Lyra paused just long enough to drop her bags in her new room. There would be plenty of time to get settled in before classes began on Monday. For now, the looming welcome feast acted like a spatula, stirring her heart and drawing her irresistibly to her favorite place at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.

The kitchen.

She didn't encounter anyone, student or professor, as she skipped down the dormitory stairs and set off down the flagstone path towards the main hall. The weather was as perfect as she remembered from her first day on the campus. A faint breeze stirred the grass and flowers in the neatly tended lawn. The ivy crawling over the stone buildings, which still resembled frosting on a perfectly decorated cake, gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. If Lyra breathed deeply, she even thought she could catch the scent of sun-ripened strawberries from the academy orchards behind the main hall.

The academy grounds were so beautiful, so rich and warm and serene, that it was difficult to imagine any sort of distress taking place within their walls.

Difficult… but not impossible.

Lyra smiled to herself as the main hall came into view, with the famous exam hall directly beyond. Exactly one year ago, she had stood in that exam hall and listened to Professor Puff saying her name as one of the six new students at the Royal Academy of Magical Baking.

Her name. Lyra Treble. A bard with no formal baking education or any connections within the close-knit baking society. She had hardly been able to believe it, let alone dream that she would be one of the three to make it through the academy's famously grueling first year.

Yet here she was. For the first time ever, the academy had a class of four students entering the second year. The professors were pioneering a whole new baking discipline. The entire curriculum of the academy might be redesigned. And Lyra's joyful approach to baking had played a significant role in all of it.

Lyra shook her head as she pulled open the main hall's cheerful red doors and hurried across the foyer to the dining hall. With such weighty ingredients swirling inside and around her, she couldn't even pull them all into a song.

She needed to bake.

Pushing through the doors that connected the dining hall to the kitchen, Lyra was greeted by the sound of two vaguely familiar voices raised in anger.

" — just don't see why you're going along with all this!" said the first voice. It was so piercing that Lyra actually stumbled backwards a step as her eardrum pulsed sharply. "Don't you care about the academy?"

The second voice was even more shrill, though not quite so painful in pitch. "I never would have believed it. I almost didn't come back this year!"

"That would have been a true loss," came the soothing tones of Chef Flax. "For the academy and for you. I'm glad you reconsidered, Florentine."

"I'm only here because —"

Florentine's reasons for staying at the academy were cut off by a barrage of squirrel chatter. Bumble, the flying squirrel sous chef at the royal academy, had noticed Lyra at the door.

"Lyra!" Chef Flax beamed at her. "Come in, come in! I assume you know Eclair and Florentine? They're Apprentice Bakers this year. Eclair is with Professor Honeycomb in Flavor, while Florentine will be assisting Professor Genoise in Presentation. Eclair, Florentine, this is Lyra Treble."

Lyra nodded at the two girls as she entered slowly. She did know them, though only by sight. Second-years at the academy tended to keep to themselves. Not only was the curriculum famously demanding, but it was a well-known fact that second-years didn't see any point in getting to know all the first-years. No one knew which three would be left at the end of the year, and by that point, the second-years would be advancing anyway.

The third-years, though, were a completely different recipe. As Apprentice Bakers, they divided their time between their own studies and assisting the professors in the other years' classes. Lyra had gotten to know all the Apprentice Bakers quite well the year before. A little too well, in the case of one particularly dashing Presentation assistant.

That meant, while Lyra had only seen Florentine and Eclair briefly across the dining hall during her first year, she was going to be spending much more time with them very soon.

She felt as excited about this as the two older girls looked.

"Nice to meet you," she said, trying to match Chef Flax's relaxed friendliness. "Or see you, rather. Did you have a good break?"

The Flavor and Presentation apprentices just stared at her.

"I'm glad to be back," Lyra soldiered on alone. "I saw a lot of my friends over the holiday, but it's not the same as being here, you know? With Chef Flax, and Bumble, and the classes… it's all about the baking, right?"

