Massive thankies to everyone who reviewed/followed/favourited. Mwah! In reverse order:

TheWorstTwitch: LOL, watch out for flying books. I did laugh at what you said about flying history books—I'm a historian. Wouldn't recommend that as a method of um, drumming it into people... Funny you should mention re: sports as I was wondering that myself. Quidditch is such a huge part of the HP books but none of the Cackle's girls ever really care—which TBH suits me as neither did I.

Guest: Thank you! Constance is particularly easy for me to write. Which is worrying, come to think of it... As for Maud/Millie/HB, read on...

Phantomlistener: Thank you! I wanted that scene to have emotional impact and I'm really glad it did for you. X

ZeIncomparableEm: Ask and you shall receive... but not just yet. However, it'll come, it'll come. You'll just have to wait! LOL Maud. I think this time I've channeled more of '17!Maud so she might annoy you less. Um, on second thoughts... :)

Alexanne2017: Thank you! Hope you enjoy this bit.

We're approaching the end of the first major arc but it'll feed directly on. So hold on to your, um, hats, and most importantly of all: enjoy, mes amies.

Six

'I must say, Constance, setting Mildred Hubble that reading to do while her wrist recovered was a brainwave. She's come on in leaps and bounds!'

Constance turned in her seat from where she was frowning over Edith Moonshine's ideas for her WHC Potions coursework, her eyebrows going up.

'Has she, now?

Lavinia beamed. 'She's practically a model pupil these days.'

Constance snorted. 'I'll believe that once I've seen her brew a potion as she should, Lavinia. Even Mildred can hardly get into trouble when all she's doing is reading.'

Lavinia looked surprised. 'You haven't allowed her to do any brewing?'

Constance clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. 'Don't be absurd, please. That girl is dangerous enough in the potions laboratory at full capacity. With an injured wrist—' Shuddering at the thought, she turned back to Edith's coursework proposal—only to be disturbed once more by Imogen Drill.

'I think you're being very unfair. I simply strapped Mildred's wrist up well and let her go.' Constance turned to glare and the younger mistress smirked. 'No doubt you're about to tell me that of course potion brewing requires a level of dexterity I simply don't understand—'

'You don't,' Constance gritted, remembering her first year as a qualified teacher when Imogen Drill was the bane of her existence. 'And it does. Before you attempt any comparisons may I point out that most flying accidents harm only the flyer. An accident in the potions lab—'

'Could blow up the whole school. Bla bla bla. Yes, Miss Hardbroom, I remember.'

'If only the child would cheer up,' Lavinia sighed, and Constance gave up on her marking, twisting her chair so that she joined her colleagues around the big table.

'I know.' She paused, studying the grain of the wood beneath her fingers. 'Amelia and I are concerned.'

The junior chanting mistress nodded. 'When she first came she ... sparkled. Everything was new and exciting and if I had a pound for every time she shouted "wow" in class I could retire. Recently, the joy's gone out of her.'

Constance nodded. 'Not to put too fine a point upon it, she cowers. She's always braced for attack.'

'Can't say I've noticed it myself,' Imogen said, stretching luxuriously. 'In fact, she's been doing very well in my classes.' She wrinkled her nose at the Deputy Headmistress. 'Maybe the kid's finally learned to be scared of you, like the rest of them!'

'Imogen!' Lavinia scolded and the games mistress turned wide eyes on her.

'What? You know it's true. Constance here is rapidly on her way to becoming one of Cackle's legends—and not in a good way. When she dies she'll be a ghost haunting those poor unfortunates in detention, just wait—'

The tea gurgled ominously in Constance's tummy, making her wish she'd refused it. Was that what her colleagues thought of her? Or the girls? She quailed at the thought of becoming a terrifying old witch like Broomhead, her name used to evoke fear and compliance for generations to come.

But Imogen was still talking.

'—so well in the test I thought I'd let her take the lead in the display for the Grand Wizard at Halloween. That'll cheer her up.'

It took Constance a moment to put the pieces together; when she did, the instinctive need to protect her goddaughter sent the words out in an explosive rush.

'You want to ... You want Mildred Hubble to fly lead? In front of the Grand Wizard? No, Miss Drill. I won't allow it.'

