(A/N)- Forgive the stupid chapter titles, they'll get better. Thanks so much HB's Favourite for reviewing! :) I'm not much of a fan of any character + inventive family, but this idea kept popping up and I couldn't help it. I just had a hard time believing Constance was single her entire life, that being such a powerful witch she must've come from a rich pureblood family and possibly forced into a marriage. And: I'm glad I got that across about his character with such a short dialogue scene! I'm going to include him more later, in flashbacks.

Also, and this goes for everyone who reads this: the inspiration for Charlotte is the actress AnnaSophia Robb. She wasn't my first choice, but she does sort of look like Kate Duchene/Miss Hardbroom ... if you squint real hard? I don't know, maybe it's just me. I know she's not british - the voice I seem to hear, which is close enough to AnnaSophia's if you listen closely, is Liesel Matthews from A Little Princess (1995). I mostly base Charlotte off of AnnaSophia's performance in 'Sleepwalking' which is worth watching if you're into depressing broken families with abusive pasts. Inspiration for Charlotte also comes from the song 'Whisperlude' by Pogo / Fagottron on Youtube. The inspiration should be more apparent later; I just kept picturing a little girl dancing and spinning, and the whole story came out of that. I honestly do not understand how my mind works.

NOTE: The previous chapter was a sort of prologue, and the rest of this fic is 12 years after the scene in the first chapter, with the exceptions of the flashbacks, which I will put in italics from now on just so they don't get mixed up in any way. I'm trying to hint at what happened beforehand without giving too much away, all we be revealed in more detail at the appropriate time.

Chapter 2 : The Departure

~ 12 years later ~

Constance Hardbroom stood outside her father's mansion, which she had inherited seven years ago after his death. She gazed carelessly at the 'For Sale' sign that had been tacked into the muddy earth, and she turned away, breathing in the warm summer's air. She could practically smell the autumn breeze on it's way, the distinct coolness in the breeze that brushed by her face every so often in little bursts. She longed to get into the sky to feel more of that, but she had to wait for Charlotte.

She turned around, giving the house one last look. It looked old and decrepit from the years of neglect it had been given, long before her father had passed. He had been bedridden for nearly ten years before he had died. The last words she ever spoke to him were before her wedding day. She forgot exactly what she had said, but it must have been some false statement about how happy she was to have a father like him in her life.

She felt no attachment to this house. It had been a prison to her throughout her entire childhood. Her room was a jail cell, and Mistress Hecketty Broomhead was her warden. She wouldn't have allowed Charlotte to live here if she had a choice in the matter. It was the only home they had left.

Her husband's home was taken from her a year after he had died, due to complications resulting from a heart attack. He was just finishing up one of his history classes when it happened. That was two years ago. Charlotte was thirteen at the time, in the middle of her first year at Salamander Witch School.

Constance feared Charlotte was suffering psychologically from witnessing her father's death. She didn't talk at all for a few months, but eventually, much to Constance's relief, she began to speak again. She wasn't a big talker, but then again she never was to begin with.

Constance watched as Charlotte made her way down the front steps, her napsack and broom in tow. Her pale blonde hair now reached down to the end of her back, but she kept it bound in one huge braid. It still didn't keep the hair out of her face; a couple of flyaway strands were flipping about her face as she strode over to her mother in her new Cackle's uniform, complete with the black cape and witch's hat. She squinted up at her in the afternoon sunlight, managing a small smile.

"Do you have everything?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss." Charlotte replied quietly, and Constance began to wonder when she'd started calling her that. It didn't matter now. She didn't want the entire school knowing that Charlotte was her daughter. Constance felt that her daughter's deep brown eyes and her naturally black eyelashes and eyebrows made it obvious, but her pale blonde hair was sure to throw people off. And, what with her excellent hearing and all, Constance would be sure to diminish any rumor as soon as it was thought up.

It wasn't that she was ashamed of Charlotte. Actually, it was quite the opposite. She just didn't want the girls to have any amount of insight on her personal life, whether Charlotte spoke of her family or not. And she certainly didn't want Hecketty Broomhead finding her out.

Constance had wanted to transfer Charlotte to Salamander's since Zachariah's death, but she was worried it would be too soon. Starting a new life at a new school would be hard enough, and doing so while dealing with the death of a parent ... she just didn't want to make her go through that. So she decided to give it a year. Bad idea.

