Chapter 191: Something's Wrong, Run!
"What are you doing lying here? And when did you slip out of my pocket? Are you up to no good again?"
Pro lay on his back with his eyes shut, so the monster could eat quickly and lessen his pain a little. But the expected pain did not arrive. Instead, a soul-piercing triple question sounded at his ear.
Pro's eyes flew open, and he looked up in delight. Duncan stood with his arms folded, bending slightly to look at him, brows lightly furrowed, a hint of puzzled confusion between his handsome eyebrows.
"My dear Duncan, my good mate, you almost never saw me again, you know that?" Tears in his eyes, Pro flung himself at Duncan's right leg, hugged his ankle, and nuzzled it with his head as he spoke.
"Oh?" Duncan bent to pinch the scruff of Pro's neck, lifted him, and set him on his shoulder. "Why? Aren't you just fine?"
"You don't know." Pro plopped down, still shaken. "I just ran into the kind of invisible monster Kray talked about! If I hadn't been quick-witted, there wouldn't even be a single hair of me left by now. Duncan, let's go. It's too dangerous here!"
"Invisible monster?" Duncan repeated softly, his eyes sliding towards Mouri Kogoro—no, Dumbledore—raising his eyebrows at him in silence.
Dumbledore very naturally looked away, pretending to be extremely interested in the newspaper, a picture of knowing nothing at all. Duncan rolled his eyes and very much wanted to say, "Professor, your acting is awful. Find a film school and study properly!"
But he didn't expose Dumbledore. After all, there were indeed many dangerous artifacts in this room. Letting Pro feel some awe of the place was no bad thing.
Smiling, Duncan said, "It's fine. We'll leave in a bit. As long as you stay on my shoulder right now, I can keep you safe."
Back in his chair, Duncan casually took a magic book from beside him and opened it to read, now and then raising his head to ask Dumbledore questions. But the book in his hands was only a disguise. All the questions he asked came from the difficult problems in the book he had brought out of the Restricted Section.
Shrewd as he was, Dumbledore did not call him out. He cooperated tacitly with Duncan and answered every question patiently. The atmosphere in the room was very harmonious, with only Pro tense, clinging to Duncan's neck and scanning the surroundings nervously.
Time ticked by. The cabinet standing motionless by the wall suddenly began to sway, as if shouting to draw their attention.
"Ah, Nicolas's reply is here. Duncan, keep reading. I'll fetch the letter for you!" At the sound, Dumbledore instantly tossed his newspaper onto the desk, stood up ahead of everyone, and waved at Duncan as he spoke.
Before Duncan could say a word, Dumbledore strode to the Vanishing Cabinet, opened one of the doors, and leaned in to feel around. Duncan saw Dumbledore first slip something very small into his pocket, and only then take out a sheet of parchment from inside.
And just as Dumbledore, letter in hand and smiling broadly, walked towards Duncan, there was a pop, and a large fire-red bird burst out. Fawkes had Duncan's suitcase hanging from his talons. He gave two clear cries, dropped the case into Duncan's arms, and settled to rest nearby.
"This is a bit too convenient, isn't it? Professor, could you and Fawkes not put in a little effort and at least act it out?" A dark line seemed to drop over Duncan's forehead. He glanced at Dumbledore's pocket, wondering what exactly Dumbledore had secretly taken from the Vanishing Cabinet.
"Oh, Fawkes arrived just in time," Dumbledore said with a smile, handing Nicolas's letter to Duncan, and then continued, "Now you can put the Vanishing Cabinet into your suitcase and leave. Of course, if you'd like to stay a little longer, that's fine as well. I'd be happy to discuss any difficulties you're having in your magical studies."
Though Dumbledore's words sounded like an attempt to keep him, his tone carried a hint of urging, as if he rather wanted Duncan to disappear from the room at once.
"Planning to admire the mysterious item inside the Vanishing Cabinet alone?" Duncan thought to himself. Seeing that Dumbledore had no intention of sharing, he said aloud, "Alright then, Professor. Could you help me load the Vanishing Cabinet into the suitcase?"
"Of course," Dumbledore said with a nod and a smile.
"Thank you."
Duncan opened the suitcase and set it on the floor. With a light wave of Dumbledore's wand, the Vanishing Cabinet rose steadily, slid into the mouth of the case, and was set in an open space inside the workshop.
"Professor, I'm off. See you another day!" Duncan caught one edge of the case and flicked his arm out smartly.
Snap. The suitcase sprang shut, its latch lining up perfectly and—click—locking closed. Then Duncan waved to Dumbledore, hooked Pro on one finger, and dropped him into his pocket.
Dumbledore watched Duncan go with a broad smile, but the moment Duncan stepped out of the office, the door slammed behind him. There was also the slide of a lock. Dumbledore had hastily locked the door.
"Tsk, tsk. No idea what shameful thing it is," Duncan muttered, stepping onto the revolving staircase.
Leaving the Headmaster's office, Duncan did not return to the dormitory but detoured to the Room of Requirement. He wanted to take Fred and the others to Nicolas Flamel's home. Lately, the Weasley twins and Neville were on the verge of going mad with their device research. He was sure a master alchemist could offer them plenty of help.
On the eighth floor of the castle, Duncan walked before the wall opposite the troll tapestry, thinking of what Fred had told him. He paced back and forth three times. A smooth door surfaced on the wall. Duncan pushed it open and entered, and at once Neville's tremulous voice reached his ears.
"Fred, George, are you sure this is alright? Why do I feel like something's not right?"
Duncan's gaze followed the sound. Fred was pinching some kind of powder and constantly adding it to a steaming cauldron.
"Don't worry, Neville," Fred said with a confident grin. "We're experts at this. There's absolutely no problem."
"That's right," George nodded, adding several long, stick-like ingredients to the cauldron. "We've run into this kind of situation loads of times. Never failed. Every time we've handled it perfectly."
Fred tipped in the last of the powder in his hand, patted his palms, and spoke with satisfaction. Listening to Fred and George piling on buff after buff with their words, Duncan had a bad feeling. He wanted to turn around and search the room.
But it seemed to be too late. The once-calm cauldron suddenly grew turbulent in a very short span. The liquid inside bubbled up and overflowed. The black cauldron shook violently, and faint cracks seemed to spread across its surface.
"Neville, something's wrong—run!" Panic filled Fred's voice as he turned tail.
"Ah!" Neville's eyes went wide. He hadn't processed it yet. They had been so confident just now. How had it changed so fast?
And just as Neville scrambled to his feet, boom—the cauldron exploded. Brown potion blasted into the air like a torrential downpour, splashing across the entire room with a roar.
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