Lyra was still bubbling over with praise of The Honeycomb at dinner on Friday night.

"I've never seen anything like it," she gushed to Ginger Crumble, who had come to spend the weekend with her friends from the previous year. "We didn't hear another peep from Eclair for the entire lab day. Or in class today. She was too busy trying to keep up with her new mountain of duties."

"But we will hear more." Caramelle glanced gloomily at the third-year table. "Eclair may have rolled over for this round, but Florentine is not so… pliable."

A serving platter full of pork chops floated down onto the table. Lyra happily speared one with her fork and began drizzling Bumble's famous apricot glaze over the meat. "I still think Professor Honeycomb has done it. She figured out how to stop the Apprentice Baker menace before it starts."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Boysen grabbed the bowl of peas before they could land on the table, absentmindedly ladling a spoonful onto his plate. "I'm afraid Caramelle is right. Those two, and whichever board members devised this whole 'surveillance' menu… they're not going to give up so easily."

Mac sighed as he carefully arranged his mashed potatoes into a border around his pork chop and peas. Lyra had forgotten just how particular the budding Presentationist could be about 'plating.' "Wonderful. So we have even more nefarious schemes to look forward to, on top of all the pastry this year…"

Lyra paused with a serving spoon in her hand, suspended over the bowl of mashed potatoes. "Boysen, you really think Professor Honeycomb didn't make an impact?"

"I'm not saying The Honeycomb wasn't splendid," Boysen assured the group. "She's shown them we're not afraid. So has Professor Genoise. Now the other side knows we mean business."

"Exactly." Caramelle took a dainty bite of mashed potatoes, chewing thoroughly before she continued. "I'm cheering as loudly for Professor Honeycomb as anyone. I just think we all need to be aware of what we're facing. This isn't over."

Lyra echoed Mac's sigh as she dug the serving spoon into the bowl of mashed potatoes with unnecessary force.

Ginger whistled. "Sweet and savory. You lot are in for a tricky year, aren't you?"

"I wish you were here with us, Crumble," Boysen said with a grin. "You'd show those naysayers what's what."

"No thanks." Ginger matched his grin with a smug smile of her own. "As I said last year when you were all stewing over third term finals, I'm quite glad to be out of it. Baking is truly a spectator sport. Well, here at the academy, anyway."

"You mean you don't want to see Professor Honeycomb tie a bunch of stuffy meanies into pastry knots?" Lyra wheedled.

Ginger busied herself piling potatoes and peas onto her fork. "Oh, of course I do. But I don't have to. All of you can just reenact it for me." She winked at Lyra as she popped the bite into her mouth and began chewing emphatically.

"The third-years aren't the most important thing happening anyway," Caramelle insisted. "Nor the most interesting. The actual spells! The magic we're learning. That's what should be the star of the show."

"Caramelle is right," Mac said stoutly. "You should hear Lyra's Shortcrust Spell songs, Ginger. The one she wrote for Presentation is my favorite."

"Flavor was mine." Boysen snagged three rolls and began slathering each with a different type of herbed butter. "But that's no surprise."

"How does the Shortcrust Spell for Flavor go again?" Ginger asked. "My dad is teaching me the pastry spells at home this year, so I can help out more in the shop. But we focused mostly on Texture this week."

To Lyra's surprise, Caramelle started singing the spell softly, using the tune Lyra had invented in Professor Honeycomb's classroom the day before.

"Golden threads of butter Wholesome cords of flour Woven on the water's loom To heights of richest power"

Caramelle realized everyone was staring at her and looked down, blushing. "Flavor is where I need the most help, remember? Lyra's songs are coming in handy already this year."

"But what does that spell do?" Ginger's face was scrunched up in what Lyra called the 'Crumble Concentration' look. "I mean, I see how the Shortcrust Spell is useful in Texture, to get all the layers right. Presentation, too. Making the appearance smooth and shiny and all that. But Flavor? What sort of difference could it make?"

