HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The interior of the Vasa had been completely refitted — so thoroughly that it now rivaled a luxury hotel more than any warship of legend.

Vizet, Luna, and Xenophilius descended the gently spiraling staircase, parting ways from Anthony and the other travelers. After navigating several ornate, torch-lit corridors lined with crimson carpets and gold-veined moldings, they finally found the door to their assigned guest suite.

It was far more than a simple room.

The suite included a spacious common area, three individual bedrooms, and an open study alcove. The walls gleamed with polished panels of wood enchanted to appear golden, and the torch sconces gave off a steady, warm glow.

At the far end of the living room, a large, arched gunport had been repurposed into a massive porthole window. Through it, the boundless blue sky stretched above an equally vast sea, both mirrored so perfectly it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

The Vasa moved forward with steady grandeur, slicing cleanly through the waves like a hot blade through butter.

Seafoam curled along the ship's flanks, kicked up in white bursts before trailing behind in a rippling fan of silver and white, leaving a shimmering wake across the water.

But more astonishing still, the Vasa began to submerge.

From their vantage point, Vizet and Luna watched as sunlight refracted through the spray, casting prisms into the air — brief, glimmering rainbows suspended just long enough to feel magical.

As the waterline rose, the guest rooms dimmed.

Just then, the torches along the walls burst back to life in unison, flooding the suite with warm orange light. At the same moment, the hull of the ship shimmered with a translucent cyan glow, wrapping the entire vessel in a luminous, protective aura.

To Vizet's trained magical senses, that pale glow was no mere decoration. It pulsed with enchantments: powerful wards against pressure, temperature, fire, and moisture. The hull was encased in a thin magical membrane, warding off the corrosive saltwater and holding the crushing weight of the ocean at bay.

The faint glow extended far into the surrounding water, casting eerie greenish-blue reflections onto the rocky seabed below. Jagged black chimneys jutted up from the seabed like the ruins of an ancient, sunken fortress, and from their mouths, plumes of superheated liquid hissed upward into the deep.

Clusters of strange, tube-like creatures surrounded the vents — pale, writhing organisms that swayed like underwater reeds, their translucent skins catching the Vasa's enchanted light.

Luna's wide, silvery eyes glittered as she pressed both palms to the windowpane, utterly enchanted.

Her breath fogged the glass slightly as she whispered, "It's beautiful…"

She began gently tapping her fingertips along the glass, her gaze darting from formation to formation, eager to absorb every detail of the hidden undersea world.

Vizet stepped beside her, flipping through his mental index of Muggle marine biology books. He explained, quietly and patiently, each unfamiliar creature that came into view.

Then Luna gasped and tugged at the edge of Vizet's robes, her voice nearly bursting with excitement. "Vizet — look! A sea serpent!"

He turned quickly and followed the direction she pointed.

There, outside the window and far above the ship, the shadow of a colossal figure moved gracefully through the water. It was long — easily over a hundred meters — its serpentine body rippling like silk through the current.

The creature had a narrow horse-like head, elongated and noble, with two long, fin-like ears flowing backward along its skull. Its silver-blue scales shimmered subtly with every twist of its body.

A sea serpent. A genuine one.

Though its sheer size was enough to terrify most, Vizet knew — as did Luna — that it was a gentle magical creature. Curious by nature, it preferred basking in warm shallows to confrontation. But centuries of folklore — especially Muggle legends — had recast it as a malevolent monster of the deep.

This particular sea serpent seemed to have noticed them.

Its enormous head drifted closer to the window. It tilted sideways slightly and released a snort, bubbling a stream of air toward the glass.

Luna didn't flinch. Her smile bloomed like sunlight cresting the horizon, and she waved with both hands, beaming with delight.

"Hello!"

The sea serpent blinked slowly — once, then twice — and lingered, as though enjoying her presence.

While Tina was napping in the adjoining room, Newt Scamander stood at the window, quietly summoning a rocking chair with a flick of his wand. He settled into it, resting his chin on one hand as he gazed out across the undersea panorama.

The serpentine silhouette outside was elegant beyond words — its long, undulating body weaving through the water like silk in a breeze. Newt couldn't help but smile in admiration.

"Praise the ocean," he murmured. "There's no magic greater than nature's. No matter how often I see it… it still stirs me."

A sudden flicker of fire flared beside him.

Without alarm, Newt turned his head just as the flames expanded into a tall, spiraling bloom of gold and crimson. From its heart, Albus Dumbledore stepped forward, robes of midnight-blue silk catching the firelight in threads of starlight silver. His pointed hat — dark and scattered with embroidered constellations — was tilted at a thoughtful angle.

Phoenix fire coalesced beside him, swirling upward into the graceful form of Fawkes, who landed softly on Newt's outstretched arm, nuzzling him gently.

Newt smiled as he stroked the warm feathers. "The afterglow suits you, old friend… You must be nearing the end of this cycle."

"I see even that couldn't escape your notice," Dumbledore said with a quiet chuckle. He tapped his wand gently, conjuring a comfortable armchair behind him.

Newt made no move to stand. Instead, he interlaced his fingers and rocked back slowly, the chair creaking in gentle rhythm.

