HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

As the black mist faded into nothingness, Dumbledore lowered his wand, letting silence settle between them.

"The Obscurus possesses remarkable plasticity," Dumbledore said quietly, his gaze distant. "Yet most people only remember its instability. They forget its profound affinity for transformation magic. The ability to expand, contract, and mold itself at will — isn't that a testament to its transfigurative potential?"

Vizet nodded slowly, still processing Dumbledore's words.

He knew Dumbledore's mastery of Transfiguration far exceeded what he could grasp. Without Dumbledore's annotations, even attempting to read Theory of Metamorphosis and Transfiguration would have been a daunting task.

"But this is only my perspective," Dumbledore continued with a gentle smile. "It's born from my experiences, my knowledge... and my past."

He paused, giving Vizet a thoughtful look.

"You're different from me. You possess a rare talent — one that will help you understand magic in ways others cannot."

"Talent?" Vizet repeated, uncertain.

"Yes." Dumbledore's expression softened. "Your eyes... the Eye of Insight. It's an ancient gift — extremely rare, and extraordinarily powerful."

Vizet stiffened. "Did... did Mr. Ollivander tell you that?"

"He did," Dumbledore confirmed. "And, in return..."

Dumbledore rolled up his sleeve to reveal three glowing chain-like markings etched across his forearm. As he clenched his fist, the markings flared with a soft, fiery glow — brilliant yet unsettling.

"That's..." Vizet began cautiously, "...a magical contract?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore smiled faintly. "This is an Unbreakable Vow — one of the most binding magical contracts in existence."

"Unbreakable Vow..." Vizet murmured, recalling faint mentions of it in his studies. He knew little about it, but instinct told him it was no ordinary agreement.

"In other words," he asked carefully, "this vow... cannot be broken?"

"In a sense, yes," Dumbledore said gravely. "If the vow is violated... the one who breaks it dies."

Vizet's breath caught. "That's the measure Mr. Ollivander took to protect my secret?"

"Ollivander values your gift," Dumbledore said simply. "When he told me about it, I was... surprised. To ensure your secret remained safe, he insisted on this vow — binding me to silence."

Vizet stared at Dumbledore's arm, feeling a wave of emotion rise in his chest. He had spent only a brief time with Ollivander — yet the wandmaker had gone to such lengths for him.

"Mr. Ollivander..." Vizet's voice faltered.

"He saw something in you," Dumbledore said quietly, his keen eyes noticing Vizet's reaction. "But remember — wandlore is not a skill one masters overnight. It's deeply entwined with alchemy, requiring years of study to truly understand."

"You'll get there," Dumbledore added with a smile. "For now, relax... enjoy your time here at Hogwarts. If you land yourself in the hospital wing again, Madam Pomfrey might decide to hex me instead."

Vizet chuckled. "Mr. Ollivander said something similar."

"Wise man." Dumbledore grinned and reached into his robes, producing two brightly wrapped lemon sorbets.

"One for you," he said, passing Vizet a sweet before unwrapping one for himself.

The warmth of Dumbledore's presence lingered, like the gentle glow of a candle in the dark.

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"The reason I'm telling you this," Dumbledore began, his tone soft yet purposeful, "is because your eyes are... exceptional. And that reminded me of something — something I believe may suit you."

He reached into his robes and withdrew a worn notebook, its edges frayed from frequent use.

Emblazoned on the cover was a peculiar symbol — a circle enclosed within a triangle, intersected by a straight line that stretched from the triangle's apex through the center of the circle.

Vizet took the notebook with cautious curiosity. Beneath the symbol were two names written in neat, deliberate script: Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald.

He traced his fingers over the mark, then looked up at Dumbledore, uncertain.

"Are these..." Vizet hesitated, "...your notes? Yours and Grindelwald's?"

"Yes," Dumbledore answered calmly, nodding as though entrusting a great secret. "It's something I've kept hidden... and I trust you'll do the same."

Vizet swallowed hard and cleared his throat, trying to suppress the unease stirring inside him.

The connection between Dumbledore and Grindelwald was no small thing — history whispered of their bond, and the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movies had only cast that shadow in sharper relief.

Dumbledore's gaze softened as he looked at the notebook. Nostalgia flickered behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Grindelwald had a magical eye as well," Dumbledore said quietly. "Not quite like yours — not as powerful as the Eye of Insight — but still remarkable."

"He possessed the Third Eye, a talent that made him a true seer. With it, he could predict the movements of enemy wizards with startling accuracy."

Vizet felt his pulse quicken. "Does that mean..." he asked carefully, "...this notebook can help me unlock the abilities of the Eye of Insight?"

"Not quite." Dumbledore shook his head. "It's not a guide — more of a reference. The Eye of Insight is far rarer... and far more enigmatic."

He paused, as if recalling distant memories.

"During our youth, Grindelwald and I became... obsessed with exploring the potential of the Third Eye," Dumbledore admitted. "We spent years studying and documenting our theories — every trace of magic we encountered, every experiment, every insight... it's all in there."

His fingers brushed the notebook's worn cover. "That knowledge is precious — perhaps invaluable — but I believe you'll find it useful."

Vizet stared at the notebook, torn between excitement and concern. "But... the names on the cover... what if someone sees it?"

"Ah, you're quite right," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I'll take care of that."

He retrieved the notebook, drew his wand, and began tracing elegant patterns in the air. Silvery light danced along his wand's tip, weaving invisible runes that shimmered and swirled around the book like threads of silk.

Moments later, Dumbledore closed the notebook and returned it to Vizet.

The instant Vizet's fingers touched the cover, a warmth spread through his palm. The notebook trembled — then glowed with a soft, silver light.

Before Vizet's eyes, the notebook coiled like a living thing, winding itself around his wrist. In moments, it had transformed into a sleek silver bracelet, embossed with the image of a proud phoenix. The metal had a muted sheen — unassuming yet undeniably elegant.

"Headmaster Dumbledore... this is..." Vizet murmured, turning his wrist to admire the bracelet.

"Try saying 'Open'," Dumbledore suggested.

Vizet obeyed, and with a quiet shimmer, the bracelet unfurled and reformed into the familiar notebook, now resting in his palm once more.

"That's incredible!" Vizet exclaimed. "Is this Transfiguration magic?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Partly," he said. "But there's also a touch of alchemy involved. Grindelwald and I experimented with both disciplines when we were young."

He tapped the notebook lightly. "I've also included instructions on how to craft such a bracelet — from basic steps to the final result."

"I see it!" Vizet's eyes widened, noticing a new section of text written in thicker, bolder script — distinct from the refined handwriting on the earlier pages.

"I thought you might find it interesting," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Consider it some extracurricular reading... no rush. Study it at your own pace."