Simon pranks Baz the Normal way, using flour, and hair dye, and a fake love letter and yeaaaah you know how it’s going to end.
I’m standing in the middle of the Magickal History classroom, still in fighting stance, heart still beating too fast. I can feel the last hint of my magic around me, the air in the room still crackling with energy before slowly dying away. Everything smells like smoke. I look around me and survey the devastation I’ve caused.
The desks and chairs are blackened to cinders, scattered at the sides of the room, pushed back by the force of my explosion. The students are cowering on the ground, and just now, as the heady smell of magic recedes, they start stumbling to their feet, brushing black dust off their clothes. The only one still standing, who has remained standing throughout the entire debacle, is Baz. He hasn’t moved even half an inch from where he was standing before I went off, right next to me at the centre of it all. His arms are folded and his chin is lifted haughtily. He looks at the chaos surrounding us with obvious contempt.