"Help me."

She had made five attempts – five violent, fiery, terrifying attempts – before finally deciding to ask Ilania for help. She didn't want to, but she had no other choice.

"Help you with what?" Ilania asked absentmindedly as she calibrated the Astronomy Tower's equipment.

"Cake," Minerva muttered.

"Cake?"

"I have to… I have to bake a cake."

Ilania nearly dropped the delicate instruments she was holding. "You? Baking? Who the hell would ask you to cook anything?"

Minerva ignored the insult. "I only have two hours left to do it. Short notice."

"What is it for?"

"For eating."

Ilania sighed. "Min, I swear-"

"It's for someone's birthday."

"Whose?"

"HELP ME, WOMAN!"

"Alright, alright, settle down. Good lord. You're lucky I'm still here. I'm supposed to meet my family in London at eight. It is New Year's Eve, you know."

On the way back to her quarters, Minerva explained the situation. Carefully. She didn't want their party to consist of only two. Ilania had to come. "And Horace said it would be nice, and I agreed."

"I suppose it's a nice gesture. It must be difficult having a birthday on New Year's Eve. But he doesn't seem like the type to appreciate a cake."

Minerva snorted. "Well, obviously. That's why we're not having a party. Horace said Tom would barely tolerate a gathering of three people, let alone an entire room of them. So, it's just going to be the three of us."

"And cake, apparently."

"And cake."

Minerva opened the door to her flat and the smell of burning wood hit them.

"Is- is something on fire?" Ilania coughed.

"Not anymore."

There was a considerable amount of flour covering the furniture, the rug, the countertops… But Minerva hadn't had time to clean it. "I have ingredients over here," she said, trying to take Ilania's attention away from the broken mixing bowl lying on the floor.

"Er- Min, dear, maybe we should reconsider this," Ilania said quietly, staring at the charred remains of the kitchen table. "Honeydukes can probably-"

"They're closed. I already checked. I can do this. I know I can do this, I just need a bit of assistance." She was really hoping there wasn't too much pleading in her voice. It was embarrassing enough that bits of egg were still falling from the ceiling.

"I'm sure you can, Min," Ilania tried to say encouragingly. She didn't quite pull it off. "But, well…"

"Well?"

"Your flat looks like it's been bombed."

"I am well aware of that. Now, I have eggs and flour and such, and bowls over here." She held her wand over the large bowls on the counter and vanished the remains of her last ill-fated attempt.

Ilania still looked uncertain about the whole thing. "Well, we can do it together, as long as you listen to me."

Minerva nodded.

"Right. You can start by combining the eggs and the milk. I'll take care of the flour and sugar."

"Er-"

"What?"

She was truly, truly hopeless. "What milk?"

Ilania closed her eyes and sighed. She was already losing patience. "Please tell me you know that milk is required."

"Well, I do now."

"Bloody hell, Min." She flicked her wand at the counter and a jug of milk appeared, likely pulled from the kitchens downstairs. "Mix the egg whites and milk together."

Minerva did as she was told. Or tried to, anyway. Even with magic, the egg yolks wouldn't separate for some reason. They just slipped right into the bowl like they were doing it on purpose to mock her.

Ilania looked up from the ingredients she was mixing, and when she saw the face Minerva was making, she said, "what did you do?"

"I put the yolks in," Minerva said in a tiny voice.

"Fucking- Sit down."

"What?"

Ilania repaired the table and chairs with her wand. "Sit down."

"No! You don't… you don't have to do it for me. I just need a bit of-"

"You are not touching anything else in this kitchen. Now, sit down."

"But-"

"Sit! If you're well-behaved, I'll let you put the icing on."

Minerva rolled her eyes but didn't argue. In truth, she felt relieved.

It took about twenty minutes. She watched and tried to ignore the jealous feeling she was getting as Ilania did everything from memory, her movements perfect and fluid: eggs to bowl, flour to bowl, butter, salt, a mixing spell… By the end of it, somehow, through what could only have been Dark magic, there was a cake.

"What color do you want the icing to be?" Ilania asked her.

"Green."

"Oh, right. Slytherin. I always forget all of you have Houses you're affiliated with, even though I've been here for ages. I wish my school had had Houses."

"What did you have instead?"

"Combat training. Anyway, it's almost finished. Here." She showed Minerva how to smooth the icing onto the cake with her wand. It wasn't that difficult, thankfully. "Why is this so important to you?" she added, not bothering to hide her suspicion.

"Because I wanted to do something nice. And Horace asked me to."

"Right. I'm sure that's what it is."

"What?"

Ilania shrugged. "Nothing. I just hope he appreciates it."

"I'm sure he will."

At least, she hoped he would.