-Chapter 3-
"Constance, these marks are abysmal! Haven't I taught you anything?"
Imogen glanced over at the potions mistress who stood with her eyes downcast as she minded her tongue, her fingers subconsciously toying with the end of her sleeve.
"I thought I told you after I'd given my inspection here last year - you need to be on top of everyone. Have you not considered giving each and every girl a full evaluation? I know you have taught them how to do all this, but by the looks of it, it appears they refuse to listen. If they don't want to learn, you have to make them learn!"
Imogen spluttered into her tea, and the two looked over at her. Hecketty cut her a glare but said nothing. Constance just appeared fearful as always, her brows deepening slightly to silently tell the non-witch to keep her comments to herself.
Imogen reluctantly obeyed, putting her tea down on a side-table as she returned to her scoreboard.
"I am trying to get through to them, Mistress Broomhead, but in their defense-"
"Clearly you are not trying-"
"I am, Mistress!" she replied insistently, and a sharp and barely audible cry escaped her lips as the shorter witch's thumbnail stabbed into her wrist.
"Don't you dare argue with me," she growled under her breath but she soon fell silent, feeling the non-witch's eyes upon her.
A sickening smile spread across her thin cracked lips as she cast her cold grey eyes upon the blonde, "Miss Drill," she addressed, "Would you please give us a moment alone?"
Imogen's eyes flickered to Constance, who refused to meet her eyes as she seized the moment to nurture her aching limb, sweeping her thumb over the tender skin with a slight flinch.
"Miss Drill?" Hecketty asked again, motioning to the door.
"No."
Hecketty's fake friendliness vanished instantly, "Excuse me?"
Constance's head snapped up, forgetting all about herself and watching the two, her spell-casting fingers at the ready, trembling as they hung at her sides.
"I'm not leaving." Imogen said decidedly, putting her chalk down and crossing her arms.
"This does not concern you, non-witch. I suggest you leave at once."
"I'm afraid I can't do that."
"Imogen, please ..." Constance managed, eyebrows knitted with worry as she looked between the two women, her gaze finally falling on the non-witch. Locking eyes with her, she silently pleaded with her to go, but still Imogen refused to move, shaking her head slightly.
"I'm sorry Constance, but I'm not leaving you alone with her."
It all happened so quickly.
A sudden burst of blue light was shot at the non-witch, but it never got to her. Instead, another spell, a burst of red, shot at the other spell and caused it to dispel into thin air.
Hecketty Broomhead was more furious than ever, her veins seemed to pop out of her skin as she whipped around to look at Constance with wild eyes.
"Imogen, get out of here!" Constance shouted, almost as infuriated as her former tutor was.
Imogen practically ran from the room, tears stinging her eyes as she rushed off down the hallway to the lavatory, heart hammering in her chest.