Chapter 194: The Figure in the Crystal Ball
Duncan, Fred, George, and Neville leaned over the edge of the table, staring intently at the miraculous crystal ball in the center of the room.
Fred tapped the surface lightly with a fingertip and said, "That head that just popped up—doesn't it look a lot like me?"
"Other than both having eyes and a nose, there isn't the slightest resemblance," Duncan said with a laugh. "Oh—no, wait, given how you look right now, one could say you don't have eyes at all."
"Shoo, shoo!" Fred waved his hand as if driving away a fly. "I'm not talking about now. I mean my previously handsome face!"
Neville watched the patterns churning in the ball and muttered, almost like whispering a secret, "Then how do you know that head isn't George?"
Hearing Neville, Fred froze, momentarily at a loss for a retort. Judging by head-shape alone, he and George really were hard to tell apart.
"Exactly, Fred—how do you know it isn't me?" George said, grinning as he ruffled his own hair, raising his eyebrows at Fred with smug delight.
"Neville," Fred said, looking at him with great earnestness, "I didn't expect that after spending so much time with us, you'd become cleverer and cleverer!"
Neville didn't reply. His eyes were locked on the inside of the crystal ball, filled with curiosity and astonishment.
"So focused—what are you looking at?" Getting no response, Fred gave Neville's shoulder a gentle push, baffled.
In Fred's view, the white mist inside the ball still gathered and dispersed like clouds, and the faces rising from it remained blurry, impossible to make out.
"Look here!" Neville seemed to wake from a dream. He pressed a finger to the surface of the ball and spoke very quickly. "This face formed by the mist—doesn't it look exactly like Duncan!"
"Hm?" Duncan, Fred, and George tilted their heads in unison and looked where Neville was pointing.
In the lower half of the crystal ball, the white mist converged on both sides like towering mountains, forming a ravine-like hollow. At the lowest point was a face about the size of a thumb. Though the features were a bit indistinct, it did look rather like Duncan.
"Ha—Duncan, your face has shown up in the crystal ball too. What does that mean?" Fred asked, lowering his voice on purpose, as if in deep thought.
"Let me think." George smoothed his rumpled face like a seasoned Seer. "I feel like I've seen this before..."
"That's it, we've got it!" Fred and George clapped excitedly, as if they'd just cracked a sensational case.
"What have you worked out?" Duncan looked at them curiously.
"Duncan!" Fred gripped Duncan's shoulder firmly. "You must have a twin brother—just like us!"
George set his hand on Duncan's other shoulder and said in a grave tone, "The crystal ball is giving you a sign. Set off at once—don't miss your brother again!"
"Get lost!" Duncan raised an international friendly gesture at the pair. He knew nothing good ever came out of their mouths.
"With the atmosphere so lively, what are you discussing?" Nicolas Flamel came smiling from the counter crowded with cauldrons, inching along at a snail's pace.
In his right hand, he held a conical vial a few centimeters long. Inside was a pitch-black, viscous liquid from which the occasional bubble struggled up from the bottom. From color to consistency, the potion all but spelled out in big, bold letters: absolutely undrinkable!
"Mr. Flamel, I just saw a face in the crystal ball that looks extremely similar to Duncan!" Neville replied with delight.
At that, Nicolas stopped where he stood. His eyes, which had been narrowed to slits, suddenly opened much wider, a strange light flickering in his pupils. He didn't even notice the glass bottle slipping from his hand until the others called out. Only then did he react, a beat slow.
Nicolas flicked his fingers. The falling vial halted in mid-air, then, as though time had reversed, slowly drifted back into his hand.
"Are you sure?" Nicolas stared at Neville, his voice edged with severity and urgency. "You really saw Duncan's face in there?"
Startled by Nicolas's sudden sternness, Neville shrank back a step. "I—I don't think I saw wrong..." he stammered.
Fred and George exchanged a look and realized something was off. Both of them thought of legends about prophecies seen in crystal balls.
"Mr. Flamel," Fred asked hurriedly, "is it bad to see a specific person in a crystal ball? Does it mean that person will encounter misfortune?"
"No, not that..." Nicolas murmured, gaze unfocused and distant, as if he'd fallen into some kind of trance.
"Mr. Flamel?" Duncan waved a hand in front of Nicolas's eyes. Seeing him like this made Duncan's heart climb into his throat, his whole body ill at ease.
"Oh—oh, it's fine..." Nicolas returned from his thoughts and forced a stiff smile. "When you're old, your mind wanders. An old habit."
Duncan, the Weasley twins, and Neville all frowned in unison and stared at Nicolas suspiciously. Plainly, they didn't believe him at all.
Nicolas coughed lightly, then inched over to Fred. Glancing sideways at the crystal ball, he handed the vial to Fred and said, "This potion works very well. After you drink it, you'll be back to normal in something like ten minutes. The taste isn't wonderful, though—brace yourselves!"
Fred nodded, lifted the vial, and pulled the stopper. In the blink of an eye, a foul stench filled the entire room.
"Merlin's beard!" Fred gagged in disbelief. He hadn't even drunk it yet and his stomach was already heaving in revolt!
Duncan strode quickly away. Pro the Niffler was overwhelmed by the vile reek, fainted with the whites of his eyes showing, and hung half out of the pocket.
Nicolas raised and lowered his hand, and a gentle breeze drifted in through one window, gathered up the stench, and swept out through the other.
"Go on, drink it. Shut your eyes, tip it back in one go—it'll be over quickly!" Nicolas urged. He didn't want to smell it any longer either.
Fred looked mournfully at the vial in his hand, face full of despair. After a long hesitation, he steeled himself and upended a great gulp.
"Uuurgh..." Fred's eyes bulged to their widest and his expression twisted even more. He handed the vial to the others while bending over, about to retch.
"Don't spit it out!" With a flick of Nicolas's fingers, Fred's mouth sealed at once. "Otherwise it won't work and you'll have to drink it again!"
Hands over his mouth, Fred let out desperate muffled noises. He flopped onto his back, limbs twitching faintly, and gradually went still.
When the floor was covered with three prone figures, Duncan shifted his feet aside and asked Nicolas, "They'll be all right, won't they?"
"They'll be fine—just fainted from the smell." Nicolas looked the three over with a smile. "Originally, a small sip would have been enough. Who knew each of them drank more than a person should! Still, that's not so bad—they'll recover faster!"
"Hm?" A question mark practically rose on Duncan's brow. So you did that on purpose, didn't you? You didn't tell them in advance either!
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