Hello again. I seem to be on a writing roll at the moment. There are a lot of Mistress Broomhead stories about, and they are all really, truly brilliant, especially HB's Favourite's utterly amazing 'Bellatoxica' but this idea just popped into my head and I needed to get it down. This is my first multi chapter story in years – I was put off them by my early and somewhat abysmal efforts. *blushes* Anyway, I own absolutely hee-haw (apart from The Norton Anthology of Theory And Criticism on which my laptop is resting) and I hope you enjoy.

AN2 – Also, even though this is series 3 I'm using Miss Bat instead of Miss Crotchet because Miss Bat is easier to write for me. And if, as I do, you are slightly weird and play out the stories in your head as you read them *blushes again* then this has the original Fenella actress.

The news that Amelia Cackle had to impart to her staff and her students was not particularly happy. In fact, it was the worst possible news they could have had, and it was especially alarming for the girls in the fourth year. The reactions in the staff room were just as she had predicted – Constance would explode, Imogen would try to keep calm and not quite manage it and Davina would snatch a flower from the vase on the desk and make a beeline for the cupboard.

'Ladies, I have some news to share with you,' Amelia said, trying to sound nonchalant but the expression on her face gave her away. The fear in the room was now tangible.

'We were notified this morning that one of the colleges is coming round to see if they can recruit some of the fourth years in their intake next year.' From the expression on her face, Weirdsister College, the crème de la crème of magical higher education, was obviously not the one coming. The other three were trying to puzzle out why Amelia seemed so scared. She was sad to see the fourth years go every year but never as scared as this.

'Who's coming?' Imogen said from her usual chair.

Amelia swallowed. 'Mistress Broomhead'.

Constance, who never, ever lost her cool, looked up and shouted 'WHAT?', Imogen dropped her sports magazine onto the floor, the colour rapidly draining from her face and Davina, with a terrified squeak, jumped up from her chair, grabbed a flower, managed to knock over the milk jug and (with incredible speed for a woman her age) sprinted across the room and jumped into the stationery cupboard.

Nobody really knew what to say. Finally Imogen managed to overcome the tennis ball that seemed to be blocking her throat. 'Why's she coming? The other colleges just send out prospectuses,' she gulped, her voice shaking.

'The Broomhead College of Witchcraft only accepts the crème de la crème of witches, Miss Drill,' Constance said, in a voice completely devoid of any emotion but still managing to sound a touch exasperated at Imogen not actually knowing that the BCW was the only school on the same plane of prestige as Weirdsister. 'She normally visits all the very top schools and takes the very best pupils. I assume the reason she's never come here before is because until the inspection, Cackle's was considered a failing school.' She trailed off there but nobody motioned her to continue. Somehow, they all knew that the only reason she was coming to Cackle's now was because of Constance. She certainly did not want her former tutor to come and more importantly she did not want her selecting pupils to apply to the College. In the back of her mind she had a horrible suspicion about who might be selected and for once in her life, she desperately hoped she was wrong.

Amelia sighed as she rose and walked over to the cupboard. She knocked on the door and called through it 'Miss Bat? You need to come out now, we need to have a meeting.'

With her hair even more wild than it had been before she went into it, Davina exited the cupboard on the condition that she was allowed to bring her bear out for comfort. Constance rolled her eyes but for once said nothing and Imogen had to fight down a laugh when she saw that Davina was carrying a Paddington Bear, complete with wellington boots and duffle coat. Given her experience last time Hecate Broomhead had turned up, Davina was very keen to keep out of her way.

'I think what we have to do is say to the girls. If any of them see Mistress Broomhead just suddenly turning up it might cause a slight panic, and that's the last thing we need,' Amelia said, offering the biscuit tin round as though they were merely discussing the class reports.

'Does that seem fair?' She looked round at her staff. Imogen and Davina nodded. Constance, though very pale, managed to speak in a reasonably steady voice. 'They need a warning. The girls have got to have a warning.'

So a meeting was called in the Great Hall immediately and as the girls began to file in, there were rumours flying around already.

'I wonder what this is all about?' Maud whispered as the third year girls sat down in their usual places.

'I hope it's not another anti technology lecture,' Ruby sighed, remembering her involvement the last time there was an assembly on this.

Enid's eyes gleamed wickedly. 'Maybe it's a safe sex lecture!'

'Enid!' Jadu and Mildred exclaimed at the same time.

'What?' she said, looking as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

The teachers' arrival on the platform put an end to any speculation but the grim looks on their faces were enough to send whispers rocketing round the room again.

Miss Hardbroom stepped forward. 'If anybody would like to hand in to me three hundred lines of 'Whispering in assembly is rude, juvenile and not befitting to the manner of well brought up girls' tomorrow morning then please feel free to keep talking.' The noise died instantly. With a satisfied look on her face, Miss Hardbroom stepped back and Miss Cackle took over. She cleared her throat. 'Girls, we received notice this morning from a college who are sending their headmistress to speak to the fourth years about next year. I feel we should all know that it is Mistress Hecate Broomhead, who I am sure you remember, who is coming to recruit pupils for the Broomhead College of Witchcraft.'

The first years, having not witnessed Mistress Broomhead last year, looked puzzled, the second and third years apprehensive and the fourth years, Miss Cackle noted with a pang, downright worried. She suppressed a sigh. The sooner this visit was all over, the better.

See that little thing down there that says 'Review'? Go on and hit it. You know you want to. I'll have the next chapter up in a few days. Until then, enjoy the snow! *Insert hollow laughter here*