Author's Note:
Dear reader,
Once again I am well aware of how long I took to update but I need you to trust me when I say that there are a lot of things going on at the moment and that I will do my best in the future to be more prompt with my updates.
To all those who have reviewed my story thus far, Chrissiemusa,HBrules, PrincessSammi,chocomoon,AleksandraHardbroomand melissaIvory, a big THANK YOU and I hope you will not be disappointed with this latest chapter,
Once again I need to knowledge my dear friend, NextChristineDaae,without whom this chapter wouldn't have happened.
Yours faithfully,
Lemondrop
FIRE AND ICE
BOOK I: THE WIELDER, THE GIVER AND THE HEIR
Chapter8: Of course you don't die.Nobody dies.Death doesn't exist.You only reach a new level of vision, a new realm of consciousness, a new unknown world. (HenryMiller)
Day 1
Evan\e-van\ as a boy's name,is pronounced EV-an. It is of Hebrew,Welsh and Scottish origin,and the meaning of Evan is "God is gracious ;born of yew ; youth"
The Bible is the ultimate best seller. It has everything that a novel should have to be successful: it has drama, it has action, it has multiple self-sacrificing heroes, and by beautifully combining the supernatural element with human nature it sends a message which has appealed to the masses for centuries. This does not necessarily mean that whatever is contained within it is true. It merely means that its content is popular. Yet, let's operate on the idea that maybe, just maybe, what is written within is based, at least partially, on fact. We are told that god created Adam out of dirt, and made him look like him, and that then he took one of Adam's ribs and created Eve. Instead of having, if one were to abide by the laws of nature, a clay figurine and afterwards an inanimate piece of flesh, he managed to create two fully fledged humans. Quite extraordinary, don't you think? This begs the question: how do you really make a human being? Is it a prescribed recipe? Do you add two cups of water to a mound of dirt and start modelling? Maybe pray afterwards to whatever divinity to give life to the recently created figure? Surely it cannot be that. In spite of the simplistic way in which the creation of man tends to be described by most religions, the process is so much more complex, so much more beautiful. Whether one believes in the new-age theory of Intelligent Design, in Creationism or in Darwinism, one needs to admit that there is a lot of luck involved in creating a human. To achieve the perfect blend, to make more than a clay figure, you need something else. You need a soul. You need a spark of magic. You need to be god.
There has never been any scientific proof that a soul exists. No matter how hard they tried, no matter how many corpses they dissected, doctors never managed to find the soul, the spirit of a human being. Yet, the man clad in white that looked upon the dark, desolate place he found himself in, didn't need a proof to be sure that within the human body there was something more than flesh and blood. That was one of the many certainties he possessed and despite the fact that he usually regarded such extra knowledge as a blessing, he couldn't help but feel that maybe his actions would have been far more excusable had he not possessed this particular bit of information. Like every human being he had free reign upon his actions and was prepared to face the consequences. He just did not expect the consequences of a mere moment of rage, of thoughtlessness and a short incantation would be so far reaching. God gave Adam and Eve free will not because he was vindictive and wanted them to screw up, but because he trusted them not to. As he observed the desolate sadness that surrounded him, Evan was sure that he had betrayed this particular brand of confidence.
He knew that the circumstances that lead to the apparently fatalistic action he had decided to undertake weren't entirely of his own making. He knew that the world functions because of a vague concept of cosmic balance. Black is the absence of colour, while White is the summation of all colours. Without Good there hardly is any Evil. Without day there would be no night. Without kindness there would be no cruelty. Without the concept of old, the idea of new would hardly make any sense. They are antonyms, conflicting concepts and notions but their existence is validated, rather than disproved, by their opposition. They neither can exist without the other, and Evan feared that when he had decided to use his ultimate trump card against Hope, he had somewhat disturbed the frail balance of the world. After all, she represented his very own conflicting concept.
He took a deep breath and cleaned his white robe of invisible specks of dust, while his white eyes, in which his equally white irises were barely defined, took in the hollow surroundings. When he had been young he had been ignorant enough to try to define, to categorize the place. He had wanted to know whether he could label it as either Heaven or Hell. It had taken him a while to understand that this place, one he could only visit in spirit, was neither. That it was so much more and so much less. He had taken to calling it The Otherworld. This was the place where the true nature of man showed itself in its purest form and retribution reigned free. This was a place for penitence and cleansing whose very core was woven by Hope's bright red flames. This was the place that now was desolate and broken because of what he had done.
