Chapter 12
"Later" Constance murmured in response to Roberta's quizzical look as they filed into the room behind their classmates.
Constance left her friend at the back row and made her way to her own seat in the centre of the front row. On the first class of term, Constance, Roberta and Celeste had made sure to arrive promptly at Mistress Broomhead's classroom to secure themselves three seats in the far corner of the back row with Constance in exactly the same seat she had chosen on her first encounter with her tutor two years previously. The room had gradually filled up around the three friends who each attracted their fair share of glances as their fellow students entered the room. Celeste with her striking auburn hair and ever blossoming gift for nature magic was always an unignorably strong presence; filling every room she entered like a gentle summer breeze. Roberta's casual disdain for authority and well-honed sardonic manner gave her a strangely enigmatic charm which drew people's attention like a magnet. Next to them, Constance had done her best to seem invisible and yet drew more than her fair share of staring eyes. Constance Hardbroom had grown into a willowy and striking young witch of extreme contrasts; her dark hair and features paired with her pale skin and her unparalleled magical talents coupled with a strangely fragile air caught people's attention. Her long term association with Mistress Broomhead about which she remained, to the majority of the college, silent and unemotional made her the subject of much intrigued gossip.
It had been a relief to Constance when the large classroom clock had struck eleven and their fellow students had settled themselves hurriedly in their seats, their glances finally leaving the three friends as they'd turned to face the front of the classroom. Her relief had been short lived. Mistress Broomhead had appeared at the front of the room and her gaze had fallen almost immediately upon Constance and her two friends tucked away on the back row.
"This won't do at all" Mistress Broomhead had announced her stare fixed unwaveringly on Constance "The three of you seem to have a natural gift for creating distraction and I have no intention of tolerating a classroom of distracted witches. I think it would be beneficial for all of us if you spent some time apart. Roberta Charm, you can remain where you are. Celeste Le Fey, move to the row in front. And Constance, I think you would be better here"
Mistress Broomhead had gestured to the remaining empty seat, right in the centre of the front row. Each row of work benches in Mistress Broomhead's classroom ran almost the full width of the room, with those at the far end of each row sat right up against the wall. There was therefore just one aisle, running from the door to the front of the room, and to reach her new seat Constance needed to practically climb over the other students and bags filling up her row before doing the same thing in reverse when she reached the front of the room. Constance had gathered her belongings ready to begin the arduous task when Mistress Broomhead had held up her hand to stop her.
"No Constance, not that way"
The other students had begun looking round at Constance in puzzlement, wondering how Mistress Broomhead could expect Constance to leave her current seat via any other route. Constance, however, knew exactly what Mistress Broomhead meant; she wished Constance to use her apparition magic to reappear at her new seat. Although it was now over a year since she had mastered apparition, Constance had kept her ability quiet. She was only too aware of the increased gossip that would ensue if she began to disappear and reappear about the college exactly like her tutor. With the exception of her two friends, Mistress Broomhead herself and a small number of the college teaching staff, she was certain that the majority didn't even know about this particular magical ability, never mind seeing her perform it.
"You are delaying my lesson and wasting my time Constance" Mistress Broomhead's voice had lowered to the dangerous tone that Constance knew it was best to avoid.
Her cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, Constance had steeled herself and then disappeared. She had reappeared on the front row to find herself surrounded by the curious whispers and glances of her classmates as she sat down, resolutely refusing to meet Mistress Broomhead's eye.
Now, eight months later Constance once again sank into her loathed seat in the centre of the front row resolutely avoiding the steely gaze of Mistress Broomhead. As the lesson began, Constance's initial shock and disbelief from her meeting with the dean gradually began to turn to anger. She barely heard a word her tutor was saying, as she quietly seethed – her boiling resentment towards Mistress Broomhead growing with each passing minute.
Constance continued in this way, paying little attention to the lesson and for once escaping Mistress Broomhead's attention until about halfway through the class when Mistress Broomhead began berating a student on the third row. In front of each student, Mistress Broomhead had conjured one of the ugliest plants Constance had ever seen. It had a gnarled, woody stem embedded with sharp thorns which opened out into a large black three petalled flower with acid yellow stamen which was surrounded by clusters of deep black berries which shone in the light - not dissimilar to belladonna. Constance knew that the plant couldn't be natural but must be magically cultivated and she couldn't help but marvel at Mistress Broomhead's ability to use her enormous magical skills to produce something so ugly. Their task was to transfigure the plant into another living creature, either plant or animal. The transfiguration of living things was a challenging enough task but, as Mistress Broomhead had informed them, it was even more complicated when the original subject was magically cultivated and thus imbued with its own power.
The girl in the third row had been the first selected to attempt the task and had incurred Mistress Broomhead's wrath when she attempted to transfigure her plant using a verbal spell. Non-verbal spells were not a compulsory element of the third year and most staff accepted either in their classrooms with the exception of Mistress Broomhead who insisted that her advanced spell class mastered the art by the second term. This was their first class after the Easter break, and Constance could see from the panicked looks on the faces of some of her classmates that this girl was not the only one who had not yet mastered non-verbal incantations.
Constance remembered her own introduction to non-verbal spells all too well. She had been about three weeks into her second year when Mistress Broomhead had decreed that she was no longer permitted to use verbal spells in their tutorials. Her method of teaching Constance had been quite simple; Mistress Broomhead had cast a spell which took away Constance's voice and then handed her a piece of paper with the counter spell; charmed so only Constance could read it. The only way for Constance to regain her voice was to master non-verbal spells. For two days she'd had to feign a bad case of laryngitis in her classes before she finally managed to perform the counter spell.
"Verbal spells are weak and lazy." Mistress Broomhead snapped at the girl on the third row "To simply announce which spell you are performing to everyone in earshot lacks any kind of magical flair; it is mundane witchcraft performed by mundane witches. Sit down at once! I have no time for mundaneness. I warn you, if any of you have not mastered non-verbal spells by my next class then it will be your last"
The words had barely left Mistress Broomhead's mouth when she vanished, reappearing directly in front of Constance who flinched in alarm.
"Constance" Mistress Broomhead fixed Constance with her steely glare "as you have barely given the lesson a minute's attention since you entered the room, you clearly believe yourself to be well-versed in this type of transfiguration. Perhaps you might deign to pay attention long enough perform the required task"
Constance drew herself to her feet and as she did so she looked Mistress Broomhead in the eye for the first time since entering the classroom. The anger which had been simmering within her for the past hour suddenly blazed white hot and without pausing to think Constance raised her hands and silently cast a spell over her plant. Immediately the plant before her was transformed into a flock of chattering black bats which swarmed towards Mistress Broomhead in a violent surge. The students around her gasped in shock and among them Constance caught a low chuckle from Roberta on the back row. Constance stood momentarily stunned by her own recklessness. She saw all too clearly the wrath on Mistress Broomhead's face before her view was obscured by the angry flock of bats. Not daring to watch a moment longer, Constance seized her bag and strode quickly from the classroom, the chaotic noise still ringing in her ears and her heart pounding in fear as she begin to anticipate the consequences of her reckless, anger-fuelled spell.