Moonlight streamed through the potions lab's narrow windows as the castle slept. Not a sound could be heard except for the faint hooting of the owls in the forest and the rustling of the trees in the gentle midnight breeze.
A figure shrouded in a thick dark cloak sat flicking through a heavily worn book at the front desk of the classroom. Her thin, bony fingers traced paragraph after paragraph, searching for the right information; the knowledge that would perhaps give her what she desired.
She smirked as her eyes fell on the spell she had been searching for.
"Alverix Orcus, Transfrogomorphis, Illio Allio, Personas Transferrus," the woman mumbled as she tried to remember the incantation. She repeated it a few times, then satisfied she had remembered the spell, leant back in the chair smugly.
The book she had been reading, 'A History of Transformation Magic" had been shoved to the back of one of the cabinets in the potions lab. The cabinet hadn't even been locked; this was all too easy. How could that woman, the witch who had proven to be the most powerful of her age, forget to put a simple binding spell on a cabinet drawer? Even she had remembered to put a locking spell on the door. She did not wish to be discovered in the castle, at least as she appeared at the moment.
The whole plan was going to go smoothly, providing she could keep intercepting the post going to and from the academy and as long as the Pentangle woman was still attending the Halloween display.
At that thought, the classroom's door handle rattled. The woman whipped around, her cloak flying. Who could possibly want to be in the lab at this hour? There was a jingling of keys and the lock turned slowly. The woman sped across the room, hiding behind a bench at the back of the room, her view of the woman entering the room through the creaking door obscured by a beaten and cracked iron cauldron.
The woman who had entered the room looked around, a weary expression on that pale, bony face. Her... The cloaked woman could see the hem of the tall witch's dressing gown as she walked to the front of the room. She opened one of the cupboards at the front of the classroom and pulled out a bottle of blue liquid, which she uncorked and took a sip from.
She breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the taller witch left the classroom, locking the door behind her. When she could no longer hear the faint footsteps, she emerged from behind the bench, eyeing the front desk. The witch had not noticed the book open on her desk; perhaps it was too dark for her to see it lying there innocently in the moonlight.
X
Constance couldn't sleep. She was lying in her bed, her hair draped around her shoulders. Morgana, her beautiful black cat, was sleeping peacefully at the foot of the bed whilst her mistress tossed and turned in a fight to find a comfortable position.
She had failed miserably.
She heaved a heavy sigh and pushed herself out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown which she had folded neatly on the chair beside her bed, tying it tightly at the waist. Perhaps a walk down to the potions lab for a small dose of her Anti-Anxiety potion, her own brew, was what she needed.
She had suffered from anxiety for a very long time. Her mother had pushed her, her father had pushed her, her college tutor had pushed her. All her life she had been pushed; pushed to the limit. She had to be the best, they had told her and she had become so used to being the best that she could dance to no other tune.
Her college tutor, an iceberg of a woman called Hecketty Broomhead, had been brutal with her. If she didn't achieve the best grades in the class she would receive extra work, detention and have meeting after meeting with that odious woman. And she had had many meetings with her, normally ending with Constance being rapped with the cane for speaking out of turn. Towards the end of her time with her, however, the punishments had been more... Severe. Constance shuddered at the thought. The fear of failure had been drummed into her from an early age and today she felt like she had failed Miss Cackle.
She had delayed telling the headmistress about Phyllis' visit. Despite, however, the two schools being rivals, Miss Cackle was keeping a surprisingly level head. Her outburst in the morning staff meeting was unexpected to say the least, but Constance could understand the headmistress' frustration.
She passed by Imogen's room; she was probably sleeping. When she and Imogen had been left in the staff room, she had wanted to say so many things to her. Yet when the opportunity came, the words didn't. Her mind was left blank as she marked her class's work. She had left the room and had reappeared for a moment for a glimpse of the blonde. She wanted to say something, but all that she could muster was an almost silent, "That day meant a lot to me."
She winced at the cool sensation of the stone floor against her feet as she walked carefully through the corridors of the castle, trying not to awaken the girls with the light of her lantern. She lowered it as she reached the ground floor of the castle; walking with a faster pace towards her classroom.
She turned the door handle. How strange, she thought. She couldn't remember locking the door. She gave it a rattle just in case the door had become jammed, as it so often did these days, after the many accidents that had happened in that room; spillages of the elixir of life, giant fish emerging from cauldrons...
