HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The wooden door swung open, revealing a spacious, circular room bathed in warm, golden light. The walls were lined with framed portraits, each containing the slumbering figures of past Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses. Their chests rose and fell in a slow rhythm, a few letting out the occasional soft snore.

Flitwick's voice softened as they stepped inside. "These are the portraits of former headmasters," he explained.

Vizet nodded, his gaze sweeping across the room with quiet curiosity.

Against the walls stood an array of intricately carved desks, their surfaces cluttered with silver contraptions of odd and elegant design. These delicate instruments spun and clicked, occasionally releasing thin wisps of colored smoke into the air, their purpose unknown yet fascinating. On one desk, an ancient, frayed wizard's hat sat still, as if lost in thought — its crooked folds unmistakable.

His observations were interrupted by a melodic, almost ethereal cry from above.

Glancing up, he saw a magnificent bird descending toward him.

It was large, its body wreathed in fiery-red plumage, its golden tail feathers streaming behind it like trails of sunlight. A long, curved beak and sharp talons gave it an air of both grace and power, yet its eyes gleamed with a depth of wisdom that made it seem far more than an ordinary creature.

"This is Headmaster Dumbledore's companion — Fawkes the Phoenix," Flitwick said with admiration. "A truly rare magical being."

Vizet's lips parted slightly. "I read about Phoenixes in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but this…" His voice trailed off as he took in Fawkes' radiant form. "It's even more beautiful than the illustrations."

As if understanding the compliment, Fawkes let out another soft, musical trill and circled gracefully before gliding down toward Vizet.

"Try holding out your arm," Flitwick encouraged, eyes twinkling. "It seems to have taken a liking to you. Don't worry — Phoenixes are remarkably attuned to human nature."

Vizet hesitated for only a moment before following the professor's advice, raising his arm in a manner reminiscent of a falconer welcoming an eagle.

Fawkes settled upon it effortlessly, its claws barely pressing against his sleeve. The warmth radiating from the Phoenix was unlike anything he had ever felt — gentle, soothing, and oddly familiar.

A memory stirred within him. That same warmth, embracing him in the darkness… when he had first arrived in this world.

"I remember you," Vizet murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you… for being there."

Fawkes let out a low, affectionate coo and nuzzled against his cheek, as if acknowledging the sentiment.

Flitwick, watching the exchange, beamed. "It's rare for Fawkes to show such immediate affection. It seems you two have a special connection."

Vizet gently stroked the Phoenix's golden feathers, his mind still lingering on that faint but persistent recollection.

Flitwick clapped his hands together suddenly. "Now then! You must be famished after everything that's happened tonight. I'll have some food brought up for you."

Vizet blinked, startled by the sudden shift. "Oh! That's really not necessary —"

Flitwick chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. "Nonsense, nonsense! I was planning to have a little pre-sleep snack myself. Consider it a happy coincidence."

Vizet smiled, still cradling Fawkes on his arm as the warmth of the Phoenix seeped into his very bones, grounding him in the moment.

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Vizet wasn't sure what Flitwick considered a bedtime meal, but he was fairly certain that what had just appeared on the desk didn't qualify.

A large cut of lamb, a thick steak, and three perfectly baked potatoes sat before him, steaming invitingly. If anyone ate this before bed, they might end up dreaming about being too full to move.

Yet, the rich aroma of roasted meat was impossible to resist.

Giving in, he took a bite of the tender steak, savoring its smoky, buttery flavor. Between mouthfuls, he pulled out a few dirigible plums from his pocket and offered them to Fawkes.

According to Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Phoenixes favored morning dew, herbs, and certain berries.

Fawkes seemed pleased with his offering. The great bird lifted its elegant head, eyes gleaming, and gently nudged Vizet's hand, inviting him to stroke its neck.

Tentatively, Vizet ran his fingers through the Phoenix's feathers. They were impossibly smooth and silky, emanating warmth that seeped into his skin, making him feel inexplicably comforted.

