I don\'t own either the Worst Witch in any form, or Merlin. I just wanted to write a story that features a crossover without putting it in the crossover section. Besides, I plan on doing that in the future because there is so much potential for stories like this. I believe that because the Craft and the Old Religion are so similar then why not write about it? Besides who else feels Merlin from the BBC series isn't similar in some ways to Mildred Hubble?
The Worst Witch.
The Two Religions.
The Spellbook.
Mildred Hubble, first year student at Cackles academy was lying in bed but she couldn't find it within her to fall asleep after the day she'd just had, meeting the Great Wizard, having to prove to him she could perform well as a student despite all the things that happened around her like she'd broken a few mirrors and gotten twice the 7 years bad luck, and then been humiliated and having to put up with the pressure of leading the broomstick display team and nearly having a heart attack when the boom she'd been riding had taken her high into the sky and then plummeted down again. But then after being used as the secret or not so secret weapon by Agatha Cackle to takeover the school from her twin sister and the schools headmistress and almost been thrown off that broomstick, she found it very, very hard to fall asleep.
A shudder went through Mildred's body as she remembered how madly her heart had pounded like a drum when the broom yanked her left and right before going up, and up, and up above the clouds and higher than anyone on a broomstick should go. If Miss Gullet had been there, if she had been compassionate then she would have gone on about 'health and safety,' but the former spells science mistress was gone and good riddance, after the truth of what happened to Algernon Rowan-Webb had come to light. Personally, like many of the girls, and the staff, Mildred was quite glad the annoying woman was gone, and yet as she thought over the recent events which had started with the visit of the Great Wizard who had come to Cackles to learn if what he'd read in a letter written Agatha was true, Mildred realised something that made her sit up in bed in realisation. How had Agatha learnt so much to write such a letter in so much detail? Unless someone had told her. It was so obvious.
That letter….. it had described in perfect detail what had been happening at the school since she'd arrived; her turning Ethel into a pig, Ethel turning HER into a frog as revenge, finding Algernon…. Every single thing she had done had been written down for a stranger to read. Why did it matter if students at a magical school, a school for witches routinely got into trouble despite her best efforts? He didn't seem to care to hear her side of the story, about how Ethel had transformed HER into a frog and why. No, he just focused on her heritage, showing he was no different from the others. His reaction to her not coming from a magical family was something Mildred was more than used to by now, her heritage was one of the weapons people like Hardbroom and Ethel used against her, taunts about her life and her mother made every single day, how her heritage alone meant she was unwelcome at the school. Who was Ethel or Miss Hardbroom to say she couldn't become a witch? Okay, she conceded the point her skills were sub par with the rest of the girls, but hey at least she was putting in the effort. But who had given Agatha all of that detail? Everyone had first thought it might be Ethel. It would be just like the younger Hallow girl after her elder sister, writing a letter to get one over the girl who shouldn't be here. But Ethel had promised everyone she hadn't written a word to the Great Wizard. But now Mildred was still working out how Agatha had gotten all of that about her when she she was supposed to be locked away, but now she realised there was one person who would've done it without losing any sleep over it.
Miss Gullet. Mildred was sure the older witch hated her guts for ratting her out as the person who'd turned Mr Rowan-Webb into a frog, but really she had herself to blame. And she'd know about where Agatha was, so she would be the other witch's best ally.
Stop it. Mildred closed her eyes and tried to muster the energy to fall asleep, but she couldn't manage it. Miss Gullet wasn't her problem anymore, she was someone else's problem. After a day of being humiliated and used as a pawn in Agatha's little game to take the school from her sister, Mildred found it hard going to fall asleep, especially after that broomstick display. When Miss Cackle, or the woman she had thought was Miss Cackle had told her that SHE would be the one leading the display, Mildred had thought This is it, I'm dead. They are trying to kill me. But truly no one could blame her for being nervous. Mildred knew she was the worst flier in the school. If given the chance to practice and instead of doing it in a group with the other girls, Mildred knew she might manage to become a better flier so, then no-one would need to watch over her and sneer at her efforts because they themselves had bypassed that level long ago. Even Maud. But for now she wasn't up to standard, but then she never was.
