Whew! Sorry for the wait. I'm taking advantage of the fact that all my flatmates are out at a bonfire night celebration in the catchily named town of Ottery St Mary which involves people lobbing barrels of burning tar down a big hill. I think I made the right decision to stay behind and update my fic.

Five

Moments of truth

Ethel flew around her room, not caring how much noise she made as she pulled things out of drawers and flung them into her suitcase. Miss Hardbroom's tone had made it quite clear that she was going to be expelled in the morning as a result of her stupid wish to see the effects of a botched potions test, so she didn't see why being out of bed in the middle of the night would make any difference to the fact that she may well have killed a fellow pupil.

Ethel was never usually one to admit fear, but she was petrified of what was going to happen in the morning. She knew it was cowardly to run away from your problems rather than facing them head on, but wasn't just a matter of facing up to having broken the rules. She'd not only done that but she'd also broken one of the most important decrees of the witches' code – you cannot wilfully administer a potion whose effects are unknown to a fellow witch without her consent – and she might have broken the law of the land. It wasn't expulsion that she was scared of so much as imprisonment.

"Ethel?" said a voice in the doorway. She whirled round to see Drusilla standing there, completely confused. "What are you doing? You're making a real racket; HB'll be along any minute. Wait..." She came into the room fully and closed the door behind her. "You're packing? Why?"

"I'm running away," said Ethel, reaching down her cat basket from the top of the closet and ushering a reluctant Night Star into it. "I'm getting expelled tomorrow morning so I don't see any point in hanging around here any longer."

"Expelled!" Drusilla had been half-asleep until that point. "How come?"

"Because you were right," said Ethel mournfully. Her friend still looked confused. "Mildred's blabbermouth potion turned out to be poison. Miss Hardbroom can't make an antidote because there's no potion left and now Maud's going to die and it's all my fault.

"Well, it was my fault that you put the whole lot in," admitted Drusilla.

"I really don't think that's important in the greater scheme of things," said Ethel. "Attempting to poison your classmates isn't really the path to head-girl, is it?"

"You didn't know that it was poison," said Drusilla, trying to make her friend see sense and stop her from venturing out into the storm, which seemed to have worsened in the last half an hour.

"I didn't know what it was at all! I broke the witches' code!" exclaimed Ethel. She opened her window fully and ordered her broom to hover.

"You aren't seriously going to go," said Drusilla. "You'll get soaked! Our broomstick will plummet like a stone and you'll end up stuck in a tree or worse. You of all people know that they aren't good when they get wet!"

"I've put a water repelling spell on it, I'll be fine."

Drusilla wasn't so sure.

"Where are you going to go? You can't really go home, can you? Your dad's chair of governors. They'd find out where you were in a flash, and then you'd just get into even more trouble for running away. Face it Ethel, you're better off here.

"I'll go to my aunt's house," said Ethel stubbornly, mounting her broom and jamming her hat onto her head.

"You are mad, Ethel, you are absolutely mad. It'll all end in tears, I know it will."

Ethel looked up at her, the hard look of defiance on her face intermingled with panic and sadness.

"Then you don't have to be in on it." She echoed her words from the previous morning. "You don't need to know that I've gone."

With that she was off, through the window as fast as her laden broomstick would carry her. Drusilla stood at the window, watching her friend get further and further away. She felt like crying. Not because Ethel had made the choice to leave; she could understand why and she would probably have done the same. It was because she didn't consider Drusilla enough of a friend to take any heed of her advice. She had been brushed aside, just as she had been brushed aside earlier. She was only a friend so long as she was useful.

XXX

Ethel was a good flier: she knew that for a fact and it was one of the things that she took a real pride in. She had thought that flying in storms would not have posed quite so much of a problem as it was doing at that moment. All the flying theory lessons in which she'd only just managed to stay awake, moaning to Drusilla about how she knew it all already, suddenly came flooding back, and Ethel wished that she'd paid more attention.

