HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

"Severus, that is not my intention. No two people in this world are ever truly identical," Dumbledore said with a faint smile, his tone calm yet firm.

"Even two feathers plucked from the same phoenix — if set into wands of different lengths and cores — will become entirely unique."

Snape's expression darkened. "Another weapon, then?" His voice was edged with something colder than mere scepticism. "You, of all people, should know that a wand never surrenders completely. You must remember what happens when one resists?"

"Of course, I do," Dumbledore replied, a shadow of regret flickering across his face. "In the past, I ignored what Tom Riddle was becoming while he studied here. I will not make that mistake again."

Snape scoffed but said nothing.

Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair, his hands folded. "Severus, my strength is not what it once was. The challenges ahead remain formidable, and I find myself in greater need of allies than ever before."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "And you bring this up with me because… I awarded him house points?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "He is different from Tom. He has an appreciation for the beauty in the world around him."

Snape exhaled sharply but did not argue.

"You have noticed his uniqueness as well, haven't you?" Dumbledore pressed.

Snape hesitated for only a fraction of a second before responding. "A bit of cleverness, nothing more," he admitted, then added, "His eyes... they don't just see what's on the surface. He looks deeper, sees through the outer appearances of things... and maybe not just things."

"As I suspected," Dumbledore mused, his expression contemplative. "That explains quite a lot."

He straightened, his blue eyes twinkling once more. "I have not spoken to you alone about this, Severus. I have also asked Minerva and the others to keep an eye on him."

Snape scoffed. "Minerva and the others? You mean including Quirinus?" He folded his arms. "I don't need to remind you how crucial the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is. And yet, you entrusted it to him."

Dumbledore's expression grew sorrowful. "That is what I wished to discuss with you," he admitted. "I need you to watch Quirrell. Closely."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously. "So, it really is him," he said in a low, venomous voice. "And yet, you still allowed him to take part in the protections set up on the third-floor?"

"Severus, please understand," Dumbledore implored. "For now, it seems Quirrell is acting alone. I intend to use this opportunity to draw out the one who pulls his strings."

Snape's lips curled in a sneer. "And what of Potter?" he demanded. "What happens if — when — Quirrell makes his move? If he is, as you suspect, in league with the Dark Lord?"

Dumbledore intertwined his fingers, his thumbs moving in slow, deliberate circles. "If my judgment from ten years ago was correct, Harry should not be in any mortal danger."

"Your judgment from ten years ago," Snape repeated, his voice laced with scorn. "That same judgment that left him in the care of those two witless Muggles for a decade?"

His glare hardened. "And now, you expect him to face Quirrell? Perhaps even the Dark Lord himself? And you tell me his life 'should' not be in danger?"

Dumbledore sighed, rubbing his temples. "It is precisely because my attention must remain on Harry that I cannot afford to be distracted. Vizet will need guidance. That is why I am asking this of you."

Snape remained silent for a moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a swish of his robes, he turned toward the door.

"I hope you remember what you have just said, Headmaster," he muttered before striding out of the office.

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Weekends at Hogwarts were just as eventful as the weekdays, if not more so.

That morning, after sending off a letter, Vizet made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, where his roommates quickly surrounded him.

"Good morning, Vizet!" Chris greeted, handing him a goblet of pumpkin juice. "I saw you working on your homework late last night. Did you finish it?"

"Thanks," Vizet said, accepting the drink. "Almost. I just need to look up a few things to expand my paper on the match-to-needle transfiguration."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Haven't you already hit the required length?"

"I have," Vizet admitted, "but Professor McGonagall shared some additional insights. I want to research Animagi and see if I can incorporate that into my paper."

Terry perked up immediately. "Why don't we all go to the library after breakfast? I didn't write enough for my Transfiguration essay either."

Anthony nodded in agreement. "Same here. And I still need to finish my Potions assignment on the properties of boil-healing potions. I feel like I missed something important."

Michael chimed in, "I haven't even found all the details in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi yet. My essay's even shorter than Anthony's."

The tension from the flying lesson had already faded, and now, Anthony and Vizet were back to their usual discussions, exchanging ideas over breakfast.

Vizet glanced at the buttered toast, bacon, and roasted ham they had conveniently placed in front of him and smirked. "Did you all plan this?"

His roommates exchanged sheepish grins.

"There's just a little bit left to do," Terry reasoned. "Once we finish, we'll have the rest of the day free!"

Michael shrugged. "Quidditch tryouts are in the afternoon. Anthony and I were planning to go watch."

"And once the homework's done, we won't have anything hanging over our heads," Anthony added matter-of-factly.

"Right... the Quidditch tryouts." Vizet suddenly remembered that Cho Chang had mentioned them last night.

She was hoping to join the Ravenclaw team and had invited him to come and support her.

Under the expectant gazes of his roommates, Vizet gave a small nod. "Alright, let's go to the library first."

The Hogwarts library was quieter than usual that morning, likely because most students were savoring their first free weekend of the term.

Those who had chosen to spend their time here were huddled in small groups, either browsing the shelves or whispering over their study materials in the seating areas.

Michael nudged Vizet and nodded toward a secluded corner. "Isn't that a Gryffindor?"

It was Hermione Granger, sitting alone, her bushy brown hair draped over her face as she hunched over a parchment, scribbling away.

Ravenclaws had their own common room library, but it didn't hold everything, and for certain materials, they still had to come here.

Vizet, however, wasn't surprised to see Hermione. She was a regular here — always alone, always buried in her books.

Lowering his voice, he turned to his roommates. "For the Potions essay, check the 1986 Practical Potions Master, Issue Seven. There's an article in there by Professor Snape himself that covers exactly what we need."

"And for Transfiguration," he continued, "look for Transfiguration Today, Issue Two from 1895. It has a paper written by Headmaster Dumbledore on match-to-needle transformations. I based my essay on those two sources."

His roommates stared at him, impressed.

"That's incredible," Terry said, giving a thumbs-up. "How do you know all this?"

Vizet grinned. "It's all thanks to Madam Pince. She's the one who got me interested in magical journals in the first place."

Though strict and protective of the library, Madam Pince was a well-read witch. As long as students respected the rules, she was more than willing to help them find the books they needed.

While his friends scoured the newspaper archives, Vizet approached the librarian's desk.

"Madam Pince, I'm looking for books on Animagi. Where should I start?"

The librarian gave him a sharp once-over. "At your age," she said slowly, "delving into Animagus studies might be... dangerous."