Chapter 196: Those Who Know the Times Are the Smart Niffler!
The sun began to sink. A blaze of fiery, splendid evening clouds drifted across the sky like roaring flames. The afterglow poured through the open window and into the room, edging everything inside with a dazzling band of gold.
Pro lay sprawled on Ren Ichimonji's knee, a thread of drool at the corner of his mouth as he greedily eyed those glittering treasures. However, he did not act on his impulses. He remained motionless, like a stone statue. Earlier, he had already paid the price for his greed and learned a sharp lesson.
At that time, Ren was helping Nicolas Flamel brew a potion. Taking advantage of Ren's inattention, Pro had quietly slipped out of his pocket. He darted and ducked swiftly among the items on the floor, running noiselessly to the base of a cabinet piled with a heap of silverware.
Pro heaved out one drawer, climbed onto it, then heaved out another, forming a set of steps to clamber upward. Panting by the time he reached the top, Pro gazed, glassy-eyed, at the silver. But just as he wiped the drool from his lips and prepared to strike—
A clatter-clatter sound erupted from the side. The cabinet beneath Pro's paws trembled slightly, as though some monster were bearing down on him. Pro's round little eyes snapped over, only to see a tiny metal man charging straight at him at extreme speed, as if riding on Wind-and-Fire Wheels. Its clenched fists were like two small iron hammers, spinning three hundred and sixty degrees through the air, stirring a rushing wind and leaving trailing after-images.
Pro looked in fear at the formidable metal guardian. He wanted to flee back to Ren's side, yet he could not bear to give up those shining things right within reach. Hesitating for a moment, Pro steeled himself. He gnashed his teeth, stomped his feet, and his four limbs scrabbled across the wood like lightning as he shot forward.
No risk, no reward—if he had to take a pummelling from that metal man, so be it; as long as he could shove those things into his pocket, it would all be worth it!
But reality was cruel. Before he could reach the silver, the metal man crouched and kicked off from the cabinet, vaulting into the air and dropping right in front of him. The raised iron hammers came down hard on Pro's little head. Stars exploded before his eyes, and he staggered on shaky legs.
Pro shook his head to clear it. His eyes rolled, and he deliberately darted one way first, then withdrew even faster. Although Pro's feint fooled the metal man, its agility surpassed his imagination. With a twist of its waist, it was right back at his side.
Then those merciless iron hammers, carrying tremendous force, came down again. Pro yowled and retreated in a fluster to the edge of the cabinet.
"Just you wait. One day I'll empty this place out—you included!" Pro hissed at the metal man in a low voice.
But he did not dare move toward the silverware again. Tail between his legs, he scuttled down the drawer-steps to the floor and quietly slipped back to Ren's side.
Those who know the times are the smart Niffler! A Niffler's revenge is never too late—even in ten years!
Pro shouted this in his heart. So as not to let Ren discover his failed hundred-meter dash, he did not dare disturb him. Instead, he tiptoed to hide under a side table, baring his teeth in silence as he rubbed the sore spots where he had been smacked, until Ren finally found him and picked him up.
"Smells amazing!"
Back in the present, Ren and the others were seated around the dining table. Neville's nose twitched, and his eyes flashed as he looked toward the kitchen. They had originally planned to take their leave once Nicolas worked out the potion recipe, but the alchemist had insisted on keeping them to show off his cooking.
Judging by the aromas wafting through the air, Nicolas had not lied. His technique was quite good—nearly on par with a professional chef. Fred and George craned forward, eyes wide as they tried to take in the bustling scene in the kitchen.
Nicolas cooked differently from ordinary wizards. He did not use magic directly; instead, he stir-fried using several alchemical arms of his own making. In Nicolas Flamel's own words: "Dishes cooked with magic are very hard to control, and they lack the soul of fine food!"
"All right, you've waited long enough—time to eat!"
Nicolas's voice drifted out of the kitchen along with the fragrance, and dish after dish landed on the table. Nicolas patted his hands lightly. The arms that had extended from the wall retracted, sinking back like they were disappearing into water, sending out a few ripples before vanishing completely.
The wall returned to normal. Aside from a few pre-existing cracks, there was no sign at all that any mechanical arms had ever been there.
"Cool!" Fred and George exclaimed in unison. They had been won over the moment they saw the contraption. They already imagined installing something similar in their workshop in the Room of Requirement to realize assembly-line production. They even thought of fitting some in the Burrow's kitchen to lighten Mrs. Weasley's load—perhaps then she'd scold them less.
Unfortunately, Nicolas did not have any spares, but he promised to teach them how to make their own in the future.
"Hurry on then—taste them. These are recipes I recorded while traveling the world when I was young. It has been ages since I made them!"
Nicolas sat at the table and waved for everyone to begin. His eyes narrowed into happy slits as he watched the four of them wolf down the food, giving him thumbs-ups and praising his cooking. It made him feel as though he had returned to his younger days when his own friends would eat with just as little regard for appearances.
When the plates were finally swept clean, Ren and the others rubbed their round bellies and leaned back in their chairs with satisfied faces. After a short rest, as the sun dropped below the horizon, they got up to say their farewells.
"Mr. Flamel, your cooking is brilliant. We'll definitely come back for dinner!"
"No problem! Come whenever you like. I will always be here waiting."
Smiling kindly, Nicolas watched as the group squeezed into the Vanishing Cabinet and locked the doors. Once the cabinet stopped swaying, Nicolas hurried over and, for the first time, drew his wand to tap it lightly. He temporarily sealed the passageway to prevent the boys from suddenly returning.
"They really saw a face resembling Ren's in the crystal ball? Could they have been mistaken?" Nicolas muttered, his brow furrowed with worry. "If it is true, then things are becoming quite troublesome..."
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