By the afternoon, Sophie was making her rounds as usual and noticed for the first time that the New students were actually performing better. Whether Beezle’s death had scared them into action or they’d had enough of losing or their survival instincts had finally kicked in, the young Evers and Nevers fought back with a vengeance against the old villains, using an array of black magic that Sophie had never seen. Vex cast himself into a noxious wind to beat off the wolf, Kiko turned part of the floor to acid, burning a hole in a witch’s feet, while Chaddick morphed into a deadly germ and infected his troll opponent. All three of them still lost in the end, but by the morning of the sixth day, the School for New had their first victory, when Beatrix summoned crows that pecked out Cinderella’s stepsisters’ eyes. The zombie-girls managed to recover them from the pesky birds, so they’d no doubt have their revenge on Beatrix later . . . and yet, Sophie wondered. Where had the students learned such black magic? Certainly not from the School Master, who’d restricted the teaching of sorcery at the School for New, either because he didn’t trust the young Evers and Nevers with it or because he viewed such sorcery as a direct threat to his own.

So it had to be a teacher, Sophie thought. And yet, none of them took credit for the rise in the students’ performance. Instead, they thought she was responsible for it. Once doubtful of her training methods, now all the teachers gave Sophie approving looks.

All the teachers, that is, except for one.

Sophie waited until a break between sessions to knock on the door of Professor Dovey’s old room. When the locked door magically opened, the pumpkin treacle walls were still intact from the Good old days, but now they were cracked from end to end, like a mirror that might shatter at any moment.

Lady Lesso was poring over a scroll at Professor Dovey’s old sour-plum desk, the plums all rotted to black pulp.

“Interesting choice of rooms,” said Sophie, sitting on one of the students’ desks and glancing around.

She heard sniffling, oddly guttural, and looked up to see Lady Lesso hastily wipe her nose and adjust herself at the desk.

“I didn’t choose it,” she said, eyes still on her scroll. “As the senior faculty member, I let the others pick their rooms first. Professor Dovey’s was the only one left.”

“You must miss her,” said Sophie smoothly. “Clarissa was your best friend.”

Lady Lesso raised her violet eyes. “I’m not sure you’ve earned the right to call a Dean by her first name.”

“A former Dean,” Sophie said. “And I am her superior as I am yours, so I can call anyone what I like. I’d call you by your first name too if I knew it, Lady Lesso. You aren’t a teacher to me anymore. You’re an employee.”

“My, my.” Lady Lesso grinned at Sophie’s pale face and stone-mouthed expression. “It’s like looking in a mirror at my younger self. Even sound like me.”