A certain Hogwarts professor of runes.

In an inconspicuous, hidden corner of the pyramid, he sensed traces of magic. 'This must be the entrance,' Felix thought, but he was more curious about the magical environment of Egypt.

Based on his observations along the way, at least twelve people appeared to be sorcerers—which was not unusual, given that Cairo is the capital of Egypt. However, what puzzled him was that five of these twelve people were dressed as witches, wearing exaggerated clothes and selling various mystical items, such as amulets and voodoo dolls.

Of course, those so-called mystical objects don't have a single trace of magic, otherwise they wouldn't dare to appear so openly.

A couple of tourists walked past him, and Felix overheard a few words exchanged between them—

"I've heard... Gypsy witches... are very famous..."

"Really? Then I definitely have to try it!"

Felix blinked and followed behind the two to a brightly decorated tent with a long queue. Felix waited quietly for a while and heard many amazing stories about the fortune teller named "Sayavira".

It is said that her crystal ball and tarot card readings are particularly accurate, and many people travel long distances just to see her.

Although the line was long, it moved forward at a fast pace. Many people left dejectedly less than half a minute after entering.

An experienced person nearby explained, "It's because this person's fate is too bleak, and the witch is unwilling to expend the effort to help him." However, no one thought the witch was incompetent and chose to leave; instead, everyone believed her even more.

Felix was also very curious. He had just switched to his magical perspective and saw that there was indeed an obscure aura inside the tent, which meant that the person inside was a real wizard.

Vagado...divination...

Felix pondered. Africa did indeed have a branch of prophetic magic, witchcraft, but from what he knew, this kind of prophetic magic was not much better than black magic. It often came at the cost of physical damage, which was difficult to recover from, and the results were not always accurate.

He found it unbelievable that a witch would perform divination for ordinary people and even openly run a business.

He glanced at the long line behind him and clicked his tongue in amazement. Wasn't she afraid of suddenly dying the next day? Or being taken away by the Ministry of Magic?

Almost an hour had passed when it was his turn. A calm female voice called from across the tent, "Come in." Felix stepped into the tent. The sweltering air outside was shut out, and the strong scent of incense was intoxicating. He looked at the witch. Beside her were six or seven palm-sized incense burners, and around her were a jumble of various mystical items, most of which showed no magical fluctuations. The few things that caught his attention were the Gypsy witch herself, the crystal ball in front of her, and... the witch's purple hair.

Indeed, in Felix's view, the magical radiance emanating from the strange witch's hair was in no way inferior to that of her.

“We need to do a test. I won’t waste my hard-earned spiritual power on—” she suddenly stammered, and the witch, who had been pretending to be demure with her eyes half-closed, suddenly opened them wide.

Under Felix's and her watchful eyes, a hair on the witch's head suddenly broke off and burst into flames.

Her voice was no longer calm and emotionless; instead, it was soft and urgent as she said, "My wizard friend, I have a proper license, I'm authorized by the Ministry of Magic, please don't cause me any trouble..."

"Bang!"

Felix tossed her a small bag of Galleons. Several golden coins rolled playfully on the table, wobbling and slipping off the edge near the witch's side before landing in her hand.

Do you accept this?

“Of course, it’s a big deal.” The witch carefully examined the Galleons in her hand, then tossed the bag on the table, saying with experience, “At least fifty Galleons. Are you some kind of spendthrift nobleman from Europe—cough cough, noble heir?”

She scrutinized Felix's features, her gaze lingering briefly on his black hair and blue eyes. Before he could answer, she rose from her seat, stepped out of the tent, spoke a few words to the people outside, and the crowd gradually dispersed.

"Alright," the witch returned with light steps, stretched, and wiped her face with her hand, instantly removing the thick layers of grease and paint, revealing a young, dark brown face.

She looks to be in her early twenties at most.

"You're not a Gypsy witch?" Felix said, amused.

The witch scoffed, "There are only Vagado witches here, no Gypsy witches."

"I'm from England—"

"Just what I guessed." She took out a pear and started eating it.

"He is a professor—"

"Katzkaz...Hogwarts?"

