The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 411, Section 410: The Value of a Piece of School History

Chapter 411, Section 410: The Value of a Piece of School History

"Is someone looking for me?"

When Ian heard the shop owner say that someone was looking for him, he couldn't help but be slightly surprised. He was a stranger in this place, and apart from Master Caleb, whom he had met yesterday, no one else should know him.

Did Master Caleb know he lived here?

It's unlikely; he didn't inform them.

Moreover, he had left his contact information with the other party, so it was impossible for them to use such a clumsy method to find him. Thinking of this, Ian's expression became even more confused.

He didn't even reveal his name to the people in the market, so why would he have visitors?

"Who is it?" he asked.

"A very troublesome guy." The shop owner seemed to sense his confusion and added in a low voice, his cloudy eyes carrying a hint of warning: "That guy outside is Babua. That information broker who doesn't care about conscience for money. He suddenly came to find you, most likely because someone paid him to find out about you. Be careful."

"This person has no conscience when it comes to money. He specializes in buying and selling information and even dares to sell the secrets of ancestral spirits."

obviously.

The kind shop owner had a slight misunderstanding.

Moreover, he also felt extreme disgust towards this information broker.

"It's him."

Ian suddenly realized that it was Babua. It seemed that his display of "wealth" and unfathomable strength yesterday had made this local bully want to test his limits again?

After demonstrating his power yesterday, Ian was skeptical that anyone would be so fearless as to investigate him for money; the idea that money could buy anything only applied to matters of life.

Intelligence brokers are all clever guys.

They wouldn't do such a risky, unprofitable business.

At least that's how Ian sees it.

"Thank you for the reminder, boss. I'll be careful," Ian nodded to his boss in gratitude. It was already a rare act of kindness for this taciturn boss to offer such a reminder.

"Um."

Seeing his calm demeanor, the shopkeeper couldn't help but admire the young wizard's composure. After he left, Ian straightened his robes, put away the alchemical tools, and went out the door.

He wasn't some pushover; whether the other person listened or not was their problem.

"Perhaps he has already found the information I'm looking for." Ian straightened his robe, pushed open the door, and went out.

Other guests were already up and moving around in the hotel's courtyard.

In the morning light, several people dressed in various styles, clearly wizards, were washing up or talking in hushed tones. Wizards strolled across the vine bridge, some emerging from their treehouses to stretch. Seeing Ian emerge, a kind-looking middle-aged witch nodded to him amicably. Ian smiled back.

As soon as he stepped onto the main porch, an elderly witch emerged from the treehouse opposite. She had bronze skin, wore a necklace made of colorful seeds and animal teeth, and carried a heavy leather book. Upon seeing Ian, she smiled slightly and spoke in heavily accented English.

"Good morning, young traveler. The 'Ancestral Winds' were strong last night. Did you sleep well?" This was a white witch who also had a bit of a shamanistic feel to her.

Ian could tell the difference.

"Good morning, madam. Thank you for your concern, I slept very well. Are you a wizard who studies prophecy?" Ian stopped and nodded politely, feigning being a novice wizard.

A hint of surprise flashed in the witch's eyes: "That's right, I am Nadia, the 'Dream Whisperer,' from the western border of Congo. I have come to this place to seek inspiration."

"Then I wish you success."

Ian offered his best wishes.

Nadia smiled with satisfaction: "You are wise and have a sweet tongue. May the ancestral spirits protect your journey."

She gently patted Ian on the shoulder.

He turned and left.

Ian continued on his way and saw another young wizard standing by the vine bridge, gazing at the rainforest in the distance.

The other person was wearing a mixed robe that blended European style with African totems, with round-framed glasses perched on his nose, and a short brass wand in his hand.

"Hi," he greeted her in fluent English, "you're the one who checked in last night? I'm Amit, of Indian descent, but I grew up in Cape Town. This place—it's really excitingly primitive, isn't it?"

"It's certainly unique," Ian smiled.

"I'm researching 'cross-cultural magical fusion'," Amit said excitedly. "Look at that 'runeware' shop over there; they use bone runes instead of wands—it's a revolutionary idea! When I was in Mumbai, I only saw 'spellboxes' made of sandalwood and snake scales, but they were nowhere near as direct as these 'bone runes.'"

Ian nodded: "Indeed, the magic here is closer to the essence of survival."

“Exactly!” Amit’s eyes lit up. “Unlike those old-fashioned British folks who are always fussing over ‘bloodlines’ and ‘etiquette.’ Here, magic is power, and power is survival.”

The two looked at each other and smiled, as if they had found kindred spirits.

They turned and crossed paths.

at the same time.

