Dimity tries to stifle her yawn as the staff meeting draws to a close. She listens to the ticking of Hecate's time piece as she plans her escape route. Ada dismisses the faculty one by one until three remain. Hecate inches towards the door hoping she too will be spared.
"There has been a development in the case. The perpetrators have been identified thanks to an anonymous sketch that was recently sent to council."
"Glad to hear that is no longer looming over anyone's head," Dimity responds in a dismissive tone.
"The three perpetrators who were working together will not disclose who they targeted."
"Any indication behind motive?"
Ada nods, "They claim that they were concerned about the future of the craft, and decided to take matters into their own hands. It took nearly a hundred incredibly intricate spells and potions to ensure that every detail aligned. Suspicions that the supply chain was corrupted have been confirmed. The most unfortunate news is that the council has yet to find a conclusive answer from their legal counsel as to what rights these perpetrators may have to any heirs that they have sired."
Hecate furrows her brow, and attempts to tamp down any strong emotion that bubbles towards the surface. She focuses on the facts as she responds, "Terms such as heir, and sire are quite odd to utilize in a sentence given the circumstance."
Ada sighs, "Unfortunately the perpetrators are from prominent families. The council has postulated that anyone who has not come forward, but has found confirmation that they were part of this tragedy are best left undisclosed. A choice can be made to leave the father unnamed, and the council will discreetly support this decision."
Hecate's face burns red in fury, "This goes far beyond any of the numerous codes that were broken. We are referring to dozens of counts of criminal wrong-doing."
"How much longer do they foresee this dragging on?"
"The case is officially closed, but it could easily be re-opened," Ada explains.
"How long is it possible to exist in limbo?" Dimity questions.
"For the safety, and well-being of every member of this academy I would like for business to proceed as usual. We will address facts when they can no longer be denied. Until then everyone should carry on with our duties."
Hecate stands before her potions class, and applies her attention to the task at hand.
"Please turn to page two hundred and eighty seven."
A look of confusion befalls her class as they reach the page that she has suggested.
"It's blank," Mildred points out.
"We must remedy that. Whoever comes up with the most innovative potion will win the challenge."
"A potion for what?" Ethel queries.
Hecate shrugs, "Be creative."
The pupils frantically begin collecting ingredients for their potions. Surprisingly Mildred is the first one back to her cauldron. Hecate appears next to the worst witch.
"The challenge is not to be the quickest," Hecate reminds her.
Mildred shrugs, "What can I say? Sometimes inspiration strikes at the exact right moment."
"Let's hope so."
Mildred studies her instructor who suddenly looks quite pale, and somewhat diaphoretic.
"Are you alright?"
Before Hecate can respond she tumbles backwards towards the ground. Enid manages to catch her before her head collides with the floor. When the potions mistress regains consciousness she is overcome by disgust when she finds herself in the nurse's office.
"Who is going to judge the competition if you are stuck in here?" Mildred's voice probes.
She begins to shift into a sitting position.
"I wouldn't recommend that," Mildred tells her.
Her head swivels in her pupil's direction, "An explanation is warranted."
"For the IV?"
Suddenly it is quite apparent that there is an IV catheter wedged into the posterior aspect of her hand. She follows clear tubing to a bag that is dripping solution into her veins.
"How long was I unconscious?"
"Less than three minutes. I transported you down here, and the nurse knew exactly what had happened. It appears that your blood pressure has gone too low due to dehydration. She went to collect Miss Cackles.
"That is unnecessary," she contends as she attempts to shifts into a sitting position.
"I could be of assistance. There is a pedal."
"If you insist."
"It seems that dehydration has the side effect of petulance," Mildred comments as she transforms the flat surface into a seat.
The academy nurse, and Miss Cackles come into view. Mildred grins, "I think that is my cue."
When Mildred returns to the potions lab her fellow pupils are slacking off. This doesn't set well with her. Her resolve rises as she stands before the class.
"Back to work!" She offers her best Hecate Hardbroom impression.
The harsh, militant approach catches their attention. Some even begin to organize their ingredients as Mildred returns to her station.
"Is she okay?" Enid inquires.
"Her pride will take some time to recover from the contusion it has suffered."
"What was wrong with her?"
"Something about low blood pressure. Apparently even witches are at risk of dehydration."
Ethel interjects herself into the conversation, "Maybe it is something more serious."
"Must you always borrow trouble?" Mildred inquires.
"There has been quite a buzz about a scandal surrounding the council's summer mixer."
Enid rolls her eyes, "And how would you know?"
"I overheard my mother talking to faculty member from another academy. Apparently several of the witches that attended the mixer have found themselves in the family way, or at least that is the rumor."
Mildred scoffs, "When was the last time you knew Miss Hardbroom to attend a social event?"
"Exactly!" Enid concurs.
"It is all just speculation. I am certain there is nothing more than cobwebs in her womb."
"At least she doesn't suffer from cobwebs in her head, like you do," Enid lobs.
"While the two of you are being daft I am going to win this challenge," Mildred announces as she stirs her cauldron.
Miss Cackles hovers over Hecate. Hecate arches a single eye brow.
"The hovering is not necessary."
"You nearly ate the floor," Ada points out.
"I am reminded that we have a group of highly capable young witches who have shown great promise in thinking on their feet."
"Your optimism is concerning. Are you certain that you didn't hit your head?"
"If you would convince nurse bossy pants that I am recovered I would return to class."
"I will be returning to your class momentarily. Once your IV fluid is finished you are to return to your quarters."
"I do not consent to such punishment."
"Hecate the last time you utilized a sick day, as I recall was in nineteen ninety-eight."
Hecate cringes, "When I contracted the bubonic plague."
"As my recollection serves it was scarlet fever from an untreated course of streptococcus. It seems that you attempted to treat yourself with a host of potions, and herbal remedies that do not meet the same effectiveness as a simple antibiotic. We had to cast a weather spell on you in order to break your fever. None of which would have happened if you had just come to the nurse in the first place so the proper steps could have taken place to obtain you the necessary prescription."