Celeste
Miss Hardbroom looked out the staffroom window onto an empty courtyard. The girls will be arriving soon. Last year she had said goodbye to the one and only Mildred Hubble. What would life be like without that troublesome young witch? It should be peaceful and calm and wonderful. It should be anyway. Constance had a hidden want for Mildred to not go. Yes the girl was terrible to teach and control but she had made the year exciting. Never had Miss Hardbroom felt the thrill of dangerous mishaps and unwise decisions, as well as putting the fate of a whole school in the hands of such a clumsy child. She hoped for that feeling again. Maybe the new first years will bring along someone who will help her achieve her desire.
The courtyard started to fill up. Soon it would be time for walker's gate. She went down to where the girls were gathering and found Miss Cackle.
"Wonderful time of the year, isn't it Miss Hardbroom?" asked Miss Cackle.
"Yes. Let's hope that this year's first years are competent," replied Miss Hardbroom.
"Don't be so negative Constance. This year will bring new experiences and changes!" said Miss Cackle gleefully.
"What do you mean 'changes'?" questioned Miss Hardbroom.
"Never mind that for now, it's time to meet the new girls," Miss Cackle skipped over to the gate in excitement. Miss Hardbroom sighed and hurried along behind her.
During the traditional song and ritual that happened ever year, Constance scanned her new class. Most of them looked terrified. A couple were sniffling and sobbing. There was one girl who caught her eye. She had long blood red hair and bright green piercing eyes. She was the last to come in. She didn't look at all phased by anything but she didn't look above it either. There was something about the way she held herself. She didn't know if she was feeling curiosity or distrust. She shook her head and decided to ignore it until she had actually met the girl. She believed that you should never judge a book by its cover.
While the girls were unpacking in their newly found dorms, the teachers were in the staffroom discussing 'the changes'.
"No!" shouted Miss Hardbroom.
"You have to! This will be a great way for the girls to expand their talents," retorted Miss Drill.
"This is not a circus! I will not be letting you 'help' with my flying lessons! They need to learn how to be confident and safe in the air and not how to do silly tricks!" Constance argued, "Go back to your irrelevant PE lessons!"
"Now Miss Hardbroom, you will be sharing your flying lessons whether you like it or not. It's final!" Miss Cackle always liked to have the last say so Miss Hardbroom gave up.
She left the staffroom and stormed off to her potions lab. How dare they make her share her lessons with that insufferable mortal? She will not stand for this. It's ridiculous. Before she could do anything about it, her new form class came. She started off with the normal formalities such as her name and the rules of her classroom. She then took the register. Down the list she went reading the names of scared witch after scared witch, none of them being her red headed curiosity. Finally she came to the last name on the list.
"Celeste Steel?" she said.
"Present," announced the red head in a confident voice. Her words made Constance's skin crawl. Why did this girl give her such a strong sense of unease? She decided to continue with the potions lesson she had planned and thought nothing more of it. Every question she asked was answered by Celeste's hand popping up. Whenever Miss Hardbroom let her answer it felt like she was belittling the older witch. Finally it was the end of class. She dismissed them and sat down. They all left apart from Celeste who approached Miss Hardbroom.
"Excuse me, Miss?" she said. Her voice made goose bumps rise of Miss Hardbroom's skin.
"Yes what is it?" She asked with noticeable unease.
"I wanted to say how much I enjoyed your lesson. Potions have always been my forte and I'm glad I have such a competent teacher. I hope we get along," she explained with a sly smile. The girl left without waiting for a reply. That child could not be trusted and Constance knew it.