'Too late, Miss Hardbroom.' Imogen's smile was triumphant. 'I asked Amelia earlier today. She was thrilled.'

'I'm the girl's form mistress, Miss Drill,' Constance hissed. 'Never to mention that unless I've been replaced without my knowledge I'm still the Deputy Headmistress of this school. You should have brought your ... idea ... to me first. You had no business worrying Amelia—'

'I didn't. Weren't you listening? She was thrilled!'

'I will not allow it!' Constance repeated, so flatly that her colleagues stared. 'And don't look at me like that, Imogen Drill. Putting Mildred Hubble in that position at this point is sheer foolishness!'

'But Constance, why?' Davina protested, her lashes fluttering. 'If you're worried about the child and she's doing well in her broomstick work—'

'Davina, kindly do not interfere!' Constance snapped, standing so abruptly that her chair fell backwards with a crash. The chanting mistress made a sound halfway between a sob and a shriek and fled to her cupboard, leaving Constance striving for a semblance of calm as she faced the other three. 'Believe me, I know how this looks. I am not trying to be unkind. I have good reasons, sound reasons for not permitting this. It is for Mildred's own good!'

'Mildred wants to do it. She really wants to do it,' Imogen said very quietly. 'If you're going to forbid it you can bloody well tell her so.' She stood, rounding the table to look the Deputy Headmistress straight in the eye. 'I don't know why I'm surprised but just for the record, in case you've ever wondered: you're a nasty, twisted bitch, Constance Hardbroom. What happened to Ermen was terrible, but guess what, we've all suffered. We've all lost something, especially Mildred. You're not owed anything and I'm sick of you and Amelia acting as if you are!'

Constance's hands clenched as she struggled with the desire to lash out at the younger woman. Only the memory of an action taken eleven years before prevented it.

'I'm sure—' Ephedra began, but Constance waved her quiet.

'It doesn't matter, Mistress Comfrey. Nothing I say to her ever does.' She turned on her heel and left the room for her deserted potions lab, leaning on the door to close it while she pulled herself together.

I shouldn't let Imogen get to me like this, she thought, dropping onto the nearest stool and resting her elbows on the worn bench. She clasped her hands to still their trembling. I know why she does it but that doesn't make it easier to bear. If only she wouldn't use Mildred—

She rubbed her temples in an attempt to alleviate the threatening headache. If Imogen had already sought and received Amelia's permission it was unlikely Constance would be able to prevent Mildred's participation in the display—and certainly not if Mildred was as able and enthusiastic as Imogen claimed. She groaned, wondering if she and Amelia had overreacted to Mildred's earlier accident; perhaps it could be attributed to complete inexperience after all.

She closed her eyes, mentally replaying the scene: Mildred's attempts at getting the broom to a decent height, the moment when the broom quite literally flew away with her—and the terrified screams that rang around the castle's turrets while Constance and Imogen raced across the courtyard, shouting futile suggestions and instructions.

The Deputy Headmistress straightened, her lips pursing as she thought of something else. A broomstick had no magic of its own; it could only act in conjunction with the magic and will of its rider. If that rider lacked focus, it could and would channel the will and magic of another. And Mildred's greatest flaw as a student was her lack of concentration.

Her lips compressing so tightly they threatened to disappear altogether, Constance left her seat and strode to her desk at the front of the classroom, waving a hand to unlock the bottom drawer. Extracting the The Forbidden Almanac from its temporary home, she opened the book at a middle spread and re-read the spells found therein. Then she replaced the volume, her mouth twitching in a smile. The best way to protect Mildred Hubble—on a broom or off it—was to teach her the value of application, and unless Constance was very much mistaken in the girl's character, she knew just the way to do it. All she had to do was find the right moment—and knowing Mildred, it would not be long in coming.

When the rising bell went on Halloween morning, Mildred rolled in her bed to peer at the sky through the uncurtained window. Tabby mewed and she rubbed her cheek against his small head.

'At least it's not raining,' she told the kitten who purred in response. She chuckled; no matter what else was going on, Tabby was a source of never-ending joy. Tabby and Maud. For those two alone Mildred would have endured worse than the suspicion that her form-mistress wished her harm.

