"Soone's looking for ?"
When he heard the innkeeper say that soone was asking for him, Ian paused slightly. He was completely unfamiliar with this place. Aside from Master Caleb, with whom he had interacted yesterday, no one else should know he was here.
'Did Master Caleb know he was staying here?'
That was unlikely. He had never told him.
Besides, he had already given the man his contact details. There was no reason for Caleb to use such a clumsy thod to find him. Ian's expression grew even more puzzled as he thought of this.
He hadn't revealed his na to anyone in the market, so where had this visitor co from?
"Who is it?" he asked.
"A very troubleso fellow." The innkeeper seed to notice Ian's confusion and lowered his voice, adding with a hint of warning in his cloudy eyes: "The guy outside is Babua. He's an intelligence broker with no conscience, as long as he gets paid. If he suddenly ca looking for you, soone has probably paid him to investigate you. Be careful."
"That man would sell his soul for money. He trades in information for a living and even dares to sell secrets about ancestral spirits."
Clearly...
The kind-hearted innkeeper had sowhat misunderstood the situation.
He was obviously disgusted with the information dealer as well.
"So it's him."
Ian imdiately understood. So it was Babua. It seed that the "wealth" and unfathomable strength he had displayed yesterday had made the local underground boss to unable to resist probing deeper.
Having shown his power the previous day, Ian didn't believe anyone would be foolish enough to investigate him just for money. The idea that 'money can make the gods move' only worked while one was alive.
Information rchants were smart people.
They wouldn't take on such a losing gamble.
At least, that was how Ian saw it.
"Thank you for the warning, boss. I'll be careful." Ian nodded gratefully. For this taciturn innkeeper to offer any kind of warning was a rare occurrence in itself.
"Mhm."
Seeing that Ian remained so calm, the innkeeper secretly admired the young wizard's composure. After the man had left, Ian straightened his robes, packed away his alchemical tools, and pushed open the door.
He wasn't a Saint either. Whether or not the other party listened to the warning was their own business.
"Perhaps he's already found the information I wanted." Ian adjusted his robes and stepped out of the room.
Other guests in the inn's small courtyard had already woken up and started moving around.
Under the morning light, several people dressed in distinctly wizard-like attire could be seen washing up or conversing in hushed tones. Wizards crossed the vine bridges while others erged from treehouses, stretching lazily.
When Ian stepped outside, a middle-aged witch with a kind face nodded at him amicably. Ian smiled back.
Just as he stepped onto the main corridor, an elderly witch erged from the treehouse opposite.
Her bronze-colored skin glimred softly. Around her neck hung a necklace made of colorful seeds and beast fangs, and she carried a thick, leather-bound book in her hands. Upon seeing Ian, she smiled faintly and spoke to him in heavily accented English.
"Good morning, young traveler. Last night's 'Wind of the Ancestors' was fierce. Did you sleep well?"
She was a white wizard, though she also carried the aura of a shaman.
Ian could tell imdiately.
"Good morning, madam. Thank you for your concern, I slept quite peacefully. Are you a wizard who studies prophecy?" Ian stopped walking and nodded politely, pretending to be a novice wizard.
A trace of surprise flashed through the witch's eyes.
"Indeed. I am Nadia, a 'Dreamspeaker' from western Congo. I've co to this land in search of inspiration."
"Then I wish you success." Ian offered the customary blessing.
Nadia smiled in satisfaction.
"You are wise, and your tongue is sweet. May the ancestral spirits bless your journey."
She lightly patted Ian on the shoulder before turning and departing.
Ian continued onward and soon saw another young wizard standing by the vine bridge and gazing into the distant rainforest.
The man wore robes that blended European fashion with African tribal motifs. He wore a pair of round glasses and held a short brass wand in his hand.
"Hey," He greeted him in fluent English. "You're the one who checked in last night, right? I'm Amit, Indian, but I grew up in Cape Town. This place is primitively exciting, isn't it?"
"It truly is unique," Ian replied with a smile.
"I'm researching 'cross-cultural magic integration,'" Amit said enthusiastically. "See that 'magic text artifact' shop over there? They carve runes into bone instead of using wands. It's practically revolutionary! Back in Mumbai, I'd only seen 'spell boxes' made from sandalwood and serpent scales, but these 'runes within bone' are much more direct."
Ian nodded.
"Indeed. The magic here feels much closer to the essence of survival."
"Exactly!" Amit's eyes lit up. "Unlike those old fossils in Britain who are always obsessed with "bloodlines" and "etiquette". Here, magic is power, and power is survival."
The two exchanged smiles as though they had found a kindred spirit.
Then they passed each other and went their separate ways.
At the sa ti...
After coming into contact with several white wizards, Ian sensed a malicious gaze fixed upon him.
