Catherine Sheffield Marquet Dollanganger had not blessed the Sorting Room with her presence in quite some time. She'd converted her room in Tootsietramp to look like an attic, even finding another twin bed to push up against the windows. She'd decorated the walls with construction paper birds, hanging from strings so that they could fly. And she'd practiced her ballet, even though there was no one but herself to admire the fact that, only a few teensey weensey little years past thirty, she was, as the kids say, still a MILF.

But she'd finally emerged and was now in the Sorting Room, planning to offer the boon of her friendship to some needy soul.

Her gaze had fastened on China right away. The woman was beautiful, dark where Cathy was blonde, and Cathy suddenly thought that they would make a lovely picture, draped all over each other, dark and light together.

"Golly lolly," she murmured reverently, staring with the same kind of adoration she normally reserved for people she was closely related to at the other woman. "You're almost as pretty as I am."