What Was Inside the Box?

Mr. Fosco stopped after saying this, his eyes unfocused, as though he had slipped into some memory.

Brian waited patiently for him to compose himself and say more about old Mr. Fosco's diary.

But all he got was a long sigh.

Brian understood what that sigh meant and asked in disbelief, "Sir, don't tell me that was all the diary said?"

Fortescue pounded the table with his fist and said through gritted teeth:

"Yes. Unbelievable, isn't it? Incomprehensible! My father was just that kind of outrageous man!"

"Very outrageous... but I have to say, it could have been worse-at least he left a diary."

Brian thought of his own missing parents-

They had vanished as completely as if someone had rubbed them out with an eraser, leaving him nothing.

Never mind a diary; there wasn't even a photograph or a note.

He supposed he had probably seen what his parents looked like, but he had been too young then to remember people or events.

And once he grew a little older, his maternal grandfather refused, for some reason, to tell him anything about his parents.

According to his grandfather, Brian's parents weren't ordinary people, but an alien and a water goblin.

Wow. How fascinating. An alien and a goblin had somehow produced a perfectly normal human boy.

Such evasive answers had once made Brian suspect that his parents had committed a serious crime and been thrown in prison.

He had always wanted to find out where they were, but without enough sources of information, he had nowhere to start.

Brian shook his head, pulled himself out of his wandering thoughts, and returned to the matter at hand:

"So, sir, what would you like me to help you with? Uncovering a long-buried piece of history, like the diary said?"

Honestly, Brian didn't quite believe that prophecy, and he had little interest in uncovering long-buried history.

If the prophecy in the diary described a predetermined future, he would sleep all day and do absolutely nothing, just to make his position clear.

Fortescue shook his head and said:

"It has nothing to do with the prophecy... I simply need you to try opening something else my father left behind-an indestructible wooden chest."

In the ice cream shop's backyard, Fortescue took a large wooden chest off the other end of the rope attached to the bucket in the well, right in front of Brian, and explained:

"This is it... I'll let you in on a little secret-the water I use to make my ice cream base comes from this well."

"Oh, sir, thank you for trusting me. I'm sure old Mr. Fosco would be deeply touched and gratified to know that the chest he left behind has proved so useful."

Brian couldn't help teasing him as he looked at the wooden chest, finally freed from its duties.

"If that's enough to make him come back in a rage, I can give him a good beating while he's here," Fortescue said scornfully.

"Then I'd be happy to hold him down for you," Brian said, making his position clear.

"You could even help me give him a proper thrashing... ahem, ahem... back to the point. I wasn't deliberately trying to mistreat the chest.

"It's just that its weight makes it perfect for this spot, and it never breaks."

Fortescue offered this defense with some embarrassment.

"After my father disappeared, I tried forcing the chest open with all kinds of spells. None of them worked.

"I tried Muggle methods too-sledgehammers, chainsaws, fire... even high explosives couldn't do anything to it.

"And whether it's been blackened with soot or stained white, it only takes one night for it to look brand-new again."

"Impressive. You sound like a role model for all chests," Brian said, crouching down to pat the large chest approvingly.

The chest felt very solid beneath his hand, almost like a solid block of wood, but judging by the sound, it was probably quite hollow inside.

Brian turned the chest around to examine every side, hearing no movement inside.

He carefully ran his hands over it again-apart from one very obvious round hole recessed into it, the entire chest was astonishingly free of any sign of damage.

Brian didn't know what magic had been placed on the chest, but what he needed to do was already perfectly clear.

He stretched his arms, set the chest upright, picked up his wand, and narrowed his eyes as he aimed it at the hole.

Just as Brian was about to insert his wand, Mr. Fosco stopped him.

"What are you planning to do?"

Fortescue asked, looking utterly baffled.

"Perhaps you ought to try Alohomora first? I mean-it doesn't work when I cast it with my wand, but it might work with yours."

Brian was equally baffled.

"I don't think this calls for Alohomora-in fact, I haven't learned that spell yet, but that doesn't affect my judgment.

"Sir, right now, there's a hole in the chest in front of us meant for a wand-and I happen to be holding a wand that fits it. What else is there to discuss?"

"What?" Mr. Fosco seemed lost, though Brian couldn't tell which part had confused him.

Seeing that familiar expression on his face, Brian, who had plenty of experience with this, finally understood.

