Brian held the grain-sized candy bee between his fingers. Considering itself more bee than confectionery, it began wriggling violently.
"Er..." Brian stared at its nimble stinger, hesitating a little-if he ate it directly, it would definitely prick a hole in his tongue.
"Just pop it into your mouth, Mr. Brian," George Weasley said helpfully. "You can pull the stinger out first, but it won't work as well."
So Brian steeled himself and got stung. Surprisingly, however, the tiny pain on his tongue lasted only an insignificant half second, like the instant a splash rose from water. At the same time, a strange, complex flavor had already rippled through his mouth.
The melting syrup was light and gentle, but unstoppable.
It was the taste of regret-
From the moment a taste bud on Brian's tongue detected the signal, regret spread rapidly like a neurotoxin, carrying an insignificant sweetness down the root of his tongue into his stomach, then surging into his heart.
Memories of the past appeared.
Flames roared, and black smoke obscured his vision.
Dressed as a wizard, Brian was confined inside a huge wicker basket, his hands and feet tightly bound with thorny branches. Beside him was a woman dressed as a witch. She looked utterly pitiful, covered in tar and mud.
Inside the basket, there was silence; outside, an unending clamor.
"Filthy witch, so skinny and small, she hardly looks like she weighs anything! When she was thrown into the water, she didn't sink at all-everyone saw it!" the shrieking woman declared, folding her arms smugly.
"Damned wizard! A fiend who won't shed a single tear, beyond redemption or forgiveness! Burn these two demons!" A frenzied-looking man raised the cross in his hand high.
His clothes were elaborate, resembling the attire of an Elizabethan Era nobleman.
The commoners