After coming into contact with several white wizards, Ian also felt a malicious gaze.

In the shadows of a corner, a black sorcerer, clad in filthy leather armor, with scars on his face and sinister eyes, openly scrutinized Ian. His gaze swept over Ian's seemingly ordinary robes and youthful face, a greedy and contemptuous smile playing on his lips. His intentions were crystal clear.

In such a chaotic place, a lone, seemingly inexperienced young outsider is often the best prey.

"hehe."

Ian was all too familiar with that look. Having traveled the magical world for some time, he knew all too well that to some people, kindness and concession were merely seen as weakness. He didn't stop walking, nor did he even turn his head completely; he merely gave the wizard a cold, wary glance out of the corner of his eye.

Without any warning, the male wizard, who had previously looked hostile, suddenly seemed to have been struck by a heavy blow. His body trembled violently, and his face instantly turned ashen white!

"Pfft! Pfft!!" He clutched his chest, making a strange "whoosh" sound in his throat, and suddenly opened his mouth, spitting out a mouthful of dark red blood with a "whoosh".

At that moment, he slumped down, leaning against the wall and panting heavily. His eyes were filled with indescribable horror and fear as he looked at Ian.

"What happened?"

"What happened?"

"It looks like a fight has broken out over there?"

"It's none of our business. If anything goes wrong, there are regulators."

The other guests around were startled by this sudden turn of events.

They all looked over, but no one dared to step forward to ask questions or interfere. Anyone who could survive in a place like this understood the principle of "it's better to mind your own business."

"Overestimating one's abilities."

Ian acted as if nothing had happened and continued walking out of the hotel. He seemed to have only given the other party a mental shock as a warning, but in that instant of eye contact, he had actually used an extremely secretive and profound method—a technique he had deduced in reverse while researching the causes of "squirts," a technique that could silently and gradually block and erode the wizard's magical circuits.

This punishment won't take effect immediately, but over the next few months, the malicious dark wizard will desperately discover that his magic is irreversibly draining away, making spellcasting increasingly difficult, and eventually turning him into a completely powerless Squib, a cripple who can no longer cast spells.

Even if the other party realizes this, there's nothing they can do.

"Damn it!!! How could he have such methods! Mental magic!" The dark wizard felt a splitting headache, unaware that the real nightmare had only just begun. He would never understand why he had suddenly "lost his magic power," only assuming it was bad luck or a curse.

"Looks like this guy doesn't know anything yet." Ian turned back and glanced warily at the dark wizard who was still unaware of the truth and whose eyes were filled with resentment, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Dealing with dark wizards.

That's exactly the kind of harsh measures we need to use.

For a wizard who sees magic as everything, this would undoubtedly be more cruel than simply killing the wizard. Ian has always been ruthless towards dark wizards who actively unleash malice.

He is not a saint and will not tolerate malice.

Ian didn't even turn around to look at the man whose eyes were gradually turning from fear to resentment. In his eyes, the man was no different from a dead man.

The only difference is the method of execution.

It just took a little longer.

Stepping out of the inn and onto the relatively open streets of the market, the morning air was much fresher. Along the way, some early-rising vendors were arranging their goods, the air filled with the aroma of breakfast and the distinctive scent of potion ingredients. Ian ignored the curious or inquisitive glances around him and headed straight for the agreed-upon meeting place.

The black guys don't speak the same language.

This statement may not be a truth for wizards, but their ways of thinking are different, and he couldn't be bothered to have any interaction with these dark wizards who mingled in the lower classes and caused trouble.

Ian looked around.

He was searching for the person who had come looking for him. Sure enough, in a secluded corner not far from the hotel, the intelligence dealer Babua was rubbing his hands together, waiting anxiously. As soon as he saw Ian appear, he immediately put on a fawning yet respectful smile and hurried over to greet him.

obviously.

The inn was under the protection of the innkeeper, so people like him couldn't go in to look for someone. Ian wasn't surprised by this; he had long since realized that the innkeeper's magical abilities were not weak.

Ian nodded slightly. "What do you need me for?"

He deliberately avoided mentioning that the other party might be a man investigating him, wanting to see if the other party had actually accepted such a request, since there should be quite a few passersby who would question his equipment.

Ian did manage to snag quite a few bargains yesterday, after all, by showing off his wealth.

Babua quickly waved his hand, smiling ingratiatingly, "It's about the matter you entrusted me to investigate. I've made some progress, and I've come to report to you!"

He carefully observed Ian's expression.

Seeing that the other party was not displeased, he continued, "I have indeed found some information about the smuggler who is being closely 'monitored' by the Ministry of Magic, the one you asked me to inquire about."

