“A lot of my Sorcery cohort at Oxford ended up doing law conversion courses,” Walden said. “I’m told there’s some overlap, in terms of the sort of brain you need, though it depends a bit on what parts of magic you actually enjoy. Of course, the Careers Department can help you more than I can.”

“So you agree?” Nikki said. “You’ll support me? Do you—could you help me talk to Matron about it?”

“Nikki,” said Walden, “do you want my honest opinion?”

A pause. A nod.

“Well, then. I don’t agree with you at all. I’m very concerned. I think this is a terrible idea.” She held up a hand before Nikki could speak. “Not because I think it’s stupid, to be clear. Dropping out with no A-levels would have been stupid—a pointless, self-destructive waste of all the opportunities you’ve had, and the last thing anyone who cared about your future would want for you. But it sounds to me like you realised that already. You thought about it carefully, reconsidered, and decided on a more sensible course. And what you’ve come up with now is perfectly sensible, and yes, the school would support you, and it would probably work, and I’m sure you’d make a very good lawyer.”

“Then—”

“But it’s a terrible idea,” Walden said, “not because it’s stupid or ill-considered, but because I don’t believe for a moment that this is what you actually want.”

There was a little silence.

“You can’t get a job at Oxford,” Nikki said, which was not a denial. “I read that, it’s the uni rules or something.”

“Not in term time, no,” Walden agreed. “There isn’t time. The terms are only eight weeks and they make you work flat out. We used to joke—‘sleep, study, socialise, pick two.’ There simply aren’t enough hours in the day to add work and still get your degree. But that’s what maintenance loans are for. I’d be astonished if you weren’t eligible for additional grants on top of that.”

“You have to pay back the loans, though.”