Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 396, page 395: An Absurd Era!

The last thing Ian saw was a red alert flashing wildly on the control panel, and then the entire time machine was thrown out of the time tunnel by an irresistible force and plunged into an unknown spacetime.

When he awoke again, he found himself lying on a grassy field. The air was thick with an unfamiliar scent, and the color of the sky seemed unlike any era he could recall. Beside him, the once-cool time machine was now a pile of smoking scrap metal, with occasional sparks flying between the broken wires.

Ian struggled to sit up and checked himself. Apart from a few scrapes and bruises, he seemed to be alright. His white robe was covered in mud and grass, but the golden glow still lingered beneath his skin. The lead box he always carried was still safely in the inner pocket of his robe.

The fragments of Ra's Eye are intact.

"Well, at least the most important thing isn't lost," Ian muttered to himself, trying to make the best of a bad situation. Not daring to be careless, he carefully put the lead box, which he hadn't had time to put into his purse, into it.

Ian's money pouch has been reinforced time and again, and it is no longer just an ordinary item with an expansion spell applied to it. It also has a lot of protective magic applied to this spatial storage equipment.

After all, all of Ian's belongings were stored inside. If anything went wrong and the equipment was damaged, all of Ian's possessions would be destroyed and scattered all over the place.

It's like encountering a fairy godmother; who could resist that?

"Cough cough... Who designed the landing system? They should be sent to mine with those black guys who can't speak the language!" Ian complained as he stood up and looked around.

This is a deep, secluded forest, with towering ancient trees blocking out the sun, and vines coiling around the trunks like snakes. The air is filled with the damp scent of earth and some ancient atmosphere. In the distance, the babbling of a stream and the calls of unknown birds can be heard. The sky is covered by thick clouds, blocking out the sunlight, with only a faint ray of light barely breaking through.

"Where is this?" Ian frowned, struggling to his feet and kicking the smoking wreckage of the time machine. "Where's Camelot? Where are the Knights of the Round Table? There's not even a trace of a castle!"

The climate was mild and the vegetation was lush. Apart from ruling out the Jurassic period, he couldn't determine the specific era or location for the time being.

The time machine, which had already been scrapped, suddenly emitted one last crackling sound before falling completely silent.

He pulled out his magic compass—a trick Morgan had taught him, capable of sensing the magical fluctuations of the era. But the compass needle spun wildly, finally stopping in a vague direction, pointing deep into the forest.

“Energy disorder…time distortion?” Ian narrowed his eyes. “Could it be that the force just now wasn’t just interference, but directly threw me into an…unknown point in time?”

This can only be considered a guess.

"Damn it, I hope I'm not stuck in this era and can't go back." Ian went over to inspect the wreckage and found that the core components were also damaged. It wasn't that they couldn't be repaired, but that they couldn't be repaired easily.

He still had many aspects of Titan technology that he hadn't fully understood. Besides, even if Ian was highly skilled, he lacked the alchemical materials to perform his miraculous healing.

“The materials used by Titan Technology are different from the materials I have stored. Experimenting to find a replacement would be a lot of work.” Ian was, after all, a young wizard from Hogwarts at the end of the 20th century. Most of his alchemical material reserves came from that era, which was very different from the Titans’ era.

Although Ian collected a lot of ancient alchemical materials during his time travel and made a great harvest, there was still a difference between the ancient alchemical materials and those of the Titans.

After all, no matter how ancient, who is more ancient than the era of the Titans?

"Looks like we'll have to find a local magician to help us." Ian sighed and began salvaging usable items from the ruins. These were the scrap metal from the time machine that could still be used. After all, not everything was destroyed; many parts that hadn't been completely damaged by the explosion could be recovered and repaired.

"Actually, there's not much usable left, sigh."

Ian stood before the wreckage of the time machine, his brow furrowed. Although he had anticipated the damage would be quite severe, a closer look at the smoking scrap metal still made his heart sink.

"Restored to the original condition!"

Ian tried to take a shortcut using a healing spell.

He sighed, flicked his wand, and golden light enveloped the fragments of the time machine. The repair spell, which he had upgraded himself, had once rebuilt the broken pyramid stones, restored the broken Nile dam to its original state, and could also be applied to most magical objects, defying the consensus of wizards.

