Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 412, Section 411: Ian Breaks Through the Great Defense
As the saying goes, all crows are black.

The British Ministry of Magic is essentially no different from the African Ministry of Magic, perhaps the only difference being that the British Ministry of Magic wouldn't be as blatant.

After all, they value gentlemanly conduct there, but that doesn't mean the people in the Ministry of Magic are truly gentlemen; most are just hypocrites like Fudge, putting on a show of righteousness.

Officials like Ron's father, Arthur Weasley, are a minority. Otherwise, why would they exclude him instead of others? Of course, it's because he can't be complicit in corruption.

Therefore.

Ian was well aware of the intricacies of the Ministry of Magic, so it wasn't surprising that Newt would be detained by the Ministry for a reason that wasn't particularly dangerous.

The main concern is whether Newt can still get out—you know, some Ministry of Magic officials don't just want benefits, they won't stop until they've completely taken advantage of someone.

The same situation applies to the Indian Ministry of Magic.

"Where is he now?"

Ian asked.

“In the Ministry of Magic’s ‘Silent Tower,’” Babua said. “It’s where serious criminals are interrogated, and those who go in… rarely come out unscathed.”

Ian's eyes were deep as he gazed at the horizon.

Newt is in trouble.

He might need to figure out just how deep this so-called "trouble" really is. If it really is just a frame-up, he might be willing to help Newt in order to get Newt's help.

Although the two don't know each other yet, this could change the future. Time in the Harry Potter world is magical; you can evade time paradoxes by changing your identity and appearance.

It's like deceiving time.

This has always been something that many wizards enjoy doing.

It wasn't just Dumbledore who had studied it; Ian was also very knowledgeable about it—after all, he had extensive experience in time travel and was already a veteran in this field.

"Your news is good."

Ian remained outwardly calm.

Babua cautiously observed Ian's expression, and seeing that he had confirmed Newt's identity and inquired about the details of the trouble, he quickly calculated in his mind. He tentatively asked, "Sir, if you need more specific information, or would like to know the Ministry of Magic's attitude towards this matter and its follow-up handling, perhaps I can help you with some things?"

"I know a few influential friends within the Ministry of Magic. Although they don't hold high positions, they can still get some information without much trouble."

He rubbed his hands together.

He was implying that he could obtain inside information through bribery or personal connections. His words had two meanings: first, to demonstrate his connections and capabilities; and second, to probe Ian's intentions on how to handle the matter—whether he planned to gather information in a "gentle" manner, or if he had other plans.
However, Ian shook his head decisively, his tone calm yet unequivocal: "No need. I will personally investigate the situation at the Ministry of Magic."

Babua's heart skipped a beat, and he dared not ask any more questions. He secretly guessed that this powerful man's "personal understanding" was probably not as simple as a polite visit with a letter of introduction.

Considering the terrifying strength the other party had subtly displayed yesterday, he could almost foresee a significant "storm" brewing at the Nairobi Ministry of Magic office. However, this was no longer something a small-time intelligence broker like himself could worry about; he was even secretly looking forward to seeing those usually arrogant officials suffer a setback.

and.

This kind of intelligence.

It might also allow him to make a fortune—information brokers can always control the direction of making money when any change occurs.

Think of this.

"Yes, yes, I was too talkative." Babua quickly nodded and bowed. "With your abilities, sir, you certainly don't need us small fry to help you inquire."

His eyes darted around, and he tried a different approach to probe, while also promoting his "add-on services": "Sir, do you need some manpower? I know some good guys who will do anything for money, are experienced, and will leave immediately after the job is done, leaving no trace of trouble."

“Whether it’s creating chaos to draw attention or being responsible for facilitating the retreat, they can do it all,” he said, while carefully observing Ian’s reaction.

He wanted to see if this powerful figure intended to confront the Ministry of Magic directly.

Even if it's only on a small scale.

Accurate intelligence was extremely important to him.

only.

This time, Ian didn't answer immediately. He simply turned his head slowly, his gaze calmly falling on Babua.

The moment Ian's gaze fell upon Babua, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning!
He felt as if his soul had been ripped from his body and cast into a boundless, cold, and vast expanse of space! All sounds and sights around him vanished, leaving only endless darkness and distant, indifferently rotating stars. A sense of insignificance, fragility, and a fear as insignificant as dust instantly overwhelmed him!

