Dimity glances out the window in the hall as the full moon hangs overhead. A veil of uncertainty plagues her as she implores her mind to grow as exhausted as her body. The sound of familiar footsteps approaches, but the revered instructor does not budge. She turns as her counterpart stops before her.
"If you stare at it too long you are apt to be drawn to lunacy."
Dimity shakes her head, "That ship has already set sail, hasn't it?"
Hecate offers a subtle nod, "Indeed."
"Are we doing the right thing given the circumstance?"
"I fail to have a firm sense of concrete answers on the subject. I feel as if I am working a puzzle, and all of the pieces are upside down."
"That is because our entire lives have been toppled in that direction."
"The council still hasn't ruled on whether or not faculty will be able to remain in their positions."
"Do they have a choice? There isn't enough time to find adequate replacements."
"I feel no sense of reassurance."
"I am struggling to wrap my head around the logistics of this ordeal."
"I refuse to find acceptance in any of the facts thus far."
"Did you bribe Miss Tapioca to bring you gelatin as opposed to slop?"
"Negative. She caught me mid-heave into a cauldron that I was supposed to be cleaning last evening, when she passed by the potions lab. Apparently she has taken pity on me."
"How are you planning to make it through class with all of the wicked smells that emanate from those cauldrons?"
"Start teaching witching anatomy instead?"
"Seriously," Dimity scowls.
"Have a solely gelatin based diet? It is the only thing that I have failed to be reacquainted with in days."
"Adjustments must be made to keep things under wraps until the investigation has closed."
"I lack the ability to control it. Steadfast obstinacy has proven inadequate for the task. "
Dimity purses her lips, "Which is why all of this is so difficult for you."
"How is it that you are not in the midst of an existential crisis?"
Dimity shrugs, "If I accept this as a new challenge that I must rise to then it helps frame things in a less daunting light."
"This is not an obstacle course."
"Isn't it, though? We have no idea where the next hurdle will be. We cannot formulate the best strategy because we do not have enough information. The solution is to study anything that will help us prepare for the task at hand."
"Revision is not enough to tackle such a task," Hecate points out.
"The pupils will return in a matter of weeks, and we will have plenty of opportunity to practice."
Her jugular visibly pulsates, "Have you considered the ramifications if we fail?"
"We won't."
"You have no idea how far reaching this darkness that has set us on this path is."
"It doesn't matter as long as we do not allow the darkness within."
"How would you characterize what is already dwelling within?"
"An innocent by-product."
"Ham is a by-product," Hecate arches her eyebrows.
"We have a jam-packed year ahead of us. Perhaps we should lend less bother to worries, and more effort to sleeping."
"Duly noted."
Hecate stands to the right of Ada in the courtyard outside the main entrance as the girls fly in to join them. This year her sense of unease, and generally nauseated feeling stretches beyond her concerns for the future of witching. After the pomp, and circumstance is over she quickly retires to the potions lab. It is the only place that she still feels any sense of control. She leans against her desk, studying her lesson plan, with her back to the door. An interloper clears their throat from her doorway.
"Mildred Hubble," she answers without shifting an inch.
"I don't mean to interrupt. I just have a question," Mildred admits as she clutches her notebook.
Hecate casts her lesson plan aside, and spins around to engage with her pupil.
"On with it," she responds.
"Have you to your knowledge ever utilized a transfer spell in your sleep?"
Hecate furrows her brow, "How would one use any kind of transportation spell when their conscious mind is at rest?"
"Is it possible that you are such an expert that it has become part of your subconscious?"
"Mildred I find this to be an utterly peculiar line of questioning, even for you."
Mildred closes the door with a swish of her hand, "Miss Hardbroom the whole matter is rather outlandish."
"Please offer illumination on the subject," Hecate suggests.
"A couple of weeks ago I was sitting at my desk, in the comfort of my flat. It was incredibly late when you appeared right next to me."
"Sounds as if someone's anxieties are filling their dreams, Mildred."
Mildred shakes her head, "You asked me to help you."
"I am waiting for the punchline," Hecate taps her foot in exasperation.
"You asked me to draw a sketch," Mildred opens her notebook, and pulls out a loose sheet of paper. She offers the image to Hecate. "I hope this will do."
Hecate slips the image into her desk drawer, and locks it away with a key. "Apparently I do not underestimate your abilities in my subconscious state. Thank you."
"I will get out of your hair," Mildred furrows her brow, and tilts her head as she studies Hecate's hair.
"Your non-verbal communication always betrays you Mildred Hubble."
Millie looks Hardbroom dead in the eyes, "You must be in a real state. Your roots are showing."
"Dismissed!" Hecate snaps.
"See you later for detention?" Mildred queries as she races for the door.
"I said dismissed!"