A handful of pale green Floo powder was cast into the hearth, and the flames instantly roared to life, turning a brilliant emerald green.
Ted carried his companion, Parker, while several of his Poké Balls hung securely from his belt.
Anzu, perched comfortably on his shoulder. Adjusting his wizard's robes, he stepped confidently into the emerald fire.
A peculiar, dizzying force of attraction enveloped him, and he vanished in an instant.
The summer holidays were over halfway through, with July already slipping by. After Ted redeemed his monthly quota of otherworldly knowledge from the System and briefly settled the affairs of his magical mail-order network, it was time to visit Jerry's home.
At the start of the holidays, Jerry had been helping out in Diagon Alley to earn some extra Galleons for his family. However, an incident had occurred back home during the second week, forcing him to return and stay there. Judging by Jerry's latest letter, things were growing increasingly complicated, so Ted planned to see if he could offer any assistance.
'I'm no longer the naive, powerless, and unconnected first-year I once was,' Ted mused to himself. 'I'm actually capable of helping my mates sort out their problems now.'
His destination was the Lost Mountains, located in the Livenkel region right on the border of England and Scotland.
The locals named it the Lost Mountains due to the persistent, thick fog that perpetually shrouded the peaks. If a Muggle ventured into the range, they would inevitably lose their way in the mist, wandering in circles until they inexplicably found themselves stumbling back out.
Fortunately, the region was incredibly rugged, sparsely populated, and mostly ignored by the wider public. People generally avoided the peaks, keeping outsiders blissfully unaware of the strange phenomena. Because of this natural warding, the demi-human village hidden within had never been discovered by Muggles.
That was right—the demi-human village of Deckard Mond was nestled safely within a valley of the Lost Mountains.
According to records from the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Demi-Human Division, there were currently 476 residents in Deckard Mond. The population was primarily comprised of various demi-human tribes: those with rat ears, rabbit ears, bull horns, dog ears, and cat ears. Each group ranged in size from a dozen to several dozen individuals. The Bull-Horned Tribe and the Rat-Eared Tribe boasted the largest numbers, both exceeding a hundred members.
However, other intelligent races that had arrived during the Conjunctions of the Spheres—like dwarves, elves, and gnomes—received significantly better treatment from the wizarding world.
Deep in the Misty Mountains, for instance, the dwarves had carved out a sprawling underground town called Hammer Castle, boasting a population of around two hundred. A large number of gnomes also lived comfortably within Hammer Castle, thanks to their excellent relationship with the dwarves.
The elves, meanwhile, received the highest tier of treatment. Their settlement was located at the northernmost end of the Benning Mountains, further south. The British Ministry of Magic had allocated them a massive tract of land, granting them full autonomy. Rumour had it that the elven village of Tamriel was sustained by multiple powerful magic arrays, keeping the climate as pleasant as spring all year round.
While the other races fell strictly under the jurisdiction of the Demi-Human Division, the elves possessed their own dedicated Elven Liaison Office within the Ministry—a clear testament to their extraordinary social status.
Ted opened his eyes, shielding his face from the swirling soot, and stepped out of the hearth. He cast a quick Scouring Charm on himself to clear away the ash before taking in his surroundings.
He stood in a small, distinctly shabby shop. The wooden planks lining the walls bore the rough marks of manual craftsmanship, clearly having been planed by hand. Glancing at the shelves and the simple wooden counter, he noted that the inventory was surprisingly comprehensive. From daily household necessities to commonly used magical herbs, the little shop seemed to stock a bit of everything.
Behind the counter stood an older rat-eared man with greying hair. He pushed a pair of thick spectacles up his nose and asked in a deep, gravelly voice, "Young wizard, welcome to Deckard Mond. Is there anything I can do to help you?"
Ted looked at the elderly man's greying whiskers and asked politely, "Excuse me, are you Uncle Puli?"
Before Ted arrived, Jerry had informed him that there were only two fireplaces in the entire village connected to the Floo Network. One was located in the Ministry of Magic's Division office, strictly for official use, and the other was right here in Uncle Puli's general store.
"Oh? No need for titles, I'm just Puli. And who might you be, lad?"
"I'm Ted, Jerry's classmate. Ted Epifani," Ted introduced himself.
"Oh! Ted, is it? I've heard Jerry mention you quite a bit. I've even read your story in the Daily Prophet. What an amazing young man..." Old Puli looked genuinely surprised. He clearly hadn't expected one of Jerry's schoolmates to actually visit. It seemed Jerry was doing quite well for himself at Hogwarts.
"And is this the raven, Anzu? Jerry told me all about him," Puli added, noticing the massive bird perched on Ted's shoulder.
"Indeed, it is I. I am Anzu," the raven replied, puffing out his chest to give a proud, theatrical bow. He then shot Ted a smug look that clearly communicated: 'See? The people here recognise my greatness!'
'You do realise whose coattails you're riding on, right?' Ted thought back dryly.
Upon hearing that Ted was looking for Jerry, Uncle Puli became incredibly enthusiastic and immediately offered to show him the way.
Stepping outside, Ted found that the village was indeed quite rudimentary. Although the ground had been heavily compacted by years of foot traffic, it remained a dirt road. Only a small section in the very centre of the village had been properly paved with cobblestones.
The surrounding homes were mostly simple wooden cabins or earthen structures, with two-storey buildings being the absolute tallest. The only well-decorated and vaguely stylish building in sight was the Demi-Human Division's local office.