"What's going on?!" He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, and even his sense of time became blurred, as if eternity had passed, or as if it had only been a moment.

“I didn’t need their help.” When Ian looked away, Babua suddenly came to his senses, his legs went weak, and he almost collapsed to the ground.

He was breathing heavily, cold sweat pouring down his forehead and back like a waterfall, instantly soaking his inner shirt. The man's eyes were filled with an unprecedented, soul-deep horror and fear as he looked at Ian! That one glance had made him truly understand what a world of difference meant!

What is an insurmountable gap?
We're all wizards, but the difference between us is greater than the difference between a human and an ant! My little schemes and probing are probably as laughable as if they were transparent to the other party!
He forced himself to stand firm, his voice hoarse and trembling, filled with utmost reverence: "I...I understand...It seems you, sir, need no burdens. I was presumptuous and ignorant of your own limitations..."

His flattery was heartfelt and completely genuine.

"take it easy."

Ian wasn't surprised by Babua's reaction. Sometimes, a well-placed deterrent is more effective than words in communication. He stopped worrying about manpower and went straight to his needs: "I need to know the exact location of the African Ministry of Magic, specifically that office. The more details, the better."

Upon hearing this, Babua, still shaken, immediately perked up. This was his chance to make up for his slip of the tongue and perform well! He quickly replied, "The location information is correct! I have the most accurate coordinates and a map of the surrounding environment here!"

He paused, as if making up his mind, and added, "However... sir, if you want to go there 'quietly,' perhaps... a door key would be a better option?"

"After all, ordinary apparitions or flight can easily trigger the warning barriers around the Ministry of Magic." It wasn't that he wanted to speculate on or underestimate Ian's magical abilities.

The main reason was that he felt his service was definitely the simplest way.

This will save Ian a lot of trouble.

For such a powerful person, time is perhaps the most precious thing.

"The door key?" Ian looked at Babua with some surprise.

"You can even get your hands on this?"

He certainly hadn't expected this situation, since the creation and use of Portkeys are usually strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic, especially Portkeys leading to important institutions.

That's not a place where you can just go and gather information anywhere. Furthermore, every Ministry of Magic, besides strictly monitoring everyone who enters, regularly "marks" and checks various areas. Under normal circumstances, it would be absolutely impossible for anyone to mark the coordinates for touching the key within the Ministry of Magic. That's why...

Upon realizing what was happening, Ian immediately understood what was going on—there was probably a mole within the Ministry of Magic in Africa, especially among the members of the investigation team.

If not.

A person like an intelligence broker would never plant a mark within the Ministry of Magic. It's not that Ian looks down on the other party, but rather that he knows very well the other party's magical abilities.

This is something only a wizard of Grindelwald's caliber could do, not something that just anyone on the street, even a decent one, would at best be considered an outstanding graduate at Hogwarts.

Ordinary wizards couldn't do this, so the only explanation is that someone inside is providing these intelligence dealers with convenience—perhaps the door keys have already been made and sold directly to these intelligence dealers.

“That makes perfect sense. Who says there’s no Commissioner Smith in the wizarding world?”

Ian was filled with emotion.

Sensing the surprise in Ian's eyes, Babua felt a little smug, but his face remained even more humble: "After all, this is our profession... we must have some secrets to provide the best service to distinguished guests like you. It is my honor to serve you."

He was being half-true and half-false. The door key was indeed an important source of his wealth and a reflection of his network of connections, but more importantly, he genuinely wanted to befriend Ian, this unfathomable and powerful figure.

Ian nodded, then took out another bag of gold coins, heavier than the previous one: "Door key, what's the price?"

Babua glanced at the bag of glittering gold coins, a flicker of greed crossing his eyes, but he quickly suppressed it. He forced a sincere smile onto his face and waved his hand, saying, "Sir, you're too kind! The reward you gave me before far exceeded the value of the information itself. Consider this key an extra token of my respect! I only hope that if you remember me in the future, you can do me a favor."

He was truly going all out this time. A key to a security door near the Ministry of Magic was valuable, but he valued the potential return on his investment even more. When dealing with someone of Ian's stature, greed has its timing; now was the crucial moment to offer timely assistance and make a good impression.

Intelligence dealers understand these trade-offs best.