There was an eerie kind of silence surrounding him and he dared to look at the black lake on whose mouldy shore he was staying. The fact that in a place where Fire reigned, existed a massive accumulation of Water was the ultimate cosmic joke and a further proof that no matter how hard they tried to deny it, their very own existence was interdependent. The clear blue water did not reflect the sky, for The Otherworld had no sky and was bounded by darkness. Instead, it was a mirror towards the realm of humans. In those unforgiving blue depths he saw his greatest failing in the form of suffering humans. He saw young and old individuals whose time was long gone but who could not welcome their overdue release. He saw tormented faces drenched by tears, he saw grimaces of pain, and he saw corpses with un-beating hearts from which blood still flew freely. By condemning Hope to pain he had brought misery upon the world, upon innocent souls who were slowly dying within the confines of their own carcasses. With a second look at those poor souls who would not get eternal freedom any time soon, he turned on his heels and disappeared in a faint gust of air. She was weakening and because of that, the balance was broken.
Amelia\a-me-lia\as a girl's name is pronounced a-MEEL-yah. It is of Latin and Old German origin ,and the meaning of Amelia is "industrious, striving; work"
As headmistress of Cackle's Academy, Amelia Cackle had a special connection to the castle. It wasn't only that she owned the place, or that she had spent the majority of her adult years within its walls. The connection between her and the school was deeper; more enrooted, and had a magical character. Some days, she could almost hear the movement of magic in the old bricks, she could feel that unique flow pulsate with energy under her wrinkled fingers when she touched the walls and she could even smell the way in which the magical energy perpetually corroded the ancient molecules of the bricks. Today, she could feel nothing. It was as if the entire castle had gone to sleep, giving up its magic, releasing its hidden defences. That is until she had the inspiration to go towards the potions lab. There, almost 50 paces from the old oak door, a battle was raging. For the first time in her life, Amelia could physically see the magic of the castle, in the form of a giant blue force field engulfing that particular corridor, making it impossible for her to reach the potions lab and those who were within. It was then when the headmistress truly started to panic.
It took her almost half a day to fully understand that there was no way to reach those that were trapped within and another half to try to get used to the idea that maybe her precious deputy and students were lost forever. She had tried everything she could think of. She tried vanishing the field of magic, trying to enter it, shouting in hope that those inside the room would hear her, but all her efforts proved futile. It was with an awful sense of desolation that she looked at the blasted blue manifestation of raw power and she couldn't help but ask herself what went wrong. For once, the castle didn't seem like the friendly, nurturing giant which welcomed eager students within its fold, but a dangerous sleeping entity whose power could trap and destroy them all.
"What are we going to do, Amelia?" her musings were stopped by the chirpy voice of her chanting teacher and the headmistress rose her head from the old and torn map of the castle to see Davina place a most welcomed cup of steaming tea on her desk.
What were they going to do? Amelia's primary duty as headmistress was, and always had been, to ensure the safety of her students. Despite all the terrible adventures in which Mildred Hubble and her friends tended to get themselves in, the safety of the student body had never been truly endangered. Truthfully, she had always thought that as long as they were within the high, protective walls of the castle nothing serious could happen. But now everything was different. Now it seemed that the castle itself was turning against its inhabitants and that their safe-home was no longer safe. The headmistress felt like the entire world had been placed on her shoulders and she had no idea how to shrug it off.
"I don't know, Davina..." she answered truthfully and could feel her heart clench at the sad desolate look she received in response.
Her first instinct, as Constance's friend, as her self-appointed surrogate mother, was to go to the potions lab and do whatever was necessary to either get to her deputy or get her out of there. She wanted to punch and kick that force field of magic until her hands were raw. She wanted to cry and shout, hoping that her deputy would hear and respond to her call. Yet she could not. What prevented her from being completely hysterical were the faces of the students that were still outside the danger zone. Faces that openly showed confusion and fear for they could not understand where their potions teacher and fellow peers were. They had all seen the blue wall of energy, they had all marvelled at how something that appeared so beautiful, so harmless, could feel so very cold and deathly. The entire school was plagued by a distinct feel of insecurity, only magnified by the fact that the person who usually protected them all was nowhere to be seen. Amelia refused to even think about it, but for all they knew, Constance and the others could already be dead in that classroom and if that was the case, there was little she could do to help them. Thus, it was for her students that she tried to repress any manifestation of her motherly concern, kept her head high and an appearance of normality in her countenance.
When Davina left, taking her look of incredible sadness with her, Amelia looked at the steaming hot cup of tea. Would it be right to drink it, knowing that the four students and two adults trapped in the potions lab, if they were still alive, had nothing? They had no tea, no food. They had nothing to sooth them, nothing to keep them warm, nothing to keep them alive. With an extremely bitter look at the cup, she took it and drank the tea. As the first sip of the hot liquid was making its way down her throat, burning it mercilessly Amelia allowed herself to put her tired head into her wrinkled hands and let her tears flow freely.
