I was fairly certain that 'All the school's a stage' was going to be my one and only WW story but this one jumped out at me on the tube one morning. It has its origins in one line from my previous story. Hopefully this will be shorter than the last one but, I'm hoping, equally as enjoyable.
The end of term, Miss Cackle decided, was an event that always left one with very mixed feelings. On the one hand there was the promise of empty corridors and the opportunity to catch up on paperwork that had somehow fallen through the cracks and never been completed, but on the other, there was a seemingly never-ending stream of letters to be sent out to parents; explaining why their daughter would be coming home with different length hair, different coloured hair, or heaven forbid, no hair at all.
Amelia sighed heavily as she glared at the typewriter in front of her. She was presently halfway through a letter to a parent who wanted to know why their daughter would be coming home without her MP3 player that had been a birthday gift only a few scant weeks earlier. Amelia adjusted the glasses on the end of her nose as she tried to phrase the next sentence as diplomatically as she could. There were only so many ways that she could say that Miss Hardbroom had heard the whirring of the machinery and immediately blasted the machine into the ether. There were only so many ways and she was now fairly sure that she had used all of them up. She took a deep breath and began the seemingly impossible task of listing all the things that Constance Hardbroom viewed as alien technology and of no use to a young witch in training… Amelia had the feeling that it was going to be a very long letter indeed.
Fifteen minutes later, she sat back and tried to massage feeling back into her aching fingers. She read back through the letter and, satisfied that she had managed to cover all the salient points, pulled the sheet of paper from the typewriter and placed it flat on the table.
She tapped her typewriter gently, as though thanking it for performing an exceptional task, and scanned her desk looking for the inkwell.
There was something infinitely satisfying about using a typewriter, she decided. Imogen Drill had tried on numerous occasions to persuade her that a computer was something that no school should be without but, as Constance had firmly pointed out, the school had in fact been without a computer since its inception and had seemed to manage perfectly well.
After signing the letter with a flourish, Amelia picked up the sheet of paper and gently blew on it, hoping to encourage the ink to dry.
She thought briefly about the benefits of having a computer in the school. She was sure that there were plenty of things that a computer could do that her typewriter couldn't… she fleetingly thought of the last time that Mr Hallow had been in the school with his laptop and remembered the way that he'd been able to play a game of solitaire on the thing. For a few moments she was quite taken with the idea of being able to complete a game without someone walking into the staff room and telling her that she should put the red five on the black six. She shook her head and banished the thought from her brain; nothing could replace the satisfaction of hammering away on her trusted manual typewriter. She'd had the machine for more years than she cared to remember and, although the 'E' key now required an exceptional hard punch to make it work, she felt that using anything else would be akin to a betrayal.
She picked up the final sheet of paper and placed it behind the others that made up the letter and, after folding them smartly, slid them into the pre-addressed envelope.
She was about to seal the envelope when there was a smart tap at the door.
"Come in Constance." Amelia called out, certain that the very precise knock belonged to her deputy. There was no-one else in the school who managed to make a simple action feel like it was an order that couldn't be ignored.
The door creaked open noisily on its badly oiled hinges and sure enough, the imposing figure of Constance Hardbroom was silhouetted in the doorway.
"Is there something I can do for you Constance?" Amelia inquired.
She watched as her deputy pursed her lips.
"The staff have been gathered together, waiting for your arrival, since the bell for break sounded." She paused to make sure that she made her point. "Was there something that you wanted?"
Amelia cursed softly beneath her breath. In her haste to reply to Beverly Blackthorn's mother, she'd forgotten all about the staff meeting she had organised. As she rose to her feet, she took in the stern expression and narrowed eyes of her deputy. In a moment of sudden clarity, she understood why so many letters from the parents of 1st years mentioned recurring nightmares that their daughters were having that involved being chased through the castle by a fire-breathing dragon.
She shook the thought from her mind as she headed across the room towards the door.
Constance stepped away from the doorway to let Miss Cackle pass but, as she reached the opening, Amelia turned on her heel and headed back towards her desk. Constance let out an impatient sigh.
"I don't wish to rush you Miss Cackle, but we do only have a few minutes until we have to head back to lessons."
"I won't be a moment Constance." Amelia assured her deputy as she rifled through the piles of letters that sat on her desk. Unable to find the specific letter she was searching for, she settled for grabbing a handful and headed back towards the door again.