Charlotte had written to her mother exactly one month before summer break, saying that she desperately needed to speak with her. Constance, never having received such a letter, by anyone, immediately arranged to meet with her that weekend, where she was allowed to venture off into the nearby town (with permission, of course). Constance had a feeling that this was about Mistress Broomhead, and she wanted there to be no written evidence that she was there to see her daughter, if that was the case.

It was.

::::::::

Charlotte smiled uneasily across the table, hiding her arms beneath the desk nervously. She kept looking out the window every so often, as if she didn't want to be there. Constance ordered her tea for her when the waitress came around, and she sat stock still, staring at Charlotte, waiting for her to begin. When she did not, she folded her arms and asked, rather shakily despite herself,

"Does this have to do with Hecketty Broomhead?"

Charlotte winced, and quickly shook her hand at her mother, "She might hear us!" she hissed.

"She can't," Constance said, with such certainty that Charlotte immediately felt at ease, "Not as long as you're around me."

"Why?" Charlotte asked, ever the inquisitive one when it came to magic, especially the kind not taught in school.

Constance's eyes briefly flickered across the cafe a moment, and she locked eyes with her daughter, "It's a sort of bubble charm, a deflection," she explained, "It keeps unwanted ears from listening in, and it's stronger when one or more of the same blood is around the one who cast the spell."

Charlotte swallowed this information, eyes lost in the checkered tablecloth.

"Now," Constance said, taking a deep breath, "What is it you needed to tell me?"

Charlotte's eyes flickered briefly upwards and met her mother's gaze, and soon fell to the table as she twisted her fingers nervously under the table.

"Your letter sounded urgent," Constance stated, trying to remain nonchalant, "What happened?"

Charlotte took a deep breath, and began, "Well, you know that whole ... thing I got into a couple of weeks ago ..." her voice died down as she trailed off at the sight of Constance's hardened eyes.

"What 'thing'?" she snapped.

"They didn't contact you about it?" Charlotte asked, confusedly.

"About what?"

"I guess it's not important then ..."

"Charlotte!" Constance shouted, despite herself, breaking the bubble for a brief second and causing people to look around. She continued in a firm tone but was careful not to raise her voice above how much the bubble could take.

"What happened?" she demanded, "I did not come all this way for you to dance around the problem!"

"Don't get mad then, okay?" she exclaimed, her voice wavering, and Constance closed her eyes, taking a breath, trying to restrain herself.

She opened her eyes again, looking into Charlotte's now teary eyes.

"What happened?" she asked calmly.

Charlotte took a breath, wiping her eyes, "Well, remember what you said, that I have a gift, and that gift might show itself in some unexpected way?"

Constance's furrowed eyebrows suddenly turned into that of worry. Charlotte continued.

"Well ... it happened, I think."

Constance swallowed dryly, "How?"

"I made a storm happen," she said, wincing, waiting for her mother to blow up on her. But she didn't. She simply stared back at her daughter.

"I got mad," Charlotte explained, "My best friend betrayed me in front of the entire school. I became the laughing stock. And the teachers there, they don't do anything, they just tell the class to quiet down, nobody cares what's going on ..." she began to ramble, and Constance quickly grasped both her hands, which she was waving stressfully to further express her anguish. Charlotte stopped at the cool touch of her mother's pale skin, and looked up tearfully.

"And Hecketty," Constance said, feeling sick to say the woman's name, "she found out about this?"

Charlotte nodded, feeling much more relaxed as her mother took her hands and placed them one on top of the other in the middle of the table, and covered them with her own in a gentle squeeze.

"She was inspecting the school at the time."

Constance sighed in disbelief, "You picked then to lose control? After all that I've told you about her-"

"I know, I snapped." Charlotte said, meeting her eyes, "I'm sorry."

Constance nodded, looking down at their hands, "It's okay." she said, not believing her own words and her daughter could feel it, "Everything ... is going to be okay."

Silence hung between them for a moment, and Charlotte shrunk her hands away, back under the table, as the waitress came by with their tea. Charlotte thanked her quietly, but Constance remained silent as she stared out into nothing. She appeared to be deep in thought.

Charlotte gave her a little more time, before she gently prodded, "What are we going to do?"

