HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The warm morning sun cast golden rays over the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, but even its gentle touch couldn't bring life to the hushed stillness. Many shops had already closed for the Christmas holidays, their notice boards scrawled with messages: Closed until after Christmas!

Despite the silence, festive cheer lingered in the decorations. Wreaths of holly adorned the doors, golden bells swayed in the light winter breeze, chiming softly, and enchanted ribbons shimmered in the air like floating streamers of light.

"Most people must have gone home for Christmas," Luna mused, her hands clasped behind her back as she hopped lightly from stone to stone on the cobbled path.

Flourish and Blotts, however, remained open. Its large glass window displayed an array of magical greeting cards — some jingled with tiny bells when touched, others scattered enchanted snowflakes upon opening, and a few even murmured warm holiday wishes in gentle, velvety tones.

Drawn in by the display, Vizet and Luna stepped inside. The scent of old parchment and freshly bound books filled the air as they browsed through the shelves. Luna's fingers brushed over the spines until she plucked out a copy of Why Didn't I Die When the Oracle Wailed? Curious, she opened it, and Vizet leaned in to read alongside her.

"Vizet! Merry Christmas!"

He looked up to see Clothar Bagshot, the kindly owner of Flourish and Blotts, approaching with a warm smile.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Bagshot," Vizet greeted him with a nod.

"Have you forgotten the special seat I saved for you upstairs? Come, come! You mustn't just stand there!" Bagshot waved them toward the stairway.

Luna, still immersed in her book, gave a small nod. "I'd like that," she said dreamily.

Upstairs, the bookstore had changed. The second floor had been elegantly refurbished, with plush armchairs and tables arranged as if for an intimate salon. Despite the holidays, a handful of wizards were gathered, engaged in quiet discussions over steaming cups of tea.

Bagshot, ever the gracious host, returned with a silver tea set and a plate of delicate pastries. He placed them down carefully before nodding toward Luna. "And who might this be?"

"My sister, Luna," Vizet introduced.

Luna tilted her head slightly, her pale blonde hair swaying. "Hello, Mr. Bagshot," she said softly, as if speaking through a dream. "It's lovely to meet you."

She took in the cozy, book-filled space, her gaze lingering on the shelves, then added, "My father says bookstores are like portals to higher dimensions." Her voice was light, almost whimsical. "I think… ghosts must like staying in places like these."

Bagshot blinked, caught off guard by her remark, then glanced around the room as though expecting to spot a spectral figure among the bookshelves.

Vizet, entirely used to Luna's way of thinking, nodded. "Hogwarts ghosts are incredibly knowledgeable," he said. "Like Lady Grey — she's the ghost of Ravenclaw. She helps students when they're stuck, as long as they know the right questions to ask."

Bagshot's brows lifted in thought. "You think I could… invite ghosts to settle in my bookstore?"

"It could be an interesting experiment," Vizet said, exchanging an amused glance with Luna. "A place where knowledge gathers, like a library — but with spirits who could offer their own wisdom."

Bagshot's expression brightened with realization. "That would certainly give the store a unique charm! Hogwarts has its ghosts — why not Flourish and Blotts?"

"You could even theme it," Vizet suggested, an idea sparking in his mind. "Maybe a different focus each month — one month on famous magical scholars, another on legendary potion masters. That way, people would keep coming back to see what's new."

Bagshot nearly gasped. "Yes! A fresh experience every time — that would keep the curiosity alive!" He clapped his hands together, his eyes gleaming with inspiration.

He talked on, his enthusiasm spilling over as he outlined all the ways he could reshape the bookstore. Vizet listened, intrigued, while Luna sipped her tea, occasionally nodding in approval.

Finally, Bagshot paused, chuckling. "Ah, listen to me rambling. You must be getting bored with all this talk."

"Not at all," Vizet assured him, smiling. "Your ideas are new to me. It's fascinating to hear how you see the future of Flourish and Blotts."

Bagshot beamed, reaching for his tea. "Well, then! Let's make some magic happen!"

