Spellcasting Without a Staff

The embers of the campfire gradually died out in the night wind.

A low vibration filled the air, like hoofbeats, but the rhythm was chaotic, accompanied by the scrape of metal. It was the sound of centaurs moving across the ground.

First one appeared. Then more centaurs emerged from the forest. They came in all shapes and sizes, some dark brown-skinned, others light tan, all carrying the same weapon.

"Motherfucker?"

Ian Prince held his breath. The Disillusionment Charm had blended him almost perfectly into his surroundings, but the turmoil in his heart was hard to suppress. His eyes locked onto the centaurs—or, more precisely, the weapons in their hands.

Those sleek metal bodies, those familiar curved magazines, those rough yet practical wooden stocks—what else could they be but the famously reliable and affordable AK-47?

"AK-47?!" Ian nearly cried out, his mind instantly falling into chaos. "Merlin's fattest pair of underpants! What the hell is this supposed to be?"

Had he fallen into another, even more absurdly wrong timeline?

Centaurs carrying automatic rifles?!

Did I get transported into some ridiculous parallel universe again?

He roared inwardly.

"The centaurs at Hogwarts are still chanting ancient prophecies in the Astronomy Tower, while the centaurs here are playing with automatic weapons?! Does the Ministry of Magic know about this?!"

For a moment, Ian felt that either he or the world had gone completely mad. The shock of what he was seeing was almost no less than when he had discovered that history had been altered in the previous timeline.

Though they were models from decades ago, these creatures—who should have been carrying spears and bows, steeped in ancient mystery—now each held a deadly instrument of modern warfare. The dissonance was so overwhelming it made him dizzy. Just as Ian was about to wonder whether