In the shadowed corner, a black wizard dressed in filthy leather armor stood openly sizing him up. A scar ran across his face and his sinister eyes swept over Ian's seemingly ordinary robes and youthful appearance. The corner of his mouth curled into a greedy, disdainful sneer. His intentions could not have been more obvious.
In a chaotic place like this, a lone, inexperienced young outsider was often considered the perfect fat sheep to slaughter.
"Heh."
Ian was all too familiar with that kind of gaze. Having travelled through the magical world for so long, he knew that certain people saw kindness and restraint as weakness.
He did not stop walking, nor did he turn his head fully. Instead, he rely cast the man a cold glance from the corner of his eye.
Suddenly, without warning, the ill-intentioned wizard shuddered violently, as if struck by an invisible blow. His face instantly turned deathly pale.
"Pff...!"
Clutching his chest, he let out a strange, choking sound, then suddenly coughed up a mouthful of dark red blood.
In that instant, his entire body went limp. Leaning weakly against the wall, he gasped desperately for breath. When he looked at Ian again, his eyes were filled with indescribable terror and shock.
"What happened?"
"What's going on?"
"Did a fight break out over there?"
"It's none of our business. If sothing happens, the regulators will handle it."
The surrounding guests were startled by the sudden turn of events.
Still, no one dared to step forward and interfere or ask questions. In a place like this, anyone capable of survival understood that fewer troubles ant a longer life.
"That guy is overestimating himself."
As though nothing had happened, Ian calmly continued walking towards the inn's exit.
On the surface, it looked as though he had rely delivered a ntal shock as a warning. In truth, however, during that brief mont their eyes t, Ian had employed an extrely secretive and advanced technique; one he had reverse-engineered while researching the causes behind Squibs.
It was a thod capable of silently and gradually obstructing and corroding a wizard's magical power circuits.
The punishnt would not manifest imdiately.
But, over the coming months, the malicious Dark Wizard would discover, to his despair, that his magic was fading away irreversibly. Casting spells would beco increasingly difficult until he eventually beca a Squib, a person incapable of using magic ever again.
Even if he realised what was happening, there would be nothing he could do about it.
"Damn it! How could he possess such a thod? Mind magic!"
At that mont, the Dark Wizard felt as though his head were splitting apart. He was completely unaware that the real nightmare had only just begun.
He would never understand why his magic was 'declining'. He would assu it was either terrible luck or so curse.
"Looks like this fool still knows nothing."
Ian glanced back at the dark wizard, whose gaze still burned with poisonous hatred despite his ignorance of the truth. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at Ian's lips.
This was how dark wizards should be dealt with.
For wizards who regarded magic as everything, such a punishnt was far crueller than death itself.
Ian had never shown rcy towards dark wizards who had shown him malice.
He was no saint.
He had no intention of tolerating hostility.
He did not even bother to turn back and look at the man, whose fear was slowly transforming into venomous resentnt. In Ian's eyes, the man was already as good as dead.
Only the thod of execution differed.
The tiline had rely been stretched out.
After leaving the inn and stepping out onto the wider market streets, the morning air felt noticeably fresher. Early-rising vendors were already organising their goods, while the scent of breakfast mingled with the unique slls of potion ingredients.
Ignoring the curious and probing gazes around him, Ian walked directly towards the agreed eting place.
Communication with these black fellows was impossible.
Perhaps that saying wasn't entirely true among wizards, but their way of thinking was undeniably different. Ian had no interest in interacting with lower-tier dark wizards who spent their days causing trouble.
Ian looked around.
He was searching for the person who had co looking for him.
Sure enough, in a secluded corner not far from the inn stood Babua, the information broker, rubbing his hands together anxiously.
The mont he saw Ian appear, Babua put on a fawning yet reverent smile and hurried over.
Clearly—
The inn itself was under the innkeeper's protection, so people like Babua could not simply enter and approach guests. Ian wasn't surprised by this at all. He had realized a long ti ago that the innkeeper's magical abilities were far from weak.
Ian nodded faintly.
"What do you want with ?"
He deliberately avoided ntioning the possibility that Babua had investigated him. He wanted to see if the man had accepted such a commission. After all, surely there were many passers-by interested in the equipnt he carried?
Yesterday, Ian had attracted a lot of attention and had picked up so valuable bargains.
Babua hurriedly waved his hands and forced a smile.
"It's about the matter you asked to investigate. I've managed to uncover so clues and have co specifically to report them to you!"
He carefully observed Ian's expression.
Only after confirming that Ian showed no displeasure did he continue.
"The smuggler you asked to investigate, the one under special 'attention' from the Ministry of Magic, I really did manage to uncover so information about him."
"Oh? Let's hear it." Ian was imdiately interested.
Babua lowered his voice and spoke while a trace of pride appeared on his face.
