The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 408, Section 407: Bats and Vipers

Chapter 408, Section 407: Bats and Vipers

In the quiet room, the candlelight flickered, and the weight of the animal-hide scroll pressed heavily on Ian's heart. The other person's words, "endless glory," still echoed in his ears.

It's very touching.

It struck a certain resonance deep within his soul.

"Thank you." Ian solemnly accepted the "Secret Texts of Bones," a book that embodied the hard work of the Caleb family, feeling the ancient and warm magical fluctuations emanating from its animal-skin cover. He knew that this gift represented more than just a book; it was a weighty trust and an academic respect that transcended magical systems.

"You will surely enable our lineage to reach even greater heights."

When Caleb saw Ian accept the gift, a relieved and incredibly gratified smile appeared on his face, an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and peace, as if his lifelong wish had been fulfilled.

He rubbed his hands together and said warmly, "Your Majesty, you are new to this place and probably don't have a place to stay yet, right? If you don't mind, I have a quiet little house behind this market. Although it is simple, it is clean and tidy. You can rest there for the time being, which will make things much more convenient for you."

It's clear that this master is a meticulous person; he knows that Ian is unfamiliar with the place and people, so he certainly doesn't have a decent place to live.

Ian smiled and shook his head, politely declining Caleb's offer.

"Thank you for your kindness, Master Caleb, but my journey is far from over, and I cannot linger here. Besides, I am used to traveling alone, and I need to wander around the market some more before finding an inn."

He was just being honest. He could tell that Caleb genuinely wanted to host him, but he didn't want to intrude too much on Caleb's life, and it would be more convenient for him to act alone.

"But—the rainforest outside is dangerous, warlords roam freely, and even centaur patrols might not be reliable," Caleb said worriedly. "If you have nowhere to stay, why don't you rest here for a few days?"

"I have my own way." Ian looked out the window at the darkening sky. "Besides, my journey is inherently a wandering. Staying too long makes one forget the meaning of moving forward."

Caleb didn't press the matter further, but simply sighed deeply: "You're right. Someone like you is destined to be unbound by any place."

He paused, then continued.

"Alright, perhaps this is also part of your training." Seeing Ian's resolute attitude, Caleb was somewhat disappointed but dared not press the matter. He changed his words: "Then if you need anything, feel free to come to me anytime! In this market, I, Caleb, still have some influence."

Looking at the old craftsman who had poured his life's blood into crafting magical artifacts, Ian felt a surge of warmth in his heart. "Definitely," Ian nodded, then took something out of his purse. It was a small, exquisite silver pocket watch, but the cover and dial were engraved with intricate, shimmering alchemical runes—a work he had crafted himself, combining time display, danger warning, and one-time powerful protection.

"Master, consider this a return gift from me." Ian handed the pocket watch to Caleb. "It might be of some help to you in a critical moment."

Caleb was flattered and overwhelmed, his hands trembling slightly as he accepted the pocket watch. He only needed to sense it briefly to realize it was an absolutely priceless, top-tier alchemical artifact! Its exquisite complexity far exceeded his imagination! He knew that the value of this object far surpassed the combined value of all the "rune artifacts" in his shop. It could elevate his rune-carving skills to a new level, and might even unlock the mysteries of lost high-level runes.

"This—I can't accept it!" Caleb hurriedly declined.

"Take it," Ian smiled. "In my hands, it's nothing but an inanimate object. But in yours, it might ignite the 'light of enlightenment' in many more children. That's its true destiny."

"Since you put it that way, I can't refuse." Caleb's hands trembled as he thanked Ian repeatedly, almost bowing again, but Ian stopped him with a look.

He bowed deeply: "Lord Ian—we, the Nkosi lineage, will never forget your kindness."

Nkosi may be the source of this master's lineage.

"No need for thanks." Ian turned and walked towards the door. "We were just illuminating each other's path."

He pushed open the door and stepped out. The night breeze caressed his face, and the African starry sky shone like diamonds.

"What an amazing journey." Ian glanced back one last time at the shop hollowed out by a giant tree, its dim light seeming to ignite an inextinguishable flame in the darkness.

Having bid farewell to Master Caleb of the Thousand Envanka, Ian once again merged into the crowds of the market. The night market was now in full swing, a stark contrast to the daytime bustle.

The market at night takes on a touch of mystery and wildness.

Fluorite lanterns floated overhead, casting an eerie green glow; wizards, cloaked and whispering, conversed in hushed tones; the air was thick with the mingled scents of fermenting wine, roasted meat, herbs, and gunpowder. Ian slowed his pace, immersing himself in this magical world, so different from London's Diagon Alley.

