Disclaimer: I do not own these fabulous ladies (and gents), with the exception of Della. I also lay claim to the plotline, although I want to take this opportunity to thank NCD for nudging me in the right direction. I KNOW you say that I would have got there in the end by myself, but it would have taken a lot longer!

Note: So here we are! The final part in the Devil in the Details trilogy. It is here at last! Please enjoy, and I hope it lives up to the legacy...

The Last Stand

One

Amelia Cackle looked down at the application form and references on her desk with puzzlement, not quite able to read the neat, tightly-packed handwriting. She shrugged, putting the fuzziness down to her needing new glasses, before looking up at the young woman sitting in front of her. She was going to have to give her the job: not only was her curriculum vitae extremely impressive, she was the only applicant for the position of potions-mistress, a role that had been vacant for three strenuous months since its previous occupier had retired unexpectedly, citing health concerns. Amelia had been perplexed by Miss Redwood's sudden departure; the ex-deputy-head had not been showing any of the tell-tale symptoms of stress over the few weeks prior to her resignation. Indeed, her illness had come completely out of the blue. There was something that did not quite add up.

Amelia pushed the thought to the back of her mind and cleared her throat before addressing the sole applicant for Miss Redwood's position. Aside from her excellent academic prowess, the woman had a mesmerising look about her, something almost otherworldly.

Well, Miss Hardbroom. It seems to me that you are perfectly suited to the job. How soon can you start?

The woman licked her glossy, cherry-red lips.

As soon as you like.

Something in the depths of Amelia's memory told her that something wasn't quite right. Something told her that although this lady's porcelain face was correct, there was something odd about her. Something in the back of Amelia's mind told her that Constance Hardbroom was a formidable witch with a penchant for black, her long dark hair plaited and scraped back, adding to an already fearsome demeanour. The specimen in front of her could not have been further removed from Amelia's mental image. She was softer than the brusque young woman that Amelia remembered; her manner was charming, disarmingly deferential. Spell-binding, almost… Her looks and youth were such that she would be an instant favourite with the girls – that was a certainty. Amelia shrugged inwardly. Perhaps that was what the school needed, shaking up a bit, and this young woman would most definitely do just that, with her long ponytail of ebony curls cascading down her back and secured with a red ribbon that matched the rest of her ensemble: a long crimson velvet coat falling open over a skirt of the same shade that exposed veritable miles of leg. Amelia coughed nervously as Miss Hardbroom recrossed her ankles; it was an extremely good job that Cackle's had no male pupils, or else they might have had a catastrophe on their hands.

Would Monday be possible?

The pink tongue darted out again, snake-like.

Monday would be perfect.

She rose to leave, and as they shook hands – the new staff-member's unusually warm to the touch – Amelia still could not loosen the impression that there was something extremely wrong with the scenario. Constance Hardbroom, she was sure, did not look like this, nor act like this. There was something amiss, and Amelia simply could not put her finger on it. She watched the woman disappear in a wisp of inky smoke, and felt compelled to follow her progress, moving across to her office window and watching as the same dark tendrils heralded the woman's arrival on the outside of the building. It was dark outside, strange shadows cast across the landscape… Amelia was sure that the interview had not taken so long that it could have become dark so quickly, it was the middle of spring, after all.

A man appeared out of the blackness, and Amelia jumped at his presence, wondering how long he had been there. His face was unfamiliar, but the headmistress had the unshakeable feeling that she recognised the new arrival from somewhere. He walked sedately over to Miss Hardbroom and spoke inaudibly. Amelia just caught the reply, and it chilled her to the bone.

Got in. Piece of cake. Ours before you know it.

The man pulled her newly-appointed (and soon to be newly-fired, if Amelia followed through on her now-screaming instincts) potions-mistress into a tight embrace, leaning in to kiss her passionately on the lips. As he bent her over backwards, Miss Hardbroom's gaze locked with Amelia's above and the headmistress drew back in shock and horror, stumbling back to her desk as a voice began to ring in her ears. The young woman's eyes had been a brilliant, glittering ruby.

"Amelia!"

She looked down at the papers on her desk, startled when the text that had been there before was no longer reading various achievements and dates of examinations taken, but four individual words.

"Amelia!"

The voice in her head – a comforting, familiar voice – was louder now, persistent, worried, but Amelia had to look down at the writing that was appearing in front of her on the page, the letters written in a blood-red calligraphy that melded into the paper, spiky capitals spelling out a chilling message.

WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN

"Amelia!"

Amelia jerked awake, lifting her head off the staffroom table and removing the piece of paper that had become adhered to her cheek during her snooze. Constance was hovering over her: the real Constance, black-clad, ramrod straight and with her immense volume of hair tightly compacted into a knot at the back of her head. The blessedly familiar sight made Amelia give an audible sigh of relief, causing her deputy to furrow her brow in puzzlement.

"Just an odd dream," Amelia explained hastily, although 'odd' was possibly not the most accurate word to use in the circumstances. 'Unnerving', would have been better, or 'downright scary'.

Constance raised one eyebrow.

"After the events of recent years, Headmistress, both you and I know all too well that unusual dreams are rarely a sign of good things to come."

Amelia was thrust back into the past with a shudder, remembering the terrifying events that had befallen the school five years previously. Firstly, Agatha had dragged the school to Hell, and they had only just managed to escape thanks to the aid of the magical Liaison, Della Spinder, whose existence had been kept under wraps for twenty-three long years. Less than a year after that, the Devil himself had intervened in their peaceful lives, opening the mysterious Void and unleashing its chaos on the world. In the end he had restored order, but Amelia retained a creeping suspicion that he was not gone for good.

