HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Studying under Snape felt like stepping into an ancient apprenticeship — one where mercy had no place and harsh discipline was the driving force of growth.

Throughout the afternoon, Vizet honed his skills, absorbing knowledge about potions at an astonishing pace. Much of what Snape taught wasn't even recorded in textbooks. Even through the lens of the Eye of Insight, the methods outlined in books paled in efficiency and precision compared to Snape's direct instruction.

In the wizarding world, potions were a constant necessity, and potion masters were among the most indispensable figures. Those who mastered the craft rarely worried about financial struggles. But Snape was more than just a potions master — he was the youngest potions master alive.

Simply being allowed to assist with material preparation while receiving his guidance was an invaluable opportunity, worth enduring any hardship.

The only real challenge was dealing with the blood-soaked mess that came from handling a fire dragon's organs. No matter how many Scouring Charms or Scab Removal Spells he cast, the thick dragon's blood refused to come off completely. It had seeped into his robes, clinging stubbornly like a curse.

Snape sneered. "Struggling with something so minor? Did Quirrell teach you nothing? Or is your head so empty that nothing stays in?"

Composite magic!

The moment Quirrell's name was mentioned, realization struck Vizet like a lightning bolt.

"If the fire dragon's resistance to magic is acting as an interference spell, then I need compound magic to counteract it!"

Compared to the complex jinxes and hexes that made up the Sickness Curse, the Scouring Charm and Episkey spell were much simpler — and, crucially, spells he already mastered.

He closed his eyes and used the Guardian Meditation Method. Immediately, his thoughts sharpened, his mind clearing like a cloudless sky.

A new spell needed careful construction.

The Scouring Charm was effective for cleaning general debris — dust, feathers, dirt — but failed against magically resistant substances. The Episkey spell, on the other hand, was used to heal minor wounds, which included closing cuts and removing excess blood.

"If I merge their properties, I should be able to create a purification spell specifically designed for magical bloodstains."

"Scour... Epis... Evin... Abol..."

Dozens of combinations flashed through his mind as he dissected and substituted syllables, adjusting rhythm and pronunciation. Time blurred and minutes passed as hours for Vizet.

Finally, Vizet opened his eyes. A single word crystallized in his mind, sharp and clear.

"Expurgare!"

He raised his wand and traced an elegant arc in the air, forming a circular motion followed by an "S" in the center — shaped like a yin-yang symbol.

A gentle breeze stirred, ruffling his robes as a cyclone formed at his feet. The blood clinging to the fabric was drawn into the swirling air, rising as a thick, dark red mist.

"Huh?" Snape's eyes widened, the muscles in his cheek twitching involuntarily.

For a brief second, the expression of shock was visible — but then, just as swiftly, it was gone, replaced by his usual detached indifference.

"Clean up the mess and throw it away," he said coolly.

"Yes, sir!" Vizet replied quickly, regaining focus. With a simple gesture, he guided the small vortex, sweeping the remaining bloodstains from the floor into the cyclone.

The moment the last trace of red was gone, a wave of satisfaction washed over him. The successful casting of this compound spell meant one thing — he had fully mastered the lessons from the previous day.

"Professor Snape, thank you!" he said earnestly. "Without your guidance, I wouldn't have made this breakthrough so quickly."

Snape turned away, his voice unreadable. "Just dispose of the waste properly."

As Vizet stepped out of the office, the room fell silent once more.

Snape glanced at the spotless floor, his gaze lingering.

"A terrifying talent…" he muttered under his breath.

------------------------------

As Vizet wandered the corridors, his mind remained fixed on composite magic.

This was his first truly innovative spell — a significant milestone in his magical journey.

What should I call it? He pondered, absentmindedly tracing patterns in the air with his wand.

A powerful decontamination spell? Too generic… but it worked against fire dragon blood, so it should be something more distinguished… Purifying Dragon Blood Curse? No, that sounds too dramatic.

Naming spells was harder than crafting them, it seemed.

Without realizing it, he had arrived at Professor Quirrell's office, intending to share his breakthrough.

He knocked. No response.

He knocked again. Silence.

It wasn't unusual — Hagrid had once mentioned that just beyond Hogwarts lay Hogsmeade, a bustling village filled with shops, cafés, and bars. Third-year students were permitted to visit on weekends, but the professors were frequent visitors, often stopping by for a drink.

Perhaps Professor Quirrell went there.

Shrugging it off, Vizet turned away, finding the moving staircase that would take him to the Great Hall.

As he descended, another thought struck him.

Can augmentation magic enhance this composite spell?

During his studies, he had absorbed a great deal of primordial magical power from Hogwarts' leyline magic, enough to attempt augmentation magic again.

But this time, he wasn't just looking to increase its potency — he wanted to merge its components even more seamlessly, refining the way it functioned.

The moment he focused his intent, he felt a shift. The primordial energy within him stirred and surged, consuming itself to etch a new page into his book of spells.

The script shimmered into existence before his eyes:

Primordial Magic < >Guide the primordial magic power to cast magic... Enhance the power of the spell... Cleanse external filth... and the inner soul.

As expected, there was no title — the primordial magic never named spells on its own, that was done by A Wizard's Practical Guide for the spells it made. But this spell wasn't created by the magical book.

All in all, it had been worth the expenditure of power. This spell, now refined, didn't just purify external stains — it could cleanse the soul itself.

Vizet's thoughts drifted back to something Professor McGonagall had once told him:

"If you wish to uncover the mysteries of magic, then understanding the soul is an indispensable step."

Through his studies, he had begun forming his own interpretation of what the soul truly was. Now, for the first time, he had a way to interact with it.

Cleansing the inner soul… That should be my first step into exploring its depths.

Vizet inhaled deeply, steadied his mind, and raised his wand. He traced the same yin-yang symbol in the air, watching as silver-blue light bloomed at the wand's tip.

The spell activated.

A cyclone formed — not only at his feet but within him, deep in the core of the Obscurus that lay dormant inside.

Since casting the Sickness Curse the day before, he had felt a lingering unease — palpitations, flickers of dark thoughts surfacing without warning.

Now, as the cyclone approached the Obscurus Core, the sensation intensified.

It reacted.

The core shuddered violently, resisting, as though it sensed imminent danger. A tremor ran through Vizet's body — his breath caught, his muscles tensed. It was as if the darkness within him was fighting back.

Then, like a breeze passing through an open window, the cyclone moved through the Obscurus Core.

A wisp of black and red mist seeped out, drawn into the swirling current of magic.

As the mist dissipated, the throbbing subsided, the turmoil within him settling into calm. The dark thoughts faded, leaving only clarity in their wake.

Vizet exhaled, a wave of understanding washing over him.

Cleansing external filth and the inner soul… That's what it meant.

This wasn't just a spell for removing stains.

It could purify the negative effects of dark magic.

A smile formed on his lips. The name was clear now.

"This spell shall be called… the Purification Spell."