“Ha! What, patient like you are?” said Raven.

“Shut up,” said Maximilian, smiling.

“I read somewhere that your familiar has to match either your kharakter or your art,” said Raven. “Which really does narrow it down. I’ve never heard of an animal being a witch. It sounds wrong. Mind you, I didn’t even know until yesterday that animals could epiphanize. I don’t know anything!”

“No one knows anything,” said Wolf, mysteriously.

“Oh my God,” said Maximilian, laughing. “I think I liked you better as a meathead than a mystic. Only joking. Don’t hit me! Right, we must be almost there now. Effie? Where’s she gone? Oh. I see. Up these stairs and down this passageway and here we—”

“Watch out!”

Raven was almost knocked over by the young man who had just come storming out of the door next to Room 108. He looked sort of familiar, but then he was gone. Had there been a flash of tweed? Yes, it was PhD student Claude Twelvetrees. He’d glared at Effie and then hurried off in a great blur. What was the matter with him? The room he’d come from had a sign on it saying SENIOR COMMON ROOM and seemed to be full of old sofas and books. It smelled strongly of coffee.

Inside Room 108, Dora Wright was waiting for her new class, which was remarkably similar to her old class back when she’d taught at the Tusitala School for the Gifted, Troubled and Strange. She was quite looking forward to seeing her old pupils again—or some of them. Today she was wearing a simple faille gown and lace-trimmed cape with faux fur boots and gold polka-dot tights. Her hair was in an easy bouffant. She always dressed down on university teaching days.

“Come in and close the door,” she said to the children.

They did as she asked.

“Are we safe to talk here?” asked Effie, looking around.

“I’m not sure,” said Dora. “Best not say too much. Oh,” she said, surprised. “Hello, Wolf. I didn’t expect to see you here as well.” When Dora Wright had last taught Wolf, he’d been quite different. It had been before he’d epiphanized, back in the days when he used to throw the weaker boys’ knapsacks in the river for fun.

“Hello, Miss Wright,” said Wolf. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, I suppose it has,” she said. “Okay,” she continued. “There’s been a slight change of timetable. Tomorrow I’m going to teach you the basics of plot. But today you’ve got Professor Forestfloor teaching you about Nietzsche and tragedy. And then you’ve got the afternoon off because of the Midwinter celebrations. Tomorrow afternoon you’ve got avant-garde poetry. But my class before that. Enjoy!”

She left the room in a puff of glitter and perfume. The children barely had a chance to exchange worried glances before Professor Gotthard Forestfloor entered the room.