HP: Transmigrating as an Obscurial

The sun had begun its slow descent by the time the Hogwarts Express rumbled toward its final stop. Scarlet and gold light stretched across the sky, painting the tall buildings in deep, warm hues. The nearby woods, shrouded in creeping dusk, looked almost like the Forbidden Forest.

By the time the train came to a stop, night had settled, and the city pulsed with life. Lights flickered on in high-rise buildings, glowing like fireflies trapped in a maze of steel and glass. Vizet stepped off the train with Cedric, the hum of the station filling his ears. The air smelled different here — thicker, laced with something metallic and hurried, far from the crisp, enchanted winds of Hogwarts.

Stepping through the barrier into the noise and rush of King's Cross, he lingered for a moment, his suitcase in hand, taking it all in. Everything seemed… altered. Or maybe he was.

"I'm going home."

With a glance around, he turned into a quieter alleyway, reached into his cloak, and stuck out his wand hand. A loud BANG shattered the night, and the Knight Bus lurched into view, brakes screeching against the pavement.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard —" Stan Shunpike beamed. "Where to, mate?"

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The familiar rook-shaped house stood at the end of the winding path. The moment Vizet stepped closer, a blur of feathers shot toward him — Diana, her wings beating wildly. Before she could reach him, Sol swooped in from above, tackling her midair in a flurry of excited squawks. The two owls tumbled together, a chaotic mess of feathers and nipping beaks.

Vizet barely had time to laugh before his gaze traveled further.

A figure stood just ahead, waiting.

Luna.

She looked taller somehow, her long, pale blonde hair drifting over her shoulders, glowing softly in the moonlight. But when she smiled — calm, knowing, unchanging — Vizet realized something.

Some things don't change.

Half a year. That was how long he had been away, and in that time, everything at home had shifted.

The first floor was different. A new mural stretched across the walls, painted in sweeping strokes of white and silver. Luna's work. A peaceful village blanketed in soft snow, smoke curling from chimneys, warm light glowing in tiny windows. It looked so real that, for a moment, Vizet swore he could feel the crisp bite of winter air.

Ottery St. Catchpole rarely saw snow. The North Atlantic Current kept Devon's winters too mild for that. But Luna had imagined it anyway, and in her world, that was enough.

Maybe, one day, Vizet would learn a spell to bring it to life.

Inside, the fireplace crackled warmly, its biggest change now being the faint green shimmer of Floo powder residue — finally connected to the Floo Network.

The biggest transformation, though, was The Quibbler.

Sales had soared in the past few months, and Xenophilius Lovegood had upgraded to a new printing press — an elaborate contraption of gleaming brass, noiseless in its efficiency. It no longer rattled and clanked like a hyperactive goblin, yet despite the improved workflow, Xenophilius himself seemed… busier.

The dark circles under his eyes had deepened, a near-perfect match for the rings around Diana's own. If exhaustion were a competition, he and a sleep-deprived raccoon would be locked in a tie.

But even with all that, he still made time for Christmas.

A fir tree stood proudly in the center of the living room, its fresh pine scent weaving through the air. Luna had decorated it with her usual flair — mistletoe, Dirigible Plums, tiny floating ornaments that drifted whenever someone walked past.

And then there were the figures.

Intricately carved creatures, hanging delicately from the branches — Bowtruckles, Nifflers, a curled-up Manticore. It was as if the entire cast of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them had decided to spend the holidays in their living room.

But at the very top, not a star, not an angel —

A bright red Quaffle.

And standing atop it, arms crossed, cape fluttering behind him, was a tiny figurine of Vizet himself.

He stared at it for a long moment, a strange warmth blooming in his chest.

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The wind was restless that night, whispering through the trees and rattling the windows.

Vizet, woken by the need for a glass of water, padded through the dimly lit house, only to nearly collide with Xenophilius Lovegood, who was still hunched over his work.

"Ah, Vizet!" Xenophilius blinked, momentarily startled before grinning. His robe was rumpled, his eyes heavy-lidded beneath deepening dark circles, but there was an unmistakable gleam of satisfaction in them.

"It's the Christmas holidays, of course I have to spend the day with Luna," he said cheerfully, waving a hand as if that explained everything. "So I do my work at night!"

Vizet glanced at the new printing press beside him — silent, efficient, made entirely of polished brass. It whirred softly as it worked, churning out the latest edition of The Quibbler.

"Best purchase I've made in years!" Xenophilius declared, taking a large gulp of gurdyroot tea and shuddering as its bitter taste hit him. "Doesn't make a sound! Luna doesn't even hear it!"

Vizet sighed, arms crossed. "Mr. Lovegood, you should really get some rest... There's still a long road ahead. No point in wearing yourself out."

Xenophilius waved off the concern with an amused flick of his fingers. "You don't have to tell me that! Besides, I've been busy with something much more exciting..." He leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a grand secret. "That troll story of yours? Quite good! Luna loved it."

Vizet blinked, surprised. "She did?"

"She even helped with the illustrations!" Xenophilius puffed out his chest proudly. "I plan to finalize the first edition before Christmas — it'll be her gift!"

"A Christmas present for Luna..." Vizet murmured, considering.

Xenophilius clapped his hands together suddenly, startling him. "Ah! Since you're home, you can help me with something! Take Luna out tomorrow."

Vizet tilted his head. "Take her out?"

"Yes, yes! Now that we've got the Floo Network up and running, we ought to use it — those maintenance fees aren't cheap, you know!" Xenophilius scowled at the floor as though he could see the fireplace through the wooden planks, looking genuinely pained at the thought of wasted Galleons.

Vizet chuckled. "Alright, I'll take her out for a walk tomorrow."

"Splendid!" Xenophilius rummaged through a drawer before pulling out a cloth bag that jingled softly. He pressed it into Vizet's hands.

"There are forty-two gold Galleons, four silver Sickles, and sixteen bronze Knuts in here. Use it to buy Christmas presents. And make sure to get Luna something in your name — it's supposed to be a surprise."

Vizet looked up, about to protest, but Xenophilius shook his head firmly. "Whatever's left, keep it. Buy yourself something nice or save it for next semester."

The gesture was so genuine, so quietly thoughtful, that Vizet didn't refuse. Instead, he smiled, clutching the bag. "Mr. Lovegood, I'll make good use of it."

"Good, good!" Xenophilius clapped him on the back, grinning. "Now off to bed with you!"

"And you should get some sleep too," Vizet added over his shoulder.

"Eventually!" Xenophilius called after him, already turning back to his press.

The next morning, the sky was clear and cloudless, the sun bright despite the winter chill. Vizet and Luna stood in the garden, tending to the plants.

No snow yet — not even a hint of it. Sweat dampened Vizet's collar as he finished fertilizing the soil.

"Maybe it'll snow in a few days," Luna mused, tilting her head.

Vizet wiped his brow. "You think so?"

"They're preparing," she said simply.

Vizet smiled. "Then we'll wait and see."

He straightened, brushing the dirt from his hands. "I was thinking… why don't we go to London today? The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley — you'll be starting Hogwarts next year, it's good to get familiar with it."

Luna's eyes brightened. "That sounds wonderful!"

"And we need to buy some new clothes. Mr. Lovegood's robe has holes."

Luna giggled, her eyebrows curving like crescent moons. "Okay!"