---
The hour came. They reached the academy's south yard gate. A small crowd had gathered already. New names stood in loose rows. Some talked in low voices. Some kept still and stared at the tall hall beyond the yard, as if staring could tell them tomorrow. A bell rang once. The gate guard lifted a hand.
"Token," he said to each person in turn.
John showed his slate token. The guard touched it and nodded. "Go in. Stand where the line leads. Spirits may attend. No flying above the heads. No tricks."
Fizz dipped in the air like a short bow. "No tricks," he said. "Only good looks."
