Much to my surprise, I've written a sequel to 'A Night to Remember'.
Thanks to LisaT for her patience in beta-ing this for me.
Amelia Cackle brought her broomstick gently into land on the track that ran up through the woods and winced slightly as her knees complained about the landing.
She had to admit to herself that she wasn't getting any younger and her joints were most definitely beginning to complain when she subjected them to long haul broomstick flights.
"Hover," she told her broom firmly and tapped it. The broom immediately obeyed and Amelia set about rearranging her luggage.
Although the castle was still a good fifteen minute walk away, Amelia confessed to herself that she was always fond of the walk through the wood. A path wound its way between the trees and, with the sun dappling down upon the branches, it made the whole thing quite beautiful.
"Follow me," she instructed her broom and watched as it effortlessly took up the strain of her luggage and bobbed along behind her. She was beginning to think that it was no longer necessary to tell her broom to do anything; she'd had it so long that it seemed to know her every command, almost before she made it. She sighed and wished that everything in life could be as easy and straightforward to communicate with as a broom.
As she made her way slowly along the winding, uneven track, her mind flashed back to the events of the previous week. The school had come close to falling victim to the powers of a magical entity and only the timely actions of Constance Hardbroom and Mildred Hubble had thwarted the entity's ambitions. The idea of her deputy working in tandem with Mildred Hubble was something that Amelia was still finding hard to reconcile. Mildred's propensity for finding trouble in the most unlikely places had done little in the past two years to endear her to the supremely organised and no-nonsense Constance, but evidence showed that the two of them had somehow found a way to work together to save the school and the lives within it.
Amelia sighed heavily as she thought about her deputy; she had tried talking to Constance about the way that the evening had unfolded but she'd been reticent to talk about the matter and had managed to avoid giving any straight answers.
Amelia had wanted to stay and pursue the matter but duty beckoned and she'd had to leave promptly the following morning to attend a conference at Pentangle's Academy. She sighed again as she thought of all the speeches and talks that she'd been forced to sit through during the past week. She'd been distracted the entire time and was certain that that fact had not gone unnoticed by certain members of the Witches Guild. She pushed the worry aside; that was something that, quite frankly, the WitchesGuild were going to have to deal with.
Amelia stumbled slightly as she felt her broom prod her gently in the back.
"Alright," she told it grumpily. "I'm going as fast as I can."
She turned her attention back to the winding path in front of her as it began to climb more steeply through the trees towards the summit.
As she reached the top of the climb and turned the corner, a view of the castle was finally revealed to her and she felt the smile spread across her face as she stared up at its imposing façade.
She remembered being scared of the tall craggy building with its crumbling towers and collapsing battlements as a young girl. Her mother had brought her and her sister Agatha to the castle and Agatha, being Agatha, had wasted no time in trying to scare her with stories of ghosts and spectres that were supposed to haunt the corridors and dungeons of the rambling old place. She had been absolutely petrified and it had taken all her mother's cajoling and promises of cheesecake to get her inside. Amelia smiled back at the memory and wondered fleetingly if that was where her love for all things cheese related had its founding.
Her fear of the castle had quickly vanished as she explored its myriad corridors and rambling dungeons and she soon grew to think of it as a dear friend. In return, over the years, the castle had given up more of its secrets to her, and Amelia now felt as though the walls were welcoming her as she returned from being away for any length of time. She'd feel the familiar whisper of magic in the air and know that she was home.
She felt that welcome now as she began the steep climb towards Walker's gate. Once back inside the walls, she would reward herself with a generous slice of cheesecake and then begin to deal with the mountain of letters that she was certain would have been sent during the past week. Her good mood dimmed a little at the thought of the task that lay ahead but she squared her shoulders and promised herself that she would not shirk from the task, however taxing it might prove to be.
Within the castle, all was quiet. Rooms that were usually bursting with the chatter and activity of young minds were shrouded in silence and the air seemed unusually still without their presence. Dust found its way onto the surfaces and settled into crevices, determined to gain a foothold before the staff and pupils returned.
Not all the rooms in the castle were abandoned however. Within the potions lab, a figure stood at the front bench, their attention seemingly bound up completely in the work that lay spread out in front of them. A mini cauldron was bubbling gently away on the bench's wooden surface and puffs of smoke occasionally issued from the cast iron pot, adding a pale blue hue to the air.
Constance Hardbroom raised her head from her work, her concentration disturbed by something. She tilted her head and listened intently to the noises within the castle. The building was never truly silent as far as she was concerned; the absence of people was not enough to completely silence the walls. Constance closed her eyes and concentrated on filtering out the soft bubbling of the cauldron in front of her, seeking out the sounds that she was certain she had heard. She caught the sound of soft padding upon the stone flags and a low, constant, rumbling.