With his newly acquired "Secret Text of Bones" and his newfound understanding of the African magic system, his mindset while browsing the market changed. He was no longer in a hurry to find bargains or search for specific targets, but rather became a true observer and experiencer, savoring the unique charm of the place.

That's why.

Ian soon discovered that this African "Diagon Alley" was very different from the Diagon Alley in England.

First, there are the pets. In Britain, owls are the go-to pets for wizards to deliver messages, and owl shops and messengers perched on their owners' shoulders are everywhere. But here, Ian saw hardly any owls. Instead, he saw a much larger creature with a wider wingspan, dark brown fur, and enormous ears—bats!

Yes.

Bats hold a status in this place comparable to owls at Hogwarts. Dozens of cages hang outside a shop called "Nightwing."

The bats in the cage are of various shapes and sizes.

There are giant bats with wingspans like eagles, capable of carrying heavy loads while flying; there are "blood-eyed bats" that are entirely black with bright red eyes, said to be able to see for miles at night; and there are also small and exquisite "sound wave bats" that can emit directional sound waves for reconnaissance or to drive away enemies.

"Give me a 'messenger bat'!" the shopkeeper shouted. "Three times faster than an owl, it can even squeeze through ventilation ducts, and even the warlord's anti-aircraft spells can't stop it!"

"Malawi messenger bat, fast, excellent stealth at night, and superb navigation skills! Training included!" another stall owner shouted loudly.

A large creature was perched on his shoulder, grooming itself and occasionally emitting a faint, ultrasonic-like squeaking sound.

"Looks like there are quite a few people selling pets here, not just dedicated shops," Ian remarked, pausing for a moment. In Europe, owls are symbols of magical messengers, gentle and loyal. But here, bats are the dominant species—more adapted to the rainforest environment, more agile, and more "combat-ready."

This once again confirms the survival philosophy of the African magical world: practicality trumps tradition.

Ian also saw a smaller bat for sale called the "Golden-haired Weaver Bat," which is said to be docile and have an extremely sensitive sense of smell, and is used by some wizards to find specific magical herbs.

of course.

Just like Hogwarts, there were cats and toads. Besides bats, he also saw some stalls selling other exotic pets: baskets filled with brightly colored venomous snakes.

The stall owner claimed that they were domesticated to guard homes.

In addition, there are "warning lizards" kept in cages with buzzing tails, and even a type of baby "dream eater" that is said to devour nightmares.

"This guy looks like a small warthog with a long nose," Ian thought with amusement. Then he passed a "Potion Shop" with a sign that looked like a melting human head.

The potion shop was quite unique. Besides the usual herbs and animal organs, Ian saw a large quantity of dried insects and scorpions.

Snake molts, and various strangely colored, bubbling, thick liquids, labeled with names brimming with wild power such as "Crocodile Power Potion," "Cheetah Agility Potion," and "Coyote Courage Essence."

The air was filled with a more complex and pungent smell. The shelves were filled with strange bottles and jars—voodoo doll powder made from the hair and ashes of enemies, which could be used to cast curses remotely, and an uncertain potion that could grant the user the speed and claws of a leopard for a short time, but with the side effect of potentially turning them into a beast.

can only say.

They clearly don't pay much attention to the safety of potions here.

Very wild.

Unlike Professor Snape's rigorous potions room, the potions here are more like "battlefield supplies," prioritizing immediate effects over long-term costs.

This is even harder to evaluate than the Overturned Alley.

Because these potions weren't considered mature potions by Ian, he quickly lost interest in the African potion recipes.

"Let's look at something else."

Ian moved out of the potion shop, and the magical artifact shops became even more diverse. Apart from professional engraving shops like Master Caleb's, most sold all sorts of magical items with a tribal flair.

Masks carved with totems, dolls decorated with feathers and shells, drums made of animal hides and bones, and amulets of various materials and shapes.

From simple animal teeth to complex metal plates, they have it all.

Most peculiarly, a row of "magical prosthetics" hangs at the store entrance—severed limbs can be purchased by those who have lost an arm; some can fire fireballs, while others can release electric nets.

"Cyber ​​magic."

As Ian strolled around, he passed a "bookstore" called "Ancestral Spirit Bookstore." There were no copies of "Standard Spells" or "Advanced Potion Making" in the store.

