The three professors rose from the center table and crossed to the platform, waiting by the kitchen doors.

Professor Genoise lifted his hands. "While Chef Flax brings in our… special treat, let us finish our introductions. Second-years, would you rise and say your names?"

On either side of Lyra, Caramelle and Boysen stood, followed almost instantly by Mac. Lyra herself popped up a half-beat later.

That's me, she thought, a melody of pure wonder breaking through the anxiety chorus still brewing in the back of her mind. I'm a second-year.

Boysen nudged Mac, and the bespectacled boy took the lead.

"I — My name is Macaron Fondant."

"Boysen Berry." Boysen bowed deeply, then took off his chef's hat and waved. It was all in such perfect imitation of Chef Flax that someone at the first-year table giggled.

Lyra smiled. "I'm Lyra Treble."

All at once, the first-year table erupted in whispering. The third-year table sat in mostly stony silence, though Apprentice Baker Galette was smiling.

"And I am Caramelle Meringue," Caramelle finished imperiously, already starting to sit down.

"Congratulations," Lyra said quickly, and Caramelle jumped back up again. "To all the first-years. This is a huge achievement."

She looked at Boysen.

"Definitely," he agreed, catching her intent. "You should all be very proud."

"It's going to be a tough year," Lyra went on. "But you've already accomplished a lot, simply by making it through all the entrance trials. Be sure to take some time to celebrate. Enjoy it. And if you have any questions, or just want to talk, let us know. We're here for you."

She elbowed Caramelle in the side.

"Absolutely," gasped the auburn-haired girl. "We — yes. Here for you."

"All four of us!" Mac confirmed.

"Thank you, Aspiring Bakers!" Professor Honeycomb's eyes were swimming with tears of pride and joy. "Beautifully put. That's true academy spirit."

Professor Genoise was still voicing his agreement when Caramelle sat abruptly, pulling Lyra with her.

"What was that about?" she whispered. "The second-years don't mentor the new students."

Boysen and Mac sat down and leaned in to join the conversation.

"She's right, Lyra," Boysen said. "We're with you all the way, of course, but it is traditionally the third-years' job."

Mac's eyes shone with apprehension behind his glasses. "And how will we even have time? Aren't we pioneering a new discipline? And… and this is pastry year!"

"I know." Lyra kept her gaze on the first-year table. "But I met two of the third-years in the kitchen. They are not on board with Enjoyment. That's why they didn't clap for Chef Flax."

Boysen snuck a glance at the third-years and whistled. "Eclair and Florentine… salts. And if they're the only ones getting to know the first-years…"

"Exactly." Lyra caught a first-year's eye and smiled warmly. To her delight, the plump copper-skinned girl smiled back. "Unless we want the entire rising class of bakers turned against us, we're going to need to put in a little extra effort. We can —"

Professor Puff's voice cut her off. "Yes, thank you, Aspiring Bakers. We shall all need to pull together this year like never before. Now, would our third-years please stand?"

The three students at the back left table stood obediently.

"The third year is an especially important time at the academy," Professor Puff continued. "While first- and second-year students are called Aspiring Bakers, these three have attained the status of Apprentice Baker. Each has excelled in a different baking discipline and will be focusing their studies accordingly this year."

Professor Genoise took up the thread. "They will also be assisting us in our classes with all you Aspiring Bakers. You will be getting to know them quite well, so pay close attention now."

Professor Honeycomb stepped forward. Unless Lyra was imagining things, the Flavor headmistress's smile seemed a trifle forced. "Eclair Tatin will be… assisting me in Flavor."

Eclair didn't return Professor Honeycomb's smile. She merely nodded, her thin face looking exceptionally pale against her light green Flavor apprentice headscarf.

Professor Puff, meanwhile, looked more genuinely happy than Lyra had ever seen her.

"For Texture, I am honored to have the assistance of Rye Galette."

The stockily built, freckled boy gave a friendly wave to the first-year table, then another to the second-years. To Lyra's surprise, Caramelle waved back.

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"That's my cousin," Caramelle explained in a whisper. "The only child of my father's younger sister. Aunt Pavlova has always been a bit of a rebel, so I haven't seen Rye much."

Boysen grinned. "A Meringue rebel? I like the sound of that."

"And he seems nice," Mac said, boldly joining Caramelle in returning Rye's wave. "He was the only one clapping for Chef Flax, or for any of us."

Lyra sent her own smile and wave across the dining hall. "I agree. I'm glad he's on our side…" Her eyes fell on the glowering form of the Presentation apprentice, and she sighed. "We're going to need all the help we can get."

"This year," Professor Genoise announced, "our Presentation endeavors will be supported by the tireless zeal of Apprentice Baker Florentine Clafoutis."

Florentine sneered, though Lyra tried to believe the girl was trying to smile.

"Thank you, Professor. And welcome to all our first-years." Florentine fixed her eyes on the first-year table, crossing her surprisingly muscled arms. "There has been a lot of talk so far about what an important year this is for the academy. I wholeheartedly agree. There is a rotten yeast at work in the baking community. If we allow it to spread, it will poison the very foundation of our chosen profession and overturn centuries of tradition. My third-year colleagues and I —"

"Thank you, Apprentice Baker Clafoutis." Professor Genoise spoke as softly and elegantly as ever, but the authority in his voice was undeniable. "As I said, we are grateful for your tireless zeal. I am sure your contributions will make this… a year to remember."

Florentine did not even look at him. She cast one withering glance in the direction of the second-year table, then sat down in a huff.

