HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Snape gestured toward the shimmering remnants of the golden cyclone that had just dissipated. "The effect is as you see — it cleanses all forms of residue, including something as stubborn as dragon's blood."

Dumbledore murmured thoughtfully, stroking his long beard, "When was this spell completed? Under your guidance?"

Snape shook his head curtly. "No. The theory behind it comes from Quirrell — though I assure you, his classwork is barely passable, worse than a batch of improperly brewed Despair Potion." His lips curled slightly in disdain. "But when he teaches Vizet privately, he demonstrates the intellect of a Ravenclaw. At the very least, his theoretical knowledge is solid."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with interest. "A first-year innovating a compound spell… It's extraordinary, truly."

Then, almost as if realizing something, he turned to Snape with a mischievous smile. "Severus, don't tell me you're changing your opinion of him?"

Snape scowled. "Don't get ahead of yourself, Headmaster. I'm merely stating facts. If anything, you should take this as a warning. His aptitude for magic is developing at a dangerous speed."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Dangerous, you say? And yet, I sense you trust him more than you let on."

Snape's face twisted into something unreadable. He crossed his arms, voice tight. "Regardless, I'll say this — if you intend to burden me with Potter, find someone else."

Dumbledore laughed, shaking his head. "No, no, rest assured. I wouldn't dream of such."

His gaze returned to the dissipating remnants of golden dust, analyzing the last traces of the magic Vizet had used. The spell itself wasn't particularly complex, but its execution was clever — blending multiple spells into one seamless incantation.

He closed his eyes briefly, focusing on the sensation the magic had left behind. Yet even after experiencing it directly, he still couldn't quite grasp why this spell had the ability to suppress an Obscurus.

"Fascinating…" he murmured under his breath. "I wonder..."

A flicker of thought passed over his face. There was someone — one person in particular — who might be able to provide insight.

He made a mental note to contact them later.

Beside him, Snape had grown visibly impatient. "Since Voldemort has set his sights on Vizet, do you intend to inform him?"

Dumbledore hummed in thought. "I am still considering how much I should tell him."

Snape scoffed. "Holding back crucial information? Typical. If you want my opinion, you should tell him everything."

Dumbledore studied him for a long moment. "You have a surprising amount of faith in him."

Snape's expression hardened. "Faith has nothing to do with it. Deception leads to disaster, as you well know."

His words were pointed. They hung between them like a bitter taste that neither cared to address.

Finally, Snape turned, his black robes sweeping behind him as he limped toward the exit. "If you have no more wisdom to dispense, Headmaster, I have things to attend to."

Dumbledore watched him go, his expression unreadable.

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"Vizet, take this."

In the corridor, Professor Flitwick pressed something into Vizet's hands — a large bag of Honeydukes' Best Chocolate.

"Eat up!" Flitwick encouraged, his voice warm. "You missed the Halloween feast, so you must be starving. Have some chocolate to keep up your strength."

It was gestures like these that made Flitwick so beloved among Ravenclaws. Beyond his engaging and lively Charms lessons, he had a genuine kindness about him. He always carried snacks in his pockets, and whenever he saw a student looking downcast, he would hand them a treat with a few words of encouragement.

Honeydukes' Best Chocolate certainly lived up to its name. It was leagues better than Chocolate Frogs — smoother, richer, and meltingly soft. After just two pieces, Vizet felt warmth spread through him, both physically and emotionally.

Flitwick led him down a corridor until they reached a massive stone statue of a gargoyle, its fierce expression frozen in a permanent snarl. Wings spread wide, it crouched on its pedestal as if ready to spring to life at any moment.

"Jelly Slug!" Flitwick announced.

As if truly awakened, the gargoyle straightened, folded its bat-like wings, and nimbly leapt aside, revealing a concealed passageway. Inside, a spiraling staircase twisted upwards, moving at a steady pace.

Riding the staircase was eerily similar to an escalator from Vizet's previous life — smooth, constant, and, most importantly, requiring no effort on his part.

This was another reason why Flitwick was such a sought-after professor. Not only was he knowledgeable, but his practical approach to magic made learning feel effortless.

Seizing the opportunity, Vizet began peppering him with questions about spellwork.

As expected, none of the Hogwarts professors he had met were simple by any means. Flitwick, too, was incredibly well-versed in magic, answering each question with ease.

"Gestures, incantation, and mental focus," Flitwick instructed, his tiny frame practically glowing with enthusiasm. "Keep these three elements in mind when casting spells, and you'll achieve twice the results with half the effort."

"For beginners, proper wand movements and pronunciation are crucial. They directly affect the spell's final outcome. A strong foundation now will make it easier to master advanced magic later on."

"Advanced magic?" Vizet's curiosity was piqued. "Professor, could you give me an example?"

Flitwick beamed, raising three slender fingers. "Of course! Let me demonstrate."

With a snap of his fingers, a stream of crystal-clear water sprang from his fingertips.

Then, with a graceful wave of his other hand, the water instantly froze, forming delicate, flower-like ice crystals.

Handing one of the ice blossoms to Vizet, Flitwick explained, "This is a combination of the Water-Making Charm and an Ice Spell, performed through wandless and silent casting."

"As the name suggests, silent casting allows you to perform magic without speaking the incantation aloud, while wandless casting removes the need for a wand altogether."

Vizet nodded eagerly, pulling out his notebook to jot everything down.

So that's what silent casting really means… it's not just about keeping quiet — it's about maintaining the precision of the incantation even without speaking it.

For the spells he had learned so far, pronunciation was crucial. Even the slightest deviation in tone could weaken a spell's power.

"It's good to take notes," Flitwick said approvingly, "but remember, your foundation comes first." His smile widened. "That said, I have no doubt you'll grasp it quickly. Your pronunciation and intonation are already excellent."

This was one of the things he admired most about Vizet — not just his natural talent, but his eagerness to learn at every opportunity.

"If you pass your O.W.L.s, I'll personally guide you in learning silent casting during your sixth year."

Vizet looked up, intrigued. "Professor, can wandless casting also be learned in sixth year?"

Flitwick shook his head. "Hogwarts doesn't officially teach wandless magic. European wizards have relied on wands for so long that casting without them is far more difficult."

"Without a wand as a conduit, magic becomes unstable — less precise and much more prone to accidents. I remember that in Africa, local wizards are particularly skilled in this art."

By now, the spiral staircase had carried them to the top. At the end of the corridor stood an ornate wooden door, decorated with intricate carvings.

Tucking his notes back into his pocket, Vizet grinned. "I feel like I've learned so much already."

"Learning never truly ends," Flitwick said gently. "But remember to relax, too. That's why I encouraged you to join the Quidditch team — to help you balance work and rest."