Dr. Magmus Rockbottom climbs the short ladder beside his podium, his ginger beard catching the orange glow from the ceiling-mounted braziers. Smoke curls through the classroom in lazy spirals as he surveys his students.
“Your task today is to design a skyrocket, sparkler, firework or other pyromaniac design for the annual Strixhaven All Hallow’s Costume Ball,” he announces, gesturing to three heavy clay jars on a nearby tray. “Here, you will find three types of spell components commonly used in magic pyromancy. The purple jar contains components that will result in a predictable if unimpressive display. The orange jar holds components that will result in unpredictable displays. The red jar contains components that yield dangerous but often quite spectacular displays.” He pauses, his weathered fingers tapping against the podium. “Choose your other components carefully.”
Students move through the classroom, gathering ingredients and materials. The air grows thick with heat waves as they assemble at their iron cauldrons. Sparks drift down from the braziers, winking out before they reach the stone floor.
Reyna reaches for the red jar. She measures out a portion of the dangerous components and drops them into her cauldron, then adds her carefully selected items one by one. Something within the vessel rattles. A column of reddish steam rises, and the sharp stink of sulfur spreads through the nearby area.
Quentillius passes by, his arms loaded with components. He stops, sneers at Reyna’s work, and leans closer. “You’ve clearly done it wrong, see…”
He peers directly into the iron cauldron.
The vessel erupts in a column of silvery flames. The fire shoots upward, removing every hair from the front half of Quentillius’s head. He staggers backward, hands flying to his face.
Professor Rockbottom hurries over and wraps a towel around Quentillius’s singed scalp. The student points an accusatory finger at Reyna. “She did it intentionally!”
Reyna crosses her arms. “You shouldn’t have stuck your face in the cauldron if you wanted to stay safe.”
For her second attempt, Reyna selects components from the orange jar. She works carefully, attempting to create a writhing halo of fire around her hair. She adds the final ingredient and waits. Her head begins to steam lightly. Nothing else happens.
Across the room, Hester also chooses the dangerous components from the red jar. She hopes to create thin strings of fiery light that will wrap around anyone nearby. She drops a length of string into her cauldron.
A thick stream of orange foam erupts from the container immediately. It wraps itself around Hester in expanding coils, squeezing tightly. She struggles to free her wings, but the foam presses them against her back. She tries to reach for her spell focus but cannot move her arms. Her calls for help come out muffled beneath the thick blanket of lather.
The foam continues to expand. The leading edge sweeps across the floor and knocks both Titania and Professor Rockbottom off their feet.
Reyna stares at the growing mass of foam, frozen with uncertainty.
Aurora steps forward and casts Dispel Magic. The thick lather explodes into confetti with a loud pop. Orange scraps rain down across the front of the classroom, settling in drifts six inches deep.
At their cauldron, Titania tosses their battered wedding ring into the iron vessel. Before they can continue, Alister forces control of their shared body. Titania’s consciousness retreats as Alister sprinkles some of the dangerous components from the red jar atop the ring. They wait, watching the surface of the mixture.
Alister picks up a wooden paddle and inserts it cautiously into the cauldron. They give one tentative stir.
A large grey bubble of smoke expands from the kettle, rising toward the ceiling. It spreads and darkens, forming a massive rain cloud that covers most of the classroom. Lightning strikes within the cloud. Torrential rain begins to fall, the water cascading down onto students, cauldrons, and equipment. The braziers hiss and sputter. One by one, they go out.
Alister attempts to creep toward the door, moving slowly between the rows of cauldrons. Every angry eye in the classroom follows their movement through the downpour.
“Class dismissed,” Professor Rockbottom mutters, water streaming from his ginger beard.
⚔
Hester makes her way to the painting studio, still brushing orange confetti from her hair. She gathers jars of pigment and begins the delicate work of mixing arcane energy into the paints. The first batch refuses to hold the enchantment and runs down the paper like ordinary brown watercolor. The second attempt crystallizes too quickly, leaving sharp flakes instead of paint. She adjusts her technique, measuring the magical energy more carefully.
On her third try, the mixture comes together. Hester loads her brush and swipes it across a tablet of paper. The paint shimmers, rippling through every color of the rainbow as it dries. The colors shift and blend, never settling on a single hue.
Her boss leans over her shoulder, watching the paint dance across the paper. “Excellent work, Hester.” He counts out a few extra gold coins and places them in her hand. “For the hard work.”
⚔
Later that afternoon, Alister convinces Reyna to teach them how to make brownies as an apology gift for Greta. They measure flour and cocoa, following Reyna’s instructions with careful attention.
The first batch emerges from the oven as brownie-shaped bricks—stiff and blackened around the edges. Alister taps one against the counter. It makes a solid thunk.
“Let’s try again,” Reyna suggests.
The second attempt yields brown lumps that at least look softer. Reyna breaks off a piece and tastes it cautiously. “The latest batch at least tastes alright,” she offers, trying to sound encouraging.
Alister picks up one of the brick-like brownies from the first batch and holds it out to Squid. “Would you like one?”
Squid eyes the offering suspiciously. “You’re giving me poo, Alister?”
“No, they are brownies, Squid.”
“Let me have the brownie-shaped brownies, Alister.”
Squid takes the stiff bar and tries to bite into it. Their teeth don’t make a dent. They rap it against the table experimentally. It doesn’t break.
“Let me get you a glass of milk,” Alister says. “Maybe you can soften it?”
Squid dips the brownie into the milk, holding it under the surface. Their grip slips. The brownie sinks to the bottom of the glass and stays there.
Squid looks up at Alister. “I still don’t like you, Alister.”
“I know,” Alister responds quietly.
⚔
Reyna spreads a large sheet of paper across the table in the Hex and begins sketching plans for the ruined room. She measures the dimensions, noting the damaged walls and the charred floorboards. Squid watches her work, leaning over the edge of the table.
“Do you need anything?” Squid asks.
Reyna taps her pencil against the drawing. “I’ll probably need a new floor. This one is scorched, and weak in some places. I don’t think it will support the weight of the forge.”
Squid hops down from the table and disappears.
When they return later, Squid announces, “If anyone asks, this is the Biblioplex.”
Before Reyna can ask for an explanation, a beeping warning sounds from outside. She crosses to the window and looks down.
Five flatbed trucks idle in the street below, their beds stacked with very long lengths of planks. A large man in overalls climbs down from the first cab and looks up at Reyna’s window. Each truck has a long boom-like crane that begins to hoist the first load of boards upward toward the building.
Reyna spins away from the window. She casts a quick illusion, reshaping her features to match the head librarian. Alister emerges from the other room as she hurries toward the stairs.
“Follow me,” Reyna tells them.
She intercepts the delivery crew at the base of the building and directs them to deliver one load of boards through the window of the burned room. Then she points them toward the actual Biblioplex across campus. “The rest goes there.”
The foreman hands her a clipboard. Reyna glances at the delivery form, then passes it surreptitiously to Alister. They forge the head librarian’s signature with practiced strokes and hand it back.
The trucks finish hoisting the lumber into the Hex’s window. The cranes retract, and the trucks rumble off toward the Biblioplex.
⚔
Hester stands on the street, watching the convoy of trucks disappear around a corner. She turns and climbs the stairs to the Hex.
Inside the ruined room, great stacks of fresh planks lean against the walls. The smell of cut wood fills the space.
“There’s so much…” Hester marvels, running her hand along the smooth surface of the nearest board.
