HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The days in Sweden stretched on endlessly, and the slow descent of the sun played tricks on one's sense of time. By the time Vizet, Luna, and Xenophilius circled back to the pond, it was already past seven in the evening.

Ominis was waiting for them, seated on a weathered wooden chair by the water's edge. His head was slightly bowed, as though he were listening — not just to the rustle of the wind through the reeds, but to something deeper, hidden beneath the hush of twilight.

He rose slowly when he heard their footsteps approaching."It's getting late," he said gently. "You must all be tired. Why don't we head back for the day?"

Xenophilius glanced at Luna and lowered his voice."What do you think, sweetheart?"

Luna cast one more thoughtful look at the still, moon-silver pond. Then she nodded, her voice soft."Okay, Dad."

Vizet quietly dismissed the Eye of Insight. Though he had managed to gather a considerable amount of leyline primordial magic, it had yielded no new pages in A Wizard's Practical Guide. The book absorbed the energy silently, stubborn in its refusal to open further.

Ominis flicked his wand. The wooden chair behind him shimmered, shrank, and reverted to the mossy stone it had once been.

"I'll return again tomorrow," he said. "There's another place — on the far side of the jungle. A wizarding ruin. Odin is said to have once rested there."

No one had noticed how much time had passed during their search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, but as they turned to leave, it suddenly caught up with them. Their limbs ached, their feet were sore, and every step back felt heavier than the last.

Vizet discreetly cast a healing charm, his magic light and practiced, easing the tightness in Luna's joints.

He glanced at Xenophilius and asked, "Would you like some help too?"

Xenophilius waved him off, wincing slightly as he straightened up."I'm not old yet! I'll manage just fine. Besides, if we happen to find any Dittany growing nearby, I'll be back to dancing in no time."

Luna moved closer to Vizet, her eyes bright despite her fatigue."Professor Vizet," she asked softly, "can you teach me that healing spell?"

Vizet smiled. "Once we're back at the hotel. I'll find my notes and put together a proper lesson for you."

"Okay!" Luna beamed, the promise of learning something new chasing the tiredness from her face.

Ominis continued ahead, his wand gently sweeping the path before them, each flick of motion deliberate and sure. There was a quiet contentment about him — as if, even without his sight, he could see something beautiful the others could not.

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When the four of them returned to the hotel, most of the other travelers had already finished their dinners and retired for the evening — or headed out to catch the touring magical circus performance. The lobby, now quiet and lamplit, was empty.

"Tergeo." Anne Saroo gave a casual flick of her wand, dust and twigs vanishing from their cloaks and boots. "Welcome back. Any sign of the Snorkack?"

Ominis shook his head lightly. "Same outcome as last time. It vanished without a trace."

"What a pity," Anne sighed, with a note of genuine regret. "Come, sit down — I've prepared supper."

The meal that followed was not only warm and filling but deeply nostalgic. The fare was nearly indistinguishable from what one might find at a Hogwarts feast. Vizet found himself slowing down as he ate, savoring the comforting familiarity.

As he ladled gravy over his mashed potatoes, Xenophilius stirred thoughtfully and asked, "Ms. Saroo, if you don't mind me asking — are you English? The décor, the menu... I'd wager you went to Hogwarts, didn't you?"

Anne gave a small, knowing nod. "We're quite fond of Hogwarts, yes. For most English witches and wizards, it leaves a lasting impression."

"And I never quite took to Swedish cuisine," she added with a faint smile. "So I tried to recreate the taste of home. I only know how to make a few dishes, but... it's passable, isn't it?"

"It's more than passable!" Xenophilius said brightly. "There's something very comforting about familiar food in a foreign land."

He paused, then leaned forward, his tone shifting slightly. "By the way, Ms. Saroo, do you know any interesting stories about this village? I happened to see you earlier today — from the boat. You were standing on the lake... holding a white lily, if I'm not mistaken. You must be quite a skilled witch. I couldn't help wondering how you managed to stand on water."

Anne looked momentarily surprised. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Vizet, but she gave nothing away.

Xenophilius caught the hesitation and softened his tone, adding with a courteous smile, "I should have introduced myself properly — I'm the editor-in-chief of a newspaper. Curiosity is part of the job. But of course, if it's a private matter, I understand."

Anne waved her hand gently. "It's not that I mind sharing... It's just a very old story. Most villagers here now wouldn't even know it."

The three of them put down their cutlery, their attention now fixed on her.

"A long time ago — during the Wizarding World War — a circus arrived on the island. It wasn't just any circus. It was made up entirely of blood-cursed ogres."

Xenophilius blinked, then leaned toward Vizet. "Blood-cursed ogres? I've never even heard of such a thing."

"I have." Vizet cleared his throat and spoke carefully. "It's a hereditary curse. Irreversible, as far as anyone knows. Those born with it appear human at first, often completely sane. But over time, the curse worsens. They begin to lose their grip on their minds... and eventually, they transform into beasts. Forever."

Anne's eyes gleamed with something like approval. "A very knowledgeable young wizard," she said with a half-smile. "That's precisely right."

Luna's voice came in barely a whisper. "It must be hard. For them, and their families."

Anne's gaze softened. "Yes. But I believe they truly tried to live with hope. Why else build a circus?"

"It was wartime, and times were dark. Yet the circus brought light — an escape. They hid their suffering and put on performances full of life and color, bringing joy to the magical world even when gloom and fear hung over it."

"But such visibility comes with danger," she went on, her voice colder now. "The Alliance had their own blood-cursed ogre — one of their most skilled operatives. The opposing factions couldn't touch him directly, so instead... they turned on the circus."

Xenophilius frowned. "That's despicable."

Anne nodded slowly. "They didn't attack outright, of course. Too risky. Instead, they disrupted the enchantments protecting the circus. Then they leaked its location... to the Muggles."

Her voice dipped, heavy with memory. "Wizards were at war. Muggles were at war. All it took was a little manipulation, a forged document or two... and the Muggles sent in soldiers. An army."

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