Constance sighed again as she had to step back out of the way of her scurrying colleague. After letting her pass, Constance followed her from the room, the keys that hung from the chain around her waist jangling as she swept out into the corridor.
Five minutes later, Amelia was standing in the centre of the staff room, smiling benignly at her colleagues. The letters she had brought with her from her office were clutched tightly within her grasp but she remained silent, desperately searching for the right way to begin the meeting she'd called.
Constance glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece as she waited for Miss Cackle to make known her reason for calling everyone together. There was of course no need for her to look at the clock, she knew precisely what the time was; she knew to the second the amount of time that was left before break was officially over. The look was of course purely for effect. Constance had never been a big believer in staff room meetings as they had, in her experience, a disturbing tendency to get out of hand and usually resulted in Miss Bat shutting herself in the stationary cupboard for the rest of the day, which was both irritating and inconvenient for everyone concerned.
"I've called you together because there are a few things that I think we need to talk about." Miss Cackle began finally, well aware that Constance had a great desire to be somewhere else. "Meryl Marshtoad's parents want to know why their daughter wrote to them with the rather disturbing news that she'd spent the best part of last Thursday as an actual toad."
Miss Cackle raised an eyebrow as she turned her attention towards Constance.
Constance clicked her tongue against her teeth.
"I believe it is standard practice for the 3rd years to spend their free period writing letters home. I don't see that it's all that surprising that Meryl sent news home. I find it rather more surprising that her parents were able to decipher anything from that vulgar and messy scrawl she laughingly passes off as handwriting."
Miss Cackle raised her eyebrows further.
"It wasn't the pupil's dedication to their communications home that I was questioning Constance, rather it was the contents of the letter." She rifled through the pile of papers that she had clutched in her hand and finally pulled the offending letter free. She scanned through the lines of print until she reached the relevant line. "Mrs Marshtoad wants to know why her daughter was subjected to such an experience. It has, and I'm quoting here, 'left a lasting impression on my daughter'." She waved the letter in Constance's direction. "Do you have any idea of just how many of these letters I receive each week?"
"I believe the mean average is 10 this term, up two letters a week on this time last year." Constance replied smoothly.
Amelia stood staring open-mouthed at her colleague, at a complete loss for words. It was always a waste of time, she reminded herself, to ask Constance an impossible question. Constance had never seemed to fully grasp the meaning of the word and therefore constantly came up with correct pieces of information that it was impossible for her to know.
"That's not the point." Amelia tried to get the conversation back under her control. "I would like to know why Meryl was turned into a toad in the first place?"
Constance brushed at an invisible and more than likely imaginary speck of dust on her long black dress.
"It is common for the girls to be tired of simple transfrogrification by the time they reach the 3rd year. I thought it would be prudent to teach them that there are in fact several variations on the spell."
Miss Cackle waved the letter in the air again.
"The letter states that she was a toad for nearly the whole lesson."
Constance nodded her head.
"That is true. I had warned her that the reversing potion she was planning on using was a little hard to achieve with webbed feet but she was quite certain that she was capable of managing it." There was a pause and Miss Cackle was fairly certain that she detected a brief smile on Constance's face. "It turned out that I was right and Meryl did indeed find it more than a little awkward to manage the ingredients without the aid of opposable thumbs."
Miss Cackle tried to look disapprovingly at her deputy but the effect was somewhat ruined by the snort of laughter that came from the high backed chair where Miss Bat was currently sitting. Amelia turned her glare towards the chanting teacher and watched, as the elder woman seemed to sink back into the chair's material.
"And as for you Davina. It appears that you are also on the end of a few letters of… comment from parents." Amelia picked her words carefully. She was well aware that the use of the word complaint would more than likely result in the chanting teacher leaping from her seat like a frightened gazelle and shutting herself in the stationary cupboard for the rest of the day. She'd looked at the teaching schedule before arranging the meeting and certainly didn't fancy inheriting Miss Bat's 1st year class if anything went wrong. She winced as she thought about the noise that she had heard coming from the 1st year's class in recent weeks. She wasn't certain what the noise was but she was convinced that it wasn't music.
"I can't imagine what any parent could find to complain about in my lessons." Davina was more than a little offended at the suggestion. "There is nothing in my lessons that could possibly cause offence to anyone."
