March 1985
As the classroom door swung shut behind the last of her first-year spell class, Constance sank wearily into the chair behind her desk. She could still feel a slight, residual buzz in the classroom air which came from the magic and voices of thirty witches all casting spells at once. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock, whose gentle ticking could now be heard in the newly silent room. She had ten minutes before she was due in her evening tutorial with Mistress Broomhead. Constance rested her head in her hands for a moment, allowing her mind to focus on nothing but the thin, lightning bolt stripes of colour which the pressure from her palms allowed to blossom behind her closed eyelids.
It had now been a month since Constance had started taking the sleeping draft. Mistress Broomhead had thus far been vigilant in personally administering the potion each evening. This was largely straightforward since Constance frequently spent her evenings either in a tutorial or else sat at a small desk in the corner of Mistress Broomhead's office attending to the never-ending list of clerical and organisational tasks her tutor produced for her. On other occasions, Mistress Broomhead would track Constance to whichever classroom she was preparing for the following day, appearing unannounced and fastidiously observing Constance drinking the potion before reclaiming the green glass vial and disappearing again without comment. During the weekends, Mistress Broomhead would sometimes appear in the library were Constance was working and so she had learned to keep the almanac and any letters from her friends well concealed in preparation.
Through the sheer force of Mistress Broomhead's personality, Constance found the sleeping draft impossible to refuse. She had to admit she did appear to be sleeping better, each night she would fall asleep within minutes of her resting her head on her pillow. However, a more pressing concern was that Constance had begun sleepwalking. On several occasions she had woken with a start to find herself alone in a dark corner of the college, shivering in her nightgown with the cold seeping through the stone flags into the soles of her feet. Most often she would find herself in Mistress Broomhead's classroom or office, the scent of her dreamed magic so strong in the air it almost seemed real. Since this was where she spent most of her waking hours, she supposed it was hardly surprising this was where her feet took her in sleep. The sleepwalking troubled her, but Constance felt it prudent not to mention it in case Mistress Broomhead saw it as an indication that the potion was not working and tried to change the dose.
Constance had actually been trying to push the boundaries of the sleeping drafts effects by once again working ever later into the night. In the first week of taking the potion, Constance had found the potion's effects difficult to resist. Mistress Broomhead would tactically hand her the small, green vial once all their pressing tasks had been completed for the night. Once the liquid had passed her lips, Constance would feel the dark weariness of sleep wash over her almost instantly, and she'd had no choice but to allow her weary feet to beat their well-trod path to the calling calm of her bed. However, over the following weeks, Constance had begun to resist some of the sleeping draft's strength. It had been like building a tidal barrier in her mind to stop the incessant flow of sleep from spilling over. In the first few days, the effort had been almost painful, as the sleep pushed into her brain like waves crashing against a sea wall. But now, several weeks later, she found she was able to keep the current of sleep at bay, and steal a few more hours of night after the potion had been taken.
These stolen hours were usually spent in the quiet seclusion of the library, working on her Masters thesis. Based on her growing talent for apparition magic, Constance had developed a new spell which allowed her to not only magically transport herself but also cast an expanded field for the spell, allowing her to also transport those in her vicinity. Her work was still being written up, but had already attracted the attention of the Witches Council and Offices of the Great Wizard who felt the spell had real potential to be used in emergency situations such as evacuating children from schools or the sick from hospitals in the event of a fire. She had been invited to present her work to the full council in a weeks' time and had spent any spare moment over the last month fine tuning her work and preparing her presentation. This would, no doubt, be the focus of her impending tutorial with Mistress Broomhead. The recognition of the council was a rare and valuable opportunity for Constance. But for the well-connected Mistress Broomhead, it was one of many endeavours to maintain her formidable position as one of the most revered witches in the country and she was fiercely determined that Constance should uphold her reputation for perfection.
Constance had barely stepped over the threshold into Mistress Broomhead's office when she fired her first question about Constance's progress on her thesis work. The next hour of the tutorial continued as it has begun, with Mistress Broomhead interrogating Constance on the minutiae of her spell and delivering harsh criticism when Constance's responses showed any slight flaw or hesitation. Constance could feel herself growing weary at this continual questioning and preparation. Her naturally quiet manner combined with years of being contained within Mistress' Broomhead's rigid routine, meant that Constance was never going crave the attention which came from presenting in front of a large audience. But her keen brain, thoroughness and diligence were enough to give her a quiet confidence in her work which meant the presentation held no fear for her. The spell was all her own and she had been excited to share it with others, but now Mistress Broomhead's relentlessness was slowly draining any eagerness away.
"All right, that will do" Mistress Broomhead conceded when she was unable to pick apart any more weaknesses in Constance's last response. "Now I think we will run through the presentation."
"Again?" Constance exclaimed, and then seeing Mistress Broomhead's eyebrows raise warningly, tempered her tone a little "It is just, we rehearsed the presentation twice yesterday"
"And yet it still isn't as I want it. So, we will do it again" Mistress Broomhead replied "stand-up"
Constance caught the slight flick of Mistress Broomhead's fingers as she intended to magically force her tutee to rise to her feet, and Constance instantly countered it with a spell of her own which allowed her to remain seated. She saw the usual flicker of angry irritation pass across Mistress Broomhead's but it was combined with something less familiar – a slight look of surprise on her tutor's face, as if Constance had done something more unexpected than simply stubbornly remaining in her chair.
"My patience for this rebellious streak is wearing very thin Constance" Mistress Broomhead said in her steeliest of tone. "Now, stand-up"
This time Mistress Broomhead gestured with her whole hand, and Constance was struck with a wave of magic powerful enough not only to raise her to her feet but to also lift her several inches off the ground. The soles of her feet slammed back down onto the stone flagged floor with enough force to send a jarring sensation up the bones of her calves, causing her to wince in pain.
Constance talked through her presentation three times before she was finally allowed to stop. The second time was to check she had retained any number of insignificant changes Mistress Broomhead had insisted on following her first attempt. The third time was just to make sure she was word perfect, and Constance knew that if she had simply gotten to her feet when asked, she probably would have been spared this final repition.
"I think it is now passable" Mistress Broomhead said when Constance was finished "you can take your sleeping draft and then go"
Mistress Broomhead summoned the small green vial from a nearby shelf and handed it to Constance. She surveyed over clasped hands as Constance removed the cork and tipped the potion to her lips.
"I assume this rebelliousness is just a sign you are over tired Constance. I think it is time we increased the dose a little"
Constance felt a small tremor of alarm in her throat as she struggled to swallow the last of the potion. Mistress Broomhead held out her hand for the glass vial and Constance wordlessly placed it back into her palm. Mistress Broomhead glanced at the bottle in her hand and nodded.
"Yes, that certainly seems like the best course of action. You are dismissed Constance"
She gestured at the door lightly with her finger and smiled grimly as Constance immediately turned on her heels and left the office.