Help, my magic wand has quit.

The Royal Magic Office lobby smelled like ink, polished stone, and warm bread from somewhere behind a locked door. Frieda Funkel stood with her new badge pinned to her cream robe and tried to breathe like she had practiced. Her wand, Herr Splitterich, rested in her hand like it had always done—except today, the air around the wood felt tense.

“First day,” she whispered, as if the building could hear her. “Just follow procedure. Just do everything perfectly.” The words came out too fast. She corrected herself. “Slowly. Cleanly. No mistakes.”

A clerk in a dark robe glanced at her badge, then at her face, then at her wand. “Ah. Junior office wizard. Department transfer paperwork is already filed.” He sounded bored, like a storm had never happened in this lobby. “Wait there. A supervisor will call your name.”