Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 402-401: The Wizarding World of Africa

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.

This sounds much better than facing an era of wizard extinction.

As long as the time machine is repaired.

Ian would then be able to continue his material-gathering journey, and once he completes the material gathering, he might be able to be taken back to the correct timeline by Dumbledore.

Well, Ian had considered finding a way to return to his own time, but Dumbledore was still trapped in the ancient past, and he couldn't just abandon his headmaster.

"We should go this way."

Ian trudged through the primeval rainforest of the basin, his feet glistening with morning dew. Towering baobab trees stood like ancient giants, their branches twisted like dragon claws, their canopies blotting out the sun. Vines hung down like pythons, entwining the ancient trees; the air was thick with the humid heat, a mixture of decaying leaves, earth, and the fragrance of unknown flowers.

Ahead, in a wide-open swamp, a group of strange creatures were drinking water.

Nuginni is a long-necked giant snake unique to Africa. Its skin is as black as night, its scales have a metallic sheen, and dozens of slender tentacles extend from its neck, dancing in the air as if they were alive.

They are powerful magical predators that can paralyze their prey with their tentacles before swallowing them whole with their massive jaws.

Ian remained calm.

He stood still.

The ancient pressure originating from the legendary wizard within his body was quietly released.

The Nuginis suddenly raised their heads, their tentacles stiffening, and extreme fear flashed in their serpentine eyes. They let out a low hiss and quickly slid into the depths of the swamp, disappearing from sight.

"Ha, it seems that the title of a human legend works even in Africa."

Ian chuckled and continued on his way.

Soon after, he encountered a group of Apari magical creatures resembling giant hippos, with skin as hard as rock and the ability to spew corrosive acid. They initially intended to attack Ian, but upon sensing the magical aura emanating from him, these cowardly bullies immediately tucked their tails between their legs and fled in panic.

To his greatest surprise, a flock of brightly colored bird-snakes glided through the branches overhead at the edge of a cliff, their long, feathered tails as vibrant as rainbows. Ian watched with great interest; these magical wild creatures were nowhere to be seen at Hogwarts.

Further in, he encountered a small group of horned beasts drinking at the riverbank. These large, gentle creatures had violet fur and golden horns. Sensing Ian's approach, they merely raised their heads warily, snorted, and showed no aggression.

Ian nodded amicably and walked around them.

The most impressive encounter took place in an open area. A massive African dragon—its body covered in black and white scale-like patterns.

It looks more like a hybrid of a giant lizard and a leopard.

It was lazily basking in the sun on a giant rock. As Ian passed by, the beast instinctively opened its amber vertical pupils and let out a low, warning roar, its dragon breath carrying a scorching heat.

"Shut up, little guy!"

Ian spoke rudely to a dragon much larger than himself.

The dragon roared in fury.

However, when Ian stopped and calmly looked back at it, the awe-inspiring aura unique to dragon slayers, a quality difficult to completely conceal after the ancient battles with dragons, inadvertently emanated from him, and the situation changed dramatically. The African fire dragon froze abruptly, its vertical pupils contracting sharply.

The roar in his throat turned into an uneasy, almost sobbing sound.

It even subconsciously shrank its neck and retreated slightly, showing obvious fear, as if it had encountered a natural enemy.

Ian paused for a moment, then understood.

"It seems that not every dragon dares to challenge my might as well as me, the dragon slayer. The African fire dragon is just a coward." Ian smugly thought. The dragon-slaying certificate from the ancient dragon within him was as conspicuous and intimidating as a torch in the night to these creatures with keen magical senses.

“Very well, I’m not hungry right now, so unnecessary fighting is pointless.” He smiled slightly, concealed his aura, and continued walking forward calmly. The fire dragon only dared to relax a little after he had gone quite a distance, but it no longer dared to lazily bask in the sun, instead watching the direction Ian had left with vigilance.

The rest of the journey went surprisingly smoothly. Whether it was the lurking venomous horned beasts, the demonic apples disguised as vines, or the hordes of grumpy Pomlocks, they all seemed to have sensed the terrifying power hidden within this seemingly ordinary human and chose to retreat or ignore him.