No, it was definitely locked. She put her lantern down beside the door and took a set of keys from the pocket of her dressing gown. She fumbled slightly as she found the right key and turned it in the lock, blinking against the brilliant white moon that hung in the dark night sky. The door creaked open and she walked to the front of the class, opening the glass cupboard which was filled with potions, ointments and elixirs. She found the Anti-Anxiety potion, uncorked the bottle and took a sip of the blue liquid within; the warm nectar burning her chest like whiskey as she drank it. She replaced it in the cupboard and left the room, locking the door behind her, making her way back up to bed. She was expecting to have a peaceful night's sleep.
X
The next morning the fourth year girls were up at first light, gathered in the courtyard to practice their Halloween performance. Each girl had hold of their broomstick, Crescentmoon Winterchild had collected some ribbons of varying lengths to practice with. She had handed them out to the rest of the class while they waited for Miss Hubble and Miss Drill to arrive in the courtyard. Miss Drill, who had started teaching drama and dance alongside her usual P.E lessons, had agreed to help Miss Hubble with some of the trickier choreography the girls would need to do to impress the Grand Wizard and now Miss Pentangle from Pentangle's Academy.
Miss Cackle had called an emergency assembly to announce the arrival of the rival school's headmistress and she had not seemed too pleased.
"Still not as irritated as she was the other morning, though," Mona had commented to Cressie as they left the great hall after the assembly.
Cressie was now stood with Mona and Hettie, discussing the Halloween display in excited voices.
"I suppose you'll fall off that wonky broom of yours, Hubble, especially when your cousin's the one organising the display," Belladonna sneered as she walked by with her friend, Cynthia Horrocks.
"Shut up, Belladonna," Snapped Hettie as Miss Drill and Mildred walked into the courtyard.
Miss Drill had suffered a knee injury before Hettie, Cressie and Mona's first term at Cackle's. She had been on a rock climbing holiday with her boyfriend, Serge. Before Miss Drill's return, they had been taught by the scatterbrained Miss Swoop, a former student of Pentangle's. Miss Cackle had intended to keep her on permanently, fearing that Miss Drill wouldn't be able to return to the school, at least as a teacher. Miss Swoop, however, had been offered a job as a spells teacher at Salamander Witch School at the end of Hettie's second year and she had jumped at the opportunity to escape the beady eye of Miss Hardbroom. No sooner had Miss Swoop announced that she was leaving, an application form arrived in the post from Miss Drill. She was accepted back without question.
"Right girls!" Miss Drill announced, "First things first, I need you all to tie your ribbons to the ends of your brooms."
The girls did as they were told, each tying the thick ribbons to the very tips of the bristles of their brooms.
"We need to practice loop-the-loops and nosedives which are quite tricky if you aren't used to them," Mildred called to the girls as they commanded their brooms to hover. A collective tapping of broomsticks echoed around the courtyard as the girls took to the air.
Cressie had never been a very confident flyer. As she took to the air she called to Mona, "Do we have to do the loop-the-loops?"
Mona scowled disapprovingly at her friend, "Cressie, you need to get over yourself."
Cressie gulped as she began to practice her manoeuvres. She could circle around perfectly, she could even do the nosedives, but when it came to the loop-the-loops...
"AHH!" She screeched as she landed on her bottom on the cold, wet, stone courtyard in front of Mildred who offered her a hand up. Cressie dusted herself down and said, "Sorry, Miss Hubble. I struggle with the loops. Can't I just sit and watch this show?"
"Don't worry, Cressie. Why don't you try circling around the others while they're doing that? That way you're still part of the display, but you aren't stressed out." Mildred said kindly, patting Cressie on the shoulder. With a heavy sigh, the girl took off again, joining her friends in the air.
"What a good idea, Mildred!" Miss Drill exclaimed, holding her clipboard tightly against her chest, "No wonder Miss Cackle put you in charge."
Mildred beamed at Miss Drill as the two teachers watched the students practice the routine one final time before the school bell rang to call the girls in for their breakfasts.
"Fancy a cup of tea, Mil?" Miss Drill asked as the two teachers walked into the castle.
"As long as it's not Miss Bat's recent concoction."
Miss Drill chuckled, "She doesn't even drink them herself. Raspberry and vanilla. Bleurgh!" She face twisted as though she could taste the sickly tasting blend of tea at the back of her throat.
