Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch.

A/N: This is just a rather random idea I came up with the other day. It's a little bit different to anything I've written before and I'm still not entirely sure about the end, but carpe diem and all that ... :)

Not Such A Black And White World

As she stared at the coffin concealing the rotting corpse she thought she would feel happier than she did. She should've been elated, basking in the knowledge that she was safe; that Heckitty Broomhead could hurt her no more, having finally tasted her own poison. No longer would she have to spend her life looking over her shoulder, living in a constant fear of being found, and after she had worrying about what her former tutor could and would do, not necessarily to her as there wasn't much left she could do; for you couldn't break something if it was already broken, but what she might do to those she cared for: the staff and the students of Cackles.

Yes she thought she would feel happy, relieved even. Finally free from the shackles of oppression, secrets of the past that had weighed her down for decades like treading the waters with rocks in ones pocket but instead she felt … she wasn't sure how she felt. It was a question her colleagues had asked her, it was a question that she'd asked herself over and over again; the words swirling around in her mind of tumultuous emotions like a rush of blood swirling around the brain and distorting the senses. Clouding her ability to see, hear and think.

The vicar spoke of how Heckitty had been "cruelly" taken from them but his voice was just a distant murmur in the background, if asked, she couldn't tell you what he had said for she wasn't listening; not even a little. Funerals were a sombre time, a time to commemorate the now deceased and celebrate their life; to talk of the good and reminisce over what that person had brought to the lives of others and her mind was full of memories alright but none of them were good; even in death she was still capable of invading her thoughts and maintaining that iron fist control.

Images flashed before her as the clipped tones pierced her skull, like a set of talons digging in and drawing blood. "You'll never amount to anything Constance", "Don't test my patience girl, apologise now" The almost suffocating pressure as the grip around her throat had tightened. Every hit. Every spell. Every harsh word that had fallen from Heckitty's lips, the cutting words of venom she had spat. "Aww, when will you get it Constance? No one loves you, no one cares for you and no one's coming to save you. You're mine."

It was true no one had come for her. No one had saved her, instead she had been condemned. The princess locked in the tower by the evil Queen just like in the fairytales. Except it wasn't, fairytales always depicted a battle of good versus evil but the same couldn't apply to real life. Nothing could ever be truly black or white; shades of grey had to dot the spectrum as well. Something must have made the evil Queen evil but what? Just like something must have made Heckitty evil? That question had been at the forefront of her mind for years …

Was it something that had happened in her past? … Was it anger? … Was it jealously?

Even after all these years she was still no closer to finding an answer to that burning question. She didn't know and she knew that she never would.

Again her mind found itself back at the question.

'How did she feel?'

She had thought she would've felt happy, but she didn't; she wanted to take pleasure in knowing that Heckitty had got exactly what she deserved, but even after everything that had happened she couldn't bring herself to be so harsh. She had wanted so badly to hate Heckitty, but she couldn't. Instead ... she pitied her. She wasn't sorry she was dead, not by any means, but she couldn't help the wave of pity that had stirred inside her.

It was an emotion she never thought she could have for a woman she had wished would suffer so many times, to be given a taste of her own medicine and made to feel even an ounce of the pain she had inflicted on others. It was an emotion she never thought she would have for a woman that had made her life an absolute living hell from when she was just 8 years old, and had continued to do so all through her adult years up until very recently, but there it was.

She knew that Heckitty would turn in her grave if she knew that. Pity had been another one of those forbidden emotions; the words had been drummed into her since day one. 'Only the weak need to be pitied' and to display any sign of weakness had been a sign of failure, and failure wasn't tolerated within the walls of the prestigious Witch Training College.

For years her one deep fear had been that she would one day turn into what her tutor had been. It was something that still terrified her beyond belief, that she would get to that point where a harsh word or a glare would no longer be enough and she would raise her hand to one of her students or worse …

Yet, the thought struck her, if it had been something in Heckitty's past that had turned her into the monster she had been, then why hadn't she been the same? She had been taught by Heckitty, she had suffered at the hands of Heckitty. So where was her anger? Where was her desire to hit back at the world and to do evil?

She didn't have one.

No, she had no desire to hit back at the world and to do evil; her only desire was to protect those she cared for from evil.

It was for this reason that she pitied her now deceased former tutor as she realised that she had succeeded where Heckitty had failed. Yes, she'd been put down by her time and time again, as Heckitty had relished in calling her 'useless' and a 'failure', she had endured years of mental and physical abuse that still had an adverse effect on her life even to this day, but in the main she had managed to largely overcome that thorn in her side, or at the very least remove it, to build some semblance of a normal life. Unlike Heckitty she'd somehow found the strength to take all that venom and suck out the poison, rather than letting it truly consume her, she'd been able to turn her life into something positive; to become a teacher and seek to pass on her knowledge to her young charges, young girls who depended on her to keep them safe whilst they were under her care.

A large tear escaped from her eye; it travelled down her cheek, brushing delicately against her skin, before resting on her bottom lip but she made no attempt to wipe it away. To the untrained eye, that solitary tear was merely just a sign of grief but in truth, it represented more than most would ever know; the pain Heckitty had caused her and what she herself could've become if she hadn't been able to find the internal strength to turn things around. The funeral represented the chance to put old ghosts and the past to rest. She was finally free to move forward with the rest of her life, there was just one last thing she needed to do to finally rid herself of that last bit of venom secreted deep within her.

As she exited the church and walked out into the cold open air, the darkness seemed to clear, the sun trying desperately to break through the clouds and brighten up the sky. Looking up at the sky before her she said the three words she never in a million years thought would utter from her lips.

"I forgive you."