“Hello, Baz.” She smiles at him, like she’s decided to give him an inch. Are they friends now? When did that happen? “Here,” she says, “sit down. I don’t have anything to offer you. Cook Pritchard has the day off and I don’t even know where the kettle is. I’m living off a box of Jaffa Cakes I found in the cupboard. Probably been here since your mum was in charge.”

She moves behind her desk, and Baz and I sit in the two wooden chairs across from her. These chairs weren’t here when the Mage was headmaster. He didn’t usually have people in his office. He didn’t talk to students much at all.

The entire office looks like it’s got more use since Headmistress Bunce took over. The desk is covered in folders and papers. She’s got a big mug of pens, and photos of her family. And the shelves behind her are even more packed with books than they were before.

“Where is Penelope?” she asks. “Is she still angry with me?”

No. She’s still angry with me. “She’s in London,” I say. “She didn’t feel like coming.”

“Hmm.” She scratches the back of her head. “Still angry with me, then.”

“We’re here because we were hoping we could use the library,” Baz says.

“Of course you can. It’s open to all magicians. What are you looking for?”

“My stepmother has taken an interest in one of the new Chosen Ones,” he says. (We’ve already decided to be up front with Professor Bunce; she might know something useful.) “Smith Smith-Richards.”

Professor Bunce rolls her eyes. “Smith-Richards.”

“You’ve heard of him?” Baz asks.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Do you know him?”

“I assume I know what you know—that he says he’s the Chosen One and is promising magickal upgrades.”

I lean forward, and my chair creaks. “You don’t believe him?”

“Do I believe that there are six new Chosen Ones here to solve all our problems? In a word—no. In two words—hell, no.” She frowns at me. “No offence, Simon.”

I make a face like, None taken.

“At least this Smith-Richards isn’t asking for money,” she goes on, “though it makes me wonder what else he’s after…”

I’m not going to tell her that I think Smith-Richards might be the real deal. I understand why she and Baz and Lady Ruth are sceptical. They’ve all already been fooled once—by me. “Isn’t the Coven checking up on these people?” I ask. “Like, can anyone just say that they’re the Greatest Mage?”

“Woof, the Coven.” She leans back in her chair. “We have enough on our hands, trying to clean up the Mage’s messes. Half of us are hoping these new COs fizzle out on their own, and half of us are secretly going to their meetings.”