HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

Time always seemed to slip away quickly when one was enjoying it.

Vizet felt as if he had only just blinked — and yet it was already time to gather.

The calm water before the dock suddenly began to stir. Countless ripples spread outward in perfect concentric rings. A mast pierced the surface first, then another, and then a third, each rising higher than the last.

From the depths emerged an immense, three-masted sailing ship. The water cascaded off its hull in silvery sheets, as if the vessel were wrapped in a cloak of satin, rising regally from beneath the sea.

By the time Vizet and his companions made their way back to the dock, the water had fully receded around the ship, revealing its grand form in its entirety.

It was enormous.

Majestic.

And utterly unlike anything Vizet had ever seen.

The most striking feature was the bow, where a massive coat of arms stood proudly — supported on either side by two upright lion statues, their postures regal and fierce, claws gripping the emblem like sentinels on eternal watch.

Surrounding them were carvings of astonishing detail and variety: angels with outstretched wings, snarling demons, warriors frozen mid-charge. Each figure was sculpted with such lifelike intensity that they seemed ready to move at any moment.

Just above the gun ports, a lion's head jutted from the hull, mouth agape, as though roaring into the sea breeze. It looked alive, full of hunger and pride.

Golden paint covered every inch of the hull's carved embellishments. When sunlight hit it, the entire ship blazed like a floating palace — radiant, resplendent, and impossibly grand.

Vizet squinted at the coat of arms, trying to make out the inscription engraved into it. "That name…" he murmured, narrowing his eyes. "V...a…"

Before he could finish, Xenophilius cleared his throat loudly. He had been standing there with his mouth hanging open in astonishment, and now tried to cover it with a show of fatherly pride.

He glanced at Luna and puffed out his chest. "Well? What do you think? Isn't your father amazing? It's not every day you get to ride something like that!"

Luna clapped her hands at once, her voice bright and full of delight. "Of course, Daddy is very, very amazing!"

A familiar voice rose from nearby. "Merlin's pants! This ship is enormous! I don't even know how to describe it!"

A middle-aged man immediately chided him, "Anthony, don't use such expressions."

An older male voice chuckled, "Oh, don't blame him. I'm sure expressions like that are popular at Hogwarts. You'll understand when you've spent more time around students."

"Hmph. You won't hear phrases like that at Ilvermorny," said an older female voice, disapprovingly.

"Yes, well," the man replied lightly, "Ilvermorny is a fine school. I've always admired it."

"It is the best magic school," she corrected sharply.

"No," the old man countered, with finality. "The best is Hogwarts."

Hearing the banter, Vizet turned curiously toward the voices — and was startled to see someone familiar.

"Anthony! Anthony! Over here!" he called, waving his hand high.

Anthony Goldstein turned at the sound and immediately brightened. "Vizet! You — hang on, is this your sister?" He had hurried over, now eyeing Luna with mild surprise.

"Yes," Vizet replied, then gestured toward the tall, peculiar man beside them. "And this is Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood."

"You can skip the 'and' next time," Xenophilius muttered good-naturedly.

"Yes," Luna added cheerfully, "this is Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood — my father."

Xenophilius beamed with satisfaction. "My baby always knows how to say it right!"

Anthony's parents arrived moments later, and both families exchanged friendly greetings.

It was then that Vizet learned something astonishing: Newt Scamander — the very author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them — was a distant relative of Anthony's. And the two elderly voices that had just argued over the world's best magic school? None other than the Scamanders themselves.

Leaving the grown-ups to their conversation, Vizet took Luna aside, and Anthony followed them eagerly.

"My surname's Goldstein," Anthony said. "Porpentina Goldstein is my great-aunt."

"I visited them during the summer. They were planning a longer trip, and we thought — why not tag along? Didn't use an agency, just booked a ticket for a magic ship. Never imagined we'd run into you."

"Neither did I!" Vizet said, genuinely surprised. "So that's why you know so much. You've got a remarkable family background."

It all made sense now — how Anthony had been the first to talk about the politics and culture of wizarding bloodlines. As it turned out, Anthony himself was from a pure-blood family, even though he himself was a half-blood.

"I only know a little more because of my background," Anthony said with a shrug. "But you — no family legacy, no formal training — and still you ended up top of our year."

He looked sideways at Vizet. "That's why I've never bought into pure-blood supremacy. Honestly, I find Grindelwald's views more... thought-provoking."

"You mean wizard supremacy?" Vizet asked, brows lifting.

He had read about Gellert Grindelwald in several history books — his belief that wizards were inherently superior to Muggles, that they should govern rather than hide.

Anthony's voice dropped. "Exactly. Grindelwald might've been dangerous, but... he was powerful. He didn't pander to blood status — he welcomed anyone with real ability. And for a while, he had supporters everywhere."

"I actually admire that about him. Even if he failed, he changed the way a lot of people think."

He was about to say more when Xenophilius returned, beckoning Luna and Vizet toward the ship.

Anthony leaned close and whispered, "Ahem — don't repeat what I just said to my cousin."

Tina Goldstein wasn't just a famous Auror — she had once fought Grindelwald himself. Given her history, it was no surprise Anthony didn't want her knowing about his admiration.