However, at this moment, these powerful restorative spells had little effect on the time machine wreckage. The object trembled weakly a few times, emitting a few feeble clicking sounds, before falling silent again.

"So it really didn't work," Ian muttered to himself. This time machine combined Titan technology with magical craftsmanship, its complexity far exceeding that of ordinary magical artifacts. In particular, the time-drive module at its core employed cross-dimensional technological principles, which were simply beyond the capabilities of conventional repair spells.

He crouched down and began to carefully examine the wreckage. The control panel had been completely melted, the navigator was shattered into dozens of pieces, and most critically, the time-drive core—the crystal that should have been shimmering with blue light was now dull and cracked, clearly severely damaged.

“I still have to do it myself.” Ian shook his head helplessly and began to cast a sorting spell. With a light tap of his wand, the parts automatically sorted into categories: intact, repairable, and completely unusable. He carefully put the parts that were still useful into a money pouch that had been enchanted with a Seamless Stretch Charm—this seemingly ordinary little leather pouch held a secret.

After multiple modifications.

The interior space was large enough to hold a city. As for the parts that had been burned to charcoal and were no longer usable, Ian did not hesitate at all.

"vanished without a trace."

He whispered an incantation, and the golden light at the tip of his wand transformed the debris into basic particles, which dissipated into the air with the wind. Leaving behind any technological remnants that could cause spacetime paradoxes or be misused was a fundamental principle of time travelers. Completely obliterating the ashes from the world effectively prevented anyone from finding them and causing unnecessary trouble.

"We need to find a way to determine the era we live in."

After cleaning up the scene, Ian stood up and looked around.

This was an unfamiliar wilderness, with a dense forest in the distance, the air filled with the fresh scent of grass and trees. He decided to venture into the forest, searching for traces of human activity. The forest was even denser than it appeared from the outside. Towering ancient trees blocked out the sun, and the thick layer of fallen leaves on the ground felt soft underfoot. Ian skillfully cast several detection spells, and only after confirming that there were no dangerous magical creatures around did he begin to explore deeper.

Along the way, he encountered many wild animals—deer, hares, and various birds—but surprisingly, he saw almost no trace of any magical creatures. There were no bowerworts leaping among the branches, no bird-snakes nesting in the canopy, and not even the common cattail fluff.

"Strange," Ian said thoughtfully, "the magical environment here seems quite barren?"

As a seasoned wizard, he could keenly sense the magical fluctuations around him. The magical energy of this era was unusually thin, almost as if it had been deliberately suppressed or drained by some force. This was extremely rare in all the eras he had experienced; after all, even the areas inhabited by Muggles shouldn't be like this.

The areas where most Muggles live are not much different from those where wizards live. In fact, many of the areas where Muggles live are also home to magical creatures.

This world, Earth, may have environments very suitable for magical creatures to live in, but there is absolutely no such thing as a place that is unsuitable for magical creatures to live in.

"Don't let this go on until the end of time, maybe the 30th or 50th century." With a heavy heart, Ian continued on for about an hour before hearing the sound of flowing water. His spirits lifted, and he followed the sound, finding a crystal-clear stream. Rivers are the cradle of civilization; following the current, there was a high probability of finding a human settlement.

This is very basic wilderness survival knowledge.

I'm a little thirsty.

Ian bent down, scooped up a handful of river water, and cast a few testing spells. "Water quality is safe, no magical contamination." He nodded in satisfaction, replenished his drinking water, stored some water, and then walked downstream along the river.

Although Ian himself has created water magic and bread magic, aiming to emulate the mages of World of Warcraft, natural things are still much better than things with added magic.

It's like not adding technology.

The river meandered on and on, proving Ian's judgment correct. Less than two hours into their journey along the riverbank, signs of human activity appeared in the distance—first scattered cultivated fields, then simple fences, and finally a dirt path clearly made by people.

This is a place where people live.

It doesn't look like the end of the world.

"Is it modern or contemporary?"

Ian quickened his pace and soon saw the outline of a village.

To his surprise, the village actually had utility poles and streetlights. Although the style was different from what he was familiar with, they were indeed modern facilities.