"I see-I'm guessing you can't see a hole here, can you?" he asked, smiling as he pointed at the chest.

Understanding dawned on Fortescue. "Ah... now I see too... look at that. I was right after all. You really are the only person who can help me, aren't you?"

"Happy to be of service, sir."

Brian aimed his wand at the hole again, thought for a moment, and said:

"I suppose... it would work if you held the wand and inserted it too. Your father left this chest to you, so perhaps...?"

Fortescue shook his head repeatedly. "No, no need. I can't see it. What if I put it in at the wrong angle...?"

Brian understood what he meant and stopped hesitating. He slowly pressed downward, and his wand cooperated beautifully, sliding smoothly into the chest until its entire length had disappeared inside.

Then both he and Fortescue saw a seam silently appear on the chest's smooth surface.

"It really opened? Just like that?" Mr. Fosco exclaimed in delighted surprise.

Brian was a little surprised too. He drew out his wand, tucked it into his clothes, and gestured for Mr. Fosco to open the chest himself.

"Yes, and that's a good thing... in a fantasy novel, this would be the moment some monster jumped out to ruin everything, or You-Know-Who, who'd been lying in wait, suddenly appeared..."

The delight on Mr. Fosco's face vanished the instant he heard "You-Know-Who." He trembled and gave a shudder.

"Oh, sir, best not mention... You-Know-Who-hiss... what a terrifying man. He must never appear in my shop..."

"...Sorry. That was a poor choice of words."

Brian realized Mr. Fortescue had misunderstood, but he didn't bother explaining that he hadn't meant that particular mysterious figure-he was worried Mr. Fortescue might shake away every last bit of his hard-won joy.

"No, it's all right. I really must thank you." Fortescue excitedly laid his hand on the seam. "I'm going to open it. Are you ready?"

"I've been ready all along... wait, is someone knocking?"

Brian's ears suddenly picked up a burst of urgent shouting from the front of the shop.

Had You-Know-Who actually come?

He listened carefully-

"Can someone tell me why this place has suddenly closed? It's still morning! No! I've messed up! I've lost Brian! Brian, who couldn't get a wand! Poor, heartbroken Brian! Are you in there?!"

Bang, bang, bang! Bang, bang, bang!

Mr. Door sounded as though he would buckle under the strain and split apart at any moment.

Brian knew the moment he heard the voice that it was Hagrid shouting at the top of his lungs-his voice was unmistakable.

It sounded as though Hagrid had already visited Ollivander's Wand Shop and learned what had happened to him there, and now he seemed intent on sharing Brian's glorious exploits with every wizard in Diagon Alley.

Brian had no desire to become famous that way, nor did he enjoy playing hide-and-seek, so he explained to Fortescue:

"That's Hagrid knocking. I'm afraid I need to go see him now and stop him from running around looking for me. Ah, don't worry about me. You can open the chest whenever you like."

But Mr. Fosco didn't seem to have the courage to open the chest alone. Trembling, he nodded and said:

"No, I'll wait for you. Go on, bring Hagrid in too-I trust Hagrid. Let him join us and see what's inside this chest."

"Oh, Brian, thank goodness you're here, or I'd have turned Diagon Alley upside down," Hagrid said excitedly as he entered the shop. "Why did the ice cream shop suddenly close? I wanted another cone!"

"It's a long story. Mr. Fosco's in the backyard. Let's talk there."

Brian had just locked the door when a scream rang out behind him.

"No! Let go! Don't bite me! Damn it, stop chasing me!"

It was such a pitiful sound that Brian suspected Mr. Fosco's vocal cords had never worked this hard in his life.

"Fortescue? What's biting him? A dog?" Hagrid asked in confusion.

Brian offered a rational assessment. "No, I think it might be a mimic."

Apparently, Mr. Fosco had lost patience and opened the chest already—and run into something unpleasant.

They hurried into the backyard and saw the "culprit" mercilessly biting Mr. Fosco.

It wasn't a mimic, but a strange book flying through the air-three mouths full of sharp teeth had bizarrely sprouted on its broad, exquisite, ink-black cover. Its pages fluttered rapidly, like countless hands or feet. It looked utterly bizarre and utterly ferocious.