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Bagshot was a man of action. Once an idea took root, he wasted no time in making it happen. With a quick farewell, he bustled out of the bookstore, already muttering about finding the right people to implement his plan.

Luna, meanwhile, had vanished into her book, her pale fingers idly tracing the golden lettering on the cover as she read. She showed no intention of leaving Flourish and Blotts anytime soon.

"Stay put for now," Vizet told her. "If you need anything, call for the attendant downstairs."

Luna simply hummed in response, turning a page, and Vizet took that as permission to leave.

Diagon Alley, quiet as it was during the holidays, still had a few shops open for those who needed last-minute shopping. But for more specialized goods, wizards had to venture into the few general stores that remained open.

Vizet had business elsewhere. First, Gringotts.

Unlike the wizard-run shops, the goblin-run bank did not believe in Christmas closures. The marble hall, however, was noticeably emptier, and the lack of long queues made his errand swift. With a quick exchange of Galleons for pounds, he had all the currency he needed — flexibility was always useful.

His second stop was Ollivanders.

He had been poring over wand lore in recent weeks and had a few burning questions only the master wandmaker could answer. However, upon stepping inside, he realized he had walked into an unexpected gathering.

Ollivander was not alone. Sitting amidst stacks of wand boxes, his half-moon glasses gleaming in the dim shop light, was Albus Dumbledore.

"Ah, Vizet! Right on cue," Ollivander greeted him. His voice was as warm as ever, but his appearance told a different story. His head was wrapped in bandages, the strong scent of herbal poultices clinging to him like damp mist.

Even more unsettling was the dullness in his silver-white eyes, once so sharp and full of knowledge.

Alarmed, Vizet hurried forward. "Mr. Ollivander, what happened to you?"

"I'm fine, my boy. Just a little accident." The wandmaker waved a dismissive hand, though the gesture was slow and slightly stiff.

Dumbledore, watching the exchange with quiet amusement, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "As fate would have it, we were just speaking of you, and here you are."

Vizet admitted, "I happened to be in Diagon Alley, so I thought of coming to visit Mr. Ollivander..."

Dumbledore gave him a knowing smile. "You seem relaxed. A good sign."

"I'm home." Vizet shrugged with a grin, but his eyes flickered back to Ollivander. "Excuse me, but… what did happen?"

"A rare event," Dumbledore said mildly, twirling a long, thin wand between his fingers. "A robbery. This very shop was broken into."

Vizet stiffened. "A robbery? Is the thief still out there?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, they have already been caught and will likely be spending their foreseeable future in Azkaban."

Vizet turned back to Ollivander, concern tightening in his chest. "And you… were you hurt badly?"

"It's nothing serious!" Ollivander insisted. "Only a minor inconvenience. The bandages make it look far worse than it is."

Vizet hesitated. He wanted to help. Instinctively, he thought of the Purification Charm, but Snape's warning echoed in his mind. Instead, he quickly altered course.

"I have some bandages made from unicorn hair," he offered.

Snape's lesson had taught him caution. The Purification Charm was powerful — too powerful to be used carelessly. It was safer to keep it hidden.

But this… this was still a way to help.

"Bandages… made from unicorn hair?" Ollivander's tired expression sharpened in an instant. The dimness in his eyes vanished, replaced by a spark of something Vizet could only describe as wonder.

The old wandmaker surged forward, gripping Vizet's arm with surprising strength. "Let me see!"

Vizet reached into his robes, retrieving the carefully woven bandages. He pulled out the longest strip and placed it into Ollivander's waiting hands.

For a moment, the aging wandmaker simply held it, his fingers running over the fibers with a reverence usually reserved for sacred artifacts. Then, with an awestruck whisper, he breathed, "Merlin's beard…"

He held it up to the shop's flickering light, his silver eyes darting over every inch.

"Unicorn tail hair… And of such exquisite quality!" His voice rose in pitch, excitement bubbling over. "This… this is absolutely superb!"

Vizet had never seen Ollivander so animated.

"An outstanding wand core material — wasted on mere bandages? It's just… just…"

For a moment, he seemed utterly lost, unable to find words that could possibly express his thoughts. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as if the sheer concept was too much to process.