She forced her brightest smile. Sometimes, having a performance background really did come in handy.

Florentine and Eclair, meanwhile, clearly had no such experience in concealing their emotions. Eclair's pale face was redder than Master Brulée's Coloring Charm could ever achieve. The tall, thin girl seemed speechless with anger.

Florentine spoke for both of them.

"It is all about the baking, Aspiring Baker Treble," she spat. Her blue eyes, startling against her light-brown skin, glowed with malice. "And that is the only point upon which we agree."

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Lyra raised an eyebrow. "The only point? Sharps and flats, it's going to be an interesting year."

"Indeed!" Eclair squeaked, finally finding her voice. She grabbed Florentine's arm and began dragging her towards the door, calling to Chef Flax over her shoulder. "If you change your mind, Chef, just say the word. We would be honored to come down and help you whip a proper welcome feast into shape."

Bumble chattered indignantly.

"That won't be necessary," Chef Flax interpreted. "But thanks all the same. See you in the dining hall!"

The girls departed with one more venomous look at Lyra from Florentine and one more squeak from Eclair.

As soon as they were gone, Bumble leapt to Lyra's shoulder and began chattering excitedly into her ear.

"It's great to see you too, Sir Bumble." Lyra gave the flying squirrel an affectionate pat, but her eyes were still on the door where Florentine and Eclair had vanished. She turned to Chef Flax with a heavy sigh. "I guess those two are among the many, many bakers who think 'Enjoyment' is a terrible idea?"

"It's not 'Enjoyment' in particular that they object to," Chef Flax replied. "It's change. Any change at all. And what's all this about 'many, many'?"

Lyra's eyes drifted down to the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, covered with its usual cheerful clutter. "I met Caramelle's parents."

"Ah. And I gather they were… unenthusiastic?"

"Distinctly." Lyra felt her voice rising with her quickening heartbeat, but she didn't have the will to rein it in. "They kept going on about the traditions of the baking world, and how the board only agreed to this whole 'fourth discipline' idea by a narrow margin. They're going to be watching all year. If anything goes wrong… And it's all my fault. I didn't —"

Bumble interjected with a peculiar squeak that sounded remarkably like a snort.

"Well said, Bumble." Chef Flax put a hand on Lyra's shoulder, forcing her to look up at him. "My sous chef said you're taking all this way too heavily upon yourself. You didn't force the professors to do anything, Lyra. They acted based on years of baking experience and wisdom, not to mention deep understanding of academy history. This is not the first time change has swept through these walls. It was a bold move, but not unprecedented."

"But —"

"And the Meringues do not speak for everyone," the head chef went on, cutting off her objection. "Neither do Florentine and Eclair, thank the seasonings. There is a whole host of bakers out there who are deliriously happy about this turn of events. Myself included."

Bumble chattered emphatically. Lyra didn't need Chef Flax's interpretation to understand the flying squirrel's 'And me!'

"We're adding several cupfuls of new life to the baking world." Chef Flax's eyes were, indeed, twinkling even more vibrantly than Lyra remembered. "And I do mean we. You're not in this alone. And it's not just your classmates on your side, either. It's me, and the professors, and a healthy chunk of the baking community in the outside world, including the board." He held up a hand to forestall another indignant squeak from his furry sous chef. "Plus Bumble, of course."

The flying squirrel nestled Lyra's ear, and she smiled. "Well, if Bumble's on our side… what more do we need, really?"

A burst of chattering came from the greenhouse doors, followed by a blur as another flying squirrel leapt across the room to land on the counter. Lyra's smile widened.

"Of course." She bowed low to Bumble's wife, the official gardener of the royal academy. "We need Lady Sprinkle too. Now we're all set."

Bumble hopped down to join his wife on the counter. They began chattering animatedly, pointing at the various jars and assembled ingredients.

Apparently, they were making excellent points because Chef Flax nodded gravely. "Quite right. We'd best get moving if we want all the jams to set in time."

