Professor Puff's enthusiasm propelled the class forward through the rest of lab day. The Texture headmistress was not typically one to reveal even a pinch of her emotions, let alone a whole cupful. So, on those rare occasions when she did occasionally pop the lid open, people tended to take notice.

Of course, not even a quart of excitement could make Professor Puff cut corners or deviate from her beloved scientific method. After making sure all four second-years had a handle on the Shortcrust Spell, Professor Puff set them to roll out and bake their non-magically enhanced pastry dough. She insisted it was important to analyze one's performance of the basic recipe before charting a path towards magical growth.

"No experiment can proceed without a baseline," she reminded them gently.

Once all the pie crusts were out of the oven, she brought the four bakers around the room on her evaluation rounds. Lyra marveled at the professor's swift, keen insight. All the Texture headmistress required was a single glance at the pastry, followed by a quick inspection with a fork and the tiniest of nibbles. The whole exercise scarcely took ten seconds. Then the professor would deliver her verdict to the Aspiring Baker who had produced the pastry, finishing with instructions on how they could use the Shortcrust Spell to target their particular weaknesses.

Boysen needed to work on a lighter touch. His shortcrust tasted amazing, but wasn't light or flaky enough for the Texture professor's discerning palate. Professor Puff assured him that the Shortcrust Spell, when performed at a rapid tempo throughout the mixing process, would infuse the dough with the necessary air.

Mac and Lyra had the opposite problem. Apparently, a baker's apprehension about a recipe was obvious in the finished product.

"Smells like nerves," Professor Puff said shrewdly. "Tastes like fear. It's adequate pastry, but… it's hard to relax around it. That would make the pie rather difficult to enjoy."

Boysen broke into a broad grin. "So you're saying… all they need is to work on their Enjoyment?"

"Not quite, Aspiring Baker Berry. Their confidence in Texture is my first concern." The professor gave Mac and Lyra a warm smile. "Though I do agree that Aspiring Baker Treble's methods may prove effective."

She advised the pair to focus on the Shortcrust Spell as a soothing exercise. If they recited it slowly and steadily in their minds while mixing the dough, that would go a long way towards a more peace-inducing product.

"No singing just yet," she said, forestalling Lyra's question. "Let us do one round of classic magical baking. Perform the spell in the traditional silent way. Then, after lunch…" Her blue headscarf gave another wobble as the professor shivered in excitement. "Well, I agree with Aspiring Baker Treble. The words do seem like they were meant to be sung."

The Texture of Caramelle's pastry, of course, was practically perfect. Still, Professor Puff encouraged her to explore the Shortcrust Spell as a means of elevating 'perfect' to 'sublime.'

"When a spell is not needed to shore up a baker's weaknesses, that is when the magic's true purpose can shine through. I am sure it will enhance your pastry to hitherto unimagined heights. Have fun with it, Aspiring Baker Meringue. That is my only directive."

Caramelle was still grinning. She hadn't stopped since the blue light of Texture magic had appeared briefly around her hands during the mere practice of the Shortcrust Spell. The budding Texturist actually skipped back to her work-station, eager to follow the professor's instructions and 'have fun with it.'

Lyra found her friend's enthusiasm as contagious as Professor Puff's. It was hard to be stressed or anxious with Caramelle in the row ahead, vibrating with the joy of a baker entirely at home. And, though Lyra was impatient for the chance to sing this new spell, the traditional silent recitation turned out to be both more effective and more enjoyable than she had anticipated.

The words flowed through her mind like a deep river: powerful, yet gentle and steady. She could feel that steadiness flowing along her spine and across her shoulders. Not until those muscles relaxed did she realize she had been carrying tension there.

The spell's current kept flowing, down her arms and pooling in her fingertips. It wasn't surprising at all when blue light appeared around her hands and began pouring into the bowl.

She couldn't hold back a smile. Professor Puff had known exactly how Lyra needed to use the Shortcrust Spell.

Before, though she hadn't been aware of it, Lyra had been mixing the dough far too roughly. Her anxiety about second year in general and pastry in particular had manifested in a level of speed not conducive to delicate pastry work. The butter and flour had come together, of course, and even been mildly pleasing, but the end result had been an all too obvious 'rush job.'

The Shortcrust Spell acted as the perfect countermeasure. The words forced Lyra to slow down, settling her mind into the mixing process even as the spell's consistent flow settled in her muscles. Rather than being forced together by anxious fingers, the butter and flour were dancing.

By the time Lyra set her dough in the magical cooling drawer for rapid chilling, she was already a firm believer in the Shortcrust Spell's inimitable power. Professor Puff's warm approbation of the completed pie crust, right before the lunch break, was merely the icing on the cake.

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"There is still much room for improvement, of course," Professor Puff told the class. "All of you, even Aspiring Baker Meringue, have new heights to discover. But you should all be proud of your progress this morning. And this afternoon, we shall see what results a bit of… musical experimentation might yield."

The second-year lunch table was abuzz with happy anticipation. Rye Galette actually left the stony silence of his third-year colleagues and came over to join them, gushing about all the delights of the Shortcrust Spell. The mood was so high, Lyra almost began dreading some inevitable crash in the afternoon, like a well-proofed lump of dough being punched down.

But no such punching occurred. Afternoon in the Texture lab passed as pleasantly as the morning, with the additional delights of 'musical experimentation.'

