HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

"And Headmaster Dumbledore's magical armour spell!"

Vizet was especially eager to study that spell — after all, it was an imitation of primordial magic.

If he could master the spell, perhaps it would even help him gain a new primordial magic using A Wizard's Practical Guide as a foundation.

Xenophilius, seated in the middle of the row, cast a sidelong glance toward Vizet.

His thoughts swirled: This boy… what is he doing now? Is he seriously drafting a study plan for next year?

What's going on? Why do I feel like I'm seeing Pandora's shadow in him? And these names…

Snape's giving him private lessons, and now Dumbledore too? Is that a blessing or a curse?

He shuddered slightly, then turned to Luna with a serious expression. "Baby, don't push yourself too hard, alright? You need to balance study with rest — no, in fact, you should rest more, and enjoy life!"

"Huh?" Luna tilted her head, eyes round with curiosity. Seeing how solemn he looked, she gave a soft nod. "You too, Dad. You need to rest more as well."

She leaned forward slightly, peering at Vizet still immersed in his notes. "I'll tell him to take breaks, too."

"I hope you will," Xenophilius muttered, sighing inwardly.

Come to think of it, Luna really did take after Pandora. She was brimming with fantastical ideas, always chasing curiosities, always eager to explore on her own terms.

Given Vizet's current level of obsession with research, the two of them might soon find themselves buried in obscure magical theories together...

Xenophilius's thoughts drifted to the Pandora of long ago — a girl filled with whimsy, wonder, and warmth.

To be with her, he'd poured all his savings into founding The Quibbler, collecting the oddest stories he could find, just to make her laugh.

Those had been the happiest days of his life.

Every evening, he would sit beside her, reading out the strangest tales he'd discovered that day, and Pandora would laugh — a sound brighter than any charm.

Pandora… His nose prickled, and in the softest voice, barely above a whisper, he murmured, "I miss you."

Luna, without a word, reached out with both hands and gently clasped his. "Dad."

"There must be… some sort of magical potion lingering in this place!" Xenophilius said hoarsely, blinking rapidly. "I must've stayed too long. It's finally kicking in."

Luna nodded at once, eyes filled with concern. "Then after we get our passports, let's leave right away. Vizet can brew the antidote for you."

"An antidote?" Vizet looked up, sniffed the air curiously, and wrinkled his nose. "I don't smell anything strange…"

"If it's urgent, you could try a bezoar," he added matter-of-factly. "It's a stone from a goat's stomach, brilliant for neutralising most poisons."

"Er… a stone from a goat's stomach?" Xenophilius's face stiffened. "Actually, just doing what you did yesterday — stepping outside for some fresh air — should do the trick."

Luna nodded seriously. "Good. Just don't force yourself."

The process of applying for a wizard passport was tedious, but not particularly complicated. It mainly involved submitting a series of documents — and, more unusually, taking a trace amount of Veritaserum to answer questions under the supervision of an Auror.

Because of the Veritaserum and the Auror's presence, the staff at the Ministry of Magic merely followed protocol. They would ask the applicant to restate the relevant information aloud while verifying the documents, ensuring the authenticity of each detail.

This layer of magical verification was precisely why dark wizards never applied for passports. The moment they consumed the Veritaserum, they'd risk exposing crimes — and with Aurors nearby, arrest would be immediate and unavoidable.

After completing the necessary steps, Vizet and the others were issued not only a wizard passport but also a curious blank card.

The passport was embossed with the elegant "M" of the Ministry of Magic, and upon close inspection, Vizet could sense a subtle enchantment embedded within its pages.

The card, however, was more puzzling. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than a small, palm-sized mirror. It reflected like a proper mirror, though it lacked the eerie allure of the Mirror of Erised.

Fortunately, the Ministry official provided an explanation.

For a wizard, this blank card functioned as nothing more than a simple reflective surface.

But to a Muggle?

To a Muggle, the card revealed its hidden identity — it became a passport, complete with official markings, photographs, and identification. A Muggle could carry and present it as if it were issued by their own government.

The magic involved was subtle yet brilliant. Vizet could tell it employed a very weak form of Legilimency, paired with a kind of manifestation charm.

The Legilimency, though ineffective against a wizard's mind, was perfectly attuned to a Muggle's. It read the Muggle's expectation — what they believed a passport should look like — and conjured a corresponding image.

It was, in essence, a magical illusion layered over a sliver of truth.

Of course, the user had to activate it properly. Before handing the card over to a Muggle, the wizard must clearly state their name so the enchantment could bind the proper details to the illusion.

A clever bit of magic. Elegant, discreet, and — most importantly — safe.

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The journey to the Ministry seemed to have restored Xenophilius's confidence.

He proudly took Luna and Vizet back to the Leaky Cauldron via the Muggle bus, and from there, they returned home through the Floo Network.

After Luna praised him with a cheerful, "Dad is so awesome," the corners of his mouth lifted — and didn't come down the rest of the day.

Vizet couldn't help but glance at him more than once, vaguely worried that the muscles in Xenophilius's face might get stuck from smiling too hard.

Since their morning departure had been rushed, Xenophilius hadn't had time to stew anything in advance. Vizet took the opportunity to suggest making a batch of magic bread instead.

His skills in fire control were still far inferior to Professor Dumbledore's, and the crust of the bread this time was disappointingly overdone. The charred outer layer was dark enough to leave black marks on his hands.

Even so, there was a small success: Vizet had managed to incorporate the levitation and transfiguration experiment from earlier into the dough, and had baked a simple version of owl-shaped bread.

Due to the imperfect fire control, the back of the bread turned a deep brown — ironically similar to the feathers of a real owl.

Despite the imperfections, both Luna and Xenophilius were overjoyed. They eagerly tore off the burnt skin and took big bites with smiles that warmed Vizet's heart.

But what he hadn't expected was the reaction that followed.

Both Luna and Xenophilius's eyes began to redden.

Xenophilius, struggling to hold back his tears, stuffed more bread into his mouth and mumbled thickly through the emotion:"Pan...ra, I... you!"

Luna, too, was clearly overwhelmed. She wiped her sooty fingers across her cheeks, leaving pale smudges like a tear-streaked short-haired cat.

Vizet half-squatted next to her, concern etched on his face. "Did... did something go wrong?" he asked uncertainly.

"It's delicious," Luna said, shaking her head gently. "I can still feel Mother's love in the bread."

"Mother's love?" Vizet relaxed, the tension in his chest softening. So it wasn't a problem with the spell or the recipe after all.

He looked at Luna's tear-streaked, flour-dusted face, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought back a smile.

Luna blinked her large, innocent eyes and asked softly, "Is there something on my face?"

Vizet nodded, then pulled the blank card from his pocket and held it up in front of her like a mirror...

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