Constance opened her eyes and turned her glance to the end of the long wooden workbenches that stretched across the room.
"Just checking up on me, are you?" she asked softly.
Moments later a small black-furred face appeared from behind the benches, yellow eyes looking intently at her. The low rumbling grew louder as Morgana turned up the level of her purr.
Constance sighed as her cat padded into view; although Morgana usually enjoyed the freedom of the castle whilst the pupils were away, it wasn't like her to constantly seek to be in the same room. During the past week however, her cat had barely left her side.
"And just what is bothering you?" she asked the cat as she set aside the ingredients she had been preparing.
Morgana sat down and regarded her mistress from a distance; her tail curling around to cover her front paws.
"Wouldn't you rather be off chasing the mice or scaring the bats?" Constance asked her.
Morgana stared at her solemnly for a few seconds before rising to her feet and padding gently over to Constance's desk. She jumped up nimbly upon the desk, her paws carefully avoiding all the ingredients that were liberally scattered upon its surface. She moved to the notebook that was covered in Constance's neat, precise handwriting and sat down upon it.
Constance looked down at the cat and folded her arms.
"Now you know that that never works," she told her firmly.
Morgana simply stared up at her and mewed.
After a few seconds of the standoff, Constance let out a heavy theatrical sigh.
"Oh very well," she told the cat. "I'll take a break."
Morgana rose to her feet and mewed again. This time making it plain that she wanted some attention.
Constance rolled her eyes.
"You really are a most persistent cat," she told Morgana flatly, as she reached forward to scratch her behind the ears. "I wonder sometimes where you get it from."
Elsewhere in the school, Imogen Drill pushed open the door to the staff room and smiled as she breathed in the familiar mixture of old wood and flowers. When it was empty, there was always something relaxing and welcoming about the staff room. She dropped her mud-splattered rucksack down upon the floor and glanced around at the room. As her gaze passed over the stationary cupboard, she wondered fleetingly if Davina Bat was sitting inside it. She shook the thought out of her head; she'd seen the older witch departing in a rather haphazard manner on her broomstick the previous week. They had all wanted to get away from the school as quickly as possible after the events of parents' evening. Imogen rubbed a hand across the back of her neck at the memory… or rather lack of memory… of the evening. She had gone away and thrown herself wholeheartedly into an outward-bound course in an effort to bury the unease she had felt at the end of that particular night. It hadn't worked though and Imogen resolved to go and see Miss Cackle before lessons began the next day. She didn't want to cause unrest within the school but she had to get to the bottom of whatever it was that Constance had done to her.
As she had entered the school through Walker's Gate, she had been expecting to feel the familiar 'atmosphere' that the school always seemed to have. Davina had told her that it was the magic in the air checking her out, but Imogen had always laughed off the suggestion. This time however, that welcoming feeling had been missing; the corridors to her had just felt empty. She'd tried to shake the chill that had settled upon her shoulders and told herself that the place only felt so empty because the girls were missing.
She took another look at the empty staff room and resolved to see Miss Cackle without delay. Last term had ended with sneaking around and whispering behind hands. She wanted this term to be a clean slate; wanted everything to be out in the open, whatever the consequences.
That thought at the forefront of her mind, she turned on her heel and headed out of the staff room, certain that Miss Cackle would already be back and preparing for the new term.
Mildred Hubble landed her broomstick in the courtyard, relieved that the crosswind that had threatened to blow her into one of the turrets had dropped at the last minute. Visions of marking her return to the school by crashing into the weather vane had been running through her mind as her broom had twisted and turned, fighting against the wind.
She pulled the broom from behind her and tapped it gently.
"Well done broom," she told it, believing that credit should be given where it was due.
She looked around the empty courtyard, watching the leaves as they scurried around in the breeze, wondering just where everyone else was. A thought ghosted across her mind and a worried expression formed on her face.
"Were we supposed to be back today?" she asked out loud and received a nervous mew from Tabby, who was sitting in his cat basket, relieved to once again be back on solid ground.
"Mildred!"
Mildred turned her head at the call and waved as she caught sight of Miss Drill crossing the courtyard.
"Hi Miss."
"What are you doing back so early?"
Mildred frowned. "I was beginning to think that I'd got the time wrong."
Imogen glanced at her watch as she came to a halt beside Mildred. "The others aren't due back until later. For once in your life, you're early."