She frowned. Until the beginning of that week she'd been completely convinced that Maud was right about that, and Monday's Potions lesson had initially done little to change that opinion.

A moment of distraction on Mildred's part had resulted in the emergency evacuation of the lab as it filled with toxic smoke. Once the fumes had cleared, Miss Hardbroom marched them back in and read everyone a lecture before condemning the entire form to cleaning cauldrons and writing out the introductory caution in their potions textbook until, as she said, they could recite it in their sleep. That was to teach them all a lesson, she'd said. Then she'd singled out Mildred for her part in the affair by setting a truly horrific essay on appropriate behaviours in the potions laboratory, due to be completed that night in addition to the cauldron-scouring and caution-writing. By that point Mildred, feeling indignant and thoroughly ill-used ('It was an accident, miss!') was more than ready to agree with Maud's dictum that their form mistress was 'totally evil'.

Back in her bed, Mildred turned over as she recalled the oddness of what came next.

She'd been at the tail end of the subdued crocodile leaving the classroom when Miss Hardbroom called her back. She'd turned reluctantly, Maud's claw-like grip digging into the fleshy part of her arm and heightening her instinctive panic.

'Yes, Miss Hardbroom?'

'A word.' Her form mistress had transferred her glare from Mildred to Maud. 'Alone, Maud Moonshine.'

The first years exchanged frightened glances. Maud murmured, 'Be careful, Millie!' before scuttling out, leaving Mildred alone with the woman she'd come to fear more than she ever feared anyone before. She'd gulped, her heart beating so fast that she felt sick. What was Miss Hardbroom going to do to her in addition to all the punishments she'd set? It was obvious she was still furious; the very air around her seemed to spark with it, and Mildred instinctively reacted as all frightened creatures do: by trying to appease her predator.

She squeaked an apology. Unfortunately, Miss Hardbroom remained unappeased and unimpressed, her glare scorching the space between them.

'Do you even know what you're sorry for, Mildred Hubble?'

'Ummmm...' Mildred developed a whole new fascination for the bench's surface. 'For not being careful?'

'Careful?!' If HB had radiated anger before, now she was incandescent with it. 'Mildred Hubble, how many times must I tell you that Cackle's is not like your last school. Carelessness there was unfortunate. Here, it could get you killed!'

Mildred stared, still uncomprehending, and Miss Hardbroom sighed.

'Sit down, Mildred,' she ordered and Mildred gaped as her form mistress materialised in Gloria Newt's seat before her between one blink and the next.

'Sit!' HB barked and Mildred did, falling on the stool with a thwap, her hands shooting out to grip the sides. A whimper of pain escaped her and Miss Hardbroom raised an eyebrow.

'Your wrist?' Startled by the concern, Mildred nodded. The older woman shook her head. 'You might need to strap it up again. That was a bad twist. It won't heal overnight.'

'It's OK most of the time,' Mildred dared to venture after a long pause. 'It just ... aches a bit. Especially after Potions.'

'Mildred—' Miss Hardbroom began in a softer tone and some of the girl's fear evaporated.

Being scared of HB looming over you while dissecting your every fault in minuscule detail was one thing. Being afraid of HB in scarily powerful witchy mode was another. Right now she was neither; seated, their gazes were nearly level, and the morning light emphasised with unflattering clarity how tired the mistress looked. That glimmer of humanity helped Mildred concentrate on the older witch's words.

'If you are to survive your training as a witch you must start paying attention even in lessons that do not come naturally.' Miss Hardbroom spoke with an intensity that sent an icy finger down the girl's spine. 'I am not exaggerating when I say a mistake here could be fatal. For example—' She snapped her fingers and a book flew across the room to lie on the bench between them. A flick made it open at a particular spread and Mildred's eyes nearly fell out of her head.

'But that's—' she squeaked. 'Fenny and Gris said that's—'

'Ah. So you did do the readings I gave you. The other mistresses said you had, but I must confess I wondered ... Good girl.' Miss Hardbroom looked pleased. 'Fenella and Griselda undoubtedly also told you that only a member of staff can take this book from the library. That is because it contains the most dangerous potions and spells known to our world. Some are less so, but a single mistake...' Miss Hardbroom turned the book as she spoke, tapping the page to Mildred's left. 'That is a simple sleeping potion.' Her finger moved to the right. 'This is an Eternal Sleeping potion. I'm sure you can guess what it's for.'

