Barnaby didn’t mean to bring the breakfast toast to life. In his defense, the spellbook was open to "Advanced Levitation," not "Sentient Pastry Production."

It started on a Tuesday, during a particularly chaotic attempt to make the toaster hover so he wouldn't have to get up from the breakfast table. Instead, a bolt of bright blue sparks hit the sourdough, and the slice of toast sat up, shook off some crumbs, and let out a tiny, high-pitched scream.

"Oh, fizzlesticks," Barnaby muttered, staring into his coffee.

The toast—which possessed a surprisingly manic energy—immediately jumped off the table, sprinted across the floor, and began terrorizing the cat. The cat, being a creature of sophisticated laziness, simply looked at the dancing bread and decided to go back to sleep.

"Get back here, you delicious monstrosity!" Barnaby yelled, chasing it around the kitchen island.

He dove for the toast, narrowly missing a priceless crystal vase but catching the bread just as it tried to escape through the cat flap. The toast yelled something that sounded like "Freeeeedoooom!" in a buttery voice before Barnaby finally managed to slap it back into the toaster.

He slammed the lever down, held his breath, and listened to the frantic little crumbs sizzling inside.

When it popped back up, it was brown, crispy, and decidedly inanimate. Barnaby let out a long sigh, poured himself more coffee, and promised himself he would only use his magic for non-edible objects, like levitating his slippers.

At least, until his slippers started talking back.