Ian stood at the entrance to the African wizarding market.
The night wind blew dust and the scent of herbs across his face as he gazed at the 'International Confederation of Wizards Notice' for a long time.
Mid-20th century.
Beware of transnational illegal magical item smuggling.
These keywords circled through his mind, gradually connecting to a single name:
"Newt Scamander…"
Ian muttered softly, the corners of his lips lifting slightly.
The famous magizoologist, the gentle gentleman whose suitcase contained an entire zoo... indeed had quite the 'criminal record' when it came to causing headaches for various governments. The eccentric, kind-hearted British Ministry of Magic employee, who loved magical creatures and had once been expelled for researching prohibited magical beasts, later became the author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
In order to protect and rescue magical creatures, Professor Newt had committed his fair share of cross-border 'smuggling', even causing considerable chaos in Paris at one point. Consequently, it was difficult not to associate this International Confederation of Wizards notice with yet another attempt to stop one of the old gentleman's "acts of kindness".
Newt's suitcase.
That thing was basically the Wizarding World's nuclear deterrent.
He was famous throughout the world precisely because of that magical suitcase packed with bizarre creatures.
The International Confederation of Wizards only saw the surface issue of 'illegally transporting rare magical creatures,' completely ignoring Newt's true purpose of protecting them.
To them, order was more important than life.
But to Ian, this notice represented an excellent opportunity.
If Newt was indeed active in this region, he would not only possess a large quantity of rare magical materials but also know secret routes leading all over the world. Furthermore, although Newt was not a combat-oriented wizard, his profound knowledge of magical creatures meant that he was highly skilled in alchemy.
"If I could get in touch with him here..."
Ian thought silently.
"Then perhaps I won't just find the materials I need; I may also gain an unexpected ally."
With that thought in mind, Ian paid closer attention to the information hidden behind the notice.
If Newt was indeed active in Africa at this time, Ian might be able to obtain important materials through him or at least learn about the current situation in Europe.
Once that idea had settled in his mind, Ian made his decision.
First, he would find a place to gather more intelligence.
Just as in Diagon Alley, information should circulate freely in this noisy, rough underground marketplace.
'Wherever people gather, there will always be a place where information is exchanged. And places like that are usually connected to alcohol."
Leaving the noticeboard behind, Ian continued weaving through the crowded stalls. His gaze swept across the vendors selling all kinds of strange merchandise before finally locking onto a relatively quiet corner at the edge of the market.
After adjusting his robes slightly, he stepped into a tavern deep within the market.
This was not the Three Broomsticks beside Hogwarts, but rather a shack constructed from the bones of gigantic beasts. Glowing firefly sacs hung from the ceiling, and beast bones and battle axes were embedded in the walls. The air was filled with the mixed smells of fermented palm wine, roasted meat, and gunpowder.
Wizards sat around muddy wooden tables. Some spoke in hushed voices, some polished weapons, and some gambled using spells.
Ian found a seat in the corner and ordered a cup of palm wine.
The liquid was cloudy and tasted sharp and burning in the throat, far less pleasant than Butterbeer, but he needed to blend in.
He listened quietly to the conversations around him.
"I heard the warlords up north captured another group of Muggles. They're planning to sell them to Europeans for experimentation."
"Hmph. Give me enough money and I can turn every single one of them into zombies."
"The Confederation's inspections have become more rigorous lately. A shipment of 'cursed bullets' got held up at the border. We'll need a new route."
"There was a white wizard carrying a huge suitcase spotted upstream along the Congo River, supposedly searching for some kind of 'Thunderbird'."
All sorts of information was mixed together in the discussions.
Among them was something that immediately caught Ian's attention:
A white wizard. A large suitcase. Upstream on the Congo River.
'Wasn't that practically Newt's signature?'
Ian continued listening until he finally caught a key name:
"Shadow Merchant" Babua, he's the only one who can obtain cross-border travel permits and determine the Confederation's patrol routes.
Ian also extracted information about this intelligence broker from the man who mentioned the topic through Legilimency.
Having silently cast Quietus on himself, Ian stood up and headed towards the indicated location.
Leaving the tavern behind... He had not walked very far.
Ahead stood a small tent made of animal hides and wooden poles. Hanging outside was a crude wooden sign with crooked writing in English and several African languages:
"Information Consulting · Speak Carefully."
A curtain of beads hung over the entrance, and he could vaguely see someone seated inside, quietly conversing with a customer.
"So this is the place."
Ian stopped at a nearby food stall and ordered a cup of the strangely flavored, yet invigorating, local herbal tea. Pretending to sip it casually, he observed the tent patiently instead.