The Shortcrust Spell proved every bit as singable as Lyra had suspected. The simple melody that had sprung up in her mind upon the first reading was easy to learn. Easy, and fun — so fun, in fact, that even Professor Puff couldn't resist tapping her foot while Lyra taught the tune to the class.

Its impact was even more striking. Singing exponentially increased the spell's effect. Boysen and Mac both yelped when the blue light began pouring out of their hands, faster and brighter than it had in the morning. Caramelle was already leagues beyond any of them and didn't need any musical aides, but she still sang with elegant gusto. Lyra even heard her giggling at the peculiarly effervescent nature of the blue sparkles brought on by her sung version of the spell.

The difference was especially noticeable in Lyra's case. While reciting the words silently had soothed her anxiety and helped her relax, the musical version of the spell made her feel like a bird sprung from a cage. She wasn't just competent. She wasn't 'getting by.' She was thriving. She was in her element.

As always when she combined music with baking magic, Lyra felt like she belonged.

The verdict at the end of the day was unanimous. Singing the Shortcrust Spell did increase the Enjoyment factor for the resulting pastry. Looking around at her friends' joyous faces, Lyra wondered how she ever could have let herself get so worried by spoilsports like Chantilly Joconde.

Professor Puff did try to temper the giddy second-years' mood just before dinner, telling them that harder variations of the spell awaited them in the coming weeks. She also reminded them of the need to develop new Enjoyment spells for pastry. It was the sour shadow-note lurking at the edge of every sweet thought.

Still, Lyra refused to let the taste linger on her tongue. If Texture could be so fun, she couldn't wait to experience the joys of pastry Presentation the next day.

Surely not even the presence of Apprentice Baker Florentine Clafoutis could ruin that.

—

"Welcome, Aspiring Bakers! Second-year Aspiring Bakers!"

Professor Genoise spread his arms wide as Lyra and her friends trooped into the Presentation classroom. "At last, we have a full day together. I have been looking forward to this reunion since the end of third term last year. Not just a reunion of people, but of ideas! Endeavors! Whenever we gather in this room, we stir the pot of baking history. One must stir vigorously and often, you know. Without such constructive disruption, lumps form in the gravy."

He cast a brief, yet pointed glance at the room's front right corner. There stood Apprentice Baker Florentine Clafoutis, her arms crossed so tight that her shoulder muscles bulged.

"But we shall have no such lumps in our communion, shall we?" the professor went on cheerily. "Where such brilliant minds and unique spirits of genius are met, innovation is inevitable. Especially when the subject of our mutual inquiry is as pertinent — as pleasant — as purely perfect as pastry!"

Glancing sideways, Lyra caught Boysen's eye and grinned. Professor Genoise was certainly in rare form.

"But we have not a moment to lose." The Presentation headmaster grew suddenly serious, peering at them all solemnly through his monocle. "As we discussed on Monday, the cornucopia of first term's delights do runneth over. We have shortcrust and choux pastry to get through in the next few months. I trust Professor Puff explained the nature of pastry spells?"

He paused just long enough for the second-years to nod. None of them dared to interrupt his flow by speaking.

"Excellent! The Shortcrust Spell for Presentation is quite similar to what you learned in Texture yesterday. You will find the same when you visit my Flavor colleague tomorrow. For plain shortcrust, you understand. It is easy for an empty pie crust to be… universal. Only when you add fillings do the three disciplines truly begin to diverge."

Boysen raised his hand. "Four disciplines, Professor," he called out boldly.

Professor Genoise gasped, then bowed so low that his monocle popped out and hung dangling from its chain.

"Right you are, Aspiring Baker Berry. My deepest and most humble apologies. The four disciplines will showcase their unique touches after we begin to explore the myriad uses of shortcrust. But for today, we need only concern ourselves with the spell's most basic form. Gather 'round, second-years!"

As the four students joined him on the platform, Professor Genoise produced a bowl of dough from his magical cooling drawer, talking in the same happily declarative tone all the while.

"The most difficult thing about pastry, in my view, is the timing. Specifically, the timing of the spells. Texture magic only works whilst mixing the dough, of course. Flavor spells require two recitations: once while the dough is chilling, and once while it is baking. Presentation spells…"

The professor carefully turned the dough out onto the counter. Then, somehow, he produced a large, elaborately carved rolling pin from an apron pocket that should have been too small to hold it.

"Presentation magic must be performed in the rolling and shaping phase. Once that dough is in the oven, you could recite this spell until you run out of breath, to no effect. The only 'purple' in that scenario would be your own face."

He chuckled heartily at his own joke.

"Now, if you will turn your attention to the board — sweet spices, Clafoutis!"

Florentine had crept up during his speech. She was now standing directly behind him, writing busily in a notebook. In lifting his hand to set the chalk moving, the professor had inadvertently whacked the notebook directly up into her face.

"Are you all right?" Professor Genoise asked. Then he frowned, noting both her extreme proximity and the notebook she was now clutching to her chest. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Professor." Florentine smiled sweetly. "I'm just taking notes, as instructed."

The professor's joyous tone was suddenly sharp. "Notes? Notes on what? Instructed by whom?"

"Notes on your class, of course. For the academy board. My mother and father have asked me to keep a detailed account of this… 'experiment' you're running with the second-years. The whole board signed off on it. I have an official letter and everything. I am to report regularly, so those entrusted with the academy's future stay informed about the goings-on of the present. I'm sure my observations will be crucial in their decisions for that future."

Florentine's smile grew even sweeter. Lyra had to fight down a sudden urge to gag.

"I promised them I would not omit a single detail."

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