Ian took a moment to get his bearings. Based on the limited information he had obtained through Legilimency earlier, he thought the Black Wizards had probably come from the east. This direction was more likely to lead to a human settlement.
After casting several protective spells and tracking charms on himself, he took a deep breath of the wild-scented air and started forward.
At least this adventure sounded normal compared to the last one; he was merely lost in the African jungle. At worst, the magical creatures he encountered might be slightly more powerful than usual.
That sounded far better than facing an era in which wizards had gone extinct.
As long as he repaired the time machine, that is.
Once that was done, he could continue collecting materials. After completing that task, perhaps Dumbledore would be able to return him to the correct timeline.
Truthfully, Ian had considered finding his own way back to his own era. However, Dumbledore was still trapped in the distant past, and, no matter what, Ian could not abandon his headmaster.
"This should be the way."
Stepping through the morning dew, Ian traveled through the primeval rainforest of the basin. Towering baobab trees stood like ancient gods, their twisted trunks resembling dragon claws and their massive canopies blocking out the sky. Vines hung down like giant pythons, coiling around thousand-year-old trees. The humid air carried the scents of rotting leaves, damp earth, and unfamiliar flowers.
Ahead of him, in an open marshland, a group of strange creatures were drinking water.
Nugini... enormous long-necked serpents unique to Africa. Their skin was black as night, and their scales gleamed with a metallic sheen. Dozens of slender tendrils extended from their necks and writhed through the air like living creatures.
They were powerful magical predators, capable of paralysing prey with their tendrils before swallowing it whole with their enormous jaws.
Ian did not panic.
He simply stood there.
The ancient power he had inherited from a legendary wizard quietly spread outwards.
The Nugini instantly raised their heads. Their tendrils stiffened and overwhelming terror flashed through their snake-like eyes. Emitting low hisses, they slithered rapidly into the depths of the swamp and vanished.
"Heh, it seems the title of Human Realm Legendary carries weight even in Africa."
Ian chuckled softly and continued onward.
Not long after, he encountered a group of Apari, magical creatures that resembled gigantic hippopotamuses. Their hides were as hard as stone, and they could spit corrosive acid. They had initially intended to surround Ian, but the moment they sensed the magical aura around him, they immediately tucked their tails between their legs and fled in panic.
What surprised him the most happened near a cliffside. A flock of brilliantly colored Occamies glided past overhead, their long feathered tails shining like rainbows as they moved through the branches. Ian glanced at them with interest... wild magical creatures like these could never be seen at Hogwarts.
As he continued deeper into the jungle, he came across a small herd of Graphorns drinking by a riverbank. These enormous yet gentle creatures had violet fur and golden horns. When they noticed him approaching, they merely lifted their heads warily and snorted, showing no hostility.
Ian nodded politely towards them and circled around.
But his most memorable encounter happened in a wide clearing.
An enormous African dragon was resting on a huge boulder in the sunshine. Its body was covered in black-and-white patterned scales.
It looked like a cross between a gigantic lizard and a leopard.
As Ian passed by, the beast opened its amber, vertical pupils instinctively and released a deep, warning growl. Its dragon breath carried scorching heat.
"Shut up, little guy!"
Despite the creature being many times larger than himself, Ian rudely taunted the Ancient Dragon.
The ancient dragon roared furiously in response.
However, when Ian stopped and calmly looked back at it, his unique dragon-slayer aura, an imposing presence forged through battles against ancient dragons, impossible to fully conceal... unintentionally leaked out.
The situation changed dramatically.
The African dragon suddenly froze, its vertical pupils shrinking sharply.
The growl in its throat turned into an uneasy sound, almost like a whimper.
It even instinctively retracted its neck, its gigantic body retreating slightly in obvious fear, as though it had encountered a natural predator.
Ian paused for a moment before understanding.
"So the majesty of a dragon slayer is something that not every dragon dares to challenge. African dragons are cowards after all."
Ian felt rather pleased with himself. The dragon-slaying mark within him, inherited from an ancient dragon of the primordial era, was like a blazing torch in the darkness to creatures with keen magical senses, impossible to ignore and filled with overwhelming intimidation.
"Well, that's fine. I'm not hungry right now, so pointless battles would be meaningless."
Smiling faintly, he restrained his aura and continued calmly forward.
Only after he had walked a great distance did the dragon relax slightly. Yet it no longer basked lazily in the sunshine. Instead, it remained vigilant, staring warily in the direction that Ian had departed in.