"Of course, if the weather is so inclement as to render broomstick travel dangerous then it is imperative that you find another mode of transport." She could hear Miss Hardbroom's voice in her head above the roar of the gale. "If going by broomstick is, however, unavoidable, then these simple steps will help to keep you safer."

The memory was cut off as a particularly violent gust caught her unawares and she screamed, clinging to the broom with all her might as the torrential rain threatened to unseat her completely. Her suitcase and cat basket were swinging wildly from the brush, and whilst a sticking spell was simple enough to cast, trying to concentrate on keeping airborne at the same time made it slightly more difficult. Night Star was yowling at the top of her voice as well, thoroughly annoyed at having been dragged out of a warm bed into the cold and wet. It was often remarked that witches' cats were reflections of their owners, and only now did Ethel realise just how vocal she could be when something displeased her.

A bolt of lightning made her jump, causing the broom to shudder violently. What had Miss Hardbroom said to do if you were caught in a storm?

Firstly, land safely.

Ethel looked down at the dark expanse of woodland below her. A safe landing was going to be impossible, but nose-diving and hoping for the best seemed to be a better option than staying in the air and getting blown dangerously off course. Ethel took a deep breath and pointed the broom downwards into a quick, steep dive. Once she was nearer the ground she could see the patches between the trees more clearly and managed to touch down in one piece.

Secondly, direct the broom to the nearest cover.

The nearest cover was obviously the school. She couldn't have got more than a mile away from the battlements. Ethel noted grimly that whether or not the cover should be a safe one was conveniently omitted. Her aunt Isadora's house was a good fifty miles away, but it was a much more welcoming prospect than returning to the castle. Besides, she'd made up her mind to run away. She couldn't turn back after that. She didn't want to have to face Drusilla later in the morning, knowing that she'd failed in something as comparatively simple as running away. Ethel made up her mind and pointed her broomstick in the direction of her aunt's house, casting a simple compass spell that would keep her on course in the high winds.

Thirdly, remount.

She got back on the broom, this time not side-saddle. It wasn't ladylike, but it was essential to establish a more stable seat. She cast the sticking spell on her luggage and braced herself for step four.

Finally, fly low and slow.

She lifted off the ground at a snail's pace, rising to just above the treetops. It was not going to be a short or a pleasant journey, but at least it would be stable and moderately safe. She had not gone far, however, when Ethel felt that something wasn't right. She looked down to see the raindrops hissing as they hit her broom handle. The water-repelling spell was wearing off. Broomsticks, especially high-quality, sensitive broomsticks like Ethel's, were adversely affected by water. It was well known that even a light drizzle could cause them to shake and lose direction, and Ethel feared what a torrential downpour would do.

"Down now," she said. "Come on broom, down gently."

The broomstick did not heed her command and instead stopped in mid air, getting wetter and wetter until it plummeted to the ground. Since she had not been very high up, Ethel's fall was broken by the trees and although bruised, she was not seriously injured as she finally came to rest on the forest floor. The same could not be said for her broomstick. She watched as it landed beside her in three separate pieces. It seemed that she was destined to make the rest of her journey on foot.

Ethel looked through the trees in first one direction, then the other. She was soaked to the skin as a result of her fall and there was no way that she would be able to walk to her aunt's house. She'd have to go back to the castle. It was the only option. A flash of lightning illuminated a stone wall that was barely visible through the thick undergrowth. It had never before seemed quite as foreboding as it did just then. Ethel gulped inwardly and picked up the pieces of her broom, dragging her luggage along behind her. Once the lightning had passed, her surroundings were plunged into an oppressive darkness and she found herself praying for another glimpse of the terrifying building just to reassure her that she was going in the right direction.

