Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 401: Casting Spells Without a Staff

The embers of the campfire gradually died out in the night wind.

There was a low, rumbling vibration in the air, like the sound of hooves, but the rhythm was chaotic, with a metallic scraping sound. It was the sound of the centaurs moving on the ground.

First one. Then, more centaurs emerged from the forest. They varied in appearance, some with dark brown skin, others with light brown skin, and all carried the same weapon.

"Fuck you?"

Ian Prince held his breath; the Disillusionment Charm made him blend almost perfectly into his surroundings, but the tremor within him was hard to calm. His gaze was fixed on the centaurs—or more precisely, on the weapons they held.

That sleek metal frame, that familiar curved magazine, that rough yet practical wooden stock—what else could it be but the renowned, easy-to-use, and affordable AK47?

"AK-47?!" Ian almost cried out, his mind going completely blank. "Merlin's biggest briefs! What the hell is going on?"

Could it be that I've fallen into yet another, even more absurd, erroneous timeline?
A centaur wielding an automatic rifle?!
"Have I been transported to some absurd parallel universe again?"

He roared inwardly.

"The centaurs at Hogwarts are still chanting ancient prophecies at the Star Observatory, while the centaurs here are playing with automatic weapons?! Does the Ministry of Magic know about this?!"

For a moment, Ian felt that either he or the world had gone mad. The impact of what he was seeing was almost as great as when he discovered that history had been altered in his previous timeline.

Although they were models from decades ago, these creatures, who should have been wielding spears and bows and exuding an air of mystery and antiquity, were now each holding a deadly weapon symbolizing modern warfare. The incongruity was so strong it was dizzying. Just as Ian was about to doubt whether he had experienced another time-travel error...

The centaurs had already reached the spot where he had been grilling meat.

"That's not right!"

Ian struggled to recall the history of magic. Centaurs were indeed magical creatures, typically dwelling deep in forests, revering nature and the stars, and keeping their distance from human magical society. They used bows and spears, regarding modern technology as "Muggle noise." But this group of centaurs before him was not only well-equipped but also possessed extremely high tactical skills—they were deployed in groups for patrols, some on sentry duty, others searching, their movements as professional as those of special forces.

“There are traces of human activity here.” The lead centaur was exceptionally tall and spoke a centaur language that Ian happened to have studied.

The leader's muscular upper body was covered in white totems, and his bronze skin gleamed in the sunlight.

He lowered his head, his sensitive nose twitching as he carefully sniffed the lingering scents in the air and the extinguished campfire, then poked at the embers with the barrel of his AK rifle with the bayonet attached.

"Damn it! My roast meat! The meat I painstakingly roasted!" Ian's heart was in his throat, and he slightly raised his wand, ready to deal with any attack or teleport away at any moment.

This worry was clearly unnecessary. Although the centaurs were high-level magical creatures, Ian was a legendary mage after all, and the centaurs did not seem to have noticed his invisibility.

They communicated in a low, hissing language, which, although belonging to the language of centaurs, differed slightly in some of its structure from the centaur language Ian had learned.

Ian thinks it can be considered a dialect.

They seemed more interested in the half-roasted venison.

"Meat! Roast meat!" A young centaur even tore off a deer leg and began to chew it without any hesitation, his mouth dripping with oil and making satisfied humming noises.

They stopped searching and excitedly surrounded the food, cutting off chunks of meat with knives and stuffing them into their mouths to chew. Some even took out water jugs and drank wine with the venison.

"..." As expected, he couldn't save the roast meat. Ian watched as his hard-earned dinner was devoured by these uninvited guests, unsure of how to react. He didn't make a move. He realized that these centaurs weren't hostile, at least not yet. They were more like... an armed tribe.

What intrigued him even more was why they were here, why they had guns, and who had given them these weapons. He watched as the centaurs quickly packed up the remaining venison and took it with them. After cautiously surveying the forest and seemingly confirming that there were no other threats, they carried their guns and meat, forming a loose line, and headed deeper into the forest.

“I need to figure out where I’ve been thrown.” Ian hesitated for a moment. Reason told him he should stay away from these dangerous, heavily armed magical creatures. But intense curiosity and the urgent need to find out exactly where he was ultimately overcame his caution.

