The trouble with the Order headquarters – and indeed most bureaucratic building – is that they’ve been designed with total lack of imagination. They might look impressively ancient from the outside and might well be thoughtfully constructed and a testament to the age in which they are built, but inside they’re a box. Criss-crossing offices in grid formation; boxes upon boxes upon beige wall-covered boxes. Google this ain’t.

It also means there are long corridors so, from my position at the end of one hallway, I could see perfectly to the other end. My view wasn’t blocked by the tired-looking photocopier dumped outside, nor was it hampered by the stack of fire-risk cardboard boxes. So when Tarquin Willingham of Posh Street, London, appeared two hundred metres away, I could do nothing but watch his approach. In theory it gave me time to prepare the right words; in practice, it ramped up my dismay. I guess I knew now who Anthea had sought out after I bumped into her in the quad. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

Tarquin was dressed more casually than Winter; he wore a suit but it was minus both a jacket and tie. I wondered whether he’d taken them off – the Order’s equivalent of rolling up your sleeves. Then I decided I didn’t care.

‘I’m surprised you’re here alone,’ I called, as soon as he got close. ‘Aren’t you afraid I might hurt you again?’

Tarquin tsked. ‘I’ve spent the last eight years living and breathing the Order, Ivy. I think it’s fair to say that I’ve probably got skills now that you can only dream about.’

Somehow I doubted that. ‘What do you want, Tarq?’

He ran a hand through his blond hair. The style was artless, giving the impression that he’d merely run a comb through it. I had a feeling that it took him a lot longer to get it the way he wanted it. With Tarquin, appearances were everything.

‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said.

‘I’d say the same,’ I told him, ‘but then I’d be a big, fat liar.’

Something sparked in his eyes and he dropped all pretence of politeness. ‘How did you do it?’

I inspected my fingernails. ‘Do what?’

‘Wheedle your way back in here. What lies did you tell them?’

‘You’re the liar, not me. Or have you rewritten history in your own head as well as everyone else’s?’

‘If you’re here to cause trouble—’

I cocked my head, amused. ‘Then what? What will you do, Tarq? Because I think you’ve pretty much done everything already.’

‘Look,’ he hissed. ‘I told you I was sorry. I didn’t mean to get caught cheating and I didn’t mean for you to take the blame.’

‘You didn’t own up though, did you?’

‘Ivy, you know what my father is like. If he found out—’

‘Aw, diddums. Life must be so tough for you, Tarquin. Painted as the victim of nasty, plagiarising Ivy Wilde.’ My eyes gleamed. ‘Tell me, did you ever master that protective spell or do you still steal from others to cover up your own failings?’