Vale stared at the map for several moments after the twins left, transfixed by the implications of his discovery.
His name flickered between solid letters and smoky distortion whenever he allowed the Obscurus to pulse beneath his skin. This was valuable information—a weakness in magical detection that he could exploit.
"I need more ways to move unseen," he whispered to himself.
The Obscurus gave him an advantage the map couldn't fully track, but it wasn't enough. Using his parasitic power too frequently risked exposure, and even worse, losing control. No, he needed conventional magic—something reliable that wouldn't set off alarms about his true nature.
The Disillusionment Charm. That was the answer.
Vale had read about it in The Unwritten Arts—a spell that would render him nearly invisible, blending with his surroundings like a human chameleon. Unlike an Invisibility Cloak, it wouldn't be affected by accidental movement or displacement. And unlike his Obscurus, it wouldn't leave magical residue that Dumbledore might recognize.
"Perfect for acquiring things others might miss," Vale murmured, a calculating smile forming on his lips.
He thought of Filch's office with its trove of confiscated items. The restricted section of the library. Professor Snape's private stores. Even Dumbledore's office might eventually be accessible with the right combination of stealth and timing.
Vale pulled out his wand, reviewing the theory. The charm required precise wandwork and visualization—not merely concealment but a perfect mimicry of one's surroundings. Difficult for a first-year, certainly, but Vale was no ordinary student.
He closed his eyes, mentally rehearsing the wand movement. A subtle flick followed by a gentle tap on his own head. The sensation would be like cold water trickling down his spine if performed correctly.
* * *
Vale stood in an empty classroom, moonlight filtering through dusty windows. He raised his wand, focusing on the precise movement required for the Disillusionment Charm. The first attempt produced only a slight shimmer across his hand.
"Not good enough," he muttered.
The standard charm created a chameleon effect, but Vale saw deeper possibilities within its framework. If a spell could bend light around a person, why couldn't it be pushed further? He closed his eyes, remembering passages from The Unwritten Arts.
Magic responds to intent. Every spell contains layers waiting to be peeled back.
Vale tapped his wand against his head, this time channeling his will into the magic. Cold trickled down his spine—the first sign of success.
But instead of letting the spell settle, he pushed harder, imagining not just visual concealment but a complete absence of presence.
The cold intensified, spreading through his limbs. When he opened his eyes, his body had vanished more completely than any standard Disillusionment should achieve. Even his shadow seemed to fade.
"Interesting," Vale whispered, examining how the spell interacted with his movement. The magic felt different—deeper, more fundamental.
He wasn't just bending light; he might be manipulating perception itself.
He theorized that by combining the charm's basic principles with elements of mental magic, he could create a more profound invisibility. One that wouldn't just hide his physical form but would push his very presence out of others' awareness.
Vale made notes in his mind: The spell's core function deals with light manipulation. But light is just one form of detection. What about sound? Magical signature? Even the impression left on memory itself?
He practiced the modified charm again, each time pushing it slightly further, testing its boundaries. The cold sensation changed to a peculiar numbness, as if parts of him were temporarily ceasing to exist in conventional space.
This was just the beginning. Vale could already envision how to evolve the spell beyond its creator's intentions—turning a simple concealment charm into something that could potentially fool even magical detection methods.
He continued his practice, and instantly came upon a stumbling block.
"What..?"
Vale's initial excitement at the charm's success quickly soured as he attempted to replicate it.
The cold sensation that had spread through his limbs now manifested as a painful chill that stabbed into his bones, making him gasp.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, looking down at his half-visible arm.
Instead of the smooth chameleon-like effect, patches of his skin flickered between visibility and a disturbing translucence that revealed glimpses of muscle tissue beneath.
The Obscurus within him stirred uneasily, as if rejecting the magical alteration. Vale felt a wave of nausea as the two magics conflicted—the structured spell attempting to bend light while the chaotic Obscurus energy disrupted the pattern.
"Damn it," Vale hissed, canceling the charm with a sharp flick of his wand. The pain subsided, but left him trembling. He leaned against a desk, breathing hard.
This wasn't just a matter of practice. The spell was interacting with his unique condition in unpredictable ways. When he'd pushed beyond the standard application, attempting to manipulate perception itself, something fundamental had broken down after a while.
Vale consulted his mental notes from The Unwritten Arts, trying to identify where he'd gone wrong. The book had warned about the dangers of overreach, but he'd been too eager to notice.
"Spells evolve in conversation with the caster's nature," he recalled. "Force a spell too far from its original intent, and it may fracture—or worse, fragment the caster's own magical signature."
Vale examined his hand, now fully visible again but tingling uncomfortably. Small red welts had formed where the spell had malfunctioned.
His attempt to evolve the Disillusionment Charm beyond simple visual concealment had backfired spectacularly, but initial success was already there.
"Too ambitious," he admitted reluctantly. "I need to master the basic form first."
The Obscurus within him seemed to mock his failure, pulsing with dark energy that promised power without the constraints of structured spellwork.
But Vale knew better than to rely solely on that unstable force.
He would need to return to fundamentals, understand why the spell interacted poorly with his condition before attempting to modify it again.
* * *
Vale settled into the rhythm of Hogwarts life again after that brief enjoyment.
Each morning, he woke before his Slytherin roommates, using those quiet moments to practice controlling his magic without prying eyes. Breakfast in the Great Hall became an exercise in observation—tracking alliances, vulnerabilities, and opportunities among his fellow students.
In Potions, Snape continued to favor him with subtle nods of approval, while Herbology with Hannah provided unexpected moments of normalcy. Even Transfiguration, where McGonagall watched him with undisguised suspicion, became predictable in its challenges.
But Vale's attention increasingly turned toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter and his friends were becoming more animated by the day. Something was brewing among them—urgent whispers, abrupt silences when others approached, and frequent glances toward the staff table.
"Did you hear?" Nott slid onto the bench beside Vale during lunch. "Potter and his friends are obsessed with whatever's hidden on the third floor."
Vale raised an eyebrow. "The forbidden corridor?"
"Apparently, Weasley's been telling anyone who'll listen that there's a three-headed dog guarding something valuable." Nott smirked. "Though most think he's just seeking attention."
Vale's eyes drifted to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled in conversation. The Halloween feast was approaching, and with it, if his memory of the story served him correctly, the troll incident that would cement their friendship.
"They're planning something," Vale murmured, more to himself than Nott.
Across the hall, Hermione appeared to be lecturing the boys, her finger jabbing at an open book while Harry nodded with unusual seriousness. Ron, predictably, looked bored until she closed the book with a snap that made him jump.
Vale wondered how closely events would follow the narrative he remembered. Would Quirrell still release a troll into the dungeons? Would Harry and Ron still save Hermione? And more importantly—how could Vale use these events to his advantage?