Constance Hardbroom was eternally grateful when the day was over and she had just finished her last patrol of the castle in case any of the girls had decided to take advantage of the return to the norm after Broomhead's inspection to bend the rules.
Broomhead.
Just thinking of the woman who had taken custody of her when her father had died after she'd just spent a handful of months at Witch Training College, the woman who had taught her practically everything she knew about magic and potions returning to her life and haunting it again after so long was enough to bring back many of the old nightmares she had suffered at the hands of the older, more evil witch.
Safe in the secure safety of her chambers in the castle, Constance was able to unlock the painful memories she had of the woman.
Her family had sent her to Witch Training College, fully aware of its reputation for training powerful witches. They had known she had incredible talent in magic and potions, and they had assumed correctly Witch Training College was the perfect place to bring out that skill, that talent.
Unfortunately, whether or not they knew exactly how Witch Training College drew those talents and skills out, Constance didn't know and she had struggled to discover the answers since.
A part of her genuinely didn't want to find out.
It was in the past.
It wasn't relevant.
Her father was long since dead. Constance had often wondered how he had died and she had a horrible suspicion as to what had happened to him, but she had never been able to prove it. She had always found it too coincidental that Broomhead became her guardian so quickly after her father's death, and that she had won so much over Constance until she was old enough to leave.
She had discovered, to her horror, too late, that Witch Training College was not a school.
It was a concentration camp for children, girls who were entering their teens. When she arrived, Constance discovered extremely quickly how brutal punishments were. It was a holdover from the days when witch training was designed to instil the harsh need for magic to be used safely, and while there were historically famous witches who were trained under such brutal methods, Constance was uncertain if any of them would have approved of Broomhead's methods or they would have been horrified by her ruthlessness, and contempt for decency.
She had spent seven years, seven miserable years, under Broomhead's tutelage, tortured whenever she failed to brew a potion properly or cast a spell correctly, although those actions were few and far between. Her body was covered with so many scars and long-since-healed burns from every single act where she had done something wrong.
Constance chuckled darkly to herself.
It was ironic, she supposed; she had long since derided Mildred for not doing anything right in classes, but in truth, Constance was horrified by how many things she and the younger girl had in common, and it horrified her, even more, to know she had based her methods of teaching Mildred about magic and potions in a more diluted way to Broomhead's methods.
Both of them were magically gifted (Constance knew despite outward appearances, Mildred was magically powerful)
Both of them had been separated from their families for a magical education, but where Constance's family cared for standards, Mildred's family wanted her to excel.
Both of them were similar in appearance, and indeed Constance had similarly worn her hair.
Unbidden, an image of an older Mildred was conjured in her mind, dressed the same way, with her hair in a bun, like Constance's, who'd been taught to keep it in a tight bun at all times by Broomhead.
But the horrifying thing about the image was Mildred's eyes. Instead of the life sparkling, the joy that had always frustrated Constance for so long at times was empty, hard.
The image scared Constance because Mildred Hubble was so full of life and she didn't deserve her life to be destroyed by someone as cruel as Broomhead.
But when you looked back at Constance's history and saw her own mistakes, you found both of them were so very much alike. Constance had made many mistakes in her time, mistakes a normal potions teacher would ignore and simply chide, but Hecketty Broomhead used as an excuse to lash out with a terrible beating.
Constance hadn't been punishing Mildred for anything like that. She wasn't that petty. In some ways, she was trying to mentor the girl and make her a better witch than Constance. But she ironically knew that she was using harsh words instead of verbal beatdowns and physical attacks was better than what Broomhead did.
She could never do such a terrible thing, especially to a girl like Mildred.
No.
Mildred could be frustrating, especially with her impulsive reckless streak, how she got away with so much, and yet she had the endearing habit of charming people. No, Constance could never hurt there.
But if Hecketty Broomhead ever gained a foothold into Cackles, then she would almost certainly make life a living hell for them all.