The Truth is in the Punch

Graduation day, at last. In all honesty, I wasn't sure how some of us got here in one piece. That incident in third year, when Declan accidentally caused his frog to split in three, before his wand ricocheted and his leg suddenly came clean off — I still have nightmares.

Then there was Amaya, who spent most of her time at Magicked Manor with a wand deep inside her, if you catch my drift. How she was best friends with Poppy, head always in a book, was truly a spell I could never unweave.

"Pssst," came a hiss to my right, interrupting my reverie. My best mate Mikhael was leaning over, eyes gleaming with mischief. "After we do the whole name-calling and cap-throwing business, we're hitting the room off the kitchens for some pre-drinks before the big bash. You in?"

"Absolutely," I murmured back, careful not to attract the attention of Professor Siklam, who was already glaring at me from the stage. My parents expected me to start my internship tomorrow, bright-eyed and ready, but there was no way I was missing out on tonight's revelries.

I made a mental note to corner Poppy later and beg for one of her hangover potions – she earned quite a coin for those. Just as I finished that thought, my name was called.

"Nathaniel Flintlock."

Five years at the Magicked Manor had all boiled down to this moment — a stroll across the stage, a diploma thrust into my hands, and a smattering of applause. The culmination of endless classes, wild escapades with classmates, and more than a few brushes with magical disaster. I shot a grin at Professor Wrangler, who'd taught Incantations. Unlike some other professors, she seemed to actually like having me around. Siklam, on the other hand, looked like he was clapping just to get rid of me.

The ceremony ended, and with a collective cheer, we tossed our caps into the air. I heard a few voices shout, "Let's get this party started!" and I couldn't help but laugh. Beside me, Poppy adjusted her glasses and smiled shyly.

"Congratulations, Nathaniel," she said.

"How many years has it been, Pop?" I asked, grinning.

"Five," she replied, looking puzzled.

"Exactly. Five years, and not once have you called me Nate. Plus, I've never seen you let your hair down. Tonight, we're changing that, okay?"

Amaya, seated in the row ahead of us, turned around with a smirk. "Trust me, I've tried. I told her she needs to cut loose tonight, but all I get is the same excuse—"

"Interviews for healer trainees are in seven days," Poppy and Amaya recited in unison, the latter rolling her eyes.

"Poppy," I said, my voice low but insistent, "we're not talking about a week-long bender here. Just one drink. What's the worst that could happen?"

Before Poppy could respond, Mikhael was motioning for us to follow him. "Don't worry," he whispered, "she might not have a choice. I spiked the punch."

Declan hobbled over, his reattached leg still giving him trouble. "With what?"

"Madame Wimbly's Finest Brew," Mikhael said with a wicked grin. "It's tasteless, odorless, and after four drinks, you're completely sloshed."

"Isn't that stuff banned?" Amaya gasped, clearly impressed.

"Made a little trade with a bloke in town on our weekend off," Mikhael shrugged. "He got some of Professor Siklam's rare plants, and I got the good stuff."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you're still alive? How? Siklam practically worships those plants."

"Because," Mikhael said, puffing out his chest, "I'm the wizard."