"A huge difference." Boysen indicated the three rolls arrayed on his plate. "It's like this herbed butter trio Chef Flax likes to experiment with. Each one brings out a different Flavor in the rest of the meal, right? The rosemary butter deepens the meatiness of the pork. The thyme accents the sweetness of the apricot glaze. The basil brightens everything and ties it all together. Right?"

Lyra gazed at the rolls in wonder. "You always make it sound so simple, Boysen."

"That's because he's a certified Flavor genius who doesn't realize this stuff isn't so clear to us mere mortals," Ginger remarked drily. "But yes, Berry. I grasp the concept of different herbs complementing different parts of a meal. What does that have to do with the Shortcrust Spell?"

"Flavor magic is all about making things fit together," Boysen explained. "That's what the spells are for. They can't create connections between Flavors that don't already exist. They enhance connections that are already there. Magic makes those Flavor-bonds deeper and richer than even the best baker could manage without spells. Flavor magic takes each dish's Flavor signature to hitherto unimaginable heights."

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Ginger shook her head. "This is just everyday dinner table talk in the Berry household, isn't it?"

"Lucky," Lyra muttered.

"Getting to the Shortcrust point any time soon?" Caramelle asked.

Boysen waved the rosemary-buttered roll in their faces. "Silence, mortals. I'm saying that pastry has a unique Flavor signature. Even plain pie crust, like we've been making all week. What are the Flavors of pie crust, Fondant?"

Mac had been gazing absently in Caramelle's general direction. He jumped and pretended to be concentrating on the trio of herbed butters instead. "Um, yes. Flavors. Pie crust? Butter, mostly."

"Butter and flour," Boysen corrected. "Flour has its own Flavor too, you know. So the Shortcrust Spell takes the flour Flavor, and the butter Flavor, and weaves them together until they've made a new Flavor. The pastry Flavor. The shortcrust pastry Flavor, taken to…"

He looked at Lyra expectantly.

"Hitherto unimagined heights?" she guessed.

"May salt ever season your path, Treble." He presented the roll to her with grave dignity, then proceeded to stuff the entire basil-buttered roll into his own mouth.

"So it just… makes the pastry Flavor stronger?" Ginger shrugged. "Still doesn't seem quite as necessary as the other two disciplines. For pastry, anyway."

Boysen sputtered through a mouthful of bread and basil-butter. Lyra placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"It's more than just that, Ginger," she said. "We'll show you after dinner. As part of our 'Puff Paragon Recreation' tonight. We'll make you shortcrust without the Flavor spell, and then we'll make it with the spell. And you'll see the difference."

"She'll taste the difference." Boysen had finally managed to swallow. He flung out an arm towards Ginger and began waving it dramatically. "That's if her senses haven't been deadened by all that experimental baking she's — ack!"

Lyra heard a squeak behind her and turned around to find Cherry Marzipan, her nose red from recent contact with Boysen's blindly waving hand. The first-year had crept up to their table and been hovering behind Boysen, apparently waiting for the right opportunity to announce her presence.

"Marzy!" Lyra exclaimed. "Are you all right?"

"Sorry, Marzy!" Boysen twisted around, gazing in consternation at the girl's flushed face. "Didn't see you there. My mom is always telling me to keep my limbs in a tighter radius. 'If you're always in a good kneading position, you're safe, and so is everyone else,' she says. Should've listened."

"No, no, it's fine!" The shade of Marzy's cheeks deepened from 'strawberry' to the ripest version of her own namesake. "I was just… I thought I heard someone singing, and then you were discussing Flavor, and Lyra's songs, and… I'd just love to hear any new Enjoyment spells you've made up, so…"

"No Enjoyment spells yet, Marzy." Lyra patted the blushing first-year's arm. "We were just talking about Flavor songs."

Marzy's shoulders slumped, then she brightened. "Flavor songs are great too! Flavor's just… the best. I mean, the absolute best. Right?"

