---
Outside, Fizz was still running the yard like a tiny boss.
"Line up!" he ordered, paw high. "Girls left, boys right. One compliment each. No repeats. Be clever."
A girl with a blue ribbon whispered, "You're… shiny."
Fizz bowed. "Approved."
A boy with ink on his cheek blurted, "You're fluffier than the dean's wig."
Fizz gasped with joy. "Bold! The dean will weep. Next!"
The little crowd giggled until a yard proctor cleared his throat. Fizz pointed at him. "Do not worry, sir. I am running morale drills. Very advanced. You would not understand."
The proctor blinked, decided he did not get paid enough to argue with a glowing walnut, and looked away.
Fizz rose higher and spun once, leaving a quick spark trail. "Yes, yes. Follow me. Worship in moderation, adoration in excess. This is balance."
The yard hummed like a hive, and Fizz ruled it.
Inside, the exam moved toward its end. The tall hour candle spit once and settled. The proctor at the front lifted her chin.
