(A/N: This is my first Worst Witch fanfic, so please be nice. I don't own any of the characters; I just take care of them. Reviews are most welcome.)
Mid-September. Such terrible thunder was not natural for this time of year, especially not at Cackle's Academy. To make matters worse, the school caretaker was quite adamant that this was, yet again, the curse of Sir Walter's Wet Week. Of course, it was nothing of the sort. The root of the story itself was true, but the rumours were the work of many a student's hyperactive imagination. And by some means, the teachers' as well. White-blue forked lightning flashed across the otherwise completely colourless sky, and a low, angry boom of thunder could be heard faintly in the distance. All was not well with the magical world, but there was still a flicker of hope. The storm would not reach Cackle's that night. Those last few hours would be of crucial importance to the occupants within the castle, as they would also be to the rest of the magical community.
A tall, slender figure moved in the darkness, at the far right-hand side of the school courtyard. The small black cat looked up in alarm, her deep amber eyes glowing in the darkness. The soaked, frightened animal watched the hurried footsteps moving towards her, a long black cloak billowing out as it caught the wind. There was no indication to whom this figure may be. Friend or foe, it was impossible to tell - until the deteriorating moonlight shone on the left side of the figure. Even being just a little cat, Inez recognized her mistress right away, and proceeded to edge a little closer.
Miss Hardbroom walked quickly and confidently across the cobbled path of the courtyard. As usual, the formidable Potions mistress was the only witch brave enough to do so under threat of being struck by lightning. The weather had never particularly bothered her. It was not a specific danger in itself; rather a means to the end. Their end, if things didn't go to plan. Already, the danger was manifesting itself, barely two hours after the foolish boy had gotten his contraption to work. At that very moment, Constance Hardbroom wanted nothing more than to walk up to Andy Starfinder and blast him off the face of the earth. As it was...this was his problem, and he would sort it. Whether he liked it or not.
"Inez!" Constance snapped, her eyes fixing on the small black cat attempting to inconspicuously scurry past her. "Get in this castle, now!" The poor kitty didn't need telling twice. The ferocity of Miss Hardbroom's voice was enough to terrify her into obedience. Inez had always been a very well-behaved cat. She had had to be - being the companion of easily the most feared witch at Cackle's was not an easy task. The other cats seemed to sense her difference, and avoided her at all costs.
Miss Hardbroom turned for a split second to watch the cat slipping into the castle behind her. With a grim but satisfied smile, she slammed the great doors closed and walked briskly towards the main hall. Her slender fingers hooked beneath the material of her hood as she walked, lowering it to reveal her beautiful features, etched with fury, and most unusually, concern. Nicholas Hobbes, this all falls back to Nicholas Hobbes, she thought furiously. She was well aware of the dangers of over-ambitious wizards. Had she not known a wizard of the like in her own school days? But Hobbes - he was an entirely different class of evil. Intelligence was unfortunately on his side, which did not bode well for the rest of the world, be it magical or non-magical. Not with the Keeper on his side...
Constance had intended to slip back into the hall un-noticed, but unfortunately, a large majority of the witches and wizards inside seemed to have picked up on her brief absence. Was a walk in the grounds not allowed now? "Constance!" Miss Cackle breathed, the feeling of relief evident in her voice. "Where have you been? You know it's too dangerous to be outside now, just look at you!" Miss Hardbroom shot a cold glance in her colleague's direction and quickly glanced down at her attire. A little wet, but none the worse for wear. Honestly, the fuss that woman made!
"I believe if we are to gain anything this night, then the All Seeing Eye is of the utmost importance?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. It was unusual of Amelia to forget such things, but this was an extremely unusual situation. She supposed one could allow their standards to slip a little at a time such as this. "So!" she continued, raising her voice. She produced the glowing white orb from underneath her cloak and took it over to the tiny, trembling Professor Shakeshaft. Although not the most logical thinker by a long shot, he was easily the oldest person in the room, and therefore, had the best chance of deciphering how useful the Eye would be against this latest threat. The kindly old Professor began to smile nervously, but it faltered after barely a few seconds. Constance was not the sympathetic type, and she made quite sure of that in the few moments that she stood before the elderly wizard.
"I-I believe the Eye may be able to help," he stammered, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on Miss Hardbroom's. He felt almost as though he was talking to her alone, and nobody else existed. She was by far the most intelligent - and indeed, the most powerful - being in the room. It felt almost foolish to address anybody else. "If we were to use it...wisely...I think it could trap the Keeper in its depths for eternity." The Professor's shaky words hung in the air for a brief moment, and then all at once, everybody began to talk. The noise level in the room rose to breaking point, causing the Professor's eyes to widen in horror. Volume was key if they were to defeat the Keeper. That, being silence, or as close to it as possible.
"Quiet!" Constance shouted over the impossible din. Her voice drew out the word, accenting each syllable in a tone that unmistakably promised awful things to anyone who failed to stop speaking. The noise filtered to a soft murmur - the best that could be expected - and Constance glared around herself. "Near silence is essential to our defeat of this monster! Did you not hear me the first time, or are you all really as uneducated as you appear?" The outburst was most unusual of the Potions mistress, but alas; she had said the words now, and she could not take them back. "If we are to be successful, we must collaborate. Are you all willing to do that, or shall I turn you all into frogs?" The threat was nowhere near as harsh as the thoughts running through her mind. In spite of her anger at these fools, she couldn't help but realize how frightened they were. Her own sense of fear, however, was overshadowed by responsibility. "Right. Here is what we will do. Everybody will get a good night's sleep - the best, under the circumstances, anyway - and we will discuss this further in the morning. Dismissed." Leaving her final words ringing in the silence, Constance turned her back on the room, shared a concerned look with Professor Shakeshaft, and proceeded towards the castle doors again.