"I thought you'd be tied up at the Ministry. You made it sound like you'd be detained for days."

"Being me, does come with certain… liberties," said Dumbledore, settling into his own chair. With a soft snap of his fingers, the back legs lifted slightly, transforming it into a twin of Newt's rocker. "But less enviable than retirement, I must say."

Their chairs creaked together, forming a lazy counterpoint to the quiet hum of the ship's motion.

Newt gave a sideways glance, his lips quirking into a wry smile. "The Department of Mysteries tracked you down, didn't they? Let me guess — Sweden?"

"Stockholm," Dumbledore confirmed. "Seems we're all headed to the same place."

They had, in fact, met just a few days prior, intending to discuss about Obscuri. But before they could delve into the details, a Ministry owl had swooped in bearing a heavily sealed letter — summoning Dumbledore to an urgent inquiry.

The message had been, unsurprisingly, vague. The Department of Mysteries never did speak plainly.

Newt tilted his head. "So what's happened? I'm here at the invitation of the Swedish Ministry to help investigate recent sightings of an Obscurus."

Dumbledore's gaze narrowed with mild interest. "You think it might be the Obscurus you lost?"

"I asked first," Newt countered, eyes closed, voice firm. He crossed his arms and settled deeper into the chair.

It was a maneuver he had perfected over years of knowing Dumbledore. A preemptive defense. When it came to skirting questions, few could outmaneuver the former Headmaster.

Dumbledore folded his hands and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, what a pity. Truly."

His tone lightened — almost too much. "As much as I'd love to confide in you, I'm afraid I'm bound by a rather inconvenient magical confidentiality contract."

Newt gave a quiet snort. "You're enjoying that far too much."

"You wound me," said Dumbledore, though the amused gleam in his eyes betrayed his feigned offense. "It's not often one has the opportunity to keep secrets with such impunity."

"You've rarely left Britain in recent years," Newt said. "So the real reason you're here... is it to keep an eye on Vizet Lovegood?"

Dumbledore gave a small shake of his head. "No. I was summoned for official reasons. Vizet's presence here is... unexpected."

"But not unwelcome," Newt murmured, then added pointedly, "He seems to be here for a trip. His classmate happens to be distantly related to Tina."

"Ah," said Dumbledore, nodding knowingly. "Anthony Goldstein. Yes, they're in the same year, I believe."

Newt gave him a sideways look. "You are keeping close tabs on Vizet."

"That's true," Dumbledore acknowledged, though still with that maddeningly light tone. "But this really is coincidence. I've not come to guard him."

"I'll pretend to believe that," Newt said dryly. "But after all these years, I know how to recognize one of your 'coincidences' when I see one."

"When you say it like that, it makes me sound rather conniving," Dumbledore sighed theatrically. "It's distressing when one's most trusted student holds such suspicions."

"I've earned my suspicions," Newt said with a grin. "And I've suffered for them too."

Dumbledore stood with a faint rustle of fabric, the rocking chair vanishing beneath him the moment he rose. "Well, I didn't mean to linger — I only meant to say hello. Do enjoy the journey."

Newt didn't open his eyes, still gently rocking. "Have a nice trip, Albus."

As Fawkes flared once more into golden fire, Dumbledore turned back one last time.

"Is he your favorite now?" Newt asked quietly, eyes cracking open.

Dumbledore paused just long enough for Newt to see the smile tug at his lips.

He raised a hand, said nothing — and disappeared into the firelight.

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As the guide had promised, the Vasa's restaurant took up nearly two-thirds of the middle deck. It was easily comparable in size to the Great Hall at Hogwarts — though unlike Hogwarts, which had enchanted dishes that appeared in place, this dining hall featured an opulent buffet-style layout.

Rather than meals materializing out of thin air, diners helped themselves from long rows of serving stations. For those desiring freshly cooked dishes, there were culinary counters staffed by house-elves clad in crisp white aprons and chef hats.

Each elf wore a polite, modest expression and followed instructions with unwavering precision, cooking each order exactly to the diner's specifications.

Given the Vasa's passage beneath the sea, seafood was the centerpiece of the menu. The chilled section displayed scallops, prawns, crab legs, fillets of fish — each delicately arranged on crushed ice and garnished with lemon slices, herbs, and edible flowers. Endless sides of greens, sauces, and pickled garnishes accompanied them, creating an irresistible spread.

Beyond seafood, the restaurant also offered a vast selection of meats, roasted vegetables, soups, salads, breads, sweets, and even a dedicated dessert bar lined with pastries, candies, and glistening tubs of magically churned ice cream.

Xenophilius remained asleep in the guest suite, snoring gently under a blanket conjured by Vizet.

So it was just Vizet and Luna who came to the restaurant. Their plates quickly filled with grilled prawns, smoked fish, roasted lamb, and golden roast potatoes.

They found an empty two-person booth by the window, where soft torchlight met the shifting sea outside. Vizet helped pour a peppercorn sauce over Luna's steak, just as a conversation from the neighboring table drifted over.

"…seems like quite a mess… Something happened in Sweden."

"What kind of something?"

"An Obscurus incident. One attacked the Swedish Ministry of Magic, apparently. They've dispatched a whole force of Aurors."

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