The professors' whispering seemed to go on for a long time. When it ceased, they stood back and just looked at each other for several more seconds, as if still communicating in some silent language known only to baking colleagues.

Lyra glanced at the other students. Caramelle, Boysen, and Mac were all staring at the professors, leaning slightly forward on their stools. Lyra wondered if they were all having as hard a time remembering to breathe as she was.

Finally, the three professors shared one simultaneous nod, then turned to face the students.

"I said at the beginning of the first term that this would be a year of special excellence in the exalted history of the Royal Academy of Magical Baking," Professor Genoise began. "Little did I know how true those words would prove."

Professor Puff nodded. "Indeed. Today's exam is… unusual, but it is merely the culmination of a truly remarkable chain of events."

"Thank you, Aspiring Bakers." Professor Honeycomb seemed on the verge of tears. "You have given us quite a gift this year. It's good for old recipes like us to be shaken up a bit, and forced to deal with some new ingredients. New techniques. New… everything."

Lyra leaned forward even further on her stool, somehow aware that the other first-years were doing the same.

"Every year, we go into the third term exam with a fair idea of what the outcome will be," Professor Puff went on. "We are always open to surprises, of course. It has happened on a few occasions. But those are the exception, not the rule."

Professor Genoise took up the thread. "We were watching closely throughout the year, each seeking to identify the student with the most aptitude for our particular discipline. The student we can imagine becoming our Apprentice Baker eventually. By the third term, as my Texture colleague said, it is usually clear. This year was no exception."

"Boysen," Professor Honeycomb said immediately.

Professor Puff nodded at Caramelle. "Aspiring Baker Meringue."

"Fondant." Professor Genoise bowed cordially in Mac's direction. "Three exceptional bakers, each suited for one particular baking discipline. In any other year, this would have been the end."

Professor Honeycomb clasped her hands in front of her, as if pleading. "But this year… there was Lyra."

A great stillness settled over the exam hall. The song in Lyra's head hadn't stopped, but she felt enveloped in silence, as if she and the song had been caught out of time together.

"At different moments throughout the year," Professor Puff continued, "we have each thought Lyra might overtake her classmates in our particular discipline. But that was not the case. If I were to give the Stellar Enchantment Pin today purely on the basis of Texture, it would go to Aspiring Baker Meringue."

"For Presentation, I'd give it to Fondant," Professor Genoise agreed.

Professor Honeycomb beamed. "Berry for Flavor, of course."

"Thus, our expectations for today were confirmed, in one sense." Professor Puff's gray eyes gazed coolly at each first-year in turn. "Even with a different baker's recipe, our three candidates excelled in their prospective disciplines."

"Normally, the only remaining variable would be the Stellar Enchantment Pin," Professor Genoise explained. "For that is not a matter of excellence in one particular baking principle. The pin must go to the best overall cake."

"And that's where we've hit our snag," Professor Honeycomb explained. "Our delightful hiccup. Today, the best overall cake — by unanimous agreement — is Lyra's."

The stillness in the hall seemed to gasp, momentarily sucking the breath out of the room. Lyra felt weightless, like she was suspended in the air, hovering just above her stool.

Professor Puff, somehow, sounded as calm as ever. "So you see our dilemma. We cannot award the Stellar Enchantment Pin to a student who is being cut from the academy. And yet we cannot, in good conscience, award it to anyone other than Aspiring Baker Treble. Neither can we cut one of the other students."

Professor Genoise shook his head. "Fondant still beats Treble in Presentation. Meringue is the clear Texture winner. No one can touch Berry in Flavor."

"And yet, Lyra's cake is the best." Professor Honeycomb sighed. "It's like the entrance exam cake you made all those months ago, my dear. Each of the principles, taken individually, isn't quite at the level of your classmates. But put it all together, and it's…"

"Fun." Professor Puff's gaze rested on Lyra, full of grave wonder. "As Professor Honeycomb said at your entrance exam, the most 'fun' bite of cake I've had in years."

Boysen glanced back at Lyra just long enough to shoot her a full-flavored Berry grin.

"We have been pondering this matter all term." Professor Genoise took out his monocle, polishing it thoughtfully on his sleeve. "Ever since you introduced the idea of singing the spells. It was a new ingredient. We wondered if it might be the secret behind your signature… flair."

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"But it's not!" Professor Honeycomb was crying outright now. Dabbing at her eyes with the edge of her apron, she went on, "Not fully. I'm sure the music makes a difference, but it seems to be the means, not the end."

Professor Puff patted her colleague lightly on the shoulder. "True. The 'end' appears to be a new category in the evaluation of baking excellence: enjoyment."

There was a long moment of silence.

"A new… category?" Caramelle repeated, her voice sounding small and breathless. "You mean, a fourth principle?"

"That's right, Meringue!" Professor Genoise suddenly flung his arms wide. "A whole new principle of baking, devoted to the overall experience of the consumer. Enjoyment: a fourth discipline!"

Mac looked more stunned than Lyra had ever seen him. "Is — that's — this has never happened before. Right?"

"Not never," Professor Honeycomb corrected. "Just not recently."

Professor Puff nodded. "When the academy was founded, Flavor and Texture were the only recognized baking disciplines. Presentation was added much later, though still many decades ago."

