HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Xenophilius swallowed hard. "An army? Even with my rather modest understanding of Muggles, surely manipulating them to deploy a military force isn't so simple… They scrutinize everything. Did they use… Unforgivable Curses, like the Imperius?"

Anne Saroo's expression turned cold. "During the war, whether it was the Unforgivable Curses or other forms of dark magic, it hardly mattered anymore."

She folded her arms slowly, voice dropping. "When war drags on, morality withers. Turmoil brings disorder, and disorder brings out the worst in people."

Her tone darkened. "Even the dead Muggle weren't spared. Their corpses were collected, reanimated into Inferi by dark wizards, and sent to die a second time — this time on wizarding battlefields."

"Uh..." Xenophilius shifted uneasily, then cast a quick glance at Luna and Vizet. "Why don't the two of you go back to your room for a bit?"

But Anne's voice grew softer, almost distant. "Let's return to the circus, shall we?"

"The wizards knew the blood-cursed ogres' weakness," she said quietly, folding her hands beneath her chin. "Just as the ogres began transforming into their beast forms and preparing for their acrobatic feats, the Muggle fire struck."

She paused.

"The wizards who had attended the circus weren't particularly afraid. They Disapparated, left the island at once. But the blood-cursed ogres… they couldn't change back in time. They were gunned down, right there in the ring."

Xenophilius lowered his voice. "So they… all died?"

"Perhaps," Anne replied softly. "All I know is — none of the blood-cursed ogres survived."

"The surviving wizards returned to the village in grief. To prevent it from happening again, they sought out a more powerful wizard — someone who could lay down stronger protections."

"Most chose to forget the incident entirely. But a few… a very few of us chose to remember. I am one of those few."

"That's why you were on the lake..." Xenophilius murmured. Realization dawned in his eyes. "A tribute. A vigil. What a terrible time that must have been."

Then, almost guiltily, he straightened up and forced a more neutral tone. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but… how many performers were there in that circus? Just a few more details — would help me record this story properly."

Anne closed her eyes, drifting back into memory. "Let me think... There were four. Three blood-cursed ogres, and a child."

"The three ogres performed most of the acts. The child would collect the tips. In those days, it was hard for children like him to even get into a magic school, much less learn magic formally."

"That little boy's name was Sigurd. Every time someone tossed a coin into his cap, he would beam up at them and say, 'Thank you, sir, and I wish you happiness and health.'"

"They must have been family. All three of the ogres took on reindeer-like beast forms. And they weren't alone — many magical creatures joined the show. Hippogriffs, Salamanders... even a Thunderbird once."

"These creatures, of course, weren't especially rare. You could see them in most wizarding circuses. But the uniqueness of that show... was the ogres themselves..."

Later that evening, back in their guest room, the mood was somber.

A circus meant to spread joy, destroyed by violence it never invited. The story lingered heavily in the air.

Xenophilius sat by the window, reading through his notes for the second time, then quietly left the room — perhaps to verify some dates or details firsthand.

Vizet, meanwhile, glanced at the crumpled wanted poster on the table, and his thoughts turned to the dark-robed man they had seen by the lake that afternoon.

Across from him, Luna was watching quietly.

"Do you think that man might be the one who attacked the Swedish Ministry of Magic?" she asked softly.

Vizet hesitated, then nodded faintly. "I can't say for sure. But it's better to be cautious. He hasn't been caught yet. And something about him... didn't feel right."

"I agree." Luna reached into her suitcase and pulled out her picture book and a quill.

With quiet focus, she began sketching. Before long, the eerie image of the black-robed figure, his outline fading into the misty lakeside, had taken shape across the page.

"At least this adds... a little more credibility," she said, handing it over.

Vizet took the drawing, looked at it carefully, then picked up the wanted poster. With precision, he filled in the relevant information.

A short while later, he stepped outside and summoned the village owls.

"Send this to the Ministry," he whispered. "As quickly as you can."

At the Federot Hotel, Anne Saroo and Ominis still sat quietly in the lobby. From their seats, they watched Vizet step outside through the carved wooden doors.

"What do you think the child's gone to do?" Anne asked softly, her eyes following Vizet through the frosted windowpane.

"He'll likely send a letter to the Ministry of Magic," Ominis replied, brushing his wand lightly across the table. A steaming teacup floated gently into his hand. "Probably because of the man we saw by the lake yesterday afternoon."

Anne's gaze remained on the fading silhouette in the street beyond. Her voice carried a faint note of helplessness. "He must be nearing his limit. Can that child really succeed? I still struggle to believe it... He's so young."

"For a guardian to host an Obscurus... something long thought impossible has already happened," Ominis said, placing the teacup back down with a quiet clink. "If even that can be true, then perhaps we shouldn't doubt anything else."

"Serena was just a fifth-year when she made that prophecy," he added gently. "Even if you don't believe the prophecy itself, you must believe in her. That notebook holds the mystery of the guardian."

Anne's eyes softened. "Yes… at the very least, we should believe in Serena."

Just then, an owl swept past the window, a blur of feathers against the grey morning.

Ominis raised his wand and gave it a subtle flick. A letter appeared in his hand. He handed the letter to Anne.

Anne opened it carefully. Inside was a completed wanted poster, with Vizet's neat handwriting and Luna's sketch of the cloaked figure enclosed.

"Omi," she murmured, "you were right. He really did send word to the Ministry. He suspects that man."

Ominis folded his hands, circling his thumbs slowly. "But that's not enough. He needs to sense what's missing in the story… to notice what doesn't line up."

Anne tilted her head with quiet curiosity. "And do you think he will?"

"If the prophecy is correct," Ominis said calmly, "then he is the most unique guardian to ever exist. There's no one else like him."

He exhaled. "So now, we can only wait for tomorrow night."

Anne sighed deeply, resting her chin against her clasped hands."I hate exams… especially the kind you can't prepare for."

"But this one matters," Ominis said. "He is our hope."

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The next day, just past noon, Vizet and the others stepped out of their guest room.

Downstairs, the lobby was bathed in warm sunlight. Ominis sat by the window, a fresh cup of tea steaming in his hands.

Sensing the trio's approach, he turned with a gentle smile. "Did you sleep well?"

He paused, voice turning thoughtful. "That story was a heavy one, I know. I hope it didn't dampen your spirits. After all, you came here to travel."

In truth, none of them had slept well.

Xenophilius hadn't returned to the guest room until past midnight. Vizet had spent the night combing through his memory of books he'd read, trying to find any mention of blood-cursed ogres. Luna had stayed quiet, sketching in her journal well past bedtime.

Behind the village, a forest trail wound through the hills. It led directly to the old wizarding ruins.

The three of them followed the path now, the crunch of fallen leaves and the rustle of small creatures the only sounds in the air.

The further they walked, the deeper the jungle became. Its silence was not oppressive, but still held a strange weight — one found only in places long forgotten.

The trees grew thicker, ancient trunks draped in moss. After they turned a bend around a massive boulder, a towering structure slowly came into view through the shifting gaps in the trees...

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