“Oh, it’s still there,” said Laura. “Stuck into the school’s magical shadow in the demonic realm. I told you back in October that something was going to move into Chetwood’s territory. Chief Ramamurthy made me do a hunter’s assessment on how hard it would be to get rid of it again.”

“And?”

“It would be a complete fucking nightmare and we’d just have to fight something else the same size or bigger six months later,” Laura said. “And…”

She looked squirrelly. Saffy thought about the Phoenix. She knew it better than anyone else alive. And because no one had died—because she and Mark Daubery had been the two worst casualties—because Chetwood School was still in one piece, and Year Thirteen had finished their A-levels and thrown a party about it as usual—because, after everything, this had just been a disaster, and not a tragedy—she knew what had happened.

“It’s cooperating, isn’t it,” she said.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Laura said. “But it’s clearing out everything else in the area. It’s going to take them years to get a new system up and running instead of those old thaumic engines. The school ought to be crawling with demons. But instead the trouble has died right down. They’re not even getting photocopier imps anymore.”

“Of course not. The Phoenix is the photocopier imp, I think you’ll find,” Saffy said. “On a larger scale, of course. But the demonic realm is mostly not a very nice place. A good territory is worth protecting. And the Phoenix is a sentient creature with comprehensible goals that largely align with the school’s magical security needs. It should be manageable, and more or less benign, if people use a little common sense. Though I think it would be worth drawing up an employment contract. Demons take contracts very seriously.”

“More or less what Roger said,” Laura said, and at Saffy’s blank look, “Professor Rollins? He said you’d remember him. They’ve got him consulting.”

“Oh, the perfect person. But how on earth did the governors get Roger Rollins to agree to consulting work for a private school? He hates the whole concept. There couldn’t be enough money in the world, surely.”

Laura’s mouth tilted up. “He’s doing it for free. But Chetwood’s made a grant out of the school endowment to establish magical teaching departments at three state comps and a sixth form college. One close by, one in Manchester, two in London. Marshal-backed project, because you wouldn’t believe how much trouble kids get into teaching themselves magic from the internet instead. At least if they’re doing it at school someone can catch the idiots early.”

“Ah,” Saffy said, starting to laugh. Yes, that would do it. And then she said, “Hmm,” because, actually … if she could teach again …