The rest of the journey went surprisingly smoothly. Whether they were lurking Horned Venom Beasts, magic apples disguised as vines, or groups of foul-tempered Panglocks traveling in packs, they all seemed to sense the terrifying power hidden within this seemingly ordinary human, choosing either to avoid him or to ignore him entirely.
It was as though he possessed an invisible pass that allowed him to move unhindered through the magical jungle.
Several hours later, he finally emerged at the edge of the forest. His view suddenly opened up, and signs of human activity gradually became more frequent: a worn footpath and the occasional discarded modern packaging bag.
He could even faintly hear the distant roar of engines.
At last, on the border between a vast savannah and the jungle, Ian discovered a considerable-sized settlement. A village of mud-brick buildings with thatched roofs appeared before him.
This was no ordinary human tribe.
Nor was it a modern city. Rather, it resembled a large tribal gathering ground that had retained strong traditional characteristics, yet mixed among them were modern elements such as satellite dishes, solar panels, and motorcycles.
The air was filled with complex magical fluctuations, indicating that a large number of wizards lived here. This was clearly a gathering place for African wizards. Totem poles, carved with symbols of snakes, leopards, and eagles and embedded with glittering gemstones, stood around the village outskirts. They were clearly part of a defensive magical formation.
Runes had been drawn on the village roads with ash and bone powder, and herbs and spices were burning in the air to conceal the magical fluctuations.
Ian did not enter rashly.
Instead, he found a concealed high point in the distance. His figure shifted, and he transformed into a pitch-black raven, which flew silently over the settlement.
Using the raven's sharp eyes, he carefully observed the scene below.
Round, thatched-roofed earthen houses stood alongside modern brick buildings. Women dressed in traditional tribal robes were drying herbs while children chased a magically floating leather ball. Nearby, a group of young men surrounded a battered old truck, attempting to repair it using both magic and wrenches while muttering a mixture of Swahili and spell incantations.
The place was filled with vivid life and energy, though its style was completely different from that of the Wizarding World of Britain... rougher and more grounded.
Ian even spotted a small stall where the owner was demonstrating to customers how to enchant an old AK-47 with 'Never Jam' and 'Precision Enhancement' magic.
The streets were narrow and muddy.
People wore traditional robes and accessories made from animal bones and feathers, with mysterious tribal patterns painted across their faces. But they were carrying not only wands, many also had modified rifles and bows.
Some even had rocket launchers strapped to their backs.
This was a society that had seamlessly combined magic with real-world violence.
One stall sold 'cursed bullets', which supposedly drove victims insane after being shot. Another stall sold 'ancestral spirit potions', which supposedly allowed the drinker to temporarily gain the memories of their ancestors. Elsewhere, witch doctors performed exorcisms involving the sacrifice of live chickens while chanting ancient spells.
In raven form, Ian circled overhead several times before focusing his attention on the oldest-looking structure in the center of the settlement: a stone temple covered in intricate painted patterns.
From time to time, he observed, better-dressed wizards, people who looked like tribal elders or wealthy merchants, would approach the stone temple. After exchanging a few words with the guards, they would touch a specific carved symbol on the outer wall. Their bodies would then blur and they would vanish.
"Portkeys?" Ian understood immediately. "And fixed-location portkeys that require a specific activation method. So this is the entrance to the African magical world's exchange hub."
He waited patiently for a while. When he saw that there was no one nearby, the raven dove down like an arrow. As he approached the stone temple, he swiftly transformed back into human form and cast a Disillusionment Charm simultaneously.
Following the example of previous wizards, he placed his hand on the carving in the shape of a thunderbird.
Immediately, a familiar hook-like force violently tugged at his navel.
Space began to twist and spin.
A few seconds later, the dizzying sensation disappeared. Ian found himself standing in a noisy, crowded, and colorful place that was rather shabby, to be honest.
It looked as impoverished as a flea market in the slums.
Yet the atmosphere was entirely different.
Wizards were freely conversing here, trading magical items, information, and weapons. The air was thick with the smells of herbs, blood, and gunpowder.
It was hot and stuffy and deafeningly loud. Illumination came mainly from floating magical light orbs and stone basins carved into the cave walls that burned with eternal flames.
Dense rows of stalls packed both sides of the cavern. Most of the vendors were black wizards, dressed in clothing unique to their tribes and loudly shouting to attract customers.
"An African Diagon Alley? Wizards really do have markets everywhere."
Ian had already transformed his appearance to resemble an African man. Pulling up his hood, he blended in with the crowd.
The goods for sale were incredibly varied: bundles of glowing magical herbs; powders for potions in all sorts of colors; roughly handmade amulets containing surprisingly strong magical power; and beast-hide scrolls.