Lyra looked around, actually taking in the kitchen's activity for the first time. "I came to see if I could help you prepare for tonight… what was Eclair saying about a 'proper' welcome feast?"

"Oh, Eclair." Chef Flax sighed. "No imagination. I don't know how Honeycomb will put up with her this year. I decided, in consultation with my sous chef, to do the welcome feast a bit differently."

The large man pulled a green handkerchief from his pocket, mopping his face as he began indicating the different processes at work around the room.

"After all, the introduction of a fourth discipline to the baking curriculum is a rare occasion. We had to mark it somehow. For 'Enjoyment', I thought — I mean, we thought, it's mostly Bumble — what better than a 'Smorgasboard of Delights'? A relaxed spread of all our favorite foods. For most of the folks here, that means breads, cheeses, and sausages, with an assortment of jams and mustards."

Lyra gazed at the myriad loaves already laid out to cool along one counter. "Oh, Chef… that sounds perfect!"

Bumble tugged on Lyra's hand, then hopped over to the counter with the bread. She followed obediently. Chef Flax called out interpretations across the room as Bumble 'told' Lyra about each loaf.

"Those first four are ciabatta, sourdough, baguette, and basic wheat. Want to be sure those with more simple tastes have something satisfying. But after that, we really started having fun. That one there is an enriched swirl stuffed with rosemary, wild garlic, and cheddar. The next is focaccia with olives and feta. Then mushroom, sage, and smoked gouda flatbread. Those rolls have a pesto center surprise. Sprinkle's basil plants have done particularly well this year. And then —"

"Stop!" Lyra held up a hand. "Mercy. That all sounds too incredible already."

"We haven't even gotten to the cheeses yet," Chef Flax said mischievously. "There are all the usual favorites. Sharp cheddar, gruyere, havarti, smoked gouda, asiago. Even a few stiltons for the more adventurous among us. Then Bumble had a splendid idea. We did several variations on baked brie. Some are savory, with caramelized onions or sundried tomatoes or pesto. Some are sweet, with every kind of jam you can think of. Sprinkle's berries have also had a bumper crop this year."

Lyra's stomach growled audibly. "And Eclair was… disappointed? About all this?"

"As I said, no imagination." Chef Flax grinned. "But I haven't given up on her yet. Not on Florentine, or any of the other naysayers, either. If Enjoyment could win over a conscientious soul like Professor Puff, then it's only a matter of time. They'll come round."

Lyra wished she could share his confidence. Ever since the encounter with the Meringues, the uncertainty she felt when she arrived at the gates this morning had seeped back into the corners of her thoughts. The obvious hostility of the two third-year girls only intensified the anxious song's rise, tainting all Lyra's inner melodies with harsh minor accidentals and haphazard staccato rhythms.

Still, here in this kitchen, surrounded by the delicious smells of simmering jams and freshly baked bread, it was hard not to let some lighter music take center stage.

She took a deep breath. "So… how can I help? Is there anything left to do?"

"Of course! Always. What do you think, Bumble?" The head chef had a brief consultation with his flying assistant, then nodded briskly. "Perfect. We are lacking any soda bread options. Don't I recall you having a signature soda bread recipe, Lyra? Something… red?"

Lyra felt a grin spread across her face, wide enough to rival Chef Flax's. "Smoked Sweet Paprika and Sundried Tomato Soda Bread. My brothers call it 'red bread.'"

Bumble chattered his hearty approval and scampered to fetch Lyra an apron. She tied it on with practiced ease, automatically checking to make sure her hair was firmly tucked away under her red scarf.

Chef Flax offered her a large bowl. "Shall we, Aspiring Baker Treble?"

Lyra accepted the bowl, banishing the anxiety song to the very back of her mind. It was still there, playing on jaggedly, but she didn't have time for it now.

It was time to bake.

"We shall indeed, Chef."

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