Authors Note: Huge thanks to all the lovely people who have left such kind reviews and PM's so far, here is the next chapter- this is set back in the same timescale as the opening chapter, about two weeks into term.
Please review and make my day!
The clock in the belltower was striking seven, a clear peal ringing out into the still air, the majestic architecture of the ancient castle taking on a dark silhouette against the apricot-stained sky of the dusky evening, bats beginning to awaken and fly from their daytime perches into the darkening blackness of the night as Mildred Hubble traipsed along the corridor to the Potions laboratory, looking for all her worth like a dejected pupil about to undergo the torture of an hours extra potions classes. She raised her hand to the door and knocked smartly.
"Enter…" The authoritative tones rang out clearly.
She carefully entered the room, glancing back over her shoulder at her disappearing group of friends.
"Ah, Mildred." Miss Hardbroom looked up from the stack of exercise books that she was marking with her usual rapid efficiency and pointed directly at the cauldron set up in front of her with a sharply extended index finger, an orange flame dancing merrily at its base. "Intermediate Potions, Page 473, Levitation Potions, please read the theory and complete the practical task." Her tone was brisk and business-like, purposely exhibiting none of the recent warmth or friendliness that had developed between the two of them.
"Yes, Miss Hardbroom," Mildred replied meekly, twisting her plait nervously between her fingers as she stepped forwards to her awaiting cauldron.
Constance stood up and walked briskly to the back of the classroom, closing the ajar door behind her, her keys jangling noisily at her waist.
"And remember, one mistake and I shall place you in detention for the rest of the week!" she snapped brusquely, purely for the benefit of anyone who may be loitering and listening outside as she listened carefully to the silence, satisfying herself that there was nobody within earshot as she turned to the awaiting pupil with a gentle smile, quite unlike the fearsome character which she portrayed normally, shedding the assumed mask of the strict, dictatorial authoritarian, assuming a more relaxed demeanour as she settled down onto the awaiting wooden stool to supervise her favourite lesson of the week, delighting in the steady improvement that Mildred was making, at last showing her merits. She had to concede that approaching Mildred's classes with a more gentle approach was having the desired effect, the girl able to think clearly and remaining unflustered, each success building her barely existent belief in her own abilities.
"Now then, Mildred" she encouraged gently as she surveyed the busily working student, a faint glow of pride welling within her as she watched the young girl feverishly stirring her potion, biting her lip in determination to achieve the desired result, "Just be careful with those spiders eggs, you don't want too many, otherwise the recipient of the potion may find themselves stranded upon the ceiling for a few hours!" she placed a cool, restraining had upon Mildred's wrist to prevent the addition of any more of the volatile substance. "That's better," she encouraged gently, allowing a rare smile of approval to dawn upon her dark lips at the sight of the sparkling magenta hue that was shimmering upon the steamy surface of the brew, "much better, good girl!"
Mildred felt a twinge of happiness build within her as she listened carefully to the advice being imparted to her, chattering away carefreely to the previously feared potions mistress as she brewed the complex concoction, finally flourishing beneath the gentle, supportive advice and encouragement. Miss Hardbroom had suggested the extra classes as a means of improving Mildred's chances of gaining entry to the prestigious Weirdsister College, but although her potioneering skills were improving beyond recognition, Mildred enjoyed the chance to spend more time with the witch with whom she was developing a close friendship, exchanging ideas, allowing the traditional barriers of teacher-student tradition to fall by the wayside as they had become closer, their bond blossoming following their shared, traumatic experiences in the previous year, a dawning mutual understanding and respect beginning to take root and grow.
Outside of their private study sessions, Constance still maintained the expected classroom frostiness towards Mildred, until recently her most infuriating pupil, but there was a knowing, reassuring twinkle in her hazel eyes that had not always been present before when the customary orders and criticisms were barked, an almost apologetic glance thrown in Mildred's direction as she reprimanded the class for their lax behaviour, chiding them for their lack of care and finesse in her familiar style, pushing each pupil to achieve her best, but now watching on caringly as Mildred worked hard to improve her previously abysmal marks, steadily throwing aside the clumsiness of youth and transforming into the powerful young witch that she was destined to be, the other Fairweatherite witch, possessor of the purest of magical powers.
However, unbeknown to the pair, the tranquil, contended scene was being coldly observed from a distance by an unseen intruder, the shadowy figure of an unknown witch who was staring glassily through the lead paned window with such a fixed intensity that had it not been for the simmering warmth of the cauldron, the occupants of the room would have felt their blood run cold at the sight of the unblinking automaton, barely human in her stillness, patiently watching her prey, a spider teasing the silken threads of her web, pulling them ever closer to her darkened lair, preparing to eventually drop down on a spindle of gossamer thread and greedily engulf them, her breath leaving steamy trails of condensation to slide in little rivers of teardrops down the frozen glass. Allowing time to slip by like grains of sand through her fingers, the wait was irrelevant to her, she was incessantly perseverant. Waiting. Waiting for the moment.
