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The dying embers of the campfire gradually faded in the night wind.
A low, rumbling vibration filled the air, like the sound of hoofbeats, but irregular and mixed with the scraping of metal.
It was the sound of centaurs moving across the ground.
First came one.
Then more emerged from the forest. They varied in appearance, some having dark brown skin and others light bronze tones, but they all carried the same weapon.
"Motherf...?"
Ian Prince held his breath.
The Disillusionment Charm had blended him almost perfectly into the surroundings, but he could not suppress the shock inside him.
His gaze locked onto the centaurs, or, more accurately, the weapons in their hands.
That smooth metal body.
That familiar curved magazine.
That rough yet practical wooden stock.
If not the world-famous, reliable, cost-effective AK-47, then what else could it be?
"AK-47?!"
Ian nearly shouted aloud, his mind descending instantly into chaos.
"Merlin's fattest underpants! What on earth is this supposed to be?!"
Had he fallen into an even more ridiculous, distorted timeline?
Centaurs carrying assault rifles?!
"Have I somehow crossed over into another absurd parallel universe?" He screamed internally.
"The centaurs at Hogwarts are still standing around observatories chanting ancient prophecies while these guys are playing with automatic weapons?! Does the Ministry of Magic know about this?!"
For a moment, Ian genuinely felt that either he or the world had lost its mind completely.
The sheer impact of the sight before him was almost equal to discovering that history itself had been rewritten in the previous timeline.
Although the rifles were decades-old models, the contrast was overwhelming.
These creatures, who should have been carrying spears and bows and radiating ancient mysticism, were instead each holding a weapon that symbolized modern warfare and industrialized killing.
The sense of dissonance was so intense that it made him dizzy.
Just as he began to suspect that he might have experienced another failed spacetime jump, the centaurs arrived at the spot where he had been roasting meat moments earlier.
"This can't be right…"
Ian desperately searched his memory of the History of Magic.
Centaurs were indeed magical creatures that typically dwelled deep within forests. They revered nature and astronomy, keeping their distance from the magical human society. They used bows and spears, viewing modern technology as 'Muggle noise'.
But the centaurs before him were different. They were heavily armed and displayed extraordinary tactical discipline.
They split into groups for security. Some stood watch while others searched the area.
Their movements were as professional as those of special forces soldiers.
"There are traces of human activity here."
The leading centaur was enormous.
He spoke in the centaur language, which Ian had studied before.
His muscular upper body was covered in white tribal markings, and his bronze skin gleamed with an oily sheen in the sunlight. He lowered his head and sniffed the lingering scent in the air, his senses acute, as he examined the extinguished campfire. Then he nudged the ashes with the bayonet attached beneath his AK rifle.
"Damn it! My roasted meat! The meat I worked so hard to cook!"
Ian's heart jumped into his throat.
His wand rose slightly, ready to respond to any attack or to escape at a moment's notice.
Fortunately, his worries proved unnecessary.
Although centaurs were classified as advanced magical creatures, Ian was a legendary wizard. The centaurs seemed completely unable to detect his invisible presence.
They conversed in a low, neighing language.
Although it was indeed the same centaur tongue that Ian had learned before, the phrasing and structure were slightly different.
Ian supposed it was probably a regional dialect.
However, they seemed far more interested in the half-roasted venison.
"Meat! Roasted meat!"
One of the younger centaurs tore off a leg of deer without hesitation and began devouring it, grease running down the corners of his mouth as he grunted with satisfaction.
The others immediately stopped searching and crowded excitedly around the food.
Some carved chunks of meat with knives and stuffed them into their mouths. Others took out flasks and drank alcohol alongside the venison.
"..."
So in the end, his roasted meat still wasn't saved.
Watching the dinner he had painstakingly hunted and prepared being divided up among these uninvited guests left Ian at a loss for words.
Still, he did not act rashly.
He realized that these centaurs were not hostile.
At least, not for now.
They resembled an armed tribal unit more than anything else.
What intrigued him even more was this:
Why were they here?
Why did they have guns?
And who had supplied them with those weapons?
Soon enough, the centaurs packed up the remaining venison and scanned the forest one final time. After confirming that there were no other threats nearby, they slung their rifles over their shoulders, took the meat with them, and marched deeper into the forest in a loose formation.
"I need to figure out where exactly I've been thrown." Ian hesitated briefly.
Logic told him to steer clear of these dangerous, heavily armed magical creatures.
But his overwhelming curiosity and the urgent need to understand what kind of insane place this was ultimately overcame his caution.
"I have to follow them."
