As
Professor Afolayan walked down the hallway, a glorious smell wafted through the
corridors. Melting chocolate.

  Of course, that meant someone was
cooking, which one simply may not do in the dorms.

  Good
lord, who else would it be?

  “Scott Altaer, is there any reason
you insist upon cooking in the dorms?”

  “No, professor, I just don’t like
feeling left out.”

  “Left out of what?

  “The party! They made pumpkin
pastries, have butterbeer, it’s pretty cool. Want a cookie?”

  “Mr. Altaer, you’re baking cookies!
In the dormitories!”

  “Why, yes Professor, I am. I see why
you became a teacher with a sharp mind like that. I bet nothing gets past you.”

  “I didn’t come to be mocked.” She
said, sternly. “I am going to be here at 1:59 this afternoon, and this room had
better be spotless: all evidence of baking must go, and your essay will be on
the table before I walk in. You have precious little time. Good day!”

  She left.

  In the hallway, she suddenly felt
like getting people off her mind. How better to do this than by boring mundane
tasks, like grading.

  Or food.

  She decided the place for that was
the great hall, which is where she went.

  Go to Chapter 6