"I have to keep up with them," he told himself, remaining in his phantom form, like an invisible ghost, silently following behind the centaur squad.

The centaurs moved swiftly through the forest and were extremely familiar with the terrain. Ian had to carefully use levitation and silence spells to keep up with them without being detected.

After traveling for about half an hour, the forest gradually thinned out, and a camp built against the mountain came into view ahead. In the valley, there was a centaur camp.

The camp was surrounded by a simple fence made of thick wooden stakes and thorns.

There were even centaurs with AKs on guard towers. The camp consisted of wooden huts and tents, surrounded by wooden fences and watchtowers, with machine guns mounted on the towers.

Inside the camp, more centaurs were active, mixed with some...humans?
"Thankfully, it's not some bizarre timeline where dinosaurs replaced humans and magical creatures replaced humans." Ian's spirits lifted, and he cautiously approached the camp.

He found a bush to hide in, a place where he could observe the interior of the camp but would not be easily spotted.

In the open space in the center of the camp, a group of humans were trading with figures resembling centaur elders. These humans wore brightly colored robes with distinctive ethnic patterns, and had dark skin, clearly native to some region of Africa. However, a faint magical aura emanated from them.

This fluctuation clearly identified them as wizards! Several centaurs piled up the pelts of their hunted prey, along with some ores and herbs that shimmered with magical light, to one side. Meanwhile, the black wizards took out from the large chests they had brought—not gold coins, nor magical items, but bundles of long, thin items wrapped in oilcloth.

"Damn it! I knew something was off about these centaurs!" Ian squinted as he watched the black wizards skillfully unroll the tarpaulin, revealing rows of gleaming AK-47 assault rifles! They even brought out several heavy wooden crates, which were filled with bright yellow bullets!

Ian hid behind a boulder at the edge of the camp, utterly shocked.

The centaurs let out excited neighs, picking up the rifles and caressing and examining them with obvious affection, as if they were divine weapons. Clearly, this wasn't the first time either side had made such a deal.

They were very familiar with the process.

"A wizard... selling guns to centaurs?! This completely overturns the food chain of magical creatures!" Ian's lips twitched.

He finally understood where those AKs came from.

Just then, a gust of wind blew by, carrying with it the intermittent sounds of conversation from the center of the camp. The group of wizards were speaking a mixed language, a blend of the local dialect and fragmented English.

Although he had never studied an African language, Ian could barely understand some key words. After all, he was a language expert, and many languages ​​on Earth shared commonalities.

They may even have originated from the same source.

“…Next time…more…bullets…” a centaur elder stammered in broken English, gesturing wildly. “No problem…the same price…in exchange for…shiny stones…” a black wizard who seemed to be the leader replied with a smile, patting the ammunition box beside him.

“…Those…bad things in the jungle…are getting more and more numerous…we need…bigger…bang bang…” another centaur interjected, slapping the AK in his hand.

“Don’t worry…good stuff…Kalashnikov…reliable…” The black wizard gave a thumbs up, “better than your…spears…”

Listening to this absurd conversation and witnessing this magical realism, Ian suddenly felt a strange sense of relief. His gaze locked onto the black wizard who appeared to be the leader. Taking advantage of everyone's attention being focused on the arms deal, he concentrated and silently activated Legilimency again.

Magic, like invisible threads, quietly probes into the wizard's consciousness.

Ian cautiously probed the wizard's mind with his own will.

Due to the distance and the need for secrecy, he was unable to engage in deep reading and could only capture some of the most superficial and active fragments of memory and thought processes.

The scene begins on a vast grassland—Africa, on the edge of the Congo Basin.

Under the scorching sun, amidst the dense rainforest, scattered tribes dwell. Wizards have lived here for generations, passing down ancient spells and rituals. They coexist with nature and magical creatures.

But in recent decades, the world has changed.

External forces invade—colonizers, warlords, multinational corporations—who use guns and money to destroy tribes and plunder resources. Magical creatures are hunted down, and sacred sites are desecrated. Traditional magic proves utterly vulnerable in the face of modern weaponry.

Just as the tribe was on the verge of extinction, a great shaman realized a "forbidden path": magic and technology do not have to be opposed.