"Oh? Tell me about it." Ian became interested.

Babua lowered his voice, a hint of smugness on his face: "This guy is indeed no ordinary person. He's elusive, but I used a lot of connections and finally found out his background. His name is Newt Scamander, he's English, and supposedly a very famous magizoologist there."

As he spoke, he carefully pulled out a somewhat blurry, obviously candid black-and-white photograph from his pocket and handed it to Ian: "This was taken by my men a few years ago when he was active in Egypt."

Ian took the photo and saw a young man who looked somewhat sullen, wearing glasses and with messy hair. He was much more handsome than the Professor Newt Ian remembered.

The man was carrying his signature briefcase, standing against a backdrop of pyramids. Although much younger, Ian recognized him immediately as Newt Scamander! This intelligence broker was indeed quite capable, not only uncovering the man's movements but also his identity.

It only took one night.

That's why some people are just born to do this kind of work.

"Yes, it's him," Ian confirmed, certain of his words. Finding Newt meant finding the key to returning to Europe. He handed the photo back to Babua, and in a good mood, took a small bag of gold coins from his purse and tossed it to him. "Well done, this is extra pay."

Babua hurriedly caught the money bag, weighed it in his hand, and his face instantly lit up with joy. He repeatedly thanked him, saying, "Thank you, sir! Thank you so much, sir! You're so generous!"

He was ecstatic.

This powerful figure is indeed very generous!

This bag of gold coins will keep him living a carefree life for quite some time.

But he dared not get carried away, so he quickly suppressed his smile and continued to report more important information.

"Sir, regarding Mr. Scamander's current whereabouts—according to my latest information, he may be in some trouble at the moment."

Ian frowned slightly: "What trouble?"

Babua licked his lips, carefully choosing his words, unsure whether Ian's attitude towards Newt was friend or foe: "He—he seems to have been invited for 'tea' by our African Magical Creatures Control Department. Just yesterday afternoon, during a—well: 'routine inspection' near Lake Victoria, he was spotted."

"Inviting you for tea?" Ian's tone changed. "What exactly happened? Explain clearly."

He realized that Newt's situation might not be good. Being "invited" by an official agency is usually not a good thing, especially when the agency itself is known as a "smuggler."

Babua sensed the change in Ian's tone and his heart tightened. He quickly explained in detail, "It's because some of the 'passengers' in his suitcase caused a commotion, and they just happened to be spotted by the patrolling Aurors. As you know, we're very strict about bringing high-risk magical creatures into the country without prior notification."

"So he should now be taken to the Ministry of Magic office in Narobi for questioning, and he will probably face some questioning and procedural troubles."

Babua had realized that Ian might have a close relationship with this Newt, so when he spoke, he began to sound like he was trying to exonerate Newt.

"By the way, the people from the Ministry of Magic said they wanted to 'have tea,' which is actually an interrogation. They suspect he's carrying forbidden creatures and intends to break the 'Ancestral Spirit Seal.'"

As he spoke, the intelligence merchant revealed another piece of information.

Ian's eyes narrowed.

He didn't believe Professor Newt was some kind of sabotager. He knew that the African Ministry of Magic was different from the British one, operating much more brutally and extremely hostile to "outsiders." Newt loved magical creatures, but in their eyes, these creatures were nothing more than "usable resources" or "potential threats."

The term "ancestral spirit seal" might just be a fabricated charge?

"Why would they suspect him of breaking the seal?" Ian asked.

"Because..." Babua hesitated, seemingly choosing his words carefully. He was unaware of Ian and Newt's relationship and feared that saying the wrong thing could lead to his death.

"Just say it." Ian's tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable pressure.

"Because Mr. Newt's trunk contains a 'Ground Bat,'" Babua whispered. "It's a creature that lives only in the deepest abysses and is said to be able to sense the fluctuations of the 'Seal.' The Ministry of Magic believes that his purpose in bringing this creature to Africa is impure."

Ian remained silent.

He certainly knew that the Earth Core Bat was an extremely sensitive creature capable of detecting the flow of magical energy beneath the earth's crust.

Newt brought it here most likely to study Africa's unique magical ecology, with absolutely no malicious intent. But in the eyes of the African Ministry of Magic, this became "espionage."

It's possible that the Ministry of Magic in Africa has very strict control over this area.

However, given Ian's knowledge of this land—this could also be a prelude to extortion. Not to be discriminatory, after all, the British Ministry of Magic does this kind of thing too.

Ian had read about similar cases in "Hogwarts: A History of the School".

What?

Why would such a thing happen in "Hogwarts: A History of the School"?

Of course, it's because the people being extorted are Hogwarts students.