"She's scary," Mac muttered under his breath.

Boysen patted his shoulder. "You're not wrong, Fondant. But we don't have to be scared of something just because it's scary. You have a choice."

"Do I?" Mac whisper-squeaked. "Did you see her arms? Really, she's built more like a boxer or a builder than a baker."

Boysen's laughter-snort was, thankfully, drowned out by the noise of the kitchen doors swinging open. Chef Flax came through, pushing a rolling cart that bore a singularly atrocious-looking cake.

"Gather 'round, first-years!" Professor Honeycomb called.

The six new students scrambled to join the professors and Flax on the platform, forming a half-circle that still allowed the second- and third-years to see.

Professor Honeycomb beamed at them. "Every year, we like to start the welcome feast with a little demonstration of what you will be learning here at the academy. Tell me: what do you see in this cake?"

The first-years glanced at the cake, then at each other. No one seemed eager to speak. Lyra wondered if she and her friends had borne such a striking resemblance to rookie performers, struck mute by the glare of the stage lights.

"Any thoughts?" Professor Honeycomb urged. "You, Aspiring Baker Marzipan. What do you see?"

A plump girl with glowing copper skin squeaked in fright. Then she cleared her throat and tried to recover.

"I — it looks… messy?"

"Extremely," Professor Genoise confirmed with hearty cheer. "Like a veritable bird's nest. Meaning no disrespect to our feathered friends, of course. Well done, Marzipan! What else?"

Aspiring Baker Marzipan looked around at her fellow first-years, but none of them showed any inclination to contribute. Emboldened by their silence and by Professor Genoise's encouragement, she went on.

"It's sagging pretty badly, too. Especially in the middle. That shows a… a deficiency in the Texture."

Professor Puff nodded approvingly. "Correct. Well done, Aspiring Baker Marzipan."

"And the Flavor?" Professor Honeycomb asked.

"It's hard to tell just by looking at it, but…"

Marzipan, whatever her first name was, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She then immediately stepped back with a gasp.

"Oh, dear. Something has gone terribly wrong there. It… it feels like Madame Hazelnut's Deepening Spell, performed far too many times and at the wrong… level. I think it was meant to be vanilla, but the spell performed was for… rose?" She gave another deep sniff. "And lemon verbena?"

"All the sweets to Marzipan!" Professor Honeycomb clapped her hands, bouncing again on her toes with glee. "Excellent instincts. I think you may have a knack for Flavor, my dear."

Marzipan blushed with pleasure. But before she could reply, the girl at the other end of the half-circle cleared her throat officiously and raised her hand.

"Yes, Aspiring Baker Joconde?" Professor Genoise addressed the throat-clearer.

Lyra recognized her as the first-year who had entered the dining hall with her nose in the air, as if the ground and other students were not worthy of her attention.

"I would like to make more observations about the Presentation," replied Aspiring Baker Joconde.

She clasped her hands behind her back and walked around the cake, ignoring the professors as they stepped back to make room for her.

"The overall appearance is not merely 'messy.' It is disheveled and misshapen. Improper tools were used for the base coating, so the frosting does not have the desired smoothness. The piping design is far too intricate for this baker's abilities. The coloring has been egregiously muddled. I do detect magic at work. Presentation spells were used, but in so shoddy a manner as to hint at deliberate malpractice. Such results usually indicate an extremely amateur baker attempting magic far beyond their skill or experience."

Completing her circle, she turned to the professors, emanating an authority far beyond her years and short stature.

"I take it this is one of the failed entrance exam cakes from this morning?"

"Incorrect, Aspiring Baker Joconde." Professor Puff sounded amused. "On that last point, rather. Your assessment of the cake's faults was thorough and accurate. Right, Professor Genoise?"

Professor Genoise also seemed to be trying to hold in a laugh. "Absolutely. It appears Aspiring Baker Joconde has an eye for Presentation."

"But this cake is not from the entrance exam," Professor Honeycomb explained. "It is one of our creations. We all contributed: Professor Puff, Professor Genoise, Chef Flax, and myself."

Boysen turned to Lyra with his eyebrows raised, mouthing the words, 'Chef Flax?'

She shook her head, mystified.

"You — the professors?" Aspiring Baker Joconde sputtered. "How — I mean, this cake —"

"Is an absolute disaster," Professor Genoise finished smoothly. "That is the point of this demonstration. Everyone, take a bite."

Professor Honeycomb cut a piece of the sagging cake. It collapsed even further under the knife, and Lyra giggled. The melting monstrosity on the table looked even worse than she remembered from last year's welcome feast.

"You will see that Marzipan and Joconde were absolutely spot-on," Professor Honeycomb said cheerfully as she passed the plate around to every first-year, allowing each of them to take a small bite. "The Flavor is positively wretched."

"The Texture is fundamentally flawed," Professor Puff added.

"And the Presentation, as we just heard in great detail, is an outright mess." Professor Genoise received the empty plate from the final first-year and smiled winsomely. "Baking is a desperately difficult discipline. Mistakes can happen at every turn. Through all our years of laboring in this profession, my colleagues and I have made nearly every mistake you can make."

"So every year, for the disaster cake, we make them deliberately." Professor Honeycomb gazed fondly at the first-years. "So you can always remember, right from the start, that failure is not fatal. We all muff things up sometimes."

Professor Puff pulled her long silver Texture spoon from her apron pocket. "But we also want to show you that disaster need not be the end. If you apply yourself diligently to the discipline of baking, you can learn how to fix those mistakes."

She raised the spoon over the cake. "Like this."

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