"Ok?"

Ian was genuinely surprised to hear this. He took a second look at the seemingly slick and cunning intelligence dealer, never expecting the man to possess such insight and determination.

To know.

It's uncertain whether he and the other person will ever be able to meet again.

This is an investment for which there is no prospect of return.

"You're quite principled."

Ian commented, a hint of admiration in his voice. He understood Babua's intentions—a long-term investment—but the fact that he could resist the enormous immediate temptation showed that he wasn't purely short-sighted.

"Hehe, to make a living, you have to know some rules." Babua smiled modestly, but inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed he had made the right move.

"How long will it take to prepare?" Ian asked.

"As early as tonight! I'll arrange it right away and make sure everything goes smoothly!" Babua assured him. "At this time tonight, right here, I'll personally hand over the key!"

“Okay.” Ian nodded in agreement.

Babua bowed to Ian again, with utmost respect.

Then, he took a few steps back, his figure gradually becoming blurry, as if merging into the shadow of the wall next to him, and disappeared completely in a few breaths, leaving only a faint magical fluctuation in the air.

Ian stared at the spot where Babua had disappeared, his gaze shifting slightly. "Shadow stealth? Looks like this guy's survival and concealment skills aren't bad either."

He muttered to himself.

This seemingly ordinary intelligence merchant turned out to be more interesting than he had imagined.

But right now, the most important thing is to get the Portkey and then "visit" the African Ministry of Magic to see what trouble Newt Scamander is in.

And before that.

Ian will have to wait a little longer.

With several hours to go before his appointment with Babua, Ian decided to have lunch in the market first. Although the "Ugali" and flatbread provided by the inn tasted good, the portions were clearly just appetizers for a "young wizard" who was still growing.

As a wizard who values ​​quality of life and wants to grow tall and handsome to 1.9 meters, he certainly wouldn't skimp on food.

that's it.

Ian strolled through the bustling market, his gaze sweeping over the food stalls and shabby restaurants. Most of the vendors' hygiene was appalling; flies buzzed around exposed meat, making Ian, accustomed to the refined service of the house-elves at Hogwarts, somewhat hesitant to approach.

Finally, in a relatively clean side alley, he found a small shop that looked reasonably pleasing to the eye. A wooden sign hung at the entrance of the shop, with a large, steaming pot and a grinning antelope skull painted on it in colorful paint, along with a few distorted characters written next to it.

Ian guessed it probably meant something like "delicious broth". The shop had a few rough wooden tables and benches, and although it was simple, at least the floor was rammed earth.

It looks like it's cleaned regularly, with no obvious dirt.

At the market in the magical world.

This was a fairly decent dining environment—just look at the Leaky Cauldron. Ian went inside and found a seat towards the back. A burly proprietress wearing a greasy apron came over and asked him in heavily accented English what he wanted to eat.

There was no menu on the wall, so Ian pointed to a large wooden bowl serving a milky white soup with chunks of meat and bones that was being enjoyed by customers at the next table. He indicated that he wanted the same soup. The proprietress nodded and quickly brought over a wooden bowl that was bigger than Ian's face.

Inside was steaming hot broth, served with a hard, naan-like staple food.

"It smells pretty good?"

The meat in the soup was stewed until it was extremely tender, almost falling off the bone. The rich aroma was accompanied by a unique spice flavor that made one's mouth water.

"Indeed."

Ian took a bite, and his eyes lit up. The broth was unexpectedly delicious! Although the meat had a strangely fibrous texture and was unusually tender, it melted in his mouth. The broth was rich and flavorful, with a unique wild taste, much better than he had expected. He picked up the hard piece of staple food, dipped it in the broth, and began to devour it.

Perhaps it was because the food tasted really good, or perhaps it was because he was really hungry after walking around all morning, but Ian ate with great gusto, finishing off a large bowl of meat soup and staple food, and even felt a little unsatisfied.

He wiped his mouth with satisfaction and prepared to pay the bill and leave.

Just then, he saw a young employee in the shop carry out a large metal box that looked very old and even a little rusty from the back kitchen.

The side of the box was vaguely printed with some Cyrillic letters and numbers, as well as a faded symbol that Ian found somewhat familiar—a hammer and sickle.

"Damn! A Soviet old man from thirty years ago? Older than me?"

(End of this chapter)