Constance\c(o)-nstan-ce,con-sta-nce\as a girl's name is pronounced KAHN-stans. It is of Latin origin,and the meaning of Constance is "constant,steadfast"
More than twenty four hours…
That was the only thing that the deputy headmistress of Cackle's could think about as she tried to asses the dire situation she, the student teacher and four of the pupils found themselves in. First they had been stuck in the potions lab for more than a day, with no food and no one had come to rescue them. Secondly, after the first moments when they realized they were confined, Miss Hawthorne ordered everyone to fill all available recipients with water. Constance had been puzzled by her request, as being in a potion lab ensured that the only thing they would have would be water, but not wanting to engage into an argument, she wordlessly allowed the girls to do her bidding. The fact that the ten mini-cauldrons filled to the brim were the only available water they had at the moment was disconcerting for more than one reason. Firstly, it meant that they would have less time to get out of the room before death claimed them. Secondly, albeit she had a supernatural hunch, it meant that the young teacher knew more than she let on about their situation.
Constance took as deep a breath she could manage and closed her eyes while propping her elbows on the desk. A wave of dizziness and tiredness flushed over her and she tried to dismiss it while putting on her usually impenetrable mask. She didn't try to be brave. She didn't try to hide her panic from some type of conscious noble sentiment. Instead she was fully aware that if she broke down, physically and mentally, the four students that were trapped in the potions lab with her would also break down. She took a moment to look upon the faces of those four incredible girls that came to mean more to her than she had ever realized. Much like herself, despite being obviously scared, they all tried to put on a brave façade and tried to deal with their panic in the best way possible. Enid and Maud were splayed on one of the desks urging themselves to sleep while Mildred and Ethel, through the virtue of some sort of silent truce, stood cross-legged next to each other, on the floor, their backs leaning on the stone wall at the back of the class. She could honestly say that she was proud of them and could only hope that before something truly tragic happened, they would either be rescued or find a way out.
Hope took a deep breath and leaned against the dark wooden desk, her hands involuntarily massaging her temples trying to prevent the impeding migraine and a sigh escaping her lips. Like the stoic Miss Hardbroom she was worried but refused to show it. Unlike Miss Hardbroom she wasn't dying, at least not immediately, but her situation wasn't much better. She didn't know if the woman was realizing it, but she was wasting away, quicker than normal, right before their eyes and Hope had no idea why. It was this particular uncertainty, upon which so very much depended, that unnerved her and made her feel more and more vulnerable by the minute. Was Miss Hardbroom dying because of the curse, because of the lockdown or was there another force into play? She honestly had no idea, but she knew, that for everyone's safety she needed to do the supernatural to keep the woman from pitifully expiring within that blasted potions lab. Considering that their resources were more than scarce, the fact that the deputy was in less than stellar health, and that their magic seemed that to have disappeared, keeping the woman alive was easier said than done. Yet so, Hope, ironically, hoped that someone, anyone, would find a way to aid them in their predicament before tragedy struck. For her part, despite previous animosity, she was resolute to at least be kind to the deputy and hopefully help her stay alive for as long as necessary.
"Drink…" Hope said calmly upon hearing a raspy cough breaking the solemn silence of the room, handing the woman a small jar filled with water.
"There is no need… I feel fine…" Constance whispered, retaining her proud and self-sufficient air despite her frail appearance.
"Look, Miss Hardbroom, I don't know why, but I know that you don't particularly like me…" Hope started calmly but the piercing look the deputy threw her made her stop.
"It's not that I don't like you, Miss Hawthorne. It's that I don't trust you…" Constance interrupted
"Too bad then, because if you want to come out of here alive you will have to trust me" the student teacher whispered harshly, her pleasant countenance slipping for a moment.
"How did you know that the water will stop?" the deputy asked harshly, voicing the question that had been troubling her for the past hour.
"Let's just say it was a hunch…" Hope answered with a hint of derision clear in her voice.
"Do not lie to me, Miss Hawthorne. Remember that you are asking for trust…" Constance counteracted and the woman's superior smile faltered for a second.
"It's a very long story, Miss Hardbroom. One that I am sure no one will benefit from" she replied in all seriousness, her voice becoming slightly deeper.
"Well, if we have something, that is time and I want to be judge of whether your story will be beneficial in any way for both me and the others…" the deputy followed, knowing that if there was a time to gain some answers from the younger woman that was it.
"Fine. As you wish. You know the man that you invited into the castle? The one that you celebrate as your benefactor? The one that your gym mistress is sleeping with? This is his handiwork…" she snapped, her voice never rising above a whisper but her tone becoming more aggressive.
"Mr Mallard?" Constance whispered, her thin eyebrows rising slightly in surprise. She had known that the man was bad news for the school, but even she wouldn't have suspected him to be so vindictive and hurtful.
"The one and only" Hope answered bitterly
"That doesn't necessarily explain how you knew about the water situation. Or that Mr Mallard was the one behind the whole ordeal, for that matter" she stated, her piercing hazel glare refusing to avoid the increasingly dangerous blue one
"The thing is, I've known