Ian seemed to possess an invisible pass, allowing him to roam freely through this primeval jungle teeming with wondrous creatures. Hours later, he finally emerged from the edge of the forest, where the view opened up before him, revealing more signs of human activity—trodden paths and the occasional discarded modern packaging bag.

Even the faint roar of engines could be heard in the distance.

Finally, at the edge of a vast savannah and jungle, Ian discovered a sizable settlement. A village built of mud bricks and thatch came into view.

It is not an ordinary human tribe.

It is not a modern city, but more like a large tribal settlement that retains a strong traditional character, but is interspersed with modern elements such as satellite antennas, solar panels and motorcycles.

Complex magical fluctuations permeated the air, indicating that a large number of wizards lived here, making it a gathering place for African wizards. Totem poles were planted around the village, carved with totems such as snakes, leopards, and eagles, and inlaid with shimmering gems; they were clearly nodes of defensive magic arrays.

The village roads were rune-painted with ash and bone powder, and the air was filled with the smoke of herbs and spices, masking any magical fluctuations. Ian did not venture in rashly. He found a secluded high ground in the distance, and with a flicker of his body, transformed into a jet-black raven, silently flying towards the settlement.

He carefully observed the area below with his sharp bird's eye.

Round adobe houses with thatched roofs mingled with modern brick and stone buildings. Women in traditional tribal robes dried herbs, while several children chased after a ball that seemed to float magically. Not far away, some young people surrounded a dilapidated truck, trying to fix it with magic and a wrench at the same time, muttering a mixture of Swahili and spells.

The atmosphere here is vibrant and full of life, but it's quite different from the style of the British wizarding world—more rugged, more…down-to-earth. Ian even saw a stall where the owner was demonstrating to customers how to cast spells on an old AK-47 to make it "never jam" and "perfectly accurate."

The streets were narrow and muddy.

People wore traditional robes, headdresses adorned with feathers or animal bones, and their faces painted with mysterious totems. But in their hands they held not only staffs but also modified rifles and bows and arrows.

Some people even carried rocket launchers.

This is a society that perfectly blends magic with real-world violence. One stall sells "cursed bullets," claiming they can drive people insane after being shot; another stall sells "ancestral spirit potions," which grant temporary access to ancestral memories; and there are witch doctors performing exorcisms, offering live chickens as sacrifices while chanting ancient incantations.

Ian, in his raven form, circled a few times before finally fixing his gaze on the ancient-looking stone temple in the center of the village, adorned with intricate painted patterns.

He observed that occasionally, some well-dressed shamans, who looked like tribal elders or high-ranking merchants, would come to the stone temple, exchange a few words with the guards, and then touch a specific carved pattern on the outer wall of the temple. Their figures would then blur and disappear.

"A door key?" Ian understood. "And it's a door key with a fixed location that requires a specific activation method. It seems this is the entrance to the African magical community's exchange area."

He waited patiently for a while, and when he saw an opportunity when no one was around, the raven swooped down like an arrow. As it approached the stone hall, it quickly transformed back into human form and cast an illusion spell at the same time.

He imitated the wizards before him, placing his hand on the specific pattern carved with the shape of a lightning bird. Instantly, a familiar, hook-like force yanked at his navel. Space began to spin and distort.

A few seconds later, the dizzying sensation subsided. Ian found himself standing in a noisy, crowded, and colorful place, but which was indeed... rather shabby.

This place is as shabby as a flea market in a slum.

But the atmosphere was completely different.

Wizards freely converse here, trading magical items, information, and weapons. The air is thick with the pungent smells of herbs, blood, and gunpowder.

The air was somewhat stuffy and the surroundings were very noisy. The lighting mainly relied on the magical orbs floating in the air and the stone basins carved into the rock walls on both sides, burning with eternal flames.

The cave was crowded with stalls, most of which were run by Black shamans dressed in costumes with distinctive tribal characteristics, loudly hawking their wares to attract customers.

“Diagon Alley in Africa? Wizards all have their own markets.” Ian had already transformed into an African, donned a hood to conceal his form, and quietly slipped into the crowd.

These people sell a wide variety of goods: bundles of herbs shimmering with magical light, potion powders of various colors, crudely made amulets that contain considerable magic, and animal skin scrolls.

There are even live magical animals.