Mildred smiled at the reference to her persistent lateness. "But I'm sure that the letter said to be back this morning." She fished around in her bag and finally drew out a rather crumpled letter. "See." She made an attempt to smooth the letter out and handed it over for Miss Drill to examine. "It says to be here by ten o'clock."
Imogen glanced at the letter. "Well it's eleven o'clock now Mildred, so it looks as though you're as late as usual."
"I wonder why I have to be here so early?"
"I expect Miss Cackle wants the chance to talk to you about what happened during parents evening," Imogen told her. "Come on, I'm going that way. I'll give you a hand with your things."
In the potions lab, Constance sighed as she heard the familiar sound of booted feet making their way along the corridor outside. Although she had already felt the presence of others within the school, it was the sound of booted feet that confirmed the return of the girls. The school would be waking up soon, the corridors returning to life and the daily routine re-established. Whilst she welcomed the return to normality, there was always a part of her that missed the quiet calm of the holidays and the chance to settle down and get on with some complex potion experimenting; the sort of work that couldn't safely be done in the presence of pupils, who seemed to think that they had to stick their noses into every cauldron they passed and who reacted badly when it resulted in their noses turning blue or their hair falling out.
She looked round at the ingredients that were still spread out across the table. It was time to pack everything away and lock certain things away from prodding fingers and prying eyes. She closed her notebook and flexed her fingers. Time was of the essence and so a simple clear away spell wouldn't be out of order. She raised her hands and felt the familiar build up of magic…She was about to release the spell when she clenched her fingers into fists and lowered her hands again. There were some things that could be accomplished just as easily without recourse to magic she told herself, trying to ignore the thump of the headache that had been plaguing her waking hours for the past week.
Mildred perched on the edge of the chair in Miss Cackle's office and regarded her headmistress as the older woman searched through a pile of letters, apparently looking for something specific. She'd been summoned to this particular office so many times during the past two years that she no longer felt the need to gaze round at the walls and try and read the titles of the books that sat in the bookcase. She knew each ornament that sat on the shelves and she could remember every grade that was listed on the certificates that lined the walls. One thing she could never do however was feel comfortable sitting in the chair across from Miss Cackle. It wasn't that she found Miss Cackle intimidating; it just seemed that there was something about the chair that was inherently uncomfortable. Miss Hardbroom had a look that made Mildred uncomfortable; Miss Cackle had a chair.
"Ahh Mildred." Miss Cackle finally seemed to locate what she was looking for and glanced at Mildred over the top of her glasses. She took in the unease on the face of her student and smiled. "Don't worry Mildred; you're not in any trouble."
She saw the way that Mildred's shoulders relaxed slightly at the news. "I asked you to come back a little earlier than the others as I wanted the opportunity to have a little chat with you about what happened during parents' evening."
Amelia watched as Mildred tensed again.
"What has Miss Hardbroom said?" Mildred asked immediately.
Amelia sighed. She'd had been hoping that Mildred wouldn't ask that particular question. "It doesn't matter what Miss Hardbroom has said," Amelia told her encouragingly. "I want to hear about the events of the evening from your perspective."
She watched as Mildred bowed her head and fiddled with her plaits. She smiled in what she hoped was an encouraging manner. "Just take your time dear."
"I know it's all my fault," Mildred began but Miss Cackle shook her head.
"Let's not worry about who cast the first spell," she smiled at Mildred. "This isn't about apportioning blame; I just need to be able to get a clear picture of what happened so that I can make my report to the Witches Guild."
Mildred's eyes widened in fear.
"Witches Guild?" she stammered. "Do they really need to know?"
Miss Cackle nodded. "We're going to have to borrow money to get the Great Hall repaired and I'm certain that more than a few parents will have sent letters to the Guild, as well as to me asking for an explanation as to what occurred."
Mildred fidgeted in her seat, unsure of what to say.
"Just tell me what happened after Miss Hardbroom cast the freezing spell," Amelia tried her best to encourage Mildred.
Mildred shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her feet.
"I know that Miss Hardbroom had sensed some sort of magical entity in the air." Amelia tried to coax Mildred into talking. "What happened to it?" She watched as Mildred shrugged her shoulders again and shifted uncomfortably on her seat.
"Mildred?" she prompted but her pupil only shook her head and blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes.
"It's alright Mildred." Amelia told the young girl softly. "We'll leave it for now; but I would like to see you again, when you find things a little easier to talk about. Is that alright?"
Mildred nodded slowly and wiped her eyes.
"Run along then. The others aren't due back for a little while but I'm sure your bats will be pleased to see you."
Mildred pushed the chair back from the table and rose to her feet. She mumbled a few words of thanks in Miss Cackle's direction and was about to head from the room, when she remembered the homework that she'd been set.