There were even living magical creatures for sale.
"Let's just hope there aren't things like Sunday Dogs, Sunday Cats, or Sunday Animals here, too."
Ian casually admired the exotic scenery as he wandered through the market, taking in all the dazzling goods on display.
However, the quality was not particularly high.
In fact, it was inferior even to Knockturn Alley.
Nevertheless, given that alchemy and potion-making standards in the region were rather poor, and most potion preparation methods were barely more advanced than those used by the people on Claire's island, the craftsmanship here could still be considered decent.
The market even had a huge number of Muggle items, ranging from mobile phones to bicycles. These were clearly second-hand goods modified with various types of magic.
The place was as lively as Diagon Alley, but the environment and the refinement of the merchandise were worlds apart. The ground was uneven rock instead of neatly paved stone streets. The stalls were crude wooden frames or simple ground mats, lacking polished display windows. The bargaining voices were louder and more direct, full of the energy of a bustling street market.
"Raw materials are fine, too. It'll just mean more work for my left and right hands to process the materials I need."
Ian tugged his hood lower and quietly blended into the crowd.
At the same time, he observed his surroundings curiously while listening carefully to the conversations around him.
"Top-quality griffin feathers! The best material for crafting flying items!"
"Come and take a look! Love potions made from a family secret recipe... guaranteed to make her devoted to you forever!'
"The latest Muggle technology! Enchanted with 'Never Lose Signal' and 'Anti-Muggle Surveillance' spells! Only three African Thunderbird Thunderstones available!"
"We're buying all kinds of magical metal ores. Fair prices!"
…
Most conversations revolved around daily trade and local matters.
Of course.
That did not mean there were no people who enjoyed gossip, though.
The conversations Ian overheard made him realise what era he was in.
"Did you hear? There's a guy over in Britain called 'You-Know-Who' causing trouble again," One wizard whispered.
"Which one? Grindelwald?" his companion asked.
"No, a new one! Called… Voldemort!"
"Vold… what? Never heard of him. Grindelwald I know. Legend says he almost ruled the world."
"Anyway, he's some Dark Wizard. Apparently he's killed dozens of people, and those white folks over there are scared out of their minds."
"Killing a few dozen people is enough to be called a Dark Wizard?"
…
Ian's heart trembled slightly.
Voldemort was active in Britain at that time, during the so-called First Wizarding War.
Yet almost nobody here knew Voldemort's name. The only figure whose legend circulated widely was Grindelwald. Clearly, Voldemort's reign of terror was still largely confined to Britain.
By contrast, even these African wizards, who spoke entirely different languages, were thoroughly familiar with Grindelwald's name.
"Back then, Grindelwald's forces were huge. I heard he almost reached Egypt..."
"…Good thing he fell. Otherwise our side would have been affected too. The Ministry of Magic was extremely nervous back then..."
"…He was crazy, but honestly, some of his ideas were… pretty radical…"
From the sound of it, Grindelwald's story here resembled a distant historical legend only loosely connected to local affairs. However, his fame was still vastly greater than Voldemort's.
"That makes sense. In the end, Voldemort was only a regional terrorist."
Ian stopped before a stall selling old books and maps, pretending to browse through a hand-drawn booklet detailing the distribution of African magical creatures, all the while secretly observing his surroundings out of the corner of his eye.
He noticed several wizards wearing badges that appeared to mark them as officials of the magical government, though their uniforms were completely different to those of the British Ministry of Magic.
He also spotted a relatively quiet corner of the market that resembled a noticeboard area, covered with parchment notices.
Most of the notices concerned local affairs, but one particularly well-printed one caught Ian's attention.
It was written in English:
"International Confederation of Wizards Notice."
It warned people to remain vigilant against certain international smuggling operations involving illegal magical items.
"Oh, right. It's not just Voldemort. Even my dear Professor Newt is active during this period."
Ian took a deep breath, feeling the vitality of this place, so different from Magical Britain yet full of life.
At the very least, he felt much more at ease here.
After organizing his thoughts, Ian began considering how to gather information next. Perhaps those International Confederation of Wizards notices would be a good starting point?
There were many magical creatures in Africa. Perhaps the young Newt had already entered the region to "adopt" some poor creatures, which was why the International Confederation of Wizards had issued warnings.
As for why the local Ministry of Magic did not simply arrest him…
The answer was simple.
Newt's combat power depended entirely on whether he was carrying his suitcase.
And that suitcase was no less than a form of nuclear deterrence within the Wizarding World.
(End of Chapter)
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