The staff room door opened just as they approached it. A pair of rather singed looking first years stood before them; their pale purple blouses were blackened at the sleeves and their faces were covered in soot. Both girls looked rather sheepish as they scuttled away. The two teachers looked at each other and then pushed the wooden door open.
Miss Bat was busy writing a new chant, sipping what smelt like a traditional mint tea, her baton in her hand.
"Good morning, Imogen. Mildred, how are the fourth years?" Miss Cackle dusted her hands on her handkerchief which was thick with soot from the first year girls that she had seen only a moment before.
"They're brilliant. One girl does seem to be having an issue on her broom, but—"
"I suppose this girl is Crescentmoon Winterchild?" an icy voice came from the doorway behind them.
Miss Hardbroom brushed passed Mildred and Miss Drill and sat in the seat opposite the window; dropping a pile of heavy books loudly on the staff room table, startling Miss Bat.
"Was that really necessary?!" Miss Bat squealed, waving her conductor's baton at the dark haired witch.
"Goodness me, Miss Bat. I hope you aren't suffering from palpitations again, I thought your long holiday in Mongolia would have solved that." She sneered, pouring herself a cup of the tea that was in the teapot; it looked like nettle. She looked around at Mildred, "Crescentmoon is an interesting girl but flying is most certainly not her forte. She should be more confident now she's in the fourth year."
"Hedge Witches don't use their broomsticks to get from A to B like you and I, Miss Hardbroom" Informed Miss Cackle, "They prefer to travel on foot; to collect herbs and to feel a connection to nature."
"I like the sound of that!" Miss Bat cried, swaying at her music stand, in a world of her own. "In harmony with Mother Earth, the chanting of the chaffinch, the rustling of leaves in the breeze."
"It's nonsense if you ask me. Any real witch would use a broomstick," Miss Hardbroom sipped her tea as Miss Drill and Mildred sat down. Miss Drill poured herself and Mildred a cup of tea.
For a few moments there was silence in the staff room, except for the scratching of pen against paper as Miss Bat continued to write her chant, and the sound of sipping and slurping as the teachers drank from their mugs.
"So how many days have you got left to sort out the fourth years?" Miss Drill asked, turning to her friend.
"Halloween is on Thursday so three days."
"I'm sure you will do an excellent job, Mildred. There will be no Ethel Hallow to jinx your broomstick this time and no Agatha to try and turn the whole school into frogs or snails." Miss Cackle smiled, chuckling to herself, "Any news of when Miss Pentangle will arrive, Constance?"
Miss Hardbroom's eyelids fluttered slightly as she looked up at Miss Cackle, "I... Haven't heard from her since the last time we spoke of the matter, Miss Cackle. I would expect her to be here for Halloween night."
"Well we will have the girls greet her at the gates as they would with any other visitor."
The bell rang to signal the end of breakfast. Mildred stood up with Miss Drill and the two left the staffroom, "I would love to see the look on Pentangle's face when she sees our display. It will put their last one to shame." Miss Drill elbowed Mildred gently in the ribs as they walked up towards the art classroom.
"Something is bound to go wrong, I'm in charge of the class."
"You're not fourteen anymore, Mildred. Like Miss Cackle said there will be no one around to sabotage you. Ethel is long gone and Agatha wouldn't be able to do anything without breaking the witches code." Miss Drill had put her arm around Mildred's shoulder at this point, trying to comfort her.
"She's found a loophole before. Remember when she pretended to be Miss Cackle?"
Miss Drill rolled her eyes, "Stop worrying, Mildred. I'm sure everything will be okay!" She let go of her friend and turned to look at her. She could see the look of fear in her eyes, "The girls are brilliant, you are brilliant!"
Mildred wasn't so sure. It was Cackle's Academy they were talking about. Something always went wrong and it usually involved Mildred somehow. They stopped outside of Mildred's classroom, "I'll let you get to your class. I'm going for a cross country run with the second years."
"Have fun!" Mildred called after Miss Drill as she saw the blonde sprinting down the corridor. When she could no longer hear Miss Drill's footsteps, Mildred turned the door handle of her classroom and stepped inside. She walked quickly over to her desk, past the hanging displays and paintings done by the classes, and sat down. Despite how hard Miss Drill had tried to make her feel better about the display, she was sure something was going to go wrong. Anything that went wrong at Cackle's normally involved her. She was fearing the worst; anything could happen on Halloween...
Thank you for reading this chapter. I know not a lot happened but it is kind of building up for the events to come in some of the later chapters.
I hope you enjoyed reading, please leave a review :)