HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

"Professor McGonagall asked me to look into Animagus transformations," Vizet explained, his tone calm. "I don't plan to practice it — just research."

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes, studying him for a moment. Then, with a slight nod, she said, "Theory of Metamorphosis and Deformation, seventh row, 103rd bookshelf in the Transfiguration section."

Then, with a much sterner voice, she added, "And do not scribble on it!"

Vizet smiled. He had no intention of committing such a crime, but he understood why she was so protective. The Hogwarts library wasn't just a place of knowledge — it was a living thing.

The further he walked, the more the air seemed to hum with magic. Ancient bookshelves stretched endlessly, shifting ever so slightly when one wasn't looking. Some books whispered softly, muttering things in languages long lost to time. Others were more aggressive — one snarled something about tainted blood and true magic, while another cooed in a hushed, enticing voice, promising power beyond imagination.

"Open me... With me, you can have everything. Escape from death!"

Vizet chuckled under his breath. It was almost charming, in a sinister sort of way. He let his Eye of Insight activate for just a moment, the silver-blue glow flickering in his vision.

And there it was — leyline energy, woven into the very foundation of the library itself. Centuries of accumulated power, flowing unseen through the walls and floors, whispering in the very air.

No wonder the books have such personalities.

And it was because of this energy that he suddenly felt the pull again — the familiar tug of A Wizard's Practical Guide urging him forward. He found a quiet corner, let the leyline power settle within him, and flipped to the next page.

Primordial Magic: Projectile-Craft

Conceal primordial magic within an object… unleash its full force upon impact… strike unseen, and unknown...

Vizet's fingers ran across the words as they glowed faintly. This was an offensive ability — no doubt about it. And yet, there was a subtlety to it, a layer of concealment that made it far more than just throwing something really hard.

He thought for a moment.

Projectile-Craft wasn't just about hurling things. Combined with a Summoning Charm, he could pull in objects mid-battle, charging them with magic before launching them like a storm of bullets. With Transfiguration, he could create projectiles on the spot, shaping them for maximum effect.

Even better — he could use the primordial energy as fuel, pushing an object faster, farther, stronger. A simple flick of his wrist could send something soaring like a cannonball.

His mind raced with possibilities.

If I had this ability in my past life, I could've been a baseball pitcher. A shot put champion. A basketball player sinking three-pointers from the other side of the court.

He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips.

"But magic is way more fun."

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As Vizet moved deeper into the library, the strange whispers from the books grew faint, no more than the hum of distant insects. Without the leyline magic enhancing them, their voices lost their weight, their influence reduced to a mere murmur.

It took him a few minutes to navigate the towering shelves before reaching the one Madam Pince had mentioned.

There it was — Theory of Metamorphosis and Deformation. A thick tome with a black leather cover, its surface embossed with intricate gold patterns. The design felt eerily familiar, reminiscent of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man — except this one was far more elaborate. Between the overlapping geometric shapes, countless animals were woven into the design: lions, tigers, elephants, even the common pig and dog. It was as if every creature imaginable had been etched into the book's very essence.

Vizet traced his fingers over the golden lines before flipping it open.

Instead of a prologue, floating words shimmered into existence above the page:

"No scribbling on the book! Even Headmaster Dumbledore is no exception! — Irma Pince."

Vizet let out a quiet chuckle. That sounds exactly like her.

Then, just as the text faded, another line appeared beneath it:

"It's true. When I was writing an annotation, the book actually flew up and hit me in the head. It hurt. You have to be careful. — Albus Dumbledore."

Vizet almost laughed out loud. The Headmaster really left that?

The Dumbledore he had met was kind and wise, but picturing him getting smacked by a book — and writing about it afterward — was strangely amusing.

Still, he didn't dwell on it. His curiosity for the book's contents outweighed everything else, and as soon as he turned the page, the magic text vanished, revealing the true prologue.

"Transfiguration and metamorphosis have long been subjects of debate among wizards. Some insist that they can alter their very essence, pushing the limits of transformation magic to new heights...

Yet after meeting these so-called 'masters,' I have discovered a sad truth — they do not even understand themselves, yet believe they have grown and transcended."

"In this book, I will serve as your guide—not to change who you are, but to deconstruct yourself, to see beyond appearances, and perhaps, to understand life and existence itself. Only then can true transformation be achieved..."

Vizet was hooked. His fingers tightened around the pages, and before he even realized it, he had turned to the next section.

What intrigued him most wasn't just the author's philosophy — it was the handwritten notes scrawled in the margins, counterarguments and observations that deepened the discussion. The book didn't just teach transformation — it challenged the reader to question it.

Somewhere between those words and annotations, something clicked inside him.

This is it. This is my path in Transfiguration.

He exhaled slowly, letting the idea settle before reaching for his wand.

"Start with what you know best. Focus. Don't force it — let the magic guide you."

Vizet pulled a strand of his own hair, setting it gently on the desk. In his mind, an image formed — a quiet garden, green leaves swaying in the breeze.

He hovered his wand above the hair and whispered:

"Mutatio Folium"

The thin strand quivered, then stretched, widening into the shape of a delicate, palm-sized bookmark. A faint emerald glow traced its edges as it solidified.

Yet something felt incomplete.

He flipped through the book again, comparing the diagram in the chapter. His bookmark was close, but the details were off — the color lacked depth, the veins were too simple.

Vizet closed his eyes and adjusted the picture in his mind. A real leaf, rich with detail. Vibrant greens, sharp edges, the soft yet sturdy texture. He let the thought fill his senses, the warmth of creation stirring within him.

His wand pulsed with magic.

The bookmark darkened into a deeper shade of emerald. The veins sharpened, spreading like lifelines across its surface. It even felt different — less like a conjured object, more like something that had grown naturally.

For a brief moment, he felt something indescribable.

Not just the satisfaction of casting a spell, but something deeper — the exhilaration of creating.

A whisper brushed the edges of his memory. Luna's voice, airy and distant:

"You need to have a wish."

Vizet barely realized he was speaking aloud. "I wish for it to become a real leaf."

A soft hum filled the space around him. Magic spurred from his wand with emerald light, bathing the transformed object in its glow.

In his mind, the image shifted. No longer just a single leaf — but a branch, stretching outward, fresh green sprouting from its limbs. The scent of sandalwood drifted through the air.

And then —

The bookmark moved.

Its edges curled as if touched by wind. The texture softened, became more pliable, more alive. A stem sprouted at its base, followed by the beginnings of a twig. Slowly, steadily, it continued to transform, each shift bringing it closer to true life.

"Vizet! Vizet!"

A hand waved in front of his face, breaking the trance.

Anthony.

"Come on, if we don't hurry, there won't be any food left in the Great Hall. And we still have Quidditch tryouts this afternoon!"