Mr. Fireworks

Brian knew it was best not to hide anything from a doctor or feel embarrassed. Besides, Mr. Lester was the Hospital Wing's only patient today, and that patient was as stiff as a board, so he resolutely followed Madam Pomfrey's instructions.

"That will do, sir," Madam Pomfrey said, stopping Brian just in time as he prepared to strip everything off in one go. She rubbed her brow.

"All right, ma'am." Brian lowered the shirt he had lifted.

But Madam Pomfrey seemed to have spotted something worth noting. Her eyes sharpened as she asked, "Sir, what happened to your chest? Were you injured?"

"No, it's a birthmark. I've had it since I was born." Brian lifted his shirt again and said without embarrassment, "People always point and stare when I go swimming. Girls often come up and ask about it."

The pale red birthmark on his chest was exposed to the air. It looked like seven irregular circles linked together, strikingly conspicuous against his fairly pale skin. But Brian wasn't in the habit of running around shirtless, so it didn't affect his life much.

"We shouldn't discount the fact that you have a very good physique," Madam Pomfrey said fairly.

Then Madam Pomfrey slowly moved her wand down Brian's body and back up again. After that, she sank into deep thought, occasionally stealing discreet glances at him.

Brian had never seen a doctor look at him with such a complicated expression.

His checkup results had always been normal, without a single little arrow flagging any of the readings. He couldn't have been healthier.

Even his private doctor sometimes joked that he was a good boy who never gave anyone cause for concern. But Brian knew better than anyone that his greatest pleasure was staying up late for a little drink in the quiet of the night.

Brian knew it was an unhealthy habit, but everyone needed some unhealthy pleasure in life-at least, that was how he had always lived, and his checkup results kept telling him there was nothing wrong with it. Common sense said this was certainly abnormal, but Muggle technology could be trusted.

That, however, was precisely why Brian now felt uneasy. His previous examinations had used Muggle technology; what awaited him now was wizard technology-magic.

Brian couldn't guess what lay behind Madam Pomfrey's expression. But he remembered seeing a news story in which a group of doctors had worn that very same expression before naming a newly discovered disease after their patient.

He wondered whether Madam Pomfrey might soon offer him two sweets and tell him consolingly that medicine could no longer help, so he should eat something nice during his remaining two days and leave no regrets.

Brian asked tentatively:

"Ma'am, how much longer do I have?"

Madam Pomfrey let out a long sigh. "Mr. Brian, to be perfectly honest, I suspect you're already dead."

"Huh?"

The situation was worse than he had imagined. Brian thought for half a second, then hurriedly put his suit jacket back on.

If he was already dead, or about to die, he at least needed to look presentable. A lightweight suit was better than an undershirt with a hole in it. Come to think of it, he really had no idea when his undershirt had developed that hole.

Madam Pomfrey watched Brian silently, then seized an opportunity to slip a thermometer-like rod into his mouth and instructed him:

"Keep it under your tongue, and don't let it move around. This measures the magical concentration in your blood. The magic in your body is excessively active, far beyond the theoretical maximum a human body can withstand. Now let's see whether we can get an approximate reading."

Brian did as she said. A second later, his eyes widened, but he couldn't move too much, so he could only mumble, "Ma'am, this measuring instrument is far too sweet..."

He felt as though he were holding a stick of concentrated white sugar in his mouth. He was certain he had exceeded his daily sugar allowance.

"That's to be expected. The higher the magical concentration in your blood, the sweeter it tastes. Mr. Brian, I want you to understand something-it would be perfectly normal for you to turn into a burst of fireworks right this instant." The wrinkles on Madam Pomfrey's forehead bunched tightly together. She looked utterly serious.

"What if the magical concentration in someone's blood is very low?" Brian asked, still curious despite learning that he stood a very good chance of becoming fireworks.

"It tastes bitter," Madam Pomfrey said succinctly.

Thirty seconds later, Madam Pomfrey removed the blood magic measuring instrument from Brian's mouth, shook it, and examined it for a few seconds. Then she said gravely, "Poor Mr. Measuring Instrument has passed away."

"Oh, Poppy. I'm very sorry, but the school will cover it. The members of the Board of Governors are quite willing to invest substantial sums of Galleons in medical equipment." Dumbledore came over to console her, apparently having finally reached an agreement with Mr. Cactus.

Madam Pomfrey nodded in satisfaction, then addressed Brian with a serious expression:

"I can't think of a way to help you, Mr. Brian. However, we've found the reason you were able to catch a spell with your bare hand. Excess magic is spilling out through the surface of your skin and gathering into a coating that provides extremely strong insulation against magic.