It was infuriating for her to be classed as a failure so quickly, and in her first year. It wasn't Mildred's fault she hadn't known about magic or magical culture before Maud crashed into her balcony, yet they all expected her to be an expert flier and skilled in making potions or casting spells. Too bad. She needed to learn like everybody else, and Mildred was sure she would reach a satisfactory level eventually given time and encouragement. Mildred closed her eyes and tried to forget the display again, but she would never forget being taken so high and then dropped like a stone; she was glad it was over, that Agatha had been so stupid enough to reveal who she was by trying to cast a spell and revealing nothing was happening. But what she was most pleased about was that the Great Wizard was gone. He might have changed his tune with her at the end of the debacle, but she wished it hadn't involved her. Mildred hadn't said it, but she felt the man was a little bit of a hypocrite. Still Mildred had to admit it had been the perfect revenge for Miss Cackle's sister to use her to get rid of Ada to let her in to become the next headmistress.
Agatha probably classed her like she'd classed her sister, Ada. Why she wanted the academy so much, Mildred couldn't work out; the woman didn't seem to have given much thought at all about potentially ending the lives of both Mildred and Enid when they'd fallen from the sky on that damn broomstick. How she thought she could be a good headmistress whilst being so dismissive of the lives of students Mildred didn't have a clue. She was still out there, Mildred realised, still bitter and jealous of her sister's position as the headmistress, why she couldn't get her own life and do something constructive was anyone's guess. Mildred shrugged her shoulders. Agatha wasn't her problem, for the moment, but she imagined she would be again, soon. Oh well. But truthfully she didn't care what she was trying to prove, and truthfully she doubted she could run the school any better than her sister could. Still, Mildred had to be thankful she hadn't crashed into the Great Wizard and humiliated the school or something.
She pulled Tabby closer to her face, listening to the purrs of her cat, and finally fell asleep.
Something was stirring in the world of magic. It was older than the Craft which had superseded it hundreds of years ago, but was in fact infinitely more powerful. While the magical practitioners who used the magic of the Craft were aware of the legends surrounding this much older force, their ability to understand it had long since faded. What had once been a highly important religious practice involving sacrifice and ritual was now virtually forgotten to all but a handful. But the Craft had its roots in this force, it had been used by sorcerers for countless generations before it began to decline, but just because a force that is worshipped and used by High Priests and High Priestesses, dedicated servants of the force, declines, and was perceived by magical beings such as the Great Dragons of old who had been wiped out but two by the Great Purge orchestrated in the days before King Arthur ascended to the throne of Camelot. Over the centuries the Old Religion had declined as fewer witches and wizards were able to use and manipulate its power, and so gave way to a much easier evolution in the form of the Craft.
Centred in the Isle of the Blessed, the Old Religion was finally returning to the world of magic. Already others had noticed and had rejoiced that their way of life was finally gaining significance after centuries of strife.
Cries of "Mildred, you'll be late again!" echoed around Mildred's bedroom the next morning accompanied by the thumps of an impatient Maud Spellbody. Mildred groaned as she struggled to get out of bed. She hated mornings, hated getting out of bed, but she knew if she didn't and she wasn't up in time for lessons then HB would be breathing down her neck like a demented and vicious dragon. Once more Mildred wished Cackles was a day school and not a boarding school; she missed her bedroom, her art work, her own books and TV. Most of all she missed the way her mother woke her up. It was better than the way Maud woke her up, thumping on the door with blows that echoed through Mildred's head like a sledgehammer striking a gong.
Hold on, what's this? There was something in her bed, as large and no bigger than a photo album. It was a book and flicking through it, it was a spell book, but none of the incantations made any sense to Mildred. She had been in Cackles long enough to know that she had to report this, and yet she was curious about the spells. The book was old, very old, yet the pages were still clear and she could read it without any trouble.
But she didn't have the chance to really get a look. More thumps came from the door. "MILDRED!" Damn it.
"Okay, I'm coming," Mildred shouted back, rushing around haphazardly as always to get dressed. As she put her clothes on, grabbing her stuff, Mildred shot the book a look. She didn't really want to take it out with her despite the guarantee Miss Hardbroom never bothered to search them, but she didn't want to take the risk. She didn't know what it was, but every fibre of her being wanted to protect this book and guard it with her life. After sticking the book in her wardrobe, Mildred left the room and hurried out. After leaving the bedroom, Mildred had a full day of lessons and dealing with the sneers of disdain directed towards her by Miss Hardbroom though this time she looked a little…concerned. It had occurred to Mildred to ask what was bothering the teacher whenever she had caught the usually terrifying witch looking at her, but Mildred hadn't mustered the courage to ask her what was wrong. It did cross her mind and she hoped she was right, that HB was worried about what had recently happened, but she didn't dare ask in case she aggravated the teacher.
