Charlie the Country-man's Captured Cauldron

As I began the first section of the incantation, which was in English, I could feel a sigh of relief from my companions, and almost hear them whisper "Finally!"
I knew what they meant. It had been a long quest, and a dangerous one. Possibly even more dangerous than you, the reader, will ever know. These stories have a way of growing in the retelling, and I felt confident that a few years from now people hearing my tale would be marvelling at how I had single handedly defeated the Head of the Order of Sinister Wizards, rather than fighting the sinister head of a wizard with my single hand. The help that Krulnor had given me would also be diminished somewhat, though as yet I didn't know how. To be honest, I was a little worried that the opposite might happen, and he might eclipse me, considering he was already a famous barbarian and having him as the star of the tale would give it the bonus of being a direct sequel. I glanced quickly over at Balthazar the Bard, and decided that I would need to have a talk with him after the potion was finished.

But, for now, I needed to focus.
Switching into Latin for the second section, I glanced around at what we had improvised.
The makeshift workshop I had constructed (although Krulnor had done the heavy lifting, and, indeed, the medium lifting and light lifting as well) was fairly crude, but it had the essentials: my ingredients carefully arranged close at hand, a large black cauldron that Krulnor had 'borrowed' from a nearby cottage, and a pulley system that enabled Krulnor to lower or raise me into position as necessary.
As there was an unfortunate lack of Lady Gaga CDs in the vicinity, Balthazar had agreed to step in, and had even tuned his lyre to make it sound more like the backing track to the song he was currently singing: a backwards played rendition of 'Do What You Want With My Body' (a song Balthazar felt was appropriate due to its themes of female empowerment and independence). Even Tim the Tracker was lending support to the venture. Literally. He was still tied up, but was propping up the corner of the potion table.

My flame-proof tunic was doing its job, which I was incredibly thankful for as I moved in to the Greek section of the spell. Speaking Greek while on fire is just uncomfortable. As a bigger bonus, none of my ingredients had obliterated anything yet.

As I reached the fourth part of the incantation, and began speaking in the language of drunken pirates, I allowed myself to wonder what exactly this potion was going to do. Yes, thats right, I had no idea what was about to happen. Whereas the rest of Myron's potions had large and obvious names such as 'Heals the Stubbed Toe' or 'Makes the Blackened Cauldron Gleam' (although the latter had turned out to be a recipe for Ajax), this final potion simply said 'The Final Potion' with a handwritten subheading: 'Oooh, mysterious!' which appeared to be in Myron's handwriting, but didn't seem like a comment Myron himself would ever have deigned to write.

Not that it mattered, of course. This was the final spell between me and being a fully-fledged wizard, and I would have still made it if it destroyed the entire planet!

Wait, what if it destroyed the entire planet?

What if the 'Final' in 'The Final Potion' actually implied something kind of, well, final?

I slowed my incantationing slightly as I shifted into the language of the earthworms, and tried to decide whether this was likely.
Surely Myron would have said something if the potion was going to destroy the world. Even on his deathbed, he could have coughed once more, said "And by the way, the last potion destroys the world Alaric", and then died. That only seemed fair, right?

And surely Myron had made the potion himself at some point. After all, he had written the spell, hadn't he? Then why comment how mysterious it was?

With a final wriggle of my tongue (which in earthworm meant either 'Hello', 'I found some nice dirt over there', 'Do you like rainy days?' or 'Gah! A bird is eating me! Help!' (Earthworms are not all that creative in their speech)) I finished the fifth section of incantation, and began speaking in binary. This took a lot of concentration to get right, so I focused solely on speaking for the next 01100110 01100101 01110111 00100000 01101101 01101001 01101110 01110101 01110100 01100101 01110011.

With a final "01100001 01101101 01100101 01101110" I switched into the the seventh and last language, and as the soothing tones of 'Angry Russian' began to emerge from my lips, once again focused on the problem at hand.
Should I stop?
No, that was both foolish and dangerous, not to mention anticlimactic! I needed to finish this, and I needed to finish this now. The audience demanded it!

But it could be anything!
Good or bad!
Large or small!
Realistic or bizarre!

All I knew, and I had only the strange notation of Myron to support this, was that the potion would make something mysterious.

There was a sudden silence.
I had finished the incantation.
Balthazar finished playing, and lowered his lyre.
Krulnor lowered me to the ground, and helpfully put out the fire.
Even Tim was retrieved from under the bench.

The potion was ready.

We all stared at it silently, and tried to decide what to do next.

Yesterday Once More **** If Tomorrow Never Comes