Harry Potter: Red Weasley The Strange Red Wizard

"We should get moving or we won't make it in time," Tiago said, motioning for us to follow.

My companions were still in shock, trying to process both the sudden change of scenery and my own transformation. But the professor didn't give them much time to linger—he gave us gentle pushes to get us going, beginning a walk that would turn out to be quite interesting.

The Portkey had brought us to a part of the Cantareira State Park in Brazil. This place was a common arrival point for international wizards: its vastness, dense nature, and relative privacy made it ideal. A few well-placed Muggle-repelling charms were enough to keep it unnoticed, despite the number of tourists. Along the way, we crossed paths with other wizards—some fellow travelers like us, and others like Tiago, members of the Brazilian Ministry of Magic.

Of course, this stop was more commonly used for tourism or minor missions; those needing direct contact with the Ministry used special Portkeys that took them straight there, but only with prior approval.

The place was fascinating, at least for my companions, who hovered between curiosity and unease. My transformation had been a good jolt for them already, and there was no time to ask all the questions building up in their minds. The heat was stifling, the atmosphere hummed with a different kind of energy, and the time difference between Scotland and Brazil didn't help. The land, the flora, the fauna… everything felt foreign, exotic, truly like a tropical forest. And then there were the Muggles passing by, speaking a language Hannah and Neville could barely understand.

Unlike them, we were much more relaxed. Tiago was a competent guide, and we avoided the classic comedy of getting lost in the woods. Professor Kettleburn, for his part, walked confidently despite his missing half-leg—clearly a man experienced in navigating natural landscapes, regardless of their location.

As for me, I found myself in an unusually good mood. So good, in fact, that I was humming a tune and swaying my hips to a rhythm only I could hear.

It was Hannah who snapped me out of that trance.

"Are you okay?" she asked, watching me with a puzzled expression, still trying to adjust to my new look. "You look… happy?"

"Really?" I replied, touching my face and realizing I was smiling. "I guess I am…"

"What's going on?" she insisted, clearly intrigued. Until now, she hadn't seen me this excited about the trip.

"I… yeah, I'm happy. I feel like I've gotten a piece of myself back," I said, not offering more details, letting my eyes roam over the surroundings.

The dirt paths, the people around us—everything was so different from Britain…

"You know, sometimes you don't realize how much you need something… until you have it," I added, taking Hannah's hand and pulling her gently closer, guiding her to the rhythm only I seemed to hear. "The damp earth, the heat, the humidity, the wind, the smells… I love this place!"

Hannah blushed at the contact. It's not like we hadn't been this close during our dance lessons, but this felt different. Maybe it was the heat, my intensity, or the light clothes we wore, which made everything feel more intimate. Though nervous, she didn't pull away. After all, the lessons had paid off: she could more or less keep up.

We had reached the more public area of the park, where more people gathered. Maybe we stood out too much, because some trastenues—a mix of tourists, locals, street musicians, and a few hidden wizards—began to whistle and cheer at us. Their surprise was understandable, but I was already equipped with abilities that enhanced my looks, charisma, and of course, my auras. On top of that, my dancing skill had leveled up multiple times over the years.

And with a crowd… I let myself go.

I moved Hannah like a puppet through an improvised choreography. Though she had learned some steps, she wasn't exactly graceful, and being the center of attention only made her more nervous. Still, my experience made up for what she lacked—the performance flowed.

A trastenue joined us with a guitar, adding real music to the one playing in my head. Clapping started to keep the beat. Hannah felt like a ragdoll, dragged this way and that, even getting touched in ways she hadn't expected, turning bright red.

The show lasted only a couple of minutes before I ended it myself, knowing Tiago wouldn't let us waste any more time. Though, to be honest, even he seemed to have gotten caught up in the fun.

I closed the act with a theatrical bow, helping Hannah dip with me. The poor girl was panting, sweaty, trembling… and her legs were jelly.

We resumed our journey without further delay. In addition to Tiago's praises—he never missed a chance to recommend I start a career in Brazil—I noticed the looks from Neville and Professor Kettleburn: full of surprise… and a bit of admiration.

As for Hannah, she couldn't hide her growing discomfort. Though she tried to keep her composure, something inside told her she was in dangerous territory. She had always known I was eccentric, but here… I was unhinged. And that idea left her confused, nervous, and above all, exhausted. She felt like she wouldn't survive many more experiences like this without her heart giving out.

"That was good, you did great," I said with a smile, hoping to reassure her.

"It wasn't good…" she grumbled, hiding her blush with one hand. "How can you enjoy this? The heat is unbearable!" she complained, slapping her cheek. "And there are way too many mosquitoes!"

Hannah seemed more confused with each step. The difference between us was becoming increasingly obvious to her, as if we were from different species. Although she already knew I was a bit peculiar, now she truly felt it. Right after the dance ended, she had felt her whole body burning, as if the accumulated heat had exploded from within, leaving her on the verge of fainting.

