The final Monday of first year began with Harper burning porridge. This required explanation because Harper was not cooking porridge. Nobody was. The first-years had been invited into Tidefall's kitchens for a year-end breakfast lesson. The kitchen staff believed students should leave first year knowing at least three things: How to make toast without magic. How to make tea without boiling the pot dry. How to prepare one simple breakfast if the dining hall was ever unavailable. Harper had been assigned fruit. Somehow, a nearby porridge pot still burned. Chef Marlow looked at the blackened base. Then at Harper.

"Explain."

Harper held a banana.

"I cannot."

Ava stood beside her with a knife and cutting board.

"She attempted Emberwarm on a spoon because it was wet."

"It was cold."

"Spoons are allowed to be cold."

"Not that one."

The heat charm had bounced off the metal and warmed the pot from below. Chef Marlow closed his eyes.

"First-years."

Jasper was making toast. He had made toast at home. This gave him an unreasonable sense of superiority. Soren burned his first piece. Jasper turned the rack at the correct moment. Perfect.

"Expert," Harper said.

"Thank you."

"A true wizard."

The kitchen morning was partly practical and partly tradition. Every Year One cohort prepared breakfast for itself once before moving into Orders. The staff supervised and prevented disasters. Students did the rest. They scrambled eggs. Cut fruit. Made toast. Mixed yoghurt and oats. Prepared tea and hot chocolate. Cleaned as they went, which Harper described as "cooking's evil twin." Jasper liked the work. It had steps. No mystery. If toast burned, the reason was usually visible. If fruit fell on the floor, no ancient intelligence had selected it. Someone had dropped fruit. At one point a first-year used a levitation spell to move six plates at once. Three tilted. Chef Marlow caught them with one hand and an expression of profound disappointment.

"Why?"

The student looked ashamed.

"Magic."

"Correct. That is what you used. I asked why."

Jasper tried not to laugh. They carried breakfast into a smaller side hall normally used by staff. Twenty-seven first-years squeezed around tables. The food was uneven. Some eggs were watery. One batch of toast could probably support a roof. Harper's fruit was excellent because fruit mostly needed to survive being cut. The porridge was remade. They ate all of it. During breakfast Chef Marlow asked what they would remember most from Year One. The answers came quickly.

"Boat arrival."

"First spell."

"The storm."

"Handball."

"Deepwater."

"The beach."

"Harper falling."

The room quieted. Harper looked at the student who said it. He looked embarrassed.

"Sorry."

Harper considered.

"It's fine. It happened."

She ate a strawberry.

"But I remember winning handball more."

Mia threw a napkin at her. The room laughed again. Jasper understood what she had done. Not denied the fall. Not let it become the first sentence of her year. When his turn came, he said, "The first Sunday letters." Everyone looked surprised. Harper said, "Really?"

"Yeah."

He remembered sitting with them, trying to explain Tidefall to his parents before he understood it himself. The dream still secret. The Sea only a pressure. Three children barely friends.

"It was the first time the school felt like somewhere I actually lived."

Ava's answer was the Chronicle. Theo's was the exploding boiled egg. Elowen, who had joined for breakfast, said, "I had hoped you would forget that."

"History must be preserved."

After eating, they cleaned. This took longer than cooking. Harper claimed outrage. Chef Marlow handed her a scrub brush.

"Character."

"Brannor would respect my refusal."

"No Order will save you from dishes."

That sentence destroyed something inside Harper. Jasper dried plates beside Ava. She stacked them by size.

"Of course you do that," he said.

"It prevents unstable piles."

"You have turned dishes into a safety system."

"Everything is a safety system if you are competent."

Harper shouted from the sink, "I HEARD THAT." At the end, Chef Marlow gave every student a small recipe booklet. TIDEFALL BASICS. Page one: TOAST. Harper stared.

"This is insulting."

Jasper tucked his into his trunk later that day. His mother would love it. Probably too much. He could already hear her asking whether Tidefall had finally taught him to cook. He would say toast. She would say it counted. The last school week was full of tiny endings like that. Not final enough to hurt. Just enough to notice.