A/N: Sorry for the delay. I was cut off the internet for a few days. Also, this story will be put on hold for a while, presumably until mid-november, but don't worry, I'll be back.

oxo

After class, Mildred was unusually quick to pack her things and high tail out of the lab, but Maud and Enid managed to catch up with her in the corridor. Their friend, however, paid them no heed but strutted on with great determination and, to their chagrin, great speed.

"Millie."

Walk. Walk. Walk.

"Millie, wait!"

Eyes a-rolling, Mildred turned around with a "What?" that would have done Ethel justice in annoyed-ness.

"Did you see HB's face when her precious Ethel messed up the spell? And she didn't guess a thing! Oh, Ethel was fuming! We'd better –"

Mildred cut Enid off. "Look, I said I wanted no part in your silly war, and I meant it."

"Oh come on Mildred, it was hilarious. And it gave you an opportunity to shine. Don't say you didn't like that after yesterday."

Mildred hmphed.

"Oh Toads Eggs. Do whatever you like, but leave me out of it."

And off she went.

In a nearby corner, Ethel and Drusilla were putting their heads together. Maud and Enid could not really understand what they were saying, but they did notice how they looked after Mildred as she practically stomped up the stairs, her long plaits flying behind her.

oxo

From time to time, there was still flying practice for form three. There was not much occasion for them to fly with their cats, and Miss Hardbroom never tired of pointing out that their furry little friends certainly did not develop an elegant flying posture by lazing about in their rooms.
Despite there being one or two rather good cats in the class, today was one of the rare occasions when Miss Hardbroom had brought down her own cat, Morgana.

Now, Morgana was a cat quite unlike any you'd ever seen before. Granted, she was sleek and black just like the others, but when you looked closer, her frame seemed to be that little bit more slender, the colour of her fur that little bit darker, her movements that little bit more elegant, her green eyes that little bit smarter.
She was the very image of a witch's cat, and right now she was sitting on the back end of HB's hovering broomstick, looking utterly blasé. Her mistress was standing behind her, explaining, "once again", the importance of an absolutely balanced broomstick to allow for a perfectly poised cat.

When the time came for the girls to put her words into practice (not that Miss Hardbroom expected them to manage. They had already practiced this a hundred times. What was it with today's cats? Her Morgana had been sitting as straight as she did today after little more than a year of training, and these cats were still slumping about after three.), Maud felt that she and Enid should watch out for themselves, because Ethel was sending them nasty looks. And she did have a reputation for tampering with brooms…

But everything seemed to be going quite smoothly. Maud had watched every move of her teacher as she had put Morgana on her broomstick, and copied them to a T (hold her a little differently, watch out which foot touches the broom first, scratch the ear a little before letting go), and she noticed with great satisfaction that Midnight did seem to be sitting on the broom more proudly than before. He remained that way during the first simple exercises they were doing, and for some time, Maud forgot to worry over the joy of flying with her vastly improving cat. It really felt quite different when –

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched wail and a crash.

Mildred. And Tabby, who was still as unwilling as ever.

Maud swooped down at once to get to her friend and see if she needed any help. Once her feet touched the ground, she could not help but to look up into the sky and watch out for Ethel.
And sure enough, there she was, sitting on her broom with her sickeningly perfect Nightstar, grinning down on the crashed Mildred and calling "Hopeless. As usual!".

But funnily, her smile conveyed nothing but her usual schadenfreude. Judging from the look on Mildred's face as Miss Hardbroom lectured her on balance and finally let her go with a "And for heaven's sake, girl, at least get a new broom!", it had been business as usual.

The look Ethel sent after Mildred as she hobbled into the castle with her taped broom and bruised cat, though, did not bode well for them.

oxo

After flying practice, Miss Hardbroom headed straight to the staffroom, Morgana still safely perched on her shoulder.
When would form three finally grow up? Was it really impossible for a young witch in her third year of training to stay on her broomstick? One of these days, Mildred Hubble was going to be the death of her. And Ruby Cherrytree hadn't been much better, what with her cat practically falling asleep on her broom. Asleep! Witches' cats did not sleep when there were people around!

Having poured herself a cup of tea, Miss Hardbroom gratefully sank into the armchair by the unlit fireplace and, after scratching Morgana behind her left ear, took a long sip.

"Challenging lesson, Constance?"

Miss Hardbroom closed her eyes. How was it that none of her colleagues seemed to be able to rise above pouting? Miss Bat, at least, left everybody to mind their own business after she took residence in the stationary cupboard. Miss Drill, however, was simply unable to let a remark go, and apparently gained a childlike glee from picking up arguments that, in Miss Hardbroom's opinion, were long finished.

"Oh, you know, Imogen, the usual business of keeping young witches from accidentally killing themselves." And against her better judgement, Miss Hardbroom couldn't resist muttering into her teacup, "Then again, maybe you don't."

Predictably, Miss Drill shot out of her seat, her mouth opening in a cry of outrage.

"Really now. If anyone in this school has experience with getting the girls out of near-death situations, it's the PE teacher!"

"Because running around in the mud and throwing balls through windows is so much more dangerous than a blown-up potion or falling from a flying broom, I'm sure."

Miss Hardbroom leaned back into her chair and resumed her stroking of Morgana, who had taken residence on her lap by now.

"Well, if it's so easy, Constance, why don't you give it a try? After the challenges you usually face, it should be a picnic."

"Oh, it would be, make no mistake. I fail to see, however, how you might intend to put this nice little idea of yours into action."

Miss Drill headed for the door, her face smug.

"We'll just have to ask Miss Cackle what she thinks of this, won't we."

"What?"