Lyra was back in the academy kitchen before the sun rose the next day.

"Good morning, all!" she sang as she twirled through the doors. "I'm here to help with cinnamon rolls!"

Bumble chattered a greeting from his place by the stove, then continued chattering, as if trying to explain something.

"He says he can't leave his post right now," Chef Flax translated. "He's monitoring the cinnamon sugar glaze. Got to be sure to spread it on as soon as the rolls come out, before the frosting."

Lyra nodded, gazing around at ingredients and bowls scattered over the countertops. "Oh, yes. A most important job. But are you that far along already? I thought I'd be up early enough to help with the dough. And you already have a batch almost baked?"

The giant man's face was, indeed, red from the heat of the ovens, though the magically controlled temperature in the room was as pleasant as Lyra remembered.

"Oh, there will be plenty of other batches." Chef Flax handed her an apron with a gallant bow. "You know how it is with cinnamon rolls. Got to make plenty of extras for the first-year tour."

"Right…" Lyra tied the apron on with practiced efficiency. "I'm hoping to catch them as they come through, actually. The first-years."

Chef Flax winked. "Butter them up a bit?"

"More like act as a counterweight," Lyra explained. She reached for the nearest bowl and began measuring flour into it. "We need to provide balance against the possibly pernicious Flavors in the third-year mentors."

Bumble chattered something short and emphatic. Lyra did not need Chef Flax's translation to know the flying squirrel sous chef was voicing his hearty approval.

"Glad to assist in any such endeavors." Chef Flax turned towards the oven, opened it, and removed two massive trays of cinnamon rolls. He deposited them on the counter and popped another two trays into the same oven without missing a beat or breaking his flow of speech. "No need to wait for the tour, you know. As soon as the first-years start arriving in the dining hall, I'll let you know. You can deliver their breakfast personally."

Lyra paused with a teaspoon of salt hovering above the bowl. "How will you know? Do you keep watch by the dining hall doors?"

"Sweet and savory, no!" Chef Flax chuckled as he helped Bumble bring the pot of simmering glaze over to the counter from the stove. "No time for that. I'm always aware who's coming in and out of the dining hall. A little chime goes off in my head, and I learn who just came in and where they're sitting. It's part of the same magic that helps me send food out to the right tables at the right time."

"How does that work?" Lyra asked.

Chef Flax shrugged. "Don't ask me. It's all Bumble. He handles the logistical magic for the kitchen."

"Well done, Bumble!" Lyra watched the flying squirrel in question, who was currently engrossed in coating each freshly baked cinnamon roll with a thin layer of shiny cinnamon sugar glaze. "But, what kind of spell is that? Flavor, Texture, Presentation?"

Bumble burst into what Lyra recognized as his chatter-laugh.

"None of the above," Chef Flax replied through another chuckle of his own. "For one thing, it's not so much an official spell as a magical effect. Remember that Bumble simply is magical, like all animals."

"Oh, yes!" Lyra smiled, suddenly remembering a conversation from the year before. "He and Sprinkle don't have to do spells. They just… exist."

"And even if it was an actual spell, you'd be hard pressed to fit it into one of the 'recognized baking categories'," Chef Flax said dryly. "There's a lot more to the culinary arts than just those three disciplines."

Lyra thoughtfully measured sugar into the bowl of dry ingredients and began whisking. "Last year, at the final exam… the professors said that Flavor and Texture were the only recognized disciplines when the academy was founded. Presentation came much later. Do you remember when it got added, Chef?"

"I'm not quite that old, I'm afraid," Chef Flax replied. "That was in my great-grandparents' time. They told plenty of stories about it to my grandparents, though. And those stories got passed down to me."

"Was it…" Lyra paused. Setting the bowl aside, she took the pot of warm milk and butter Chef Flax handed her and reached for the yeast. "Was it like this? Some bakers all excited, and others… not?"

"From the stories, I'd say it was nearly an identical recipe." Chef Flax waved his hand over the pot. A burst of blue magic erupted from his fingers, causing the yeast to dissolve instantly. "And look at us now! Can you imagine baking without Presentation magic?"

Lyra grinned. "Not any more than I can imagine the academy without Professor Genoise."

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"Well said," the head chef sighed, indulging in a rare moment of stillness as he watched Lyra crack an egg into the pot and stir vigorously. "That's why all this porridge of pouting is so ridiculous. It's as if people have forgotten just how vast the landscape of baking actually is. We've only charted a fraction, and they want to build walls and forts to keep us from venturing any further."

"That's why we have to remind them." Lyra carefully added the wet ingredients to the bowl of flour, sugar, and salt. "Or bribe them outright. With cinnamon rolls. They both work."

At Chef Flax's encouragement, she sang Madame Hazelnut's Deepening Spell over the dough while she mixed it. Once the hue of green light emanating from the bowl clicked with her Flavor instincts, she passed the dough off to Bumble. Rapid proofing, apparently, was among the flying squirrel sous chef's specialties.

In return, Bumble gave her a lump of just-proofed dough. She and Chef Flax each took half. Standing side by side at the center island countertop, they each rolled out their dough with gusto, singing Madame Temper's Chant of Precision as a duet. Lyra marveled at the effortless sparkle of the purple Presentation magic. It was even richer, and tingled in her fingertips more dazzlingly, than when she performed the spell on her own.