"At Kremi Vera's invitation—"

The witch finally put down the half-eaten pear. "You mean Clemens? That Gringotts girl who's been posing as a research team?"

Felix smiled and nodded.

“Since you were introduced by a friend, I absolutely won’t lie to you.” The witch patted her chest and said, “Raphtine, that’s my name.” She added, “My real name.”

“Rafidin,” Felix chewed on the name, “means…a genius of unparalleled talent?”

“Doesn’t it look like it? I chose it myself,” Rifedin said. “When I was a child, I wandered around with a gypsy circus. One day, in a dream, the dream messenger told me that I was the chosen one and was allowed to enter Vagado to learn magic. When I woke up, I found myself holding a stone with an inscription in my hand.”

"Standard admissions process."

"Yes, but I was young at the time and thought I was the chosen one, so I hastily chose a nice-sounding name for myself and looked forward to it day and night, waiting to show my talents. But when I got in, I found that there were nearly a thousand people in the same batch of students..." she said with self-deprecation.

"Then why did you choose divination?"

Rifedin scratched his head: "Perhaps it was influenced by my childhood, but I didn't choose the traditional strong subjects of Vagado—transformation, potions, alchemy, and astronomy. Instead, I chose the obscure divination. But I am indeed a genius who improved this extremely dangerous black magic."

"Using hair as the price for casting spells?" Felix asked. Compared to the original version, which often involved damaging limbs, this improvement was indeed quite clever.

"That's right, but I only have so much hair, so I have to be careful with it. Do you have any good shampoo recommendations?"

"Hmm... I know someone whose bird-egg shampoo is pretty good, but I doubt you can buy it anymore. Potter's is good too—"

“I’ve heard of the latter one,” Riffitin said.

"Now that you've improved the shamanic prophecy magic, could you make a prophecy for me?" Felix asked softly.

Raffitin quickly shook her head, "No, no, I can't give a wizard a prophecy."

"The cost is too high?"

"See that burning hair? Before I graduated, I wanted to have my fortune told by the headmaster, and your result was the same." Riffitin made a burning gesture. "My teacher pulled out a handful of my hair before telling me that if I had my fortune told by a powerful wizard, I would lose my life!"

She picked up the pear again. "This was the last lesson she taught me, and then I graduated. Later I realized that it's very difficult for someone like me to find a job, so I thought, if the price of fortune-telling for wizards is too high, what about ordinary people?"

"So you chose this place? To tell fortunes for tourists?"

“Isn’t that clever? I carefully select the people I consult and make vague predictions. It’s always easier to judge someone’s trajectory. I also use these things as a disguise. People in the secular world recognize this…” She pointed to the various mystical items in the tent, “It cost a total of 2000 Egyptian pounds.”

"Less than a hundred pounds, that's certainly cheap. However, you mentioned earlier that you obtained permission from the Ministry of Magic—" Felix was very curious whether this constituted a violation of the secrecy law and an exposure of the wizarding world.

“Well, how should I put it?” Raffitin looked at him, a troubled expression on her face. “I know about secrecy laws, and that’s what you wanted to ask, right? But the situation is different in every country…”

She bit the pear core with her teeth, waved her hands from side to side, and said indistinctly, "In Africa, mysticism is very popular. It's hard to tell what's real and what's fake. Everyone is used to it and doesn't find it strange. I was even invited by the tribal chief to share my rain-making experience."

"You can even pray for rain?"

"They don't know either! They just need to show off a little, and then they can flatter each other and make a good amount of money."

Felix was amazed; these things were nowhere to be seen or heard on the black market. The two chatted for a while, and before leaving, Riffitin called him back.

"Are you the helper that Kremy called for?" she asked cautiously.

"how do you know?"

"This incident caused quite a stir. That person almost didn't make it. I went to take a look, and his face was swollen like a coconut, overgrown with weeds..."

She glanced at the Galon on the table, gritted her teeth, and said, "Since you paid me two months' salary, I'll take a look for you—but I won't do any divination! Don't even think about it!"

"Then what do you mean?"

"Call others, your companions who went into the pyramid with you, the weaker the better."

