“Will they really make me turn a frog into a librarian?”
“Only if you mispronounce transmogrify.”
“Oh.”
“…Don’t worry, mine became head librarian. A very organized frog.”
They walked a few more steps in silence, the lake glinting beneath them like a restless mirror. In front of them, the castle rose, with its few candlelit windows. The young one slowed, shoes scuffing stone, suddenly aware of the trials that awaited her.
The older witch took her hand in a compassionate gesture, as she was remembering her own past.
“Here’s a secret,” she said softly. “Nobody’s ready on their first night. Not even the professors.”
The child blinked. “Not even you?”
She smiled back at her. “Especially not me.”
And together, they crossed the last stretch of the bridge, toward a future neither spell nor star could predict.