broom loosening slightly. "Good! Now, let's try landing. No rush — just ease yourselves back down!"

One by one, the students descended, some shakily, others with surprising control.

Once everyone was safely grounded, Madam Hooch proceeded to teach them the fundamentals of hovering and turning mid-air.

These maneuvers required more finesse, and most students struggled at first, their brooms jerking clumsily as they attempted to turn.

However, Vizet moved effortlessly, guiding his broom through a graceful, fluid "S"-shaped curve in the air.

Michael gaped at him. "Vizet, how are you doing that? Madam Hooch hasn't even taught us yet!"

Vizet shook his head, just as surprised as the others. Flying felt as natural to him as breathing, as if he had been born for it.

Then, realization struck him.

It was because of his Obscurus.

The very first time he arrived in this world, he had drifted through the air in his Obscurus form. That innate ability — moving freely through the sky without resistance — must have translated into his skill with a broom.

Had he not been worried about startling Madam Hooch, he might have flown even higher and attempted more advanced aerial maneuvers.

Michael let out a dramatic sigh. "How are you already this good? I was the first one to grab a broom, you know —"

Chris smirked. "You were also the first one to drop it when Madam Hooch yelled at you."

Terry grinned. "Exactly! You let go before even taking off, so of course you're flying like that now."

Michael huffed, trying to salvage his pride. "Well, these brooms are ancient! Look — some of them are literally falling apart mid-flight! I was just being careful!"

"Yes, yes," Chris teased, chuckling. "Safety first, we understand. Maybe you should be the one teaching the class instead."

Above them, Anthony was wobbling precariously on his broom, gripping the handle as if his life depended on it. Michael called up. "Hey Anthony! Didn't you say you have a distant relative who plays professional Quidditch? And yet this is how you ride a broom?"

Anthony shot him a glare before readjusting his grip, his body still hunched over the handle. "This is... strategic flying," he declared, his voice only slightly shaky. "I'm staying secure on my broom. See? No risks!"

Michael burst out laughing. "You look like you're holding on for dear life!"

Anthony scowled. "At least I'm not the one making excuses!"

The playful bickering continued as the students practiced, their nerves slowly giving way to enjoyment.

Vizet simply shook his head and chuckled. "Safety first, that's always a good mindset."

Anthony perked up immediately. "See? Vizet gets it!"

Michael rolled his eyes. "That's just because Vizet is nice. If you think Chris and Terry agree with you, you need to get your ears checked."

Chris and Terry, still laughing, simply patted Anthony on the back before zipping ahead on their brooms.

------------------------------

"Damn it! Just wait for me!" Anthony growled, gritting his teeth as he pushed his broom forward.

Michael, still laughing, showed no concern, and making no effort to dodge.

Anthony, already dizzy from his unstable flying, couldn't control his broom — he rammed straight into Michael.

The moment they collided, their brooms reacted violently, jolting apart like magnets repelling each other.

A loud whoosh filled the air as both boys were thrown backward, their broomsticks screeching under the force.

"You two!" Madam Hooch's sharp voice cut through the commotion. Her whistle shrieked. "Everyone, land immediately! Get back to the ground — now!"

Before the echoes of her command faded, she had already dived, her broom a blur as she angled toward Michael.

She moved with precision, abandoning her broom mid-air and catching Michael just before he hit the ground. Neither of them suffered so much as a scratch.

But then —

"LOOK UP THERE!"

Gasps and screams filled the air as all eyes shot upward.

Anthony's broomstick, now emitting a sickly green smoke, was spiraling out of control, carrying him higher and higher — straight toward the castle.

Madam Hooch's face paled. "Merlin's beard," she muttered, already swinging back onto her broom. But she was too far away. She wouldn't reach him in time.

"If another student gets injured, Pomfrey's going to have my head," she groaned, kicking off the ground in a desperate chase.

Then —

A blur shot past her.

A streak of movement, faster than anything she had expected.

"What in the —?"

Her breath caught. How is he so fast?!

Vizet was already soaring through the sky, an afterimage left in his wake.

Wind roared past his ears, whipping at his robes, forcing them to billow and snap around him like wings.

His broomstick groaned beneath him, the old wood straining under the force of his acceleration. But slowing down wasn't an option.

Anthony was seconds away from crashing into one of the castle's windows.

Vizet flicked his wand.

"Accio Robes!"

A sudden force yanked at Anthony's robes, halting his momentum just inches from impact.

But the broom beneath Anthony didn't survive — the already brittle wood snapped with a sickening crack, splitting clean in two.

Gravity seized him instantly.

Anthony let out a panicked scream as he plunged downward, his arms flailing, hands grasping at empty air.

A real life-saving grasp, however, was already on its way.

Vizet's broom dipped like an arrow loosed from a bow, streaking downward after him.

"Accio Robes!"

Anthony jerked mid-air, his fall suddenly arrested.

The force of the Summoning Charm slowed him, but at a terrible cost—his robe tore apart at the seams, fabric ripping violently under the strain.

It wouldn't hold much longer.

But Vizet had anticipated this.

The new spell, Primordial Magic: Augment, he had gained after absorbing the leyline magic of Hogwarts, could be used to improve existing spells, which also has the chance of giving them new effects.

Vizet had experimented with using this Augmentation magic along with the Summoning Charm, and the result was a great success. 

His Summoning Charm, no longer bound to just objects, could now summon living things — which meant he could pull Anthony safely into his grasp before he hit the ground.

The students below screamed and covered their eyes.

They didn't see Vizet's plan.

They only saw a falling body, a torn robe, and a terrible fate rushing closer—

A vision of blood splattered across the stone courtyard.

Vizet tightened his grip on his wand.

"Accio Anthony!"

The primordial magic within him surged.