"Right you are." Boysen gave the first-year one of his signature grins. "See, this is how I know we're going to be fine, no matter what Florentine or Eclair may say. These first-years understand."

Marzy could not speak. She made a few inarticulate squeaking noises, then turned and fled back to the safety of the first-year table.

Ginger raised her eyebrows. "I am missing a lot this year. Other than The Honeycomb being an absolute master, what else has been going on?"

Lyra grinned. "Tie that apron tight, Crumble. We haven't even started on Professor Puff yet."

—

The recounting of the various professors' exploits carried them through the rest of dinner, but Boysen saved his impressions for the safety of his dorm room.

"'As posh, as pretentious, as perfectly puffy as pastry!'" Boysen quoted, spreading his arms wide in a passable imitation of the Presentation headmaster. Then he collapsed into a corner of the couch with a groan. "Did Genoise hit his head over the summer? Or fall in love with a librarian? All that alliteration…"

"And the vocal range." Lyra shook her head in wonder, curling into the other corner of the couch. "It's like he's singing while talking."

Caramelle turned to Mac, who had pulled over a chair from the kitchen. "Isn't that normal? For Presentation experts to have a bit of extra flair?"

"I guess," Mac replied. His eyes went slightly glazed behind his glasses before refocusing with a sigh. "I just don't remember him being quite this… worked up last year. Not at the beginning."

"Then you don't know the real Professor Genoise." Ginger smirked. "I think he tries to hold back a bit with the first-years, so as not to scare anyone. I got a fair taste when I started tutoring sessions with him last year. Salts, if Lyra's friend Thespy ever got hold of him… the Royal Academy would be down one Presentation professor. I think part of him secretly wishes he had run away to join some traveling theatrical troupe when he was young."

"Best keep that particular part of Treble's acquaintance under wraps," Boysen said solemnly. "We need all the professors focused."

"Oh, don't worry about Professor Genoise." Ginger nudged Lyra aside so she could take her accustomed seat in the corner of the couch. "He's got his eye on the prize. We're continuing our Saturday tutoring sessions and he told me we're going to spend all our time this year on devising new Enjoyment spells. But enough about the professors. I want to hear more about that first-year who came to the table."

"Marzy?" Boysen asked. "Marzy's great!"

Ginger rolled her eyes. "Of course you think she's great. She was giving you the same look Lyra gave Cardamom all last year. I almost choked."

Boysen stared at her. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

"And the Berry is speechless!" Ginger raised both her arms in victory. "For perhaps the first time in his life. What do you think of this fawning first-year, Lyra?"

Lyra's insides had suddenly become very noisy. There were so many songs going on at once, she could barely hear Ginger's question.

"Marzy…" She paused, trying to sort through at least the top three levels of songs to form a coherent answer. "Marzy is great."

"That's two for 'great.'" Ginger nodded shrewdly. "I'm sure she is. And excited about Enjoyment, which is absolutely a point in her favor. But if you ask me, she's several teaspoonfuls more excited about Mister Flavor over here. Just watch yourself, Berry. Like you said, we need everyone focused this year."

The forced casualness of Boysen's smile added another tune to the cacophony blaring in Lyra's mind. "Thanks for the heads-up, Crumble. But you don't need to worry about me."

"That's right," Mac said indignantly. "Boysen's not going to get his head turned by any first-year. Everyone knows he likes —"

"Flavor," Caramelle cut in smoothly, rising from her seat. "Yes, everyone knows. And speaking of Flavor, we promised to demonstrate the Shortcrust Spell for Ginger tonight."

"Right you are, Meringue!" Boysen leapt from the couch and crossed to the kitchen in three long strides. "I think I've got everything for one batch, though we may need to dip into the common area supplies for some extra butter…"

"Lyra and I will go." Caramelle took Lyra's hand and pulled her from the couch without another word.

Lyra followed her to the door as yet another song spun into existence in her brain: a deep melody of inexplicable gratitude towards the auburn-haired girl.

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