After a while, the bead curtain was lifted aside. A hooded wizard hurried out and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
The tent fell quiet for a moment.
"The timing's right."
Ian put down his teacup, adjusted his robes, and made himself look like an ordinary traveling wizard from North Africa or the Middle East.
Then he walked towards the tent.
Lifting the bead curtain, he stepped inside.
The interior was narrower than it had appeared from outside, and the air was thick with the mixed smell of tobacco and an unknown spice.
A thin, middle-aged black man sat behind a low wooden table with a long smoking pipe clenched between his teeth, narrowing his eyes at Ian. He wore a flashy suit, though the fabric was old and worn. Several rings adorned his fingers, each with faint magical fluctuations gleaming from them.
"What do you need?"
The man exhaled a ring of smoke. His voice was hoarse and had a strong accent, although he was speaking in English. This level of perception alone proved that he was a qualified information broker.
Ian sat down on the cushion opposite him and smiled faintly.
"I'm looking for some information."
Ian went straight to the point.
The man looked Ian up and down twice before shaking his head.
"There's something dangerous about you. I don't know who you are, so I don't do business with strangers."
"Leave."
His tone was cold and unmistakable.
Ian was not discouraged, however, and maintained his smile.
"If we chat for a bit, then we won't be strangers anymore, right? I can pay a consultation fee first."
He deliberately took out a small coin pouch containing several silver coins that he had brought from another world. Earlier, he had used magic to alter their appearance slightly, making them more suited to this era.
Babua glanced at the pouch, and his eyes flickered briefly, but he quickly shook his head again, and his expression became even more hostile.
"Didn't you hear me? Get out! Or..."
He raised the hand holding the pipe. His other hand rested casually on the table, but his index finger lifted subtly towards Ian.
A weak yet malicious magical fluctuation began to gather.
It was a silent, threatening spell typically used to make troublesome customers feel mildly uncomfortable, prompting them to leave of their own accord.
The smile vanished from Ian's face.
He sighed softly, sounding somewhat regretful.
"What a shame. I had originally intended to conduct business civilly."
Before his words had fully fallen, Ian merely raised his eyes and glanced calmly at Babua.
In that instant, an invisible magical fluctuation spread outwards... a Magic-Sealing Forbidden Art.
There were no incantations. No gestures.
Yet Babua's entire body suddenly stiffened, and he was struck with extreme terror.
He felt the magic flowing through his body freeze and clog instantly, as though invisible shackles had sealed it away tightly. He tried to mobilize his magic to resist, but it was like an ant trying to shake a tree.
The unfathomable pressure suppressed him so thoroughly that even breathing became difficult. The rings on his fingers, which had faintly glowed moments earlier, instantly dimmed.
This was high-level sealing magic, derived from the blessing of the Sun God and capable of instantly severing a target's connection to the source of magic.
The merchant's magic became like a frozen river — completely stagnant.
"Y-You…"
Babua's voice trembled violently and cold sweat poured from his forehead.
He didn't even notice the pipe falling from his mouth onto the table.
It was only now that he truly realized that the seemingly ordinary stranger before him was one of the most unfathomable wizards he had ever encountered.
In the other man's eyes, his little tricks were probably nothing more than child's play.
In his forty years of life, he had never witnessed such precise and terrifying spiritual suppression. The other man had not even spoken a spell or moved. A single glance had completely destroyed all his reliance.
Ian looked at him calmly.
His voice remained gentle yet carried unquestionable authority.
"Now then, can we properly discuss business? I prefer fair trade, and I can afford the price. But I don't like being threatened."
Babua nodded frantically, sweating profusely and adopting an incomparably respectful tone.
"Of course! Honored sir! That was my mistake just now. I failed to recognize greatness before me. You may ask whatever you wish. Babua will tell you everything he knows!"
In a panic, he swept the pipe aside and hurriedly wiped the tabletop clean with his sleeve.
As an information broker, he knew far more than most wizards.
And precisely because of that, he knew he had encountered someone truly terrifying.
The person in front of him was not just any Wizard... But one of those beings who walked within legends.
"Much better. This feeling is far more pleasant. I prefer civilized conversations too."
Ian placed a small pouch of coins on the table and pushed it towards her.
"Let's start with that."
He tilted his chin slightly towards the noticeboard outside the tent.
"The International Confederation of Wizards notice. The one regarding smuggling. What exactly is going on? Why is the African Ministry of Magic so nervous about it?"
Babua carefully picked up the money pouch, tucked it away without looking inside, and lowered his voice.