There was something deeply reassuring about the bird's presence — something that made the weight of the evening's events seem just a little lighter.

He let his mind drift, sifting through the thoughts that had been clouding his mood. The memories of the night's events intertwined with older recollections, stirring something unshakable in his chest.

A quiet sigh escaped him.

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, lost in thought, until a familiar voice broke the silence.

"It seems you and Fawkes have become friends."

Vizet turned, looking toward the door.

Dumbledore stood at the threshold, his long silver beard gleaming softly in the warm candlelight. His bright blue eyes, sharp yet kind, held the same unshakable energy as always, untouched by the passing of years.

At the sound of his voice, Fawkes fluttered his wings and glided gracefully onto Dumbledore's outstretched arm. The Phoenix rubbed its curved beak against the old wizard's cheek affectionately before lifting off again to perch on the ornate bird stand near the door.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his robes trailing behind him as he approached the desk.

"Your first Halloween at Hogwarts," he mused gently, "was it everything you imagined?"

Vizet nodded, chewing thoughtfully before replying, "I was actually thinking of submitting an article to Mr. Lovegood — writing about what happened tonight."

A glimmer of concern, followed by amusement flickered across Dumbledore's face. "Ah, an aspiring journalist. How delightful. I must confess, I've become quite the devoted reader of The Quibbler myself."

His expression, however, quickly softened as he observed the subtle tension still lingering in Vizet's features.

With an air of casual magic, Dumbledore reached into his pockets and produced an assortment of sweets — lemon drops, toffees, and various brightly wrapped candies spilling into his palm.

"I look forward to reading your piece," he said, offering a lemon drop.

Vizet hesitated only briefly before accepting the candy. Then, with a small breath, he decided to voice the thoughts that had been weighing on him.

"Headmaster… may I ask what truly happened tonight?"

Dumbledore didn't speak immediately, allowing Vizet to continue.

"When I arrived, the troll changed its focus completely — ignoring its original target. It came straight for me. That's not normal."

His voice was steady, but his mind raced with pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together.

"And then there's the matter of the runespoor attack. Hagrid told me the snake eggs came from that very runespoor."

He leaned forward slightly.

"But Luna mentioned something odd. She said the runespoor that attacked us was old — far too old to lay eggs. So where did those eggs really come from?"

His fingers curled slightly on the desk. "I was paid five hundred Galleons for those eggs. That's not a small sum of money." He met Dumbledore's gaze directly. "I think I deserve to know what I should know."

As the words left him, Vizet felt something inside him unclench. The weight on his chest eased just a little, as though speaking his suspicions aloud had exhaled some of his unease.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, his expression unreadable but undeniably warm. "It feels better to voice your thoughts, doesn't it?"

Vizet gave a small nod. "…Yeah."

"Good," Dumbledore said approvingly. "It is a habit you should keep. I, too, once carried many burdens in silence… until my silence led me to make a terrible mistake."

Vizet tilted his head. "A terrible mistake?"

Dumbledore only nodded, but did not elaborate. Instead, he said, "Vizet, continue to speak your thoughts. You have a mind brimming with curiosity, and that is a gift."

Vizet hesitated before clearing his throat lightly. "Well… Life at Hogwarts is beautiful. I only have two things I don't understand."

A small smile curled at his lips. "And since I like it here, I don't want anything ruining that beauty."

Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Ah, the Ravenclaw thirst for knowledge — relentless, insatiable, and ever-seeking. Yes, you are exactly where you belong."

Then, his expression turned more serious. "Let's start with the matter of the runespoor. That incident was orchestrated by certain… pure-blood families. I personally intervened. The result of that negotiation was the snake eggs."

He spread his hands, his tone casual but firm. "Rest assured, they will not take further action. You may use that money freely."

Vizet frowned slightly. "Pure-blood families are targeting me?" His mind flashed to the cold stares he often received from certain Slytherins. "Is it because I'm an Obscurus?"