Chapter 15. A Strange Dream
"Did you mistake us for Ron?"
"We just didn't react for a moment just now."
"We're not that foolish..."
Fred caught sight of Duncan's expression, rolled his eyes, as if to say Duncan shouldn't be thinking of them like that.
"Then why did you conjure two shovels?" Duncan asked.
"The spells we can do right now are either too powerful or too weak, and none of them fit," George replied.
"So we can only have these two shovels do the digging for us, in case the money underneath gets blasted everywhere and we end up wasting time searching for it."
He and Fred stuck the two shovels into the grass and gave each one a light tap with their wands.
Thud!
The shovels began to wobble, as though gripped by an invisible person, and started digging into the ground at speed.
"Well? Pretty good, isn't it?" Fred arched an eyebrow at Duncan, pleased with himself.
"Magic is indeed handy," Duncan replied.
He walked with the Weasley twins to the tree at the side, sat on a jutting boulder, and leaned against the trunk to chat idly.
A few crisp chirps of insects sounded by his ears.
Drowsiness rose within him.
His eyelids slowly drooped...
Duncan was riding on the back of a dragon, flying in a bright, azure sky.
He swept over the surging sea of trees, crossed rolling mountains, and passed above the heaving ocean.
A fresh wind brushed his face.
Standing astride the dragon's spine, he cheered to his heart's content, savouring this delightful freedom.
But gradually they flew lower and lower.
The sky dimmed.
The scene around him grew blurred, as if changing into something else.
Moments later, dark clouds gathered.
The heavens turned pitch-black, with not a single ray of sunlight piercing the cloud layer.
An oppressive air filled the atmosphere.
"What's going on?" Duncan frowned, wanting to guide the dragon to descend.
Just then, a blinding white flash tore across the ink-black sky, like a silver blade thrusting straight down from on high into the world below.
A deafening peal followed, thunder rolling between heaven and earth.
The surroundings sharpened into focus.
Duncan, mounted on the dragon, hovered above a bustling city.
Below, the crowds roared in panic.
Cars, like runaway beasts, darted wildly along the roads.
From time to time two cars collided; crashes and explosions boomed and echoed everywhere.
But no one slowed down.
Every vehicle was being pushed to the limit, shrieking as they tore away into the distance.
Yes, that was it—everyone was fleeing.
It was as if some terrible monster was pursuing them from behind, and they did not dare stop for even a moment.
What on earth was it?
Duncan had the dragon turn slowly, narrowing his eyes to look towards the direction in which the people were fleeing.
A straight avenue, flanked by towering buildings, stretched ahead, then bent left and disappeared into the distance.
But Duncan's view was blocked by the skyscrapers that rose into the clouds, and he could not see what lay beyond.
He urged the dragon forward, meaning to fly over and take a look.
Yet the dragon had only just beaten its wings twice when a sudden sight at the end of the street caught Duncan's eye, and he had the dragon hover again.
Several Erumpents were charging, heads down.
Wherever their sharp horns touched walls or vehicles along the way, everything was swiftly inundated by searing lava and reduced to ash.
And behind the Erumpents came Erumpents, Chimaeras, Sphinxes—other hulking, savage beasts.
The ground shuddered painfully under their steps, as though it might collapse at any time under the strain.
In the darkened sky above, Antipodean Opaleyes, Hebridean Blacks, Romanian Longhorns, Peruvian Vipertooths, and Norwegian Ridgebacks... every kind of dragon Duncan could name swept in from afar in unison.
Jaws yawning wide, they roared viciously.
Dragonfire poured from their mouths in an unending torrent, scything like blades between buildings and across the roads, as though to burn and melt the entire city.
"Have these creatures... all gone mad?" Duncan stared, hardly able to believe the hell-like cityscape before him.
He hastily fumbled out the Druid Whistle, intending to blow it and make the frenzied beasts halt.
But just as the whistle touched his lips, a series of popping sounds snapped at his ears.
Duncan immediately turned towards the noise.
On the rooftops around him, Aurors in uniform appeared one after another.
They raised their wands and gazed towards the distant beasts, their faces set in severity or clouded with fear.
Duncan shouted down to them, "Hurry and evacuate the Muggles down there.
I'll stop those creatures!"
At the sound of his voice, the Aurors seemed to realise there was a wizard on a dragon high above.
They did not act on Duncan's instruction.
Instead, they conferred with one another, as though confirming Duncan's identity.
The stampede of beasts was drawing ever closer to the fleeing crowds.
Anxious, Duncan could no longer wait for the Aurors to move.
He dived straight down on the dragon.
But he had barely flown any distance when the Aurors suddenly moved to block his path.
They glared at him with hatred and shouted, as if the savage beasts below had come here at his summons...
A thought rose in Duncan's heart out of nowhere, and he froze.
The dragon's wings stilled.
"Could it really have been me?"
He looked at the Aurors a short way off, who seemed about to attack, and puzzled over it, ready to open his mouth and ask.
"Duncan, Duncan..."
A voice called to him again and again, echoing by his ear.
Cracks split across the scene before his eyes and, with a rumbling crash, it all collapsed downward.
"Duncan, wake up!"
Duncan slowly opened his eyes.
Two faces filled with worry and urgency swam into view.
"You all right?" Fred asked.
Seeing Duncan awake, his furrowed brow eased, and he let out a long breath.
"I—I'm fine.
Just had a nightmare..." Duncan wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.
Leaning back against the tree trunk, he tilted his head to look up through the leaves at the blue sky, recalling the images from his dream.
He did not know whether that had been only his imagination, or a glimpse of what was to come.
After all, in the world of Harry Potter, certain people born with the gift of prophecy could foresee events yet to happen through their dreams...
"Was it very frightening?" George asked.
"Why not tell us—maybe saying it aloud will make it less frightening."
"Not very frightening, only rather odd..." Duncan shook his head and changed the subject.
"Did you find anything over there?"
"You didn't say it and we almost forgot!" Fred and George brightened at once, the heavy mood dispelled.
"We've struck it rich.
George, bring over what we dug up and show Duncan."
"Righto!"
George took two steps to the side, bent down, and lifted up a long, rectangular wooden box caked in mud and of an old-fashioned make.
He brought it to Duncan and opened it.
Inside, Galleons and Sickles gleamed.
"We won't have to worry about money for quite a while!"
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