"That guy is definitely not your average person. He keeps a very low profile, but I used quite a few connections and finally managed to uncover his background. His na is Newt Scamander, and he's English. Apparently, he's a very famous Magizoologist over there."
As he spoke, Babua carefully pulled a sowhat blurry black-and-white photograph from his robes, clearly a secretly taken picture, and handed it to Ian.
:This was taken by one of my puppets a few years ago while he was active in Egypt."
Ian took the photograph.
In it was a young man with ssy hair, glasses, and an awkward appearance. Compared to the Professor Newt in Ian's mories, however, this version looked far more handso.
He was carrying his iconic suitcase in front of a backdrop of pyramids.
Although much younger, Ian recognized him instantly.
It really was Newt Scamander.
This information broker truly had so skill. Not only had he discovered Newt's location, but he had also identified him.
And all of that in just one night!
So people were simply born for this line of work.
"That's right. It's him." Ian confird, feeling reassured inside.
Finding Newt ant finding the key to returning to Europe.
In a good mood, he handed the photograph back to Babua and tossed a small pouch of gold coins over.
"Well done. This is an extra reward."
Babua hurriedly caught the pouch with both hands. The mont he weighed it, his face lit up with joy.
"Thank you, sir! Thank you! You're too generous!"
Inside, he was ecstatic.
As you would expect from a powerhouse, his spending was truly extravagant!
This bag of gold alone would allow him to live comfortably for quite so ti.
Still, he didn't dare beco complacent. Quickly restraining his excitent, he moved on to even more important information.
"Sir, regarding Mr Scamander's current whereabouts, the latest news I received suggests that he may have run into a bit of trouble."
Ian frowned slightly.
"What kind of trouble?"
Babua licked his lips, choosing his words carefully, as he couldn't tell whether Ian considered Newt to be a friend or an enemy.
"He seems to have been invited by the African Magical Creatures Managent and Control Departnt to 'have so tea'. Yesterday afternoon, during a… ah… 'routine inspection' near Lake Victoria, he was found."
"Invited for tea?" Ian's tone turned colder. "What exactly happened? Explain clearly."
He realized imdiately that Newt's situation might not be good.
Being 'invited' by an official organization was rarely a positive thing, especially for soone who was already labeled a 'smuggler.'
Sensing the change in Ian's tone, Babua's heart tightened. He hurriedly elaborated:
"It was because certain "passengers" inside his suitcase caused a disturbance and were spotted by patrolling Aurors. You know how it is here, our side is extrely strict about people bringing high-risk magical creatures into the country without authorization."
"So right now, he's probably been taken to the Ministry of Magic office in Nairobi for questioning. There'll likely be a lot of interrogation and procedural trouble."
By now, Babua had realized that Ian probably knew Newt well, so he found himself defending him.
"Oh, right. When Ministry people say 'have tea', they actually an interrogation. They suspect he smuggled prohibited creatures here with the intention of damaging the 'Ancestral Spirit Seal'."
After saying that, the information broker revealed another piece of news.
Ian's eyes narrowed.
He absolutely did not believe Professor Newt was so kind of saboteur.
He knew that the African Ministry of Magic operated very differently from the British Ministry; they were far more brutal and extrely hostile towards outsiders.
Newt loved magical creatures.
But in their eyes, those creatures were rely 'usable resources' or 'potential threats.'
The so-called 'Ancestral Spirit Seal' may well be a fabricated accusation.
"Why do they suspect he intended to damage the seal?" Ian asked.
"Well..." Babua hesitated, carefully considering his words.
He didn't know the nature of Ian's relationship with Newt and was afraid of saying the wrong thing and getting himself killed.
"Speak plainly."
Ian's voice remained calm yet carried an undeniable weight.
"Because Mr. Newt's suitcase contains a Core Bat," Babua said quietly. "It's a creature that only lives deep underground in abyssal regions. Rumour has it that it can sense fluctuations in the 'seal'. The Ministry believes that bringing such a creature to Africa ans that he has ulterior motives."
Ian fell silent.
Of course, he knew about Core Bats.
They were incredibly sensitive creatures, capable of detecting magical energy flows beneath the Earth's crust.
If Newt had brought one here, it was most likely to study Africa's unique magical ecosystem. There was absolutely no malicious intent behind it.
But, in the eyes of the African Ministry of Magic, this had beco 'espionage.'
Perhaps the African Ministry truly did maintain extrely strict control.
However, based on Ian's understanding of this land, this could just as easily be a ploy to extort money.
It wasn't prejudice, of course... after all, the British Ministry of Magic played the sa tricks.
Ian had read about similar cases in Hogwarts: A History.
What?
Why would sothing like that appear in Hogwarts: A History?
Because the victims were Hogwarts students, of course.
(End Of This Chapter)
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