Ten minutes later, Hermione sat in front of Raphtine with a blank expression. Raphtine had transformed back into her gypsy attire, her face covered in painted designs.

“There are only the three of us here,” Felix said with a laugh.

“This is a sign of respect for magic,” Riffitin retorted seriously.

Hermione asked timidly, "Um... Professor? What are we supposed to do?"

“Fortune telling, child, I’m going to do a fortune telling for you,” Raphtine said in a calm, distant voice, which reminded Hermione of Trelawney, the charlatan at school.

Are all fortune tellers in the world cut from the same mold?

Raphtine stared intently at Hermione. "I need a lock of your hair... You have so much hair, but it's not very healthy." She suddenly reached out and plucked a few strands. "Ouch!" Hermione cried out in pain, glaring at her angrily.

"Don't worry, don't worry, I'll treat you to a pear later," Raphtine comforted her, twirling Hermione's hair. The brown strands twisted and turned, solidifying into a silvery-white color where they touched Raphtine's fingers, like a silver thread.

Once the edges of her hair had completely solidified, Refidin released her grip, and the strands of hair, like fragile porcelain, crashed into the black velvet on the table and shattered.

Refitin held her breath, carefully observing the powder, occasionally rubbing it between her fingers.

“Strange…” she said.

"Ha, that answer isn't surprising to me," Hermione muttered, reaching up to rub her head.

“No, what I find strange is that your figure is hidden in the mist and not very clear, but... it's happened before.” Riffitin shrugged. “Don't worry, you're safe this time, at least you are.”

"I'm sorry to have troubled you." Hermione gave a sarcastic look, though she felt a little sorry for her hair.

"You're welcome." Raphtine demonstrated her face-swapping technology in front of Hermione, leaving her stunned and even forgetting to refuse the pear she offered.

On the way back, Hermione asked about Raphtine's origins, and Felix gave a brief account. When they returned to the camp, they saw a short figure in a suit, about three or four feet tall, with a pair of pointed ears.

If it weren't for the skin color not matching, he would have almost thought it was Dobby, a house-elf. But it was actually a goblin, a goblin from Gringotts.

Chapter 332 In-Depth

The fairy looked at Felix with a very uncomfortable gaze.

“Kremi Vera has spoken highly of you, Mr. Felix Hep.” He bowed slightly. “It is an honor to work with you. I am Gonuk.” As he spoke, he flicked his fingers forcefully, his long, slender nails gleaming, and then the fairy’s body blurred into a blur.

He turned and walked towards the three men in the camp—Faisal, Rahman, and Kremy—who were checking their equipment and deciding what to take inside. This included curse detectors, black magic detectors, and various protective gear.

Hermione muttered under her breath because the goblin named Gnook completely ignored her, even though he could see her without even looking up.

Felix said softly, "The goblins in Gringotts are generally friendly. If you encounter unfamiliar goblins in the wild, you should be wary, because you can't be sure if they are safe enough."

Hermione racked her brains and whispered, "Fairies overthrowing the group? Since the agreement was signed, fairies and wizards have generally maintained peace, but there is still a small group of fairies who harbor deep hatred for wizards and are trying to overthrow their dominant position."

This attitude is especially undisguised on their own turf. Many wizard jokes are made up and circulated in goblin taverns. And vice versa.

Kremy jogged over. "These are specially made dragon skin gloves, which offer some protection against curses."

"Professor, can I use magic?" Hermione thought of a crucial question.

“Of course you can, the British Ministry of Magic has no jurisdiction here,” Felix said. “You can try it out now.”

Hermione paused for a moment, then took out her wand and chanted the Ironclad Charm, creating an invisible barrier in front of her.

"Very good, that's it."

They then entered the pyramid, proceeding along a winding, narrow crevice in the stone. Clutching their wands, they crouched as low as possible, knowing that standing up even slightly would mean hitting their heads on the granite rocks above. They walked forward silently, the only sound the amplified sound of their breathing.

After walking for a while with the help of the light from the tip of the wand, the road split in two at a fork in the road.

"To the right is the pharaoh's tomb, and to the left is the secret chamber we discovered," Kremy said.