“Probably all night,” she replied grimly. While Maeve herself was the pinnacle of efficiency—and she would cut anyone who suggested otherwise—the same could not be said about the bulk of the Ministry of Magic. No matter how lethargic the weary travellers grew, their debriefing would be methodical, but slow.

Satisfied that she was as loose as she was likely to become, the redhead moved to take a seat at last, easing herself into the chair between Skeeter and one of their companions who was asleep, and who, the moment she sat down, let out a prodigious snore.

Maeve could not help herself—the witch burst out giggling.