A faint whimper accompanied by the smash of falling glass from her left told Mildred that all was far from well. She had turned away to add another sprig of bindweed to her merrily bubbling cauldron, watching in awed wonder as the final shower of golden sparks danced across the frothing solution indicating a perfectly proportioned brew, waiting eagerly from the note of approval from Miss Hardbroom, only to not receive a reply. She wheeled around, transfixed by what she saw, anxiety twisting her stomach into tense knots at the extent of her helplessness in being unable to provide any assistance, her heart leaping in fright as her gaze met with the terrified, wide-eyed stare of Miss Hardbroom, her usually pale face ashen and glazed with pain, tears of surprise and agony beginning to well up in the hazel eyes which were silently pleading for help, beseeching Mildred to come to her aid.
Constance was bent double from her majestic height, one willowy, velvet-clad arm wrapped tightly across her bony torso as if she had been shot in the stomach, a raging pain tearing mercilessly through her head as she reached out and clutched tightly at Mildred's arm, the nearest obvious means of support in a bid to prevent herself from toppling over and crumpling into a helpless state of unconsciousness upon the unforgiving stone floor, her nails digging tightly into the young flesh and drawing blood, another jolt of pain caused her to wince and duck abruptly below the level of the bench as she retched and suddenly vomited, a watery solution splattering noisily upon the floor, her stomach, as usual devoid of food. Beads of dewy sweat were breaking out upon her forehead, glistening in the flickering light from the forgotten cauldron, her senses distorted by the blazing fever which was marching resolutely through her mind, its contained, blistering heat a stark contrast to the slender, icy fingers which gripped desperately onto her young student. She could feel her limbs trembling beneath her like a new-born lamb, her head spinning as if it were trapped in a vortex as the room dissolved into a hazy, pixelated blur of meaningless colours and textures, further nausea rising within her as she could hear the deafening thud of her blood pounding in her ears, the heavy, urgent pulse sounding as if it were threatening to smash through the fragile membranes of her ear canals and allow the raging sea of blood to escape, her pulse quickening in fear at the sudden loss of control, blue sparks of magic stuttered reluctantly into life from her bared fingers, sinking quickly into her skin and halting the dizzying chain of events.
She straightened up, drawing breath shakily and relinquishing her death-grip upon Mildred's arm, tiny droplets of ruby blood oozing from the talon gashes and trickling slowly in a reddish trail down the pale skin towards her narrow wrist, the dark liquid glittering wetly as it meandered slowly downwards from the open wounds which littered the girl's arm, looking as if she had been attacked and mauled by a pack of wild dogs such had been the anguished desperation of the potions teacher.
"Mildred.." she murmured, a sharp wave of guilt rising within her as she surveyed the damage that she had unwittingly inflicted, immediately reaching forward with a trembling hand and placing her willowy index fingers at either end of the open wound and persuading dancing sparks to escape from her slender digits and carefully knit the damaged membranes back together, effortlessly fusing the broken skin until a faint squeak from Mildred caused her to look down at the wound, cursing beneath her breath at the magic surge that had led to the stab of pain that had raced along Mildred's arm. "I'm sorry," she flinched, retracting her fingers immediately, "Please forgive me..." Another surge of pain shot without prior warning across her ribcage, like a bolt of electricity, causing Constance to double up in distress, a hiss of surprise escaping from between her tightly clenched teeth as she once more fought to maintain her balance as Mildred's concerned face swam in front of her vision.
"I'm going to get help, I'm going to Miss Cackle!" Mildred had seen enough, her caring instincts on red-alert at the sight of the invincible HB clinging onto consciousness by a thread, the mighty sorceress reduced to a trembling wreck by the unseen illness which was clawing savagely away at her.
"No..." the hoarse whisper came from beside her, each syllable released with huge effort from the quaking teacher, panting for her breath as if she had run a marathon, each gasp sounding like a death rattle from her constricted throat, "Please, al-low me a m-oment!"
Suddenly the vice of pain broke as if she had never felt ill in the first place, the chains of ailment suddenly falling away, the dark shadowy clouds breaking apart to reveal the sun once more. Cautiously she straightened up, massaging her tender ribs which were already protesting following the retching that had preceded the excruciating episode.
"Miss?" enquired Mildred tentatively, her blue eyes wide with concern, "Miss, what is it?"
Constance took her time in replying, carefully assessing every minute detail of her well-being with the critical eye of the advanced potioneer and the razor-sharp intellect of the revered academic before she permitted herself to utter a single syllable. "Gone…" she mused thoughtfully, "Just vanished..."
The figure at the window felt the surge of joy rise within her as the Mistress expressed her delight; her unbridled elation bleeding through into the witch's consciousness like a fireworks display of vibrant colours and explosions, a riotous display of euphoria, such was the strength of the emotions attached to the sight which she had just witnessed.
"It has begun," came the satisfied voice within her mind, each word ringing with a sparkling layer of contented malicious glee, a proud, almost prophetic statement.
"Her time has come…"