"Aside from the tuneless warbling from this current batch of 1st years." Constance muttered.
Miss Bat stuck her nose in the air.
"None of us are perfect Constance; it's just taking them a little time to find their feet."
"And their sense of pitch and tune! I swear my cat could make a more successful stab at 'Eye of Toad' than the current 1st year."
"Humph." Miss Bat had no immediate comeback and so busied herself with the mess of knitting that was sitting jumbled on her lap.
"Ladies, ladies." Miss Cackle attempted to bring a sense of order back to the conversation. "Now is not the time to take things out on each other."
"Miss Cackle is right." Imogen chipped into the conversation. "Just because you've received a little criticism, that's no excuse for taking things so personally."
Amelia smiled a heartfelt smile of thanks in Imogen's direction and turned to face the young games teacher, who was sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs across from Miss Bat.
"Thank you for your support Imogen but I'm afraid to say that you are also included in some of these letters."
"What?" Imogen uncrossed her legs and gripped the arms of the chair with both hands. "What could anyone have to complain about regarding my lessons?"
"Besides the complete lack of relevance to a witch's essential education?" Constance asked pointedly. "I can't imagine! I'm sure all the parents are over the moon that their daughters are wasting precious hours a week learning the vital life skills of hitting a small white ball up and down a field with a piece of curved wood!"
"Hockey is a good way of getting the girls to work together as a team." Imogen replied hotly, refusing to be put down by Constance's scathing remarks.
"Mmm and I'm sure one day they will be faced with a situation where they will be able to call upon the ball hitting skill and the other… non-stick related, ball hitting thing that you teach them and be eternally grateful!"
Imogen narrowed her eyes and glared at the potions teacher. She knew that it was pointless trying to argue further with Constance, she wasn't exactly world renowned for her ability to see the other side of an argument. She instead turned her attention back to Miss Cackle.
"Surely the thing to do would be to show the parents that their fears are misplaced." She suggested. "Show the parents that their daughters are getting the best possible care whilst they are here."
Miss Cackle frowned and waved the letters in Imogen's direction.
"We can't exactly invite every parent to the school. It would cause an unbearable disruption to the working day."
"I agree." Miss Hardbroom entered back into the conversation. "It would be folly to try and pander to the needs of every parent. They must understand that while their girl's are here they must trust that we will do what is best for them."
Imogen sighed; it was apparent that she was not making herself clear.
"I'm not suggesting that we should disrupt the school day. What I'm suggesting is that we should hold a parent's evening" She looked around at the blank faces of her colleagues.
Amelia waved a hand encouragingly in her direction.
"What would that entail…exactly?"
It was Imogen's turn to look a little confused.
"Surely you've had a parents evening before? I know that we haven't had one since I've been here but surely you've…" She tailed off as she realised that she was suggesting something that the school had never attempted before. She smiled and tried to wave the thought away. "It's nothing." She tried to tell them. "It's a stupid idea. Forget I said anything."
"Consider it done." Constance remarked smartly and for once Imogen was thankful for her colleagues' dry tongue. If Cackle's had never organised something like this before then Imogen really didn't fancy being the one to break new ground.
"No, no." Amelia was intrigued by Imogen's suggestion. "What happens at one of these Parent's evenings?"
Imogen weighed up the thoughts that were going through her mind, trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth. There was a very loud voice in her head telling her that she could say anything she wanted to the three people in front of her and get away with it. She could tell them that it was something really simple, something that didn't involve having all the parents traipsing through the school and looking at everything that they did with more than a measure of distain and disappointment. She looked at the folded arms and impatient stare of Constance Hardbroom and instantly came to a decision. If anyone deserved to know what it felt like to have everything she did put under the scrutiny of people who she couldn't answer back to, it was Constance.
"Parents evening is where you invite all the pupils' parents to the school to give them a chance to see what their children have achieved." Imogen announced.
"I thought we sent them out little bits of paper with letters on and that did the job?" Davina pointed out but Imogen shook her head.
"That's the end of term report card." She tried to explain the concept again for the umpteenth time to her colleague. "This is something different. This is a chance for the parents to actually meet us and look around the place and get the opportunity to actually see the work that their daughters are doing."