Mildred shuddered and nodded, hunching down on her stool as she wrapped her arms around herself, and Miss Hardbroom's lips pursed.

'Exactly. Now, Mildred Hubble, what is the difference between these spells?'

Mildred leaned forward, frowning as she scanned the ingredients and methods for both potions. 'There ... there isn't one,' she tried at last. 'There's only tiny differences in the amounts.'

'For some ingredients, that could be enough,' Miss Hardbroom reminded her. 'However, you are correct. The key difference between these potions lies in the heart and mind of the brewer.' She paused. 'What's the first thing Miss Cackle tells you in Charms?'

'That the feeling matters more than the words when you're casting spells,' Mildred whispered. Her teeth chattered as she raised horrified eyes to her form mistress and that lady gave her a grim smile.

'Precisely. Now you understand why you must pay attention in all of your classes. It may not matter now—the worst that could happen is the sort of chaos you've produced today—but later it could mean the difference between life and death. Being a witch is a great privilege, Mildred Hubble. It is also a great responsibility. Remember that. Now you may go.'

Mildred wasted no time in obeying, but she was quietly thoughtful that evening, listening to Maud with little more than half an ear. For the remainder of the week she did her best in all classes rather than just those she enjoyed, and gained her reward on Thursday when HB told her she'd made the best potion in the class—much to Ethel and Drusilla's disgust.

'What's going on with you, Millie?' Maud demanded as they crossed the inner courtyard that lunchtime. 'If you're trying to suck up to HB I think you're going too far.'

'I'm not,' Mildred returned. 'I just ... I told you about that book she showed me. It made me think. I was right, what I said before. She doesn't hate us, she's just ... trying to keep us safe. That's why she shouts.'

'I'm not saying she's not a good teacher,' Maud argued. 'She is. Everyone says she's the best. But that doesn't mean she isn't out to get you, Mil!'

'She isn't,' Mildred insisted, her faith in her mother's once-best friend restored. 'And what's more, I don't believe she had anything to do with my mum dying either.'

Maud sniffed her opinion of this and changed the subject. 'Ready for tomorrow night?'

Mildred nodded. 'I think so.' She rubbed her wrist. 'I wish this would stop aching, though.'

Maud peered at her through thick lenses. 'Aren't you strapping both wrists? That's what the pro fliers do.'

'That's what Drill said.' Mildred grinned. 'And HB, imagine. I had to go to Miss Cackle's office at break and HB told me to make sure I strapped up. S'pose I better had 'cos if I don't and something goes wrong I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Just don't let her strap them for you, or check your broom,' Maud advised darkly and Mildred sighed, accepting that her friend would never be convinced. However, there was no time to discuss it further that day, for after prep and supper Mildred had to attend a final 'dress rehearsal' for the flying display. That went without a hitch and Miss Drill's praise sent her to bed with a warm feeling inside.

Tabby's insistent pawing on her collarbone returned her to her room together with the realisation that Halloween had dawned at last—and she only had fifteen minutes to get dressed and downstairs. That got her moving quickly and the rest of the day passed equally swiftly until ten at night, when she was due to meet Miss Drill in the Great Hall with the other fliers.

She arrived to find both Headmistress and Deputy Headmistress waiting while Miss Drill fussed over Fenella Feverfew's broomstick brush. Miss Cackle waved her over.

'All ready, dear?' she asked with the gentle smile that Mildred loved. She nodded, beaming, and the Headmistress gave her a quick hug. 'I'm sure you'll do splendidly and we'll be cheering you on. Won't we, Constance?'

'Hmmm,' said Miss Hardbroom, dark eyes raking Mildred from top to toe. She twirled a finger and the girl obediently turned. 'You'll do, I suppose. At least you put a brush through your hair—'

'And her bootlaces are tied,' Miss Cackle added, her eyes twinkling as she indicated said boots.

'Have you checked your broom?' Miss Hardbroom demanded. Mildred swallowed, remembering Maud's warning. She didn't believe it, but—

'I checked it using all the spells you suggested,' she said quickly when her form mistress reached for the stick. 'Honestly, miss.'