Realistically, for a fully trained wizard, conjuring or transfiguring a stone road was brilliantly simple. However, the demi-humans had never produced their own wizards before Jerry's generation, and the Ministry of Magic was entirely unwilling to waste its efforts on infrastructure for them—even though it was a trivial task that wouldn't require much manpower or resources.
This stark inequality was exactly why Jerry and his fellow demi-human classmates valued their magical status so fiercely. In the British wizarding world, races without magic-users of their own were considered inferior and treated as second-class citizens.
Along the way, Ted observed several distinct architectural styles. The Bull-Horned Tribe preferred sturdy log cabins and open sheds, proudly displaying intricately carved totem poles at their entrances. The Rabbit-Eared Tribe, conversely, lived in dwellings where the roofs were seamlessly covered with living grass and blooming shrubbery.
The Rat-Eared Tribe, being rather short in stature, had their own unique approach to architecture. Their homes were usually built directly into the hillsides, functioning as "two-storey" buildings with half the structure underground and half above. At first glance, it looked remarkably like someone had built a small wooden cabin directly on top of Bag End.
"We're here. This is Shirley and Jerry's home. Building this little place wasn't easy for them," Uncle Puli explained as he knocked on the round wooden door.
After quite some time, the door was finally opened by a slender, middle-aged woman from the Rat-Eared Tribe. "Uncle Puli?"
"Oh, Shirley, I've brought Jerry's classmate over." Uncle Puli stepped aside, allowing the lady to see Ted standing behind him. Given the tribal height differences, Ted was already half a head taller than the older man.
"Jerry's classmate? Is it Ted?! Jerry mentioned you'd be coming over in the next couple of days. Please, please, do come in!" Ms. Shirley said, looking pleasantly surprised.
Having successfully delivered his guide, Uncle Puli took his leave, needing to get back to mind his shop. Jerry's mother ushered Ted inside, inviting him to sit down while she poured him a cup of hot tea. Taking a sip, Ted suppressed a smile—this black tea was actually from a tin he had gifted Jerry! It was a rather decent Muggle brand.
Ms. Shirley sighed softly. "Jerry went out early this morning to explore the mountains with the rest of the villagers..."
Ted set down his teacup; this was the exact reason he had made the trip. "Ms. Shirley, Jerry didn't go into much detail in his letters. He only mentioned that something strange was happening in the nearby mountains, and that the village had organised a search party supervised by the Demi-Human Division. He said there were still no results. Could you please tell me what's actually going on?"
Her expression turning deeply troubled, Ms. Shirley began to recount the entire ordeal.
The strange incidents had actually started before the Hogwarts term had even ended for the summer holidays.
"Strange tremors began to shake the Lost Mountains," she explained. "At first, we just assumed it was a minor earthquake! The tremors were small, so we didn't pay them much mind. But soon after, the vibrations started to become far more frequent and intense."
Furthermore, the wildlife had begun behaving erratically. Creatures were inexplicably fleeing the deeper parts of the mountains in droves. Tribes that relied heavily on hunting, like the Dog-Eared Tribe, were severely impacted. To make matters worse, some of the magical beasts native to the peaks had turned unusually violent, even going so far as to attack the outer villages.
The Bull-Horned Tribe, whose primary source of income was foraging for rare magical herbs, were also suffering, with their seasonal profits plummeting.
With the village plunging into a state of panic, the elders sought help from the Ministry wizards stationed at the Division office. Being posted to Deckard Mond was considered a remote, boring, and utterly rubbish job, so the Ministry officials simply took turns guarding the desk and doing as little as possible.
True to form, the bureaucrats at the office were experts at stalling. Their only response was a dismissive, "We've notified the higher-ups; just wait for the owl."
That waiting turned out to be a disaster.
A few days later, a rabid, magical stone-tusked boar charged out of the tree line and went absolutely berserk in a nearby Muggle town. It injured eight people and nearly levelled two high street shops and several homes before anyone could stop it. Eventually, armed police from several neighbouring towns had to be called in. It took dozens of rounds from their rifles to finally bring down the ferocious beast, which weighed easily five or six hundred pounds. Magical creatures inherently possessed a staggering resistance to Muggle firearms.
Naturally, the sheer chaos of the event made the evening Muggle news. The local police chief even stated in a television interview that the wild boar had been as sturdy as a military armoured vehicle.
Following the broadcast, a swarm of overconfident Muggle hunters descended upon the remote town. Armed with hunting rifles and packs of hounds, they all wanted to bag a monster boar that would grant them bragging rights for the rest of their lives.
The Ministry of Magic was thrown into absolute chaos. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, the Obliviators, and the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee had to work overtime, barely managing to contain the massive breach of the Statute of Secrecy.
Fortunately, a Muggle "expert" was called in—likely Confounded by the Ministry—to assure the public that the beast was a "one-in-a-million genetic mutation," urging everyone not to panic as it was statistically impossible to encounter a second one. The Muggles, trusting their science, barely bought the excuse, but it worked well enough to send the hunters packing.
As a direct result of the fiasco, the Demi-Human Division was severely reprimanded by their superiors. They were ordered to investigate the Lost Mountains immediately, find out what was driving the creatures mad, and ensure it never happened again.
Forced into action, the Division office finally organised the demi-human villagers into search parties to scour the peaks. However, more than a week had passed, and they still hadn't turned up a single shred of useful information.
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Word count: 2056
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