Sprinkle appeared just in time with a resupply of cinnamon. The academy gardener then lingered, joining her warm alto voice to Chef Flax's and Lyra's as they sang The Soufflé Sisters Cooperation Chant over the cinnamon sugar mixture. Bumble was occupied with proofing, but Lyra could feel the sous chef's support pulsing through the air, every bit as undeniable and tangible as the delicious aroma of baking cinnamon rolls wafting from the oven.

She savored every moment of it. Her hands moved in perfect unison with Chef Flax's, sprinkling cinnamon and sugar over the rectangles of dough. The vivid green light pouring out of her fingers seemed to flow directly from her gut, mingling with the loud, joyful chorus of her Flavor instincts as they resonated with the Soufflé Sisters' spell.

Once the dough was covered in sweet spices, it was time to roll up each rectangle and slice it. The trays were ready to go into the oven just as the previous batch was coming out. Lyra accepted the freshly baked batch from Chef Flax with a cordial bow, leaving him to perform a Texture spell over the baking rolls while she glazed and frosted the trays fresh from the oven. Her musical rendition of Master Glaze's Shine Spell mixed seamlessly with Chef Flax's voice as he quietly sang some high-level fluffening charm.

"Finished!" she called a few moments later.

"Not quite." Chef Flax bounded over from the oven to join her at the island counter. "Remember, I never send anything out into the dining hall without performing that chant over it first. I wrote down the words for you." Fishing in his apron pocket, he produced a parchment and handed it to her. "And I'm sure you know the tune, as it is a Treble family original. I would be more honored than I can say if you would sing it with me over these cinnamon rolls."

Suddenly, Lyra's eyes filled with tears. She threw her arms as far around the large man as they would go.

"Thank you," she whispered into his freshly starched apron. "I've been so nervous about this year. And yesterday, when you sang… I just… Thank you."

He wrapped her in a brief bear hug. His booming voice was quiet and gruff with some unshed tears of his own. "Thank you, Lyra. There will be some lumps to work out in the dough this year, but it's still going to be a well-proofed adventure of a time. I am confident."

A burst of chattering interrupted their moment. Stepping back, they saw Bumble standing on the counter by the frosted rolls. The sous chef held out a handkerchief to each of them, chattering indignantly.

"I know, Sir Bumble." Lyra accepted the handkerchief meekly. "Cinnamon rolls are serious business. Can't let them get cold."

Chef Flax blew his nose, sounding rather like Lyra's uncle doing one of his famous trumpet solos. "Bumble is quite right, of course. Ready? All together, now."

Lyra instinctively took a high harmony part as Chef Flax carried the melody.

"Where there is sorrow May you bring cheer Where there is weariness Make our minds clear

Add spice to our labor Sweeten our rest Season each moment With lively new zest"

Lyra barely finished the last line. A wave of warmth coursed through her, surging into her hands with the unmistakable tingle of baking magic. She gasped and looked down, half-expecting to see golden light sparkling around her fingertips.

Then her shoulders sagged.

"What's wrong, Lyra?" Chef Flax asked.

She held up her normal-looking, absolutely not-glowing hands.

"No light," she whispered. "I know Enjoyment is real. At least, I want to think it's real. So why doesn't it look like a real baking spell? Why can't we see it?"

Before Chef Flax could answer, Bumble leapt up to Lyra's shoulder. He chattered rapidly in her ear for a few moments. Then he leapt to the stove and pointed at a pot of glaze. Another leap took him to the oven door, and then to one of the counters where another bowl of dough was proofing, and finally back to the counter, pointing to the trays of finished scones and chattering all the while.

Lyra looked back and forth from the sous chef to the head chef. "I — what's he saying?"

"He's reminding you that he is a very magic squirrel indeed," Chef Flax interpreted. "He is performing magic every moment he is in this kitchen. There is magic happening in and through him even now, as we speak. Do you see any signs of it?"

Lyra shook her head slowly. Then, all at once, her eyes lit up.

"But I felt it," she said eagerly. "Earlier, while we were performing the Flavor magic. I could feel something in the air, coming from Bumble. I thought it was just his… I don't know. Moral support?"

Bumble and Chef Flax chuckled in nearly perfect harmony.

"But it's not that," Lyra went on. "It's magic. I can feel it every time I walk into this kitchen. Special flying squirrel baking magic. It doesn't have to be sparkly, or — or visible at all, to be real!"

"Quite right!" Chef Flax clapped her on the back, sending a cloud of cinnamon-sugar dust into the air.

A spike of grim determination jabbed into Lyra's gut, temporarily interrupting the loud joyful chorus of Enjoyment revelation.

"If only Chantilly Joconde could be here to see this. Feel this, I mean." She sighed. "How can we get people to… to understand something they don't want to understand?"

"One bite at a time, of course." Chef Flax picked up the tray and presented it to her. "Speaking of, the first-years have started to arrive. And the two particular first-years sitting out in that dining hall right now seem like a grand palate to start the cinnamon roll Enjoyment campaign."

Lyra took the tray from him without question. "Wish me luck."

"May salt season your path, Lyra." Chef Flax gave her a wink. "Bumble and I are behind you all the way."

Lyra returned the wink with a rather watery smile. Then, taking a deep breath, she pushed through the doors into the dining hall.

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