"Do you think…" Amelia began, but the words died in her throat. She did not dare speak them aloud, but she knew that Constance understood exactly what she meant.

"I don't know, Amelia," she said quietly. "All I know is that it is the first day of the new school year and that soon, something is going to happen."

The veiled message was clear to Amelia: let's forget about unsettling dreams for the present and focus on the task at hand. Amelia nodded, but she could not stop herself from running through the events of her pseudo-nightmare, trying to glean some sort of forewarning from the events, but none was forthcoming.

"You were wearing a red mini-skirt," she told her potions teacher absent-mindedly, receiving a shocked glare in return. Before she could reply, however, there was a knock at the door and a familiar face peered around it.

"I keep forgetting that I don't have to knock anymore," muttered Mildred, looking down at the door handle as if it had done something to offend her. The former-pupil had been teaching at Cackle's for a year now, and although she had blossomed out of her initial awe at being on the same level as the witches that she had admired as superiors only a few short years before, she did sometimes still find it difficult to break away from the mindset of being a pupil. She had never been able to get used to calling Constance by her first name, although she was comfortable enough (after a little gentle cajoling) with the rest of the staff. Presently she seemed to remember why she was hovering in the doorway, and her head jerked up to meet the older witches' eyes. Her face had changed very little, Amelia reflected, still bright, fresh and full of the enthusiasm of youth. The long plaits that had always tended to give her a slightly juvenile air were long gone, replaced with a soft, wavy bob that reminded Amelia, however reluctantly, that one of her most interesting and indeed endearing pupils was now a professional young woman, along with her friends. Maud Moonshine was also returning to her alma mater to teach this year, and she seemed to be taking the transitional process from student to teacher a lot better than Mildred had done, although admittedly, Amelia had not had as much contact with Maud just yet.

"The first-years are waiting outside the gate," Mildred was saying. "It looks like they're all there." She paused. "Time to let them in, do you think?"

Amelia nodded.

"Just let me collect Davina."

Mildred disappeared round the door again, closing it behind her, and Amelia walked over to the staffroom cupboard before knocking tentatively.

"Davina… Davina, it's the beginning of term."

The sound of soft snoring emanating from the cupboard broke off with a series of snuffles, and a muffled voice squeaked 'already?'

"Yes, Davina." Amelia sighed. Her old friend had officially retired two years previously, and she had taken up residence in Spellbinder's Respite Home for Elderly Witches, a move that Amelia had wholeheartedly approved of until she received an urgent telegram from the proprietor of the establishment three weeks after Davina's arrival. The message informed her that the eccentric chanting impresario had managed to burn down an entire wing of the facility after mistaking a topiary squirrel for a dragon and casting some rather wayward spells at it. Would it be at all possible, Mrs Spellbinder had written, for her to be rehoused elsewhere as soon as humanly possible? Since Davina had no other family or indeed abode, the only thing Amelia could think to do in the circumstances was to bring her back to Cackle's, where she would feel at home and where Amelia could keep an eye on her. Whilst she no longer taught, she still insisted on playing the harmonium during assemblies, a feat that had become a running joke amongst the pupils due to Davina's magical (and rather faulty) hearing aid, which somehow managed to tune itself into the nearest radio station at the most inopportune of moments. The number of times that the giggling students had found themselves singing 'Onward Ever' to the tune of Guns 'n' Roses was fast becoming exasperating.

At length, the elderly witch flung open the cupboard door with some exuberance, narrowly avoiding giving Amelia concussion.

"I'm here!" she said enthusiastically. "Ready to meet the new first-years, the poor dears. They all look so small when they first arrive. It always takes them a couple of years to grow into the hat I feel, don't you Amelia?"

Amelia nodded, steering her friend towards the staffroom door. She noted on her way past that Constance had already disappeared, and sure enough, all the staff were assembled outside with the older pupils by the time they reached the courtyard.

Before Walker's Gate was opened and the new first-years allowed entrance into the hallowed halls of Cackle's to begin their magical education, Amelia looked around at her colleagues. Imogen was chatting animatedly with the girls, no doubt outlining her plans for coming years. She had announced during the summer that this year would be her last with the school; she was intending to make a permanent move to Canada and her 'gentleman friend' as Lavinia Crotchet so quaintly put it. Lavinia herself had agreed to return to the school on a part-time basis to resume her one-time post of chanting teacher after Davina's retirement, and she always liked to 'pop in' on the first day of term to get a glimpse of the new arrivals, 'in case there are any terrors I need to prepare myself for'.

Amelia doubted that there would be any terrors. There would be Ethel Hallows, certainly: advanced, precocious, from long magical backgrounds, and there would be Mildred Hubbles: no witch blood in their veins and their talents needing polishing before they could truly be seen, like a diamond in the rough. Amelia smiled as she watched Mildred and Maud talking excitedly off to one side. The girl was definitely one of Cackle's success stories, and Amelia felt it a privilege to have her back with them once more, however much Constance had initially protested at her appointment. Deep down though, Amelia knew that the objection was for appearances' sake only, and the stern deputy was also secretly pleased to see the pupil who had 'plagued her existence', or so she said, putting her remarkable talents to good use.

Constance… Amelia's mind came back to her dream as the younger witch nodded to the pupils to open the gate, and the scared first-years entered the courtyard in a solemn crocodile. There was something coming, the deputy had said. Amelia could tell that much already. What she wanted to know, as she looked at the petrified faces of her newest girls, was when it was coming, and most importantly, what was it going to be?

Note2: An acceptable start? Please let me know with a comment!