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[Hogwarts] Ch 165: The Pure Obscurial
🕑 Added 2025-08-18 00:53:25 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
"No! Reject it, reject it NOW!"
The system's chime had barely finished when Tom jolted upright, yelling his command.
What the hell kind of reward was making him an Obscurial? That wasn't a gift—it was a death sentence.
The Obscurus was a dark, destructive magical force, born from children who repressed their magic until it twisted into something monstrous. Its host was known as an Obscurial.
Back in Andros's time, when wizards and Muggles lived side by side, there was no such thing. It wasn't until the Middle Ages, when the Church and Muggles hunted wizards, that the conditions arose for Obscurials to be born.
Every Obscurial lived short, tragic lives. The Obscurus constantly devoured its host's emotions and magic to grow stronger, until eventually it consumed their very life. Most didn't live past ten. Those with strong talent and a sturdy foundation lasted longer—like Ariana Dumbledore, who made it to fourteen. If she hadn't been fatally caught in the crossfire, she might have lived decades more.
Or like her nephew, Aurelius Dumbledore, who somehow survived into his twenties before the Obscurus drained him dry.
Tom liked to think his own constitution was stronger than either of them. But that didn't mean he wanted something parasitic sucking the life out of him from the inside.
Almost as if it had read his mind, the system displayed a new message across his vision.
[Please rest assured. This reward has been optimized and will not harm the host.]
Tom blinked. "…For real?"
Tom opened the talent details.
[Obscurus (Pure Variant): All consciousness has been purged. What remains is a powerful well of dark magic fully under the host's control.]
[Current state: embryonic. Requires feeding with magical energy to grow.]
[Note: Host possesses the Heart of Dark Magic. Feeding the Obscurus with this will provide amplified effects.]
Tom thought for a moment, then Apparated to the mountain behind the village. After making sure he was alone, he accepted the reward.
At once he felt something new stirring within his magic—like a small presence curled inside him, pulsing with hunger.
"You want food? Fine. Eat."
He raised his hand. A wisp of shadowy, threadlike matter floated into his palm, no bigger than a glass bead. As Tom funneled magic into it, the Obscurus began to swell.
Its drain on his power was about the same as casting steady spells. Even so, after consuming nearly a third of his magic reserves, the bead had only grown to the size of a basketball.
Tom stopped. The hunger was still there, tugging faintly at him, but the Obscurus didn't take more without permission. He let out a breath of relief.
So the system wasn't lying. The Obscurus's craving was instinct, but its instincts were leashed. That meant no risk of it spiraling out of control.
This wasn't a curse—it was a gift. A controlled talent, not a ticking time bomb.
Tom finally smiled.
After all, Aurelius had torn half of Manhattan apart with an Obscurus. Given time, he could've leveled all of New York.
And now Tom had that power at his fingertips—refined, loyal, and waiting to grow.
The best part? Obscurus magic needed no wand, no words. Just intent.
"Go."
He flicked his wrist. The Obscurus shot out like a storm, smashing into a tree. The trunk snapped in half, then exploded into splinters under a surge of wild, black energy.
This was only its infancy. No wonder Grindelwald had coveted such a weapon.
Once grown, it could wrap around him, cloaking his whole body. He'd become a living storm—half-shadow, half-man, untouchable.
With a thought, Tom called it back. The Obscurus unraveled into strands of magic and sank into him again.
"Looks like I'll have to ask Grindelwald for some tips," Tom mused.
He'd shut down the study space before becoming Pure Obscurial, sparing Ariana from reliving the memories that haunted her. He couldn't even let her see it, much less ask her advice on controlling one.
Grindelwald, though, wasn't an Obscurial himself—but he had studied them, schemed to weaponize them, even tried using one against Dumbledore. If anyone could teach Tom how to handle this power, it was him.
As for doing the same to Ariana…
Tom sighed as he headed back toward Hogwarts.
If he wanted her full trust, a 100% later, the only way was to help her make peace with herself—with her past, her power, and her Obscurus.
She might seem gentle now, but when her emotions surged, they were sharp and dangerous. That wound wouldn't heal overnight. He'd need patience.
...
By the time he reached Hogwarts, the afternoon sun was slanting low. A few questions to passing students told him where Daphne was—in the courtyard gardens.
Sure enough, Tom spotted her sitting with Astoria. A little circle of friends clustered around them: Lara, Susan, Hannah, Padma. Between them, they represented nearly every house except Gryffindor.
As he walked closer, Tom's expression turned wry.
No wonder they were all listening so intently—Daphne was right in the middle of retelling Aladdin. Tom's version.
When Tom remembered those animations, he felt an itch to start his magical studio right away for real.
"Tom! You're back!"
Astoria spotted him first, jumping up with delight. Daphne stopped mid-sentence and smiled, shifting over with her sister to make room.
Tom slid into the empty spot. On the table was a tower of delicate cakes and sweets. He waved a hand. "Don't mind me, keep going. I skipped lunch, so I'll just grab something to eat."
"You didn't go to the Three Broomsticks?" Astoria asked.
"No, I tried the Hog's Head. The owner only opens in the afternoon. Didn't even manage a drink."
He plucked a macaron and popped it into his mouth, ignoring his usual dislike of sweets. Right now, he needed the sugar hit.
"Then eat up," Daphne said warmly, sliding the entire dessert tower in front of him.