"Sir, you've come to the right person! I really do know a thing or two about this matter."
He licked his lips and leaned forward slightly.
"The Confederation and the Ministry of Magic have really tightened inspections lately. Rumor has it that they're trying to stop a very troublesome smuggler."
"Oh? Super troublesome?" Ian asked, cooperatively.
"Exactly!" Babua nodded vigorously. "Supposedly, he's a white guy who looks pretty gentle, but he's terrifyingly capable! He's especially skilled at dealing with dangerous magical creatures. Rumor has it that he owns a magical suitcase big enough to hold an entire zoo. Many people have tried to get their hands on that suitcase, but every single one of them has disappeared afterwards."
"I'm guessing they became food for the magical creatures inside. Trust me, that man is no harmless saint."
Swallowing nervously, Babua took this as Ian's permission to continue his detailed explanation.
"He showed up in Lualaba Province about a month ago, carrying a huge brown suitcase. The local witch doctors said the box contained 'living storms' and 'flying snakes'."
"He tried to trade rare herbs and a bottle of phoenix tears for permission to enter the "Sacred Rainforest", but the elders refused because the Confederation had already issued restrictions."
"But…" Babua lowered his voice further. "Someone saw him heading towards the eastern Ghost Canyon. That's a secret route leading upstream along the Congo River. It's also the habitat of many rare creatures. Someone hired a mercenary squad to capture him, but three days later, every mercenary was dead."
"There wasn't a single wound on their bodies. It looked like they had been scared to death by something."
Babua's tone carried a hint of exaggeration as he continued.
Ian nodded.
This was exactly the kind of thing Newt would do.
Newt was not one to kill casually, but that did not mean he was incapable of it. The magical creatures under his protection were more than enough to deter any threat.
"I'd like to know more about this man."
Ian continued to question him.
The information broker immediately spilled everything he knew.
"This guy is powerful. For the past few years, he's apparently been traveling all over the world, searching for rare, endangered, or especially dangerous creatures. Then, somehow, nobody knows how, he secretly transports them away! The Ministries of Magic in Europe, Asia, and the Americas have all gone crazy trying to catch him!"
"And now he's come to Africa?"
"That's the rumor!" Babua said mysteriously. "They say he's active around East Africa. That's why the Ministry of Magic is so nervous and has issued those notices, strengthening inspections at borders and ports. They're afraid he'll smuggle something catastrophic in or out again. Like a Thunderbird or an enraged Horned Venom Beast... that would cause a disaster!"
Ian fell into thought.
If Newt was active in Africa, that meant there was a chance of finding him.
"Why is the Confederation so afraid of him?" Ian asked.
"Because he broke the 'boundary,'" Babua replied. "The Ministry of Magic here believes all magical creatures should be controlled, exploited, or eliminated. But that white man... he wants to 'protect' them. In his eyes, dragons aren't weapons; they're living beings. That kind of thinking is more dangerous than dark magic."
Ian fell silent.
For the first time, he felt that, in this twisted world, Newt Scamander had somehow become a revolutionary figure.
No wonder Hermione Granger admired him so much.
Newt had actually been the inspiration behind Hermione's "equal rights movement".
Ian pushed the gold coins towards Babua.
"I want his exact location, and I want to know his next move. Can you do that?"
Babua looked at the gold, then at Ian's eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through the soul itself.
Finally, he nodded.
"Give me three days. I'll send my 'shadows' to track him down. I've got a few connections at several ports and among the administrators of the cross-border Floo Network… Three days! Come back here in three days, and I should have some information."
He did not merely want the gold.
He was also terrified that Ian might kill him in anger.
In the Wizarding World, power itself was the law.
"Very good." Ian stood up.
"Remember, if you lie to me…"
He did not finish the sentence.
He merely lifted a hand lightly, loosening the seal suppressing Babua's magic ever so slightly, and that brief instant of suffocating pressure made the information broker tremble all over again.
"I understand, my lord," Babua lowered his head. "I would never dare harbor other intentions."
Ian said nothing further.
Turning around, he lifted the bead curtain and walked out, leaving the information broker inside the tent wiping cold sweat from his face—both excited by the large amount of money he had earned…
and terrified by the experience he had just survived.
Walking out of the tent, Ian took a deep breath of the mixed air filling the market.
Finding clues about Newt greatly increased his hopes of returning home.
Now, he needed to wait patiently for three days while also preparing for other matters.
He glanced around the vibrant African magical marketplace and thought to himself, perhaps he should acquire some magical materials unique to this region.
And most importantly of all, study the spellcasting techniques used by the Wizards here.
(End of Chapter)
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