Elliot Phippen

May 2, 2020, 1:42 p.m.

Greed or gluttony?

“It’s like a lollipop, but cake,” Elliot explained. Didn’t everyone know that? The prefect he was talking to—Mikael, he remembered from Headmaster Toby saying announcing him at the opening feast—had an accent, so maybe he was from somewhere that didn’t have cake pops. But it was racist to assume everyone with an accent was from a different country. Some people with accents were from New Jersey. Even though his parents were from two notoriously accent-y places (Boston and NYC), Elliot didn’t think they really had accents, and he didn’t tawk like a New Yawker either.

Mikael may have never heard of cake pops, but sticking it together with icing sounded amazing. Icing was just sugar and butter and therefore the most delicious thing in the world: the perfect binding agent for a cake pop. In fact, the prefect was full of cake pop inspiration. “No, but that’s a great idea. We could use, like, a pretzel stick instead of a lollipop stick so you can eat the whole thing,” Elliot crowed. “We can mix icing in when we smash up the cake,” Elliot agreed, “and then cover it in chocolate and stick other stuff on it.”

Hmm. None of that involved magic, though. Well, they could use magic to melt the chocolate and keep it melty until they were done sticking things, and then again to harden it up when they were ready. And once they had finished their creations they could do more magic to make them festive. Or the idea Mikael had was good too. “Usually they’re cold, but you could charm them to be all warm without melting the chocolate? Like a lava cake.” He had to know what a lava cake was, right?

Elliot offered to go get the ingredients and then darted up to the front. He returned with a bowl of cake chunks (they were funfetti but Elliot had already decided he was going to put more sprinkles in, because festive), a tube of white icing, a sprinkle shaker, and some dark chocolate bars. There hadn’t been any pretzel sticks, so he’d just gotten the popsicle sticks that were there for the caramel apples. Maybe Mikael could transfigure them into pretzels? You couldn’t conjure food out of nothing, but wood was organic so maybe the popsicle sticks were close enough to food that the laws of magic wouldn’t mind.

“Okay so there weren’t any pretzel sticks. I think I’m gonna shape mine like a bat and do chocolate wings,” he announced, depositing the supplies on their desk. “By the way, I’m Elliot.” It was hard to remember who he had and hadn’t talked to at this point, because all the faces were familiar. When you spent long enough seeing the same few dozen people every day, you felt like you knew them even though you didn’t. “You’re Mikael, right?”

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