Maintaining his invisibility, Ian moved silently behind the squad of centaurs like an unseen ghost.
The centaurs moved swiftly through the forest, extremely familiar with the terrain.
Ian had to cast Feather-Light and Silencing Charms on himself carefully just to keep up without being discovered.
After travelling for more than half an hour, the forest gradually thinned and a camp built against the mountainside came into view ahead of them.
In the valley below, a centaur settlement could be seen.
The perimeter was surrounded by crude fences made of thick wooden stakes and barricades covered in thorns.
Even the watchtowers had centaurs standing guard with AK rifles.
Inside the camp, wooden huts and tents were scattered haphazardly. The outer defenses included palisades and lookout towers with mounted machine guns on top.
More centaurs moved throughout the camp.
And mixed among them were... humans?
"Thank goodness it's not one of those bizarre timelines where dinosaurs or magical creatures have replaced humanity entirely."
Ian's spirits lifted slightly as he cautiously approached the settlement.
He found a dense bush where he could observe the camp without being easily noticed, and he concealed himself there.
In the central clearing, a group of humans appeared to be conducting a trade with centaur elders.
These humans wore brightly colored robes decorated with unique tribal patterns. Their dark skin clearly marked them as natives of some African region.
However, faint magical fluctuations emanated from their bodies.
These fluctuations unmistakably identified them as wizards.
Several centaurs had piled together hunted animal pelts, magical ores, and herbs that glowed faintly with enchantment.
Meanwhile, the Black Wizards opened the large crates they had brought with them.
Inside were no gold coins.
Nor magical artifacts.
Instead, the crates contained long objects wrapped carefully in oilcloth.
"Damn it! I knew there was something wrong with these centaurs," Ian said while narrowing his eyes.
The Black Wizards skillfully unwrapped the oilcloth coverings to reveal rows of gleaming, perfectly maintained AK-47 assault rifles.
They even opened several heavy wooden crates that were filled to the brim with golden bullets.
Hidden behind a large rock near the edge of the camp, Ian was utterly stunned.
The centaurs let out excited low neighs as they picked up the rifles and stroked them lovingly, as though they were handling divine weapons.
Clearly, this was not the first time they had done this.
The entire process was practical and efficient.
"Wizards selling guns to centaurs?! This completely overturns the entire magical creature ecosystem!"
Ian's mouth twitched slightly.
At last, he understood where the AKs had come from. At that moment, a gust of wind carried fragments of conversation from the center of the camp. The wizards were speaking in a hybrid language, mixing local dialects with broken English.
Although Ian had never specifically studied African languages, he could roughly understand certain keywords. As a language expert, he knew that many Earth languages shared common roots and structures.
"...next time... need more... bullets..." A centaur elder spoke in clumsy English, gesturing awkwardly.
"No problem... same price... exchange... for shiny stones..."
A Black Wizard, who appeared to be the leader, grinned and patted the ammunition crate beside him.
"Those bad things in the jungle are getting more and more. We need a bigger boom-boom." Another Centaur interrupted, forcefully slapping the body of his AK rifle.
"Relax, good stuff, Kalashnikov, reliable." The Black Wizard gave a thumbs-up.
"Much better than your spears..."
Listening to this absurd conversation and witnessing such surreal realism, Ian suddenly felt an almost ridiculous sense of relief.
His gaze locked onto the Black Wizard, who appeared to be their leader. While everyone's attention was focused on the weapons trade, Ian concentrated and silently activated Legilimency once again.
Magic extended invisibly, like threads, quietly slipping into the wizard's consciousness.
Ian carefully projected his will into the man's thoughts.
Due to the distance and the need for secrecy, he could not conduct an in-depth mental reading. Instead, he could only capture fragments of memory and active thoughts on the surface.
The images began with a vast grassland...
Africa, near the edge of the Congo Basin.
The blazing sun scorched the land. Dense rainforests stretched out endlessly, dotted with scattered tribes.
Wizards had lived there for generations, passing down ancient spells and rituals.
They lived in harmony with nature.
They coexisted with magical creatures, but over the last few decades, the world had changed.
Outside forces invaded:
Colonizers, warlords, and multinational corporations.
They destroyed tribes with guns and money while plundering resources.
Magical creatures were hunted. Sacred lands were desecrated. Traditional magic seemed fragile and powerless against modern firearms.
Just as the tribes were on the brink of extinction, a great wizard discovered a 'forbidden path.'
Magic and technology did not have to be opposed to one another. He began researching ways to integrate witchcraft with modern weaponry. He cast spells to increase the destructive power of bullets.