"I just hope it's not a dog, cat, or animal born on a weekday." Ian strolled around, admiring the exotic sights, and saw a dazzling array of things at the market.

The quality is not very high.

It's not even as good as the quality of Fandao Lane.

However, in this area where alchemy and potion-making skills are not very good, and most potions are processed in a similar way to those of the people on Claire's island, the quality is still quite good. The market even has… a whole bunch of Muggle items, from cell phones to bicycles, all clearly secondhand goods that have been modified with various kinds of magic.

The liveliness here may be no less than that of Diagon Alley, but the environment and the sophistication of the goods are far inferior. The ground is uneven rock, without neatly paved flagstones; the stalls are simple wooden frames or even just floor stalls, without gleaming shop windows; the sounds of bargaining are more direct and loud, full of the atmosphere of a bustling marketplace.

“Raw materials are fine too, it just means my little left and little right will have to suffer a bit to knead out the materials I need.” Ian pulled up the hood of his robe and discreetly blended into the crowd.

He looked around curiously, while simultaneously straining his ears to catch the conversations around him.

"The finest griffin feathers are the best material for crafting flying devices!"

"Come and see! This love potion, made with a family secret recipe, is guaranteed to make her fall head over heels for you!"

"The latest Muggle technology, enchanted with 'never-ending call interruption' and 'anti-Muggle spying' spells, requires only three Thunderstones from the African Thunderbird!"

We buy all kinds of magical metal ores! Fair prices!

……

The conversation mostly revolved around daily transactions and local affairs.

of course.

It's not that there aren't people who enjoy chatting in places like this.

The conversation Ian overheard made him realize the era-specific characteristics of this world.

"Have you heard? In England, there's some guy called 'His Name That No One Is Allowed to Mention' causing trouble again," a wizard whispered.

"Which one? Grindelwald?" his companion asked.

"No, it's new! It's called... Voldemort!"

"Voldemort—what? Never heard of him. I do know Grindelwald, though; legend has it he almost ruled the world."

"Anyway, he was a dark wizard who killed dozens of people. I heard that the white people over there were terrified."

"Killing dozens of people can make someone a dark wizard?"

……

Ian was startled.

Voldemort was active in Britain—at the height of the so-called First Wizarding War.

Here, however, almost no one knows Voldemort's name. Only the legend of Grindelwald truly exists, suggesting that Voldemort's reign of terror is currently mainly confined to Britain.

The name "Grindelwald" is familiar even to the Africans who don't speak the language.

"Back in the day, Grindelwald was incredibly powerful. I heard he almost marched all the way to Egypt."

"Luckily he fell from power, otherwise we would have been affected too. The Ministry of Magic was really worried back then."

"He's a madman, but I have to admit, some of his ideas are radical."

It sounds like Grindelwald's story here is more like a distant historical legend with little connection to the local area, but he is still much more well-known than Voldemort.

“That makes sense, Voldemort… after all, he was just a local terrorist.” Ian stopped in front of a stall selling used books and maps, pretending to look through a hand-drawn book about the distribution of magical creatures in Africa, while glancing around out of the corner of his eye.

He saw some wizards wearing badges who appeared to be officials of the magical government, but their uniforms were quite different from those of the British Ministry of Magic.

He also noticed that in a relatively quiet corner of the market, there was a notice board-like area with some parchment notices posted on it.

Most of them concerned local affairs, but one notice, printed in a relatively elegant style, caught Ian's attention. It read in English, "Notice from the International Wizarding Federation."

The content is about being vigilant against certain transnational illegal smuggling activities involving magical items.

“Oh yes, not just Voldemort, but even my dear Professor Newt is active.” Ian took a deep breath, appreciating the vibrant atmosphere of this place, so different from the British wizarding world.

At least here, he is relatively at home.

Ian sorted out his thoughts and began to think about how to gather information next. Perhaps he could start with the announcements from the International Wizarding Federation?

There are many magical creatures in Africa, and perhaps the young Newt has already entered the country to "adopt" some poor creatures, which is why the International Federation of Wizards issued a notice.

As for why the local Ministry of Magic didn't dare to arrest him directly... it's simple: Newt's fighting power depends on whether he brings a suitcase or not, and his suitcase is no less than a nuclear deterrent in the wizarding world.

(End of this chapter)