'And you're sure you don't want me to look at it?'

Mildred shook her head and Miss Cackle laughed.

'Good for you, dear. You must admit, Miss Hardbroom, that it's much better for Mildred to stand on her own feet. We can't always be there for her.'

'Hmmm,' Miss Hardbroom said again. 'Off with you, girl. Remember, your broom has no magic of its own. It can only channel it, so for goodness sake, pay attention!'

The warning remained in Mildred's mind throughout the rest of evening, from the moment the entire school (excepting a forlorn looking Miss Drill) went airborne to seek the sacred spot in the woods halfway between Cackle's and Hellibore's. They arrived without incident and Mildred, shaking with excitement and nerves, was drawn aside by Miss Cackle to meet the Great Wizard himself.

'So you're the Hubble girl, hey?' Mildred nodded meekly and tried not to shrink too obviously against her kindly Headmistress as the purple-garbed wizard glared at her from beneath bushy brows. 'You've a great deal to live up to, Miss Hubble. A very great deal!' She mumbled something in response and he grunted. 'Let's hope you're a better broomswoman than you're a talker, child. Amelia, shall we begin?'

Mildred's nerves vanished as soon as Miss Hardbroom waved her hand for the magical fireworks that started the display, her spirits soaring as she flew. It was dark and she was nearly above the treetops but for once these old twin terrors held no power; exhilaration surged as she successfully traced the steps of the aerial dance they'd worked on with Miss Drill.

Then came the point where the others dropped back and left Mildred, as leader, to circle high above the treetops alone. She quickly found that doing this move in the familiarity of Cackle's airspace was one thing; doing it elsewhere at the very moment the moon chose to hide behind a cloud was something else. She lost focus as all her fears came rushing back; it was her first flying lesson all over again. Her broom acted as if it had a mind of its own and Mildred, now flying completely blind, was too terrified even to scream. Disaster threatened as she dropped too far, the branches from the surrounding trees reaching out for her, poking and pulling at her like the spindly hands she remembered from her childhood nightmares ...

A cloud moved and all at once she could see again, the trees silhouetting clearly against the moon's silvery light. Some of Mildred's fear receded as phrases from the past weeks repeated on a loop:

A broom has no magic of its own.

Pay attention.

The feeling matters more than the words.

All at once she was in control again, her mind and heart and magic fully focused on the broom to the exclusion of everything else. Now she finally understood the joy of flying; her broomstick had become an extension of her body and she whooped in delight as she zoomed around the double loop that so terrified her when Miss Drill first suggested it. After that it was time to land and she came down safely to the sound of clapping and cheering, but she was in such a euphoric state that nothing truly registered until her form mistress approached.

'Well done, Mildred,' Miss Hardbroom told her after Miss Cackle and the Grand Wizard had offered their half-heard congratulations. 'Very well done indeed. I am proud of you.'

'Thanks, Miss Hardbroom!' Mildred called, but before she could say more she was pulled away by a phalanx of first and second years, all talking at once.

'You were the absolute bats, Millie!' Maud shrieked and Mildred laughed.

'I was, wasn't I?'

The two embraced, only pulling apart when Ethel Hallow said, 'You might be everyone's pet right now, but don't get too comfortable, Mildred Hubble. I wouldn't waste my time sucking up to HB either. After all, why would she want anything to do with a freak like you when she killed your mum?'

For Mildred, everything stopped. The noise around her faded to nothing as Ethel's statement echoed in her skull: she killed your mum.

'I—' she tried, wanting to accuse Ethel of lying, but the other girl's eyes were clear of anything but malice. Breathing hard, Mildred's gaze swivelled to Maud—only to find to her horror that her best friend refused to meet it.

All the air went out of her in a rush as realisation dawned.

This was why Maud insisted that their form mistress wanted to harm her. Because Ethel had told only the truth: that Miss Hardbroom had killed Mildred's mother and everyone knew it. Everyone but Mildred herself.

TBC

I must have edited, written, deleted, added, removed, rewritten this chapter a gazillion times. At one point it was heading for 5000 words which was just ... no. So I'd very much like to know what you thought!