"It's now very difficult for magic that attacks the body directly to harm you, but the price is that you could explode at any moment. I dare say even the specialists at St. Mungo's would be at a loss when faced with your condition, but you could still try your luck there."

When a doctor told you to try your luck, it meant your chances of being saved were rather slim. Yet Brian was in surprisingly good spirits. According to Madam Pomfrey, he should have died long ago, but here he was, still standing perfectly fine.

If the Grim Reaper really existed, he must have been furious right now.

"I think I understand. My whole body is now covered in an invisible suit of magical insulation." Brian nodded earnestly. "But I don't actually feel swollen anywhere. If anything, I feel a little empty, for some inexplicable reason."

Since things had already reached this point, he might as well accept them instead of constantly worrying. Brian wasn't planning to give up on himself. He had a gut feeling that he would find answers at Hogwarts about his body, which was unusual even in the wizarding world.

"Thank you sincerely, Madam Pomfrey. Perhaps I'll find time to visit St. Mungo's once I've settled in."

Brian spoke with a smile, then pointed at Lester on the bed and suggested:

"But shouldn't we help Mr. Lester first? Hm? Why is he glowing? Is that normal?"

"Glowing?" Madam Pomfrey's keen eyes finally left Brian and swept over Lester instead. "Where?"

"All over. It's not very obvious," Brian explained. "Like looking at a swarm of... sickly fireflies from a distance. Or a rather wilted sort of light."

"My boy, are you sure?" Dumbledore, who had been silent for some time, thoughtfully adjusted his half-moon spectacles. "It seems neither Madam Pomfrey nor I can see the light you're describing. Could you point it out?"

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to trace a circle around Mr. Lester with my finger." As Brian spoke, he stepped forward and did exactly that. "Hm?"

In Brian's vision, those strange, firefly-like lights changed. As soon as they noticed his approaching finger, they brightened. Then, like water gushing from a burst pipe, they suddenly surged wildly toward his outstretched finger!

In the blink of an eye, all the light that had surrounded Lester vanished. It climbed up Brian's finger, whirled joyfully around his body countless times, then silently sank into him.

"Oh!"

An exclamation rose from Brian's throat. He closed his eyes, filled with a sweet sense of contentment. The feeling was extraordinary, as though something important that his body had lost had finally been restored. And here he had thought he was merely hungry.

He opened his eyes and asked Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who were watching him anxiously, "Did you see that? Those lights rushed toward me, and I absorbed them. Don't worry, I don't feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, I feel wonderfully full-like having a cup of hot tea in winter."

"Mr. Brian, I saw nothing. But I'm afraid you're one step closer to exploding." Madam Pomfrey still looked deeply concerned. She shook her head helplessly and stepped forward to examine Lester, then said in astonishment, "That unknown force has vanished. This gentleman is now simply an ordinary patient under Petrificus Totalus. I can cure him."

"Sometimes trusting your body's response is a good choice. You've been an enormous help, Poppy. Thank you for your dedication, as always." Dumbledore smiled at Madam Pomfrey, then bent over Lester. His expression turned stern, and his voice dropped.

"Mr. Lester, I believe you've paid a sufficient price for your use of excessive force, so I do not intend to inform the Ministry of Magic of this incident. Now, I'm going to remove some of your memories. Any objections?"

Dumbledore looked unapproachable at that moment, and this was probably only what he looked like when mildly angry. Brian was just about to try imagining him in a towering rage when his words caught Brian's attention.

Memories can be taken away, too? Brian quietly moved a few steps closer to the bed. He saw alarm, gratitude, and fear appear simultaneously in the rigid Mr. Lester's eyes. Dumbledore nodded and pressed his wand to Lester's temple.

Brian watched the unusually shaped wand slowly pull away. Some silvery-white liquid clung to its tip, gradually emerging from Lester's temple. It was like soft silk, like weightless sand-utterly dreamlike, and utterly terrifying.

Memories, the secrets of the human brain, were laid bare in the physical world just like that. Magic really could tamper with human memories!

How dangerous would this power be in malicious hands? Brian could only hope that not everyone had mastered this technique.

He watched Dumbledore flick his wand through the air, and the silvery-white liquid dispersed in a silent puff, like smoke scattered by the wind. Brian knew that a memory which had once truly existed had, in that instant, been buried forever beneath the river of time.

"Magic is awe-inspiring," Brian said from the heart.

"Yes, my boy." Dumbledore gazed at Brian with his pale blue eyes. "Come to my office for a little drink. We need to discuss the specific arrangements for your time at the school."