She was used to the cool climate of the UK. Though she'd been warned about Brazil's heat before the trip, she hadn't imagined it would be this intense. She had packed light clothes… but clearly, not light enough. Upon arrival, she had no choice but to quickly undress or risk passing out.

Everything felt like part of another world. If she had known what awaited her, she would've prepared better. In Great Britain, enchanted robes to regulate body temperature were useful… but they were made to resist the cold, not this kind of humid hell. She seriously doubted Madam Malkin knew how to tailor anything suitable for the Brazilian jungle.

"How can you be doing so well? So full of energy?" she asked, looking at me like I was a biological phenomenon.

"I don't know… maybe it's just natural for me," I replied simply, shrugging.

The truth was, my body was fairly well-conditioned to endure extreme climates, so the heat didn't affect me much. And yes, I was excited. I couldn't deny that. But what had just happened—the dance, the music, the impulse—was more of a spontaneous explosion of something that had been building up inside me.

"It was just the moment. I feel more relaxed now," I added sincerely.

I smiled at Hannah while gently extending my auras, just enough to make the mosquitoes stop bothering her. Tiago, who had been about to cast a repelling charm—something people here in Brazil learn from a very young age—paused as he noticed the effect. He looked at me with that expression of recognition I had already seen before. In truth, he had originally intended to let us suffer a bit from the heat and the insects, part of a local joke played on foreign visitors. But after the little show we gave and considering we were exchange students from Castelobruxo, he seemed willing to break that unwritten rule.

As for me, I had no idea what was going through his head. I was focused on tending to Hannah's bites. I placed my fingers over the itchy welts and channeled a small healing. She let out a few soft, involuntary and embarrassed moans—a mix of relief and self-consciousness. I said nothing, but I couldn't help but smile at the sight of her completely flushed face.

The walk was a bit long—another one of those "traditions" magical tourists have to endure upon arrival—but we finally reached a parking lot. There, Tiago led us to a vehicle waiting for us: an old white VW Kombi, with a discreet emblem from the Brazilian Ministry of Magic camouflaged among Muggle symbols.

The door opened on its own, and we climbed in. Finally, we could sit down. Hannah and Neville practically collapsed into their seats after the exhausting hike. Even Professor Kettleburn, usually composed, couldn't help but massage his prosthetic leg.

"Buckle up," Tiago said in a tour-guide tone as he settled into the driver's seat. Moments later, the Kombi started up, and we left the park, heading toward downtown São Paulo.

Yes, Brazilian magical guides drive Muggle vehicles around the city. Unthinkable in Great Britain or other parts of Europe, where the magical world tends to distance itself as much as possible from the non-magical one.

Neville, Hannah, and I watched through the windows as the scenery began to change. We moved from the lush paths of the reserve to the edges of civilization, and gradually into the vibrant streets, buildings, and organized chaos of the city. This kind of transition—from wild to urban—seemed to be another local tradition, a sort of magical sightseeing tour to help foreigners appreciate the contrast.

Tiago took it seriously. He pointed out places, explained details, shared anecdotes about Brazil's magical world. And he did it well: he had charisma, a good voice, and knew how to keep our attention—even Hannah's, though she was still half-melted from the heat.

The magical world in Brazil was different. Very different from what we knew. But it made sense. Though the history is long and complex, many countries in the Americas are relatively young. Colonization, the conflicts between European and native wizards during the "discovery" of the continent, and the resulting cultural blending gave rise to a very diverse magical society. There are ancient families here too, some even proud of their "pure blood," but they're few and quite different from those in Britain.

In Brazil, the magical population is much broader and more diverse. There's a high number of mixed-bloods and Muggle-born wizards. That diversity is far more visible than in Europe, where the concept of "pure blood" is already declining… though many still cling to it.

From what I had learned during my campaigns, the idea of "true purebloods" was an ancient myth. Fully magical lineages went extinct over a thousand years ago. All current ones are diluted versions. Well… almost all. Thanks to me, a few true pureblood wizards had reappeared, like Andra, whose "Witch" bloodline is 100% intact.

So I wasn't as shocked or uncomfortable as my companions, but I still let myself be swept up by curiosity. America was vast, diverse, and with just this small glimpse, I was already imagining a journey across the entire continent—from Canada to Chile. A tour through the magical cultures of the Americas, with plans to establish teleportation points to connect the regions more easily.

During the ride, Tiago also chatted with Professor Kettleburn, exchanging views on magical politics, local creatures, and other topics. He'd toss us questions now and then, keeping the atmosphere lively. But with me, he was more conversational. Once he noticed how comfortably I interacted and picked up on my… peculiar profile, the conversation became more dynamic and interesting.

And I learned a lot. Tiago was the son of Muggles, which explained why he worked as a magical driver in the middle of a city like São Paulo. Here, the few remaining purebloods didn't usually take on jobs like this. He had studied at Castelobruxo and, after graduating, started out as an assistant to magical tour guides, gradually working his way up to his current position.

The great thing about his job was how informed he was. He knew everything—Ministry rumors, magical law changes, local celebrities, even Muggle oddities. He had one foot in each world, and that made him, in his own way, one of the wisest people on the road.