"And now it is happening again." Professor Genoise seemed on the verge of breaking into song. "We stand here on the precipice of history, ready to leap into the great beyond!"

"I would prefer to build a bridge first," Professor Puff said dryly. "Which requires planning."

Professor Honeycomb blew her nose loudly on her apron. "Oh, we have to talk to so many people. The board, the royal family, the royal chefs —"

"Everything will have to be redesigned," Professor Genoise gushed, his eyes flashing with excitement. "The curriculum, the academy crest… what color best expresses joy, I wonder?"

"Yellow," Boysen called. Then, belatedly, he raised his hand. "So, what does that mean for us?"

"Oh! Of course, my dear ones." Professor Honeycomb beamed at the group through eyes still swimming with tears. "Lyra gets the Stellar Enchantment Pin, and we want you back next year. All of you."

Mac squeaked, nearly falling off his stool. "All of us?"

"All four of you," Professor Honeycomb confirmed. "Isn't it splendid?"

"It is unsettling." Professor Puff sighed. "But necessary. Any other course would betray the core tenets of the royal academy, and of baking itself. This is the only logical solution."

The first-years looked at each other. Lyra saw her own bewilderment reflected in their eyes, along with something else: a happiness so heavy it was almost painful. Even Caramelle's face was shining with the kind of wordless glee that could only be expressed in music… and baking.

Lyra's fingers itched for a lump of dough to knead. Melodies were piling up in their frantic haste to get out of her throat.

She clenched her hands, willing herself to wait just a bit longer.

"Next year will be a whole new world," Professor Genoise proclaimed. "Four young Aspiring Bakers, striding forth with their three intrepid mentors beyond the edges of the baking map. Together, we shall quest through Flavor, and Texture, and Presentation, charting the mysterious paths of Enjoyment, until —"

Professor Puff silenced him with a single raised hand, then turned to the first-years. "It will be a very different sort of year. Finding balance takes time, and careful effort. We shall, no doubt, suffer some disasters until we find the right equations to achieve that balance. But it is with pride, and the utmost confidence in your abilities, that we invite you to make this journey with us."

Her impassive lips curled up in a true, wide smile. "All four of you."

Music exploded in Lyra's soul, all the pent-up melodies crashing into each other in a sweet cacophony of joy.

There was a song for her family, and all the support they had given her, even when they didn't understand. There was a song for Ginger, the tune as frank and determined as the Crumble herself. There was one for Chef Flax, bubbling with the joy he always poured into every piece of food that came from his kitchen.

There was another for Bumble, and for Sprinkle, and one for Queen Penelope. There were three songs for the three professors, and one for the Berrys, and even a medley representing the differing contributions of the third-year students.

Including Cardamom, Lyra realized, smiling ruefully to herself. I was silly, and I have plenty of regrets, but I still learned a lot from… that. Whatever 'that' was.

Loudest and most vibrant of all were the songs for each of her friends in the exam hall.

There was Mac's melody: starting out quiet, but breaking into a harmonic structure more complex and dramatic than most songs in the Any Weather Bards repertoire. Mac was truly born to Presentation. His passion for beauty and elegance rivaled that of Professor Genoise.

But it was a passion rooted in purpose. Mac knew beauty was good for the soul. He loved making things beautiful, not for the show of it, but because he understood how much people needed beautiful things.

That was why he would always be a better Presentationist than Cardamom.

There was a song for Caramelle, expressing every nuanced facet of the auburn-haired girl. The steady rhythm reflected her diligence and precision. The complicated melodic runs were a tribute to her incredible skills, especially (but not exclusively) in Texture.

Yet, there was something more to the tune, an indefinable quality that made it stick deep in Lyra's soul. Caramelle was more than a Texture expert. She was more than an exemplary student with an unreplicable work ethic. She was more than a 'Meringue.'

She was Caramelle: more than the sum of her parts. A truly fantastic baker — and maybe, if given the chance, she could become an even better friend.

Then there was a song for Boysen. The rhythm was even steadier than Caramelle's, while the harmonic complexity was even more surprising than Mac's. Boysen's song was relentlessly adaptable. No matter what key you sang it in, or what mood, or what crowd, it would be fun. There was always a new note to delight the heart and soothe the mind.

It's just… great, Lyra thought, sharing a grin with the Flavor King in question. He's great. Always, always great. How is he so great? He's just…

"What say you, Aspiring Bakers?" Professor Genoise's voice pierced through the jumble of music in Lyra's head. "Will you venture forth with us into the unknown?"

The four first-years shared one more look. By silent agreement, it was Mac who spoke. He rose from his stool, eyes bright behind his glasses.

"Sweet and savory, yes!"

The cheering and laughter that followed merged into Lyra's ongoing chaos of internal joy. The melodies for all these wonderful people blared loudly alongside a song of celebration for the year they had shared, and one full of hope for the year ahead.

Lyra let them all play at once in her head, smiling as the music swallowed her whole. She had plenty of time to sort through it.

Two more years at the academy. Two whole years to explore these songs and discover new ones. Two years to identify the various tuning Flavors, and to perfect the melodic Texture equations, and to polish the beauty of the harmonies' Presentation. Two years to savor the unique Enjoyment they contained, and to share it with the world.

Each one deserved to be sung. And Lyra Treble was going to keep on singing.

She was a baker, after all.

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