He inscribed runes to prevent firearms from deteriorating. He even used soul magic to create 'cursed ammunition.'
Those struck by such bullets would continue to bleed until they died.
The centaurs, as guardians of the forests, possessed immense physical strength and natural combat instincts.
They willingly allied with the wizards to resist external enemies together.
Thus, the trade began.
The wizards used magic to provide the centaurs with 'supernatural enhancements.'
These included "Strength Potions" to increase muscle power, "Hawk-Eye Charms" to sharpen vision, and "Silent Step Runes" to enable them to move silently.
Naturally, precious alchemical ingredients and potion materials were also part of the trade.
As for the centaurs, they had problems of their own to deal with, not just external threats.
The rainforests had recently become unstable. Rumur had it that certain ancient tribes had awakened things that should never have been awakened.
The Black Wizard did not know the full truth, nor did he particularly care, so Ian could not discern the details using Legilimency. All he could discern was why the centaurs were being armed with AK-47s.
Muggles favored them for the same reasons.
Due to their simple structure, durability, and ease of maintenance, the AK-47 had become the ideal choice.
Wizards purchased them from black markets and warlords or magically 'summoned' them from abandoned battlefields before trading them with the centaurs.
The profits involved were enormous enough to make even Mexican cartels drool.
Of course, none of that interested Ian.
The most important detail among the information he obtained was a clear geographical name flashing through the wizard's mind.
Like a lighthouse shining in darkness:
Africa!
"Africa!"
Ian almost burst into tears of joy as the tension in his heart finally eased.
"Thank goodness. I'm still in Africa! I haven't fallen into an even stranger timeline!"
If this was indeed Africa, then everything made sense.
In this place, AK-47s circulated more widely than sweets, to the point where they were jokingly referred to as 'Africa's legal currency.'
Forget centaurs...
Even if Ian saw a group of Pukwudgies carrying RPG launchers, it wouldn't feel entirely impossible.
After all, these African wizards were clearly treating arms dealing as a tribal sideline, using Muggle weapons to trade with local magical creatures for precious magical materials.
Having finally clarified the most basic and important question, his spacetime coordinates, Ian let out a long sigh of relief.
Although the journey had been bizarre and twisted, at least he had not fallen into the worst possible situation.
He then continued to probe the memories of several wizards, piecing together historical fragments that were identical to his own memories of history.
This reassured him completely.
"Though judging from the era, this seems to be around the time of Voldemort's early rise to power..."
Ian was no longer particularly anxious.
As long as this was the normal wizarding world, his time machine could eventually be repaired.
At worst, he could gather several Time-Turners and perhaps even seek out Nicolas Flamel.
That would work, too.
He continued to hide patiently while observing the transaction between the two African tribes come to a conclusion.
The centaurs happily carried their newly acquired rifles and ammunition deeper into the camp while the Black Wizards packed away the magical materials they had obtained and then began to Apparate away.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
One after another, they vanished.
The forest edge returned to silence once more, save for scattered noises from the centaur camp and the distant howls of wild beasts.
Glancing towards the heavily guarded centaur settlement, Ian abandoned any thoughts of approaching them for information.
Who knew how these AK-wielding centaurs would treat outsiders?
"Looks like I'll have to find my own way out of this jungle."
Ian identified the direction carefully.
Based on the fragments of memory he had obtained through Legilimency, the Black Wizards had probably come from the east. That direction probably led towards human settlements.
After casting several protective and tracking spells on himself, he took a deep breath of the wild jungle air and started walking.
At least this adventure sounded much more normal than the previous one.
He was merely lost in the African rainforest.
At worst, the magical creatures here happened to be slightly more powerful.
Nevertheless, Ian found African wizards quite fascinating.
Just moments earlier, he had noticed something remarkable.
Exactly as described in the books he once read in the Hogwarts library, these African Wizards truly did cast magic without using wands.
"Using fingers as substitutes for wands…" Ian murmured thoughtfully.
"Even Wizards of relatively mediocre talent can skillfully master this wandless casting technique. Perhaps there's some crystallization of civilization hidden within it that I can study."
Ian was never someone who looked down on other races or cultures.
He had always firmly believed that any civilization capable of surviving until the present must inevitably possess priceless treasures within its traditions.
He intended to carefully study the core principles behind these Wizards' wandless casting.
Perhaps after returning to Hogwarts, he could even teach similar techniques to Hogwarts' young Wizards.
"I really am overflowing with teacherly virtue."
Ian praised himself internally.
(End of Chapter)