When Mildred returned to her bedroom after another day's work, she checked the place she had chosen to hide the mysterious spellbook she'd found in the early morning. She'd been asking herself where it had come from, had someone dropped it off. But why would they leave it here, was it by accident? Mildred studied the book at her desk. It didn't seem dangerous, but she had enough experience of magic already to know that even the most innocent object could hide a trap, and after sitting on a cursed broomstick, courtesy of Ethel Hallow, Mildred was not in the mood to be tricked so soon. After a few minutes of checking it, Mildred decided it seemed alright; she wished she had a better way of being sure, and was tempted to rush to the library and find a spell book there that could tell her if something was dangerous, but she didn't dare leave the room. It would be curfew soon, and Miss Hardbroom could probably be prowling around. But still she was curious about why someone would just leave a book of magic in her room like this. None of the spells listed in the pages were anything like the ones she learnt on a daily basis, but still she'd try a few tonight and if they seemed dangerous then she'd hand it in to Miss Cackle or Miss Hardbroom in the morning. Yeah, a good plan. She wouldn't even need to tell them where it came from or how long she'd had it. Hopefully.
Mildred sighed and examined a few of the pages, and found what looked like a straightforward spell for lighting up a candle. Seems basic enough, she thought. Most of the lights in the school looked electrical, but it was actually magic. Surprise, surprise. But each bedroom had a candle, just in case something happened, however unlikely, to the main lights. Miss Gullet might have found something concerning 'health and safety' to complain about, but Mildred didn't care. She got the candle out and gently placed the holder onto the floor before sitting down. After shivering a little bit on the hard cold stone floor, Mildred wasn't comfortable until she was cross legged. She took a deep breath, pushing aside the worry she'd get this wrong, and concentrated.
Extending a hand, she said clearly and softly, "Forbærne!" And visualised the candle being lit.
She gasped when the candle lit up! She had just gotten a spell right on the first try. Oh, Mildred had performed magic before, but with varying degrees of risk and success, you only had to ask Ethel to know that. Smiling at the candle, Mildred blew out the flame and recast the spell. She had to make sure this wasn't some cruel fluke. Another "Forbærne!" and the same result. The candle was lit. Still basking in the pleasure she had cast a spell correctly, Mildred found another spell, similar to the one she had just cast, and decided to give it a chance. She knew she was pushing her luck but she was enjoying herself.
"Bryne," she cast. The candle lit up again. Mildred flicked through the book, knowing now she was looking at elemental magic, one of the most basic forms of magic taught at Cackles. But in the book all of the spells were listed. Ah, she found what she was looking for and cast her next spell.
"Færblæd wawe," on the candle, and a gust of wind blew out the flame. Mildred stood up awkwardly, wincing at the feeling as she stood up from the cold stone floor, and paced the room slowly, thoughtfully. She had just cast three spells and they had all worked. Mildred sat down on the bed, thinking about what she had done. It was so much to take in, knowing that she could do magic. Her first thought was to, naturally, tell the whole school and show them what she could do. But she quickly decided against it. Her new book might be taken from her.
Heading over to the desk she flicked through the book, and found another spell. She extended her hand towards the sketchpad on the desk and cast a new incantation, already looking forwards to the results. "Inbringe cume mec," she said clearly and the pad levitated, but she gasped and the pad dropped back down onto the desk when she lost concentration. But Mildred didn't care, she had just noticed something she hadn't expected, something about her eyes. Was it the light? Mildred cast the spell again, keeping one eye on the pad and the other on her mirror. She gasped again, she'd known she'd thought she saw something. Excitedly she rushed over to the candle holder and picked it up and brought it back over to the desk.
"Bryne," she said, seeing the same thing before she cast the wind spell, "Faerbaed wawe," and extinguished the flame. All that time she kept an eye on the mirror.
Yes! She'd thought it was there. Her eyes were turning yellowish gold whenever she cast a spell. How could that be? Was it something unique to this form of magic? Why didn't the magic taught here at school do the same thing? Mildred decided to cast one more spell before she went to bed. She held her hand out towards one of the pencils she used for drawing, and said, "Cæga cume her." The pencil came to her to rest in the palm of her hand.
"Amazing," she whispered, putting the pencil back and then picked up her new spell book and looked around the room for a better hiding place for the book. The desk and wardrobe were too obvious, she decided, so she would use her mattress. She studied the bed for a moment, trying to work out how she was going to do this. If she just hid it in one of the corners, someone would only need to lift it up and find the book. Actually, after a few more minutes of checking and thinking, she realised the mattress wasn't the best place either.
Pursing her lips Mildred looked around the room, and then she smirked.
Please tell me what you think.