"Miss." She raised the sheets of paper that she'd been clutching in her hand. "I've got the lines that Miss Hardbroom told me to complete."
"Then I suggest that you take them straight to her," Amelia told her. "I think you'll find that she's presently in the potions lab."
"Miss," Mildred mumbled, wishing that Miss Cackle would simply take the work from her.
"Was there something else?" Amelia questioned as she noticed the way that Mildred appeared to be hanging back.
"No Miss," Mildred replied quietly and, turning around silently, left the room.
Amelia watched her go and wondered just what had happened that evening to make Mildred so upset. She folded her arms across her chest and knew that she'd have to have a long chat with Constance, whether Constance liked the idea or not.
Mildred wiped at her eyes as she made her way quickly along the corridor towards the potions lab. She felt such an idiot for making a scene in front of Miss Cackle but try as she might; she found that she couldn't think about the magical entity without it having an effect on her.
Her parents had very cautiously asked her what had happened but Mildred had found that she was unable to explain anything to them. In the end she had tried to fob them off with a story about a simple potion getting out of hand but she knew that they weren't convinced. She'd not told them about her nightmares and her sleepless nights because she knew that they'd want to talk to Miss Cackle about it, or want to keep her home from school.
There was only one other person that she could possibly talk to about what had happened; only one other person who knew what had transpired that evening. Even if there had been the slightest possibility that HB would be receptive to such an idea, Mildred wasn't certain that she was ready to talk to HB about anything yet, let alone parents' evening. The image of HB standing there with black ovals where her eyes were supposed to be was one of the main things that plagued Mildred's nightmares.
Although HB herself had told Mildred that it was all over and that nothing was wrong, Mildred wasn't convinced. Surely something like that was going to have a long term effect. Losing control of your mind wasn't something that you just shrugged off and put behind you as though nothing had happened; well Mildred was fairly convinced that that was the case.
She came to a halt outside the potions lab and took a deep breath, the door was sitting ajar and she could make out the figure of HB sat at the desk at the front; a mountain of work piled up next to her. Although going to see HB was an event that Mildred usually dreaded, this visit seemed somehow worse than normal.
"Are you planning on standing outside my door all day Mildred Hubble?" Miss Hardbroom questioned without raising her head from the work that she was doing. "Or did you come here for a reason?"
"Sorry Miss." Mildred tried to suppress her nerves as she stepped into the room.
"Well Mildred," Constance snapped. "What is it that you want?"
Mildred raised the papers she was holding in her right hand. "I've done the lines and the essay you set me," she explained quietly.
Constance clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Well don't hang around back there like some lost soul; place them on the table and go on your way."
Mildred made her way quietly to the front trying not to disturb the work that her teacher was obviously engaged in.
Constance raised her head when she realised that Mildred was still hanging around next to her desk. "Just put the papers down girl." She watched as Mildred looked desperately for space on the desk. Sighing impatiently, she held out a hand and clicked her fingers. "For goodness sake Mildred, must you make a drama out of every little thing?"
She took the papers from her pupil and slapped them down upon the pile of work that sat next to her. She hoped that Mildred would take the hint and leave.
Moments later, she raised her head and realised that Mildred had made no effort to move.
"Was there something else Mildred?" she asked in a tired tone.
Mildred shifted her weight from one foot to the other and questioned whether or not she was doing the right thing.
"Well!" HB's tone was beginning to sound impatient.
Mildred took a deep breath and then took the plunge. "I can't stop thinking about what happened on parents' night." She heard HB sigh but ploughed on. "Every time I try and get sleep, I see the entity. I was wondering if it was having the same effect on you."
HB snorted. "It most certainly is not."
"It's scaring me," Mildred admitted and raised her head to look at HB; surprised that her teacher's face seemed to soften slightly.
"Don't worry Mildred. The entity has gone. Put it from your mind."
"I can't," she admitted nervously.
Mildred watched as HB 'hmmed' to herself.
"If this problem with disturbed sleep continues then I want you to report back to me; the last thing I need is for you to start falling asleep during class; it's hard enough to keep you engaged when you're fully awake."
"Yes Miss."
"Was there anything else?" HB's tone returned to its usual impatient state.
"No Miss," Mildred finally replied and turned on her heel.
Constance watched Mildred go and then closed her eyes momentarily, calling to mind a very particular incantation. She muttered the spell beneath her breath and directed it towards the retreating pupil. Satisfied that she'd done enough to quell Mildred's nightmares; Constance returned her attention to the pile of work that had already managed to accumulate on her desk.