"What!" Constance's voice shot up an octave. "You actually want to encourage the parents to come here. You want to have them here, spying on our every move?" She shook her head vigorously. "Absolutely not. It's a ridiculous suggestion. It's like volunteering oneself for an Ofwitch inspection; only the inspection would be carried out by a bunch of untrained, unskilled individuals who wouldn't know what they were looking for."
"Much like the real thing in fact." Davina remarked, but as usual was ignored.
"Mmmm." Miss Cackle thought over the idea. "And what would we have to do to prepare for one of these 'Parent's evenings'?"
"Miss Cackle!" Constance complained but was ignored.
"That's the beauty of them." Imogen explained, enjoying the way that Constance was looking more and more uncomfortable. "The parents will come in and look at the work that their daughters do, we talk to them about their offspring and that's all they really expect. It shouldn't cost the school a penny."
"Should we put on a show?" Davina piped up; the enthusiasm in her voice causing her to drop several stitches.
Miss Cackle frowned and her glasses dropped an inch further down her nose.
"I doubt we'd have the time to prepare anything Davina."
"Certainly not anything that any parent would actually want to hear." Constance remarked acidly. "I for one think that this whole idea is ridiculous. If you let the parents in here there'll be no stopping their interference; you mark my words. They'll want to know everything that's going on here and before you know it you'll have to get permission before you can turn pupils into elements, or frogs, or anything else remotely interesting for that matter, and they'll will start demanding to be kept appraised of every little thing that their child does. It's a step on a road that can only lead to trouble and I think we should think carefully before embarking on anything that could end the way that Cackle's operates."
There was a pause as the other teachers in the room stared open-mouthed at Constance, trying to take in everything that she had said.
Imogen was the first to recover. She shook her head and forced her mind to move on past the fact that Constance had just uttered more words in a single breath than was humanly possible.
"It's just a chance for us to meet the parents Constance."
Constance harrumphed in response and was about to turn and direct her anger out at the world beyond when a thought struck her.
"By parents, do I assume that you are referring to two individuals?"
Imogen nodded.
"In most cases, yes."
"So that would mean that we'd be inviting men into the school?" There was a thoroughly disapproving tone to her voice.
"As I said before, in most cases, yes."
"Obviously we're not including Beverley Blackthorn's situation at this particular time?" Davina chipped in.
Constance did her best to ignore what she regarded as the incessant prattling of the chanting teacher, and concentrated her energies on trying to talk some sense into the head teacher.
"Miss Cackle I must protest in the strongest terms at the very idea of opening up these hallowed halls of learning to the heavy, unmagical tread of so many… men." She spat the final word out with as much distaste as she could muster. Permitting wizards into the school was one thing and heaven knew that they were bad enough, but at least they had a rudimentary grasp of the concept of magic. What Miss Drill was suggesting would result in untrained, unwashed hordes of fathers tramping through the corridors and upsetting the delicate web of magic that permeated the walls. She, for one, was not about to let that happen without a fight.
Not for the first time Imogen was surprised at the amount of vitriol that her colleague could direct towards the male of the species. She had to confess that it was times like this that made her want to look into Constance's past; there had to be something there that explained her unequivocal hatred of men. She realised that Constance had caught her staring and she quickly tried to keep the conversation going.
"Constance I hardly think that having parents within the castle walls for two hours will cause the foundations of the building to disintegrate."
Constance raised her eyebrows and shot Imogen a withering glance.
She was about to open her mouth and tell Imogen exactly what she thought but Miss Cackle beat her to the punch.
"Well I think it's a splendid idea Imogen." She beamed in the direction of the P.E teacher. "It's a perfect chance to get everyone together and to put to rest all those niggling little worries that the parents have."
She looked round at the other teachers. "I can't believe we haven't done this sort of thing before."
"Miss Cackle…" Constance tried to protest but Amelia raised her hand to silence her deputy.
"I think Imogen has come up with a wonderful suggestion that will help to solve all the problems I've been having with unhappy parents. We'll hold a special assembly tomorrow morning and make the announcement to the school."
Imogen met Miss Cackle's glance and smiled happily. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to affect school life directly. As a non-witch she usually felt excluded from most of the important decisions regarding school life. This was one positive contribution that she could make and she was determined that it was going to go off as smoothly and successfully as possible. She caught the look of annoyance on Constance's face and her smile grew wider. There were days when life just seemed as though it couldn't get better. Whatever she had to do, she was determined that parent's evening was going to be a night for Cackle's to remember for years to come.