Vizet and Luna both turned to him with identical solemn nods.

"We won't tell anyone," they said in perfect unison.

Anthony blinked, startled by their synchrony, then laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You two have a weird level of understanding... I suddenly wish I had a sister."

The guide's voice rang out, clear and cheerful, calling everyone to gather. "Welcome, fellow travelers! Thank you for choosing Viking House! Please prepare to board our ship — the Vasa!"

"This is the largest and most luxurious magical vessel in all of Europe. I assure you — there's nothing else like her anywhere. We'll be diving beneath the sea and making a direct journey to the port of Stockholm!"

He gave a theatrical pause, then grinned. "Choose Viking House and choose the Vasa. Even if we're attacked by a sea monster, it'll just become our next extravagant dinner!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than the Vasa's front hatch creaked open. From its depths, a plush red carpet rolled outward like an eager tongue, unfolding one step at a time as if cascading down invisible stairs. The carpet extended behind the guide, stopping neatly at the feet of the waiting passengers.

With a courteous bow, the guide stepped aside and adopted a textbook-perfect posture of welcome. "Now then — please, board at your leisure!"

Everyone stepped forward onto the red carpet. As they entered the ship, they found themselves surrounded by lavish decor and craftsmanship.

The interior was no less grand than the exterior — lined with ornately carved statues coated in gold leaf and painted in dazzling hues. Torchlight danced across the gilded figures, casting flickering shadows along the intricately paneled walls.

Vizet was no longer surprised. After realizing the ship was the Vasa, the legendary vessel, and seeing the grandeur of its refurbished cabin, everything felt... inevitable.

He had read about the Vasa while browsing a Muggle bookstore in preparation for the journey.In 17th-century Europe, the Vasa had been the crown jewel of Swedish naval power — comparable in grandeur to what the Titanic would be in the 20th century.

Their fates, too, were eerily alike.

The Vasa had sunk just minutes into her maiden voyage, tipping over from a sudden gust of wind. Despite multiple investigations, every plan and construction detail appeared correct. The only conclusion anyone could agree upon was summed up in a single phrase: "Only God knows."

The ship lay underwater for over three centuries before being recovered in the mid-20th century. Muggle history claimed it was preserved and displayed at a temporary site called Wasavarvet, before being moved to its current home in Stockholm's Royal National City Park.

Or so the Muggles believed.

In truth, after its recovery, the ship mysteriously vanished. The Swedish government had immediately informed their Ministry of Magic, which sent a containment team to secure the scene — but no useful clues were found.

Years passed. The Vasa wasn't seen again until it accidentally collided with the Stockholm harbour during a magical storm. Seized at last by the Swedish Ministry of Magic, the ship was quietly repaired — but rather than returning it to the museum or replacing it with the enchanted decoy, it was eventually auctioned off.

Viking House had bought it.

Vizet read all this from a pamphlet while the rest of the passengers were admiring the ship.

The guide soon rejoined them. He stepped into the main corridor, waved his wand, and sealed the cabin doors shut with a series of swift, practiced enchantments before rejoining the group.

"The ship really has such a strange past…" Vizet murmured, eyes still on the pamphlet. "But is this okay? Shouldn't the Ministry have returned it to the Muggles?"

The guide nodded. "Oh, that was the original plan. But once the Muggle government realized how costly it would be to restore the real ship by themselves — and how hard it'd be to swap it with the decoy without raising suspicion — they dropped the idea."

"They figured, 'we've already got a fake — why waste money fixing the real one?' And honestly, they're not wrong. Everyone wins."

Vizet raised an eyebrow. "But isn't that kind of cooperation between Muggle and magical governments... risky? Doesn't it violate the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Ahh, that's mostly true in England," the guide replied, stretching his arms. "The Secrecy laws are stricter there. Remember, during the Cold War, the whole world was on edge. Magical or not, every country hoarded its people — just in case a third world war broke out."

"But England wasn't directly caught in the middle, and they already had a massive number of personnel. So their magical world wasn't pressured the same way. Less military paranoia, less governmental overlap."

Vizet nodded. "That was thanks to Headmaster Dumbledore. He protected England's magical world from a lot of outside interference."

The guide chuckled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Protection's not always a good thing. Take a look at how many pure-blood families England still has. Probably the largest and most intact population of them left in Europe. Tsk, tsk…"

Vizet bristled slightly. "But you can't deny what Headmaster Dumbledore achieved. England's magical world has developed without collapsing its original structure. The heritage is still alive."

"Maybe," the guide conceded. "But the fewer pure-blood families, the better, if you ask me. Those folks always come asking for special treatment. Vaults already overflowing — and yet still they want more. Greed knows no bounds."

He sighed, catching himself. "Ah, listen to me ramble. I shouldn't be telling this to kids… but I suppose you're just easy to talk to."

Then he clapped his hands briskly and walked toward the front of the ship. "Dear passengers, we've now entered idle time!"

"Our restaurant's on the middle deck — spacious as the Hogwarts Great Hall! Meals are served all day, so don't miss your chance to feast."

"And don't forget — Viking House! Delivering the most comfortable, magical, and unforgettable journey you'll ever have!"

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