"Pala!"
Astoria summoned their family's elf. "Please prepare Tom a proper lunch."
"Right away, miss."
The other girls exchanged glances.
The Greengrass sisters really did spoil Tom rotten.
Food on demand and a house-elf ready at his beck and call—what kind of dream life was this? They couldn't help wishing they had it too.
Tom, blissfully unaware that even the girls were starting to envy his setup, just kept his head down and dug into the food while Daphne picked up her story again.
"Daphne, is the genie's power really that powerful? Like, he can grant any wish?"
"If he can make Muggles into wizards? Then what would that make them—pureblood or half-blood?"
"I think a whole new species."
"And if anyone who uses the lamp gets three wishes, then why didn't Aladdin give it to his monkey or the people he knew so they could all get more wishes? He could've just used two himself and, at the end, used the last one to free Genie."
"No, the real question is: why is the Genie blue?"
"No wait... who cursed the Genie? Was it Merlin himself?
"Is it weird that I wanted the wizard Jafar to win?"
"If I married the Genie, will our kids have his magic?"
"..."
Tom silently thanked every star in the sky that they were asking Daphne, not him.
"Pfft—"
Then a burst of muffled giggles came from behind.
A girl with a waterfall of black hair spilled over her shoulders, catching the sunlight with a silk-like sheen. Her features weren't sharp like the other girls, but soft and harmonious, with an easy charm that was unmistakably Eastern. Her eyes, shaped like brushstrokes, were sparkling with laughter.
She was Cho Chang.
"Sorry, I—cough, cough—I wasn't trying to eavesdrop," she said between laughs. "But didn't you read 'One Thousand and One Nights' before? And your version looked strange."
Every head turned toward her.
Embarrassed but unable to stop laughing, Cho clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders still shaking.
"You're… Ravenclaw's Cho Chang, right? You've heard it too?" Daphne asked, eyes narrowing in interest.
Cho nodded. "Yeah. After finishing the greatest story ever—Journey to the West—I really got into stories."
"Anyway, 'Aladdin and the Magic Lamp' is one of the best in the One Thousand and One Nights. So yeah, I read it before."
Daphne glanced toward Tom. "It's not your story?"
All eyes shifted to him.
"Umm… Tom told that to me," Daphne said innocently.
Tom was about one second away from hexing the floor wide open just so he could crawl in and vanish.
Cho looked at him, realization dawning. "So you're the storyteller," she said, her lips curving into a refined little smile. "I haven't read Aladdin in ages, and I've forgotten half of it. Daphne, do you mind if I join in?"
"Of course you can!" Daphne answered cheerfully before Tom could stop her.
"Ahem." Tom coughed twice, a little too loudly. "Daphne, didn't you say yesterday you wanted to try fighting Megatron? It's getting late, and the later it gets, the harder it'll be."
If this went on, he was going to die of secondhand embarrassment. Time to change the subject, fast.
Daphne hesitated, glancing at Cho. She opened her mouth to apologize, but Cho saved her the trouble with a gracious smile. "It's fine. We can set up another time. Honestly, I'm curious about Megatron too. I was disappointed I missed it last time."
"Then you should come with us!" Daphne said brightly. "I'll go grab Hermione."
And off she went toward the library, leaving Tom to herd the others out to the training grounds. Astoria trotted loyally at his side like a pint-sized bodyguard, making it hard for Cho to find a chance to ask him what she really wanted.
But the moment Megatron appeared, her attention shifted anyway.
Compared to two weeks ago, the construct had changed again. Tom had added a thin protective coating that dampened incoming spells, and the finish gleamed cold and sleek, making it look even more Megatron-y.
Students nearby noticed too. At the sight of Megatron's transformation, they hurried over to watch.
Last time, Lockhart had interrupted before most people got to try it out. They'd been waiting for this.
"Riddle, it's just me, or does Megatron look even cooler now?" a younger wizard asked, eyes wide as the massive figure stood motionless in the sun. The raw, mechanical presence was magnetic—even to wizards.
"I made some upgrades," Tom said casually. "Better defenses. More efficient too."
A Ravenclaw seventh-year let out a low whistle. "Your alchemy is insane. I honestly can't imagine how you managed this."
He'd taken Alchemy as an elective himself, and he wasn't bad at it. But looking at Megatron, he couldn't make heads or tails of the techniques involved.
Some had even gone to the Alchemy Professor, asking how they could build their own Megatron.
The professor had just laughed helplessly.
"Children, the worst mistake you can make in any subject is aiming too high before you've mastered the basics. Riddle's 'Megatron'… is not something you should be imagining yourselves creating."
Even he admitted that he couldn't decipher the spellwork or energy channels involved in Megatron's transformations. His advice had been simple: "Focus on your coursework. Don't waste your time trying to break down things far beyond your level."
Word of that spread fast. Everyone now knew the professor himself had said Riddle's alchemy outstripped his own.
So when the Ravenclaw praised him now, Tom only smiled faintly and said nothing.
...
Not long after, Daphne returned with Hermione in tow, both of them holding books.
Everyone else knew the drill: they had to wait their turn. First the two girls got to play until they were satisfied.
"Ooof, if it wasn't Megatron!"
Just as Daphne was about to activate the construct, a laid-back voice with a strong American accent rang out across the field.
.
.
.