He began researching how to incorporate witchcraft into modern weapons. He used spells to enhance the lethality of bullets, runes to protect firearms from damage, and even used soul magic to create "cursed ammunition"—those hit would bleed continuously until they died.

Centaurs, as guardians of the forest, possess immense physical strength and a powerful fighting instinct. They are willing to ally with wizards to fight against external enemies.

And so, the transaction began.

Wizards used magic to provide centaurs with "supernatural enhancements": strengthening their muscles with "potions of strength," improving their eyesight with "eagle-eye charms," ​​and making them move silently with "silent charms." Of course, precious alchemical and potion-making ingredients were also part of the trade.

The centaurs also seem to have some issues to deal with, not just external factors. The rainforest has been quite turbulent lately, with rumors that an old tribe has awakened something it shouldn't have.

The black wizard didn't know the truth and didn't care, so Ian couldn't see the specifics. He could only learn from the black wizard why the centaurs were equipped with AK-47s.

Like the Muggles, the AK-47 was chosen as the weapon of choice due to its simple structure, durability, and ease of maintenance. Wizards bought it from the black market, warlords, or "summoned" it from abandoned battlefields using magic, and then traded it to centaurs. The profits from this were so great that even Mexican warlords would drool.

Of course, none of this concerned Ian. The most crucial information he had was a clear geographical name that flashed through the wizard's mind.

Like a lighthouse in the darkness—Africa!
"Africa!" Ian almost cried with joy, his tense nerves finally relaxing. "Thank God, I'm still in Africa! I haven't fallen into any stranger time or space!"

Since it's Africa, everything makes sense! In this place, the AK-47 is more widely circulated than candy and is known as "Africa's legal tender."

Let alone centaurs, even if he saw a group of goblins wielding RPG rocket launchers, it wouldn't be entirely unacceptable, would it? After all, these African wizards clearly treated arms dealing as a side business for their tribe, using these Muggle weapons to trade with local magical creatures for precious magical materials!

Having figured out the most basic and crucial issue of spacetime coordinates, Ian breathed a sigh of relief. Although the process was convoluted and bizarre, at least he hadn't fallen into the worst possible situation yet. Next, he also sensed the memories of several wizards, piecing together the same history as his own.

Now I can finally relax completely.

“But this era seems to be the early days of Voldemort’s activities…” Ian wasn’t too panicked. Since it was a normal wizarding world, his time machine would be repaired sooner or later.

At worst, he could get a few time-travel devices and go find Nicolas Flamel. He continued to lie in wait, patiently observing the completion of the transaction between the two African tribes.

The centaurs, satisfied, carried their newly acquired guns and bullets back to the depths of the camp, while the black wizards packed up the magical materials they had obtained and used Apparition.

Several loud bangs were heard before the sound disappeared.

The edge of the forest returned to calm, with only sporadic sounds coming from the centaur camp and the howls of wild beasts in the distance.

Ian glanced at the heavily guarded centaur camp and abandoned the idea of ​​going over to gather information. Who knew if these centaurs with AKs would be friendly to outsiders?

"It seems I'll have to get out of this jungle on my own."

Ian discerned the direction—based on the scattered information he had just obtained through Legilimency, the black wizards had likely come from the east, where there was a greater chance of human settlements.

He cast several protective and tracking spells on himself, took a deep breath of the wild air, and started walking.

At least this time, his adventure sounded much more normal—he just got lost in the African jungle, and at most encountered some strange creatures with a bit too much firepower.

For African sorcerers.

Ian was actually a little curious as well.

just now.

Ian noticed something amazing, just like he had seen in the Hogwarts library before: these African wizards were casting spells without wands.

“Using fingers as a wand… Even the weakest wizards can master this wandless spellcasting technique. Perhaps I can glimpse some of the crystallization of civilization in it.”

Ian was not the kind of person who was prejudiced against other races. He always firmly believed that any civilization that has continued to this day must have invaluable treasures.

He planned to study and figure out the key to these wizards' wandless spellcasting, so that perhaps he could return to Hogwarts and teach the young wizards there similar techniques.

"I am truly full of virtue as a grand teacher!"

Ian praised himself in his mind.

(End of this chapter)