When the book noticed two more targets it could sink its teeth into, it immediately abandoned the suffering Fortescue and hurtled toward Brian and Hagrid at tremendous speed-Brian keenly realized that it was aiming for him, not Hagrid.

But... the book didn't seem to bear him any ill will, and he felt a faint sense of... affection toward it?

Brian watched the book draw closer. When it was halfway to him, he noticed that the teeth in its three mouths had somehow vanished, replaced by... the same number of soft-bristled brushes in various shapes?

Brian followed his instincts. Rather than dodge, he let the book knock him to the ground, bewildered-he couldn't see anything. All he could feel was the mass of soft brushes working back and forth over his face-wet and ticklish, but rather pleasant too.

"No, you bad book!" he heard Hagrid roar beside him, sounding ready to grab the book and tear it apart.

"Wait... pfft... wait, Hagrid, it isn't hurting me!" Brian reached out and waved his hands wildly.

As he spoke to stop Hagrid, one of the brushes accidentally poked into his mouth-confirming that the brushes were coated in some sweet-and-sour liquid with a peculiar taste, which was now being smeared over his face.

Brian felt a little uneasy, but the book finally released his face, apparently satisfied.

Able to see again, Brian immediately sat up-he looked down and saw that the book had obediently tucked away all its pages and attached itself firmly to his chest, refusing to loosen its grip in the slightest. It was like an entirely different book from the biting menace of a moment ago.

Brian looked up in surprise and found both Fortescue and Hagrid studying his face with strange expressions.

Mr. Fosco didn't seem seriously hurt. Brian breathed a sigh of relief and asked in confusion:

"What's wrong with my face?"

"You seem a bit better-looking," Hagrid said hesitantly.

Fortescue silently took a round mirror from inside his clothes and carefully passed it to Brian, avoiding the book.

"Have a look for yourself."

Brian noticed a clear bite mark on his hand, presumably where the book had bitten him. Taking the mirror, he couldn't help asking:

"What does being bitten by a book... feel like?"

"Very painful-like a row of staples being driven into my hand." Fortescue blew gently on the wound. "Luckily, I keep Essence of Dittany in the shop."

"Oh, that's a blessing amid the misfortune." Brian knew how powerful dittany's healing effects were-as long as the right amount was applied promptly, even some horrific wounds wouldn't leave a scar.

Brian raised the mirror and froze at the sight of his face-thanks to his past experience performing on tour, he realized that the book had just done something utterly absurd to him. In a little over ten seconds, it had given him a very natural-looking smoky eye.

He stared for a moment, then asked the book against his chest, "Does this... mean you like me?"

The book said nothing, simply remaining attached to his chest.

Mr. Fosco looked at the book on Brian's chest with a complicated expression and explained:

"At least it certainly doesn't like me. I didn't actually open the chest just now. The book pushed it open itself. The moment it spotted me, it grew a huge mouth and bit me. Then it grew two more mouths and chased me around..."

Brian suddenly felt as though a neighbor were complaining that his pet had bitten him, so he tried speaking to the book in his arms:

"That's not nice, book. A good book shouldn't hurt people for no reason... perhaps you should try apologizing to Mr. Fosco?"

As soon as he finished, he felt a little ridiculous-he was actually trying to reason with a book.

But it turned out that reasoning with a book could work.

Brian's eyes widened-he saw the book reluctantly open itself, its countless pages surging like waves, each one shining with a different color in a dazzling, kaleidoscopic display.

When the waves subsided, only one page glowing with green light remained exposed. It shone brightly and formed a small green orb, which drifted over to the wound on Fortescue's hand-the wound vanished.

"It doesn't hurt at all anymore!" Fortescue exclaimed, shaking his hand in astonishment. "That's incredible!"

"It understands!" Hagrid looked at Brian enviously. "And it listens to you!"

"Good book, good book." Brian was not only surprised, but delighted.

He tried moving the book from his chest into his hands. After a brief struggle, it yielded.

Brian now noticed that the book's three mouths had disappeared, leaving its cover perfectly smooth. He stroked the front cover, then rubbed the back. It was furry, and probably felt even silkier than a cat's coat.

"May I open you?" Brian politely asked the book.

The book naturally opened itself to the first page-the title page-which read, "To the one who comes after, may you use the power within this book to fulfill your own mission-the long-buried history awaits you."

"Is there some secret on this blank page?" Hagrid muttered.