*The History of Tribal Wars: Fighting Colonizers with Magic*, *The Diagram of Black Magic: How to Create Zombie Soldiers*, *Prophecy and Sacrifice: Interpreting the Future with Living People*

The knowledge here is not for exams, but for survival and combat.

"Pfft, as expected, the academic learning style is simply not popular here." Ian continued walking, thinking to himself. Diagon Alley is the "showcase of civilization" in the magical world, refined, orderly, and full of academic atmosphere. But the market here is the "frontline base" of magic, rough, direct, and full of the smell of blood and fire.

Ian even discovered a shop that specifically caters to Animagus!

However, the focus of the service is not on transformation guidance, but on creating "beast form exclusive" magical items or armor tailored to your animal form! For example, claw gloves engraved with the "Swift Wind" rune are customized for cheetah Animagus, or forehead armor with the "Sturdy" rune is crafted for rhinoceros Animagus.

This pragmatic yet wild approach opened Ian's eyes.

Of course, he also paid special attention to other rune engraving shops. There were indeed several similar shops in the market, some with larger signs and more luxurious decorations.

Ian went inside and found that they mainly did enchanting of various weapons, armor and items with magic runes, and their skills were quite excellent. However, when he subtly inquired whether they could enchant human bodies with magic runes, he always received the same answer - only Caleb's shop could do this kind of enchanting.

obviously.

Ollivander is unique in Diagon Alley, and here, Caleb's "Enchanted Artifacts" shop is also the only one that can provide "bone-carving enlightenment" for children. Yes, Master Caleb's shop in this African market represents an irreplaceable pinnacle in a certain field, and can also be seen as a family-monopolized industry. Or perhaps this is a phenomenon in the magical world: in a certain region, only one family can guide a young wizard onto the path of magic.

"Fate is truly wondrous," Ian murmured to himself, a slight smile playing on his lips. The very first shop he randomly chose to enter was home to the master craftsman who possessed the most core and unique skills in this land. Was this pure coincidence, or some kind of guidance from a higher level?

He looked up at the shimmering magical orbs on the market's dome, as if trying to discern some clues about destiny. Of course, in any case, this trip to Africa had yielded far more than expected.

Not only did they determine the coordinates of time and space and find clues to return home, but they also came into contact with a completely different yet profound magical system and even obtained a precious inheritance.

Ian tucked the "Secret Text of Bones" deeper into his pocket, feeling the weight of its profound knowledge. Now, he needed to find a place to settle down.

"I will study this extraordinary book carefully while waiting for news from the intelligence merchant Babua." The road home still seemed long, but the scenery along the way was more spectacular than I had imagined.

The animal-skin scroll lay quietly in his arms, waiting to be deciphered and passed down.

"Speaking of which, this place is a combination of Knockturn Alley and Diagon Alley, mixed together, so there isn't such a clear distinction between black magic and white magic—which makes it a special place." Ian walked through the hustle and bustle of the African market, the night wind carrying the smells of herbs, roasted meat, and the smoke from a distant campfire.

The market town did not sleep at night.

Wizards gathered in small groups, exchanging information over palm wine in open-air taverns; vendors peddled talismans that could repel snakes and ointments that could enhance night vision; several children gathered around an old witch doctor, listening to him tell the legend of "Thor's War with the Ancestral Spirits," a story interspersed with real magical knowledge.

"This thing is kind of interesting."

Ian walked past a stall selling "soul lanterns"—made from hollowed-out animal skulls, each containing a faint ghost that could automatically ward off evil spirits. He also saw a couple standing before a "stone of destiny," the surface of which did not display the future, but rather a totem of their intertwined bloodlines.

These are not things that Ian is interested in.

He eventually found a small shop called "Tree Shadow Inn" on the edge of the market. The inn was converted from several huge baobab trees. The rooms were built in the hollowed-out trunks and connected by vine bridges, and the roof was covered with waterproof giant leaves. An elderly night watchman sat at the door.

The other person was playing a deep melody on a bone flute to drive away the poisonous insects of the night.

"Are there any rooms available?" Ian asked.

The night watchman looked him up and down. Seeing that his robes were old but clean and that he had no bad smell, he nodded. "Yes, 'Quiet Room,' three nights for fifty copper coins."

The currency here also has its own system.

Ian paid, and the watchman handed him a bone key, pointing to a tree in the farthest distance: "Top floor, third room on the left. The candle is in the jar, the water in the earthenware pot, don't drink from the well—it's voodoo."

This warning left Ian somewhat bewildered.

There is black magic in the hotel.

It is indeed a wild place.