"You've transported me back to my original era?" Ian was overjoyed. If he really had returned to the late 20th or early 21st century, he would be able to contact Hogwarts very soon.

Or at least seek help from the local Ministry of Magic, specifically the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry. As is widely known, the Department of Mysteries is the only truly effective official body in the wizarding world.

The Ministry of Magic headquarters was full of white knights and black knights. Ian pondered this, quickening his pace, intending to make contact with the people here and learn about the times.

However, as he got closer, Ian began to sense something was amiss. The streetlights were too old-fashioned, like designs from the mid-20th century. And the village's architecture was also peculiar—a hybrid style he had never seen before, somewhere between traditional and modern.

What unsettled him even more was the huge signpost standing at the village entrance, bearing a prominent Iron Cross. Ian's heart sank—the sign looked all too familiar; he had seen it countless times in history books.

"No way," he muttered to himself, quickening his pace as he entered the village.

The sight before him utterly shocked Ian. Almost every building in the village was adorned with a red flag with white lettering, the central symbol being a chilling swastika. The villagers wore identical gray uniforms, their hairstyles rigid and standardized. Several children played in an open space, but their game was a mock march and salute of soldiers.

“What the hell is this place?” Ian was taken aback. He thought he had accidentally traveled back to World War II, but the streetlights and power lines suggested that this was a more recent era.

Just as he was lost in thought, a villager spotted him. It was a middle-aged man, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, holding an old-fashioned hunting rifle, with a wary and fierce look in his eyes.

"Halt! Who are you?" the man shouted in German, pointing his gun at Ian.

Although Ian could understand German, he didn't quite understand this dialectal German, but he could still easily discern the other party's obvious hostility.

Facing the gun barrel, Ian was neither nervous nor in a hurry. He simply turned his head and instinctively used Legilimency to try to read the other person's mind to obtain information.

However, the moment his consciousness entered the other person's brain, the overwhelming influx of information almost made his scalp tingle. It wasn't a single thought, but a terrifying mind that had been completely brainwashed and filled with fanatical faith. What shocked him even more was the time information extracted from these fragments of thought.

1998 years.

But it wasn't the 1998 he was familiar with.

"Ok?"

Ian's pupils contracted sharply. He finally understood why magical energy was so scarce here—under such rule, wizards and magic must have suffered systematic persecution and suppression. Most magical knowledge had likely been destroyed, forcing the remaining wizards into deep hiding.

The decline in wizards and magical creatures is the real reason for the arrival of the end times. Nature and the activities of living beings are closely related and influence each other.

"Answer me! Who are you?" the villager shouted again, his finger on the trigger. The other villagers were also alerted and gathered around, their eyes filled with suspicion and hostility.

no way.

Who can blame me when Ian doesn't look like a typical German?

He was, after all, a descendant of British nobility.

“I mean no harm,” Ian quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t use large-scale magic here; that would expose his wizard identity, which would be suicidal in this space-time that so strongly rejected magic. But he couldn’t just surrender either; who knew what these brainwashed villagers might do?

“I’m just a lost traveler,” Ian replied in English, while subtly tightening his grip on his wand. He hoped to get away with it, but knew deep down that the chances were slim.

Sure enough, the villagers became even more wary after hearing English.

"Grab him!" someone shouted. "He might be one of those remnants of the evil Axis powers from back then!" Good heavens, the Allies have become the Axis powers. History books are indeed written by the victors.

The villagers swarmed forward. Ian sighed, knowing that the possibility of a peaceful resolution was now zero.

"Collapse!"

With a flick of his wand, the villagers at the forefront fell to the ground.

But this only enraged the others. Gunshots rang out, bullets whizzing past Ian. He had to cast an Ironclad Charm to protect himself while quickly devising an escape strategy.

"Apparition? No, I don't know the magical rules of this spacetime."

"A transformation spell? There are too many people around; I'll be easily discovered."

“Memory modification? Too many people, too large a scope. It would make me seem like a legitimate dark wizard.” Just as Ian hesitated, the sound of sirens came from afar.

Someone has obviously called the police.

More armed men are on their way.

(End of this chapter)