Constance's eyes flickered at her, and over at her tea as she sighed shakily, taking up her cup and sipping it. There was a slight tremble to her hands, and Charlotte felt uneasy. After placing the cup back down, she smiled at her daughter forcefully, and very briefly.

"You'll be attending Cackle's from now on," Constance said, folding her arms across her chest, "You'll be safer there. I can keep an eye on you and, hopefully, help you to control this ... gift of yours."

"I don't need to be looked after," Charlotte insisted, "Hecketty seems just as afraid of me as I am of her."

"If she fears you, then you need to be more wary of her."

"I damn near knocked her over when that storm was brewing ..." Charlotte trailed off, as if reminiscing over a fond memory. The look in her eyes as she stared off unsettled Constance, and she shifted in her seat, "You should've seen her face ..." Charlotte said with a light laugh.

"Charlotte, if she fears you, she's going to want to control you even more than she already had planned to in the past," Constance said seriously, "You have something, and she wants it. And she'll turn around and claim to the entire world that she developed your ability herself! She'll tell you over and over again that she taught you how to do it, and in time, you'll damn near be forced to believe that it's true. You'll fear her, Charlotte, possibly even more than I do. And if you don't ..." Constance looked away tensing up, "I've said too much."

Charlotte's passion she felt bubble up at the thought of how brilliant, magical and powerful her own gift was had faded as Constance spoke, and it now felt like she had a rock in her stomach. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she ignored it, and sat up straighter, looking fiercely into her mother's eyes.

"We can fight her," she said, "Together."

Constance shook her head immediately, "No, we can avoid her. She may be a witch but she can't live forever. If you're smart, you'll just stay away from her. That's all anyone can ever do."

Charlotte nodded, wishing that her mother had said otherwise. She sighed, sipping her tea as she looked across the cafe at some girls from her school. They were talking amongst themselves, and one of them happened to glance over at Charlotte, and she whispered to the others, causing them to laugh.

"When do we leave?" Charlotte asked.

"Immediately," Constance said, not bothering to finish her tea. She left money for the waitress and shot Charlotte a brief reassuring grin before heading out, making sure her daughter was following.

::::::::::::

Constance mounted her broomstick, strapping one of daughter's bags beside her. She sat and waited, watching as Charlotte got her broom to hover. In that moment, Constance realized that she had never seen her daughter fly a broom before.

"Haven't you got a cat?"

Charlotte shook her head, "Reptiles are Salamander's thing. Didn't you know?" she held up a small plastic traveling tank that contained a salamander, "He's miserable though. I plan to release him."

Constance took the tank from her as she strapped her second bag to her broom. She held the cage up at eye level, watching as the scrawny little thing moved it's front legs up against the tank in a feeble effort to escape, but he didn't seem hellbent on it. As if he were just making the motion to do so out of routine, and not expecting to get anywhere.

"Does he have a name?" Constance asked.

"Salvador," Charlotte breathed, sitting up on her broomstick.

"I suppose his last name is Dali, isn't it?" Constance asked, remembering their trip last year to a museum where some of his work was featured.

"Yup," Charlotte smirked as she reached out and placed the tank carefully inside her cloak pocket so the tank hung snugly upright behind her.

"There's a lake not far from the school," Constance said, "You may release him there."

Charlotte took one last look at the mansion as Constance commanded her broom into the air, and Charlotte soon did the same.

She took off ahead of Constance for a bit, eager to get up into the clouds. She looked back, smiling down at her mother as she caught up with her.

They exchanged no words during their flight, as they would have to shout over the wind if they chose to. The flight was fairly long, so long in fact that Charlotte's legs were growing numb, but she didn't voice this. She tried hard to enjoy the breeze as she struggled to keep her witch's hat on. Constance had no problem with her hat as her bun seemed to help keep it in place. Charlotte soon gave up and held the hat in her hand against the broom, pointing her toes as they rose higher into the sky.

She could see the castle just ahead, and relief filled her. She pulled herself up to fly at her mother's side, and Constance soon gave the signal to go down, and they both descended into the school courtyard.

(A/N)- Sorry the scene ended kind of 'bleh', but I wanted to get this chapter up before I had to start on my homework. Next chapter will be up ASAP, but please review, even if it's just a word or two. Nothing mean, please. :P I'm still rather new to this fandom, so cut me some slack.