"Will you be quiet Star?" Ethel snapped to her screeching cat, but Night Star would not desist and her owner stopped in the middle of the trail, feeling lost and dejected as she realised for the second time that night that Drusilla was right. Even if she managed to find her way back to the castle in the darkness, Walker's Gate would be closed and she would be trapped outside the walls until the new first-years came in September. Ethel dropped her belongings and curled up in the shelter of the nearest tree, hoping to wait out the storm and seek a fresh solution in the cold light of day. She opened Night Star's basket and pulled her reluctant cat out, holding her close for warmth and comfort and ignoring the yowled complaints.

"What would Sybil say if she could see me now?" asked Ethel of no one in particular. "Sitting here under a tree, having disgraced the family name. She'd probably laugh at me, just like all those times I've laughed at her. Oh Star, why didn't I listen to Drusilla?"

Night Star didn't reply, and Ethel was glad of the darkness masking the fact that not all the droplets running down her face were caused by the rain.

XXX

It was the moment of truth, thought Mildred as Miss Hardbroom uncorked the bottle containing what, to the untrained eye, looked to be an exact replica of the morning's failed blabbermouth potion. She looked over at Maud, pale and deathly still, her breath barely fluttering. The last block of ice had just melted, and they were out of time. Mildred couldn't watch. She clenched her fists tightly and focussed on the floor, but she could still see what was going on beside her in her mind's eye. Miss Hardbroom would be measuring the exact dose, then pouring it into Maud's mouth, and then everyone would be waiting with their fingers crossed, praying that the quantities had been correct and that Mildred's potion had been wrong.

After a few moments of tense silence, Mildred looked up, unable to bear the suspense any longer. Maud seemed unchanged. It hadn't worked. Something had gone wrong.

Mildred felt sick for the second time that night. She didn't know what to do, what to say. She wanted to cry, to scream, to shout, to throttle her potions teacher for getting it wrong. But she was numb and frozen, unable to speak due to the lump in her throat. She looked around. Miss Drill was staring into the middle distance, although Mildred could see that her eyes were red-rimmed with unshed tears. Miss Hardbroom's face was as impassive as usual, but her knuckles were white where she was gripping the bottle with nervous ferocity. Finally, she tried to bring herself to look down at her friend, but she couldn't do it. That made it far too real. Her eyes returned to the floor.

To Mildred, the next few seconds seemed to be an eternity until a choked gasp broke the sombre silence. Maud spluttered into life, looking confused to find her best friend and two teachers crowded around her.

"Maud!" exclaimed Mildred, throwing her arms around her friend."We thought we'd lost you!"

"Don't suffocate the poor girl," snapped Miss Hardbroom. Her voice seemed unchanged from the norm, as if she was completely unaffected by the night's traumas. Mildred released Maud and turned to find her teacher wearing a small smile of what could only be described as relief.

"What happened?" croaked Maud. "What did I just eat? It tasted disgusting."

"Ethel poisoned you," said Mildred, stumbling over her words in her haste to tell the story. "She didn't mean to, she meant to poison me. Well, I don't think she really meant that either, but we made you an antidote and it was our potion and I had to make it wrong again and..."

"Mildred," interrupted Miss Hardbroom. "Mildred!"

Mildred fell silent.

"I think it would be best if you went back to bed now, Mildred."

"But..." Mildred began, pointing to Maud.

"Maud will be fine," continued her form-mistress. "And you have lessons in a few short hours. I think that going back to bed would be profitable, especially since Maud now has to stay awake for the next six hours being regularly dosed with antidote."

"Come on Mildred," said Miss Drill, steering her towards the door. "Everything's ok now."

"If you could let Miss Cackle know the events of tonight's little drama, it would be most appreciated," Miss Hardbroom called after her colleague.

Mildred gave a final look back at Maud before she let Miss Drill herd her out of the room. Maud gave her a weak smile, which Mildred returned with more enthusiasm. Everything was going to be fine.

To be continued! Unfortnately the next chapter will definitely take longer because, erm, I haven't written it yet. (Looks sheepish.) It will be with you ASAP.

PS: I've started a Worst Witch forum, seeing as though it was lacking one. Everyone's welcome, so come along and check it out. I'm a bit lonely there at the mo.