Silence. Why was silence so utterly important this time? When the right moment came, it would take only one voice to overcome the power of the Keeper, and with him, the Shadows. Perhaps that was why? The Shadows were merely living memories. Perhaps more than one voice made them weaker...or stronger. What if, every time a witch or wizard shouted, the sound released some sort of entity into the world? Something unseen, unheard, and most definitely unstoppable? No. That would have been noticed and passed down the generations. Wouldn't it? The All Seeing Eye was somehow the most important piece of the puzzle, but for Constance, it just didn't fit yet. How was a magical crystal ball meant to stop the Keeper? He alone held the power to travel between this dimension and another. Was the power of the Eye really capable of overcoming that? And what was more, how on earth had the Hobbes boy managed to unleash such evil in the first place? For once, the fault was not Mildred Hubble's, and Constance was uncharacteristically grateful. She had been too harsh on the girl at school - she knew it - and perhaps it was only fair that she know nothing but kindness from everybody else?
As the rain pelted down relentlessly, Constance slipped her hands slowly over her face. The almost freezing temperature was somehow soothing, if not the most conventional method of thinking everything through. She couldn't return to the main castle. Not at the moment. There was absolutely no need for the girls to see this side to her - this awfully vulnerable side. She hadn't shown her humanity for many years, and felt it almost an embarrassment to admit that she had feelings too. This life she had carved out for herself had begun in Hecketty Broomhead's study, those many years ago. Had she the power to change the course of history, she would have done many things differently - she would have begged her father to allow her to stay at Cackle's, for a start. As it was...life was life. There was no going back; no erasing her mistakes. She would just have to scribble over them and continue on. It was not all bad, anyway. The girls looked up to her as 'Cackle's most powerful weapon,' according to an amused summary quoted by Miss Bat the previous All Hallows Eve. She had only halted the Double Foster's Effect…
The students, it seemed, had far too much faith in her abilities. Of course, she was not contesting the fact that she was a highly gifted witch, with powers to rival any opposition she may cross paths with...but she is human, just as everybody else is, and humans - regardless of power and skill - make mistakes. Mistakes that cannot be allowed to happen this time. The fate of the world was ticking away, each passing hour more precious than the last, and this 'powerful weapon' was sitting in the rain, desperately trying to make sense of something she should long since have grasped. The word 'failure' sprang to mind instantly, and Constance furiously got to her feet. A failure was something Hecketty Broomhead would call her. She would work this out, everything would be okay. She had never failed before, and she certainly didn't intend to do so now.
The rain showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Of course not. It would probably only get worse. An interference between two dimensions was not exactly what even a witch could call normal. Constance sighed wearily, her eyes wandering over to the corridor on her left. A few short steps, and she would be out of the rain. A few short steps, and she was becoming closer and closer to losing that iron resolve. Even so, she had little choice in the matter. She removed her witches' hat gracefully as she headed for the corridor. At least it had kept most of her hair dry. That would be a nightmare in itself to fix, particularly when using magic was not advisable at the present moment.
Miss Hardbroom's footsteps echoed eerily on the stone floor as she walked. She felt uncharacteristically relieved when the familiar sound of Inez's meows filtered up from her feet. She glanced down and managed a small, brief smile in the cat's direction. "Come, Inez," she said quietly. Slowing her footsteps a fraction, she bent to pick the small cat up, easily lifting her into her arms. The cat seemed perfectly content to stay there, cuddled in her owner's arms as they headed towards the main staircase. The animal almost caused the Potions mistress to forget about her troubles for a second; until she almost collided with Mildred Hubble at the foot of the staircase, that is. Her first, instinctive reaction was to draw away, pulling Inez out of any immediate danger. The girl might not mean to be such a hazard, but that unfortunately did not stop her being a danger to cats everywhere. The familiar scowl adorned Miss Hardbroom's features, and the young girl in front of her gulped, her cheerful expression faltering immediately.
"Miss Hardbroom!" Mildred spluttered, quickly hiding her hands behind her back. Now would not be the best time for the Potions mistress to find out about Millie's latest caricature. "Umm...w-were you umm...I'll just move, shall I?" The poor girl always lost her train of thought when faced with the formidable woman in front of her. Anybody would be, wouldn't they? Constance was almost six feet tall, constantly having some form of scowl on her face, along with a penchant for heels. Add that to the old-fashioned but proper way she dressed, and the fact that her beautiful waist-length hair was always tied up into a severe knot - as small as possible - and the woman looked quite unapproachable. Mildred lowered her eyes from Miss Hardbroom's unintentionally furious gaze and mumbled something about not meaning to intrude.
"Mildred Hubble, will you move aside?" Constance said exasperatedly. The girl really knew how to test her patience; that much, she would give her credit for. She had failed to catch any of the girl's words. She was far too absorbed with trying to solve the problem of the Shadows, should they cross over. It was something she was hoping would never happen, but she had assigned herself this duty; she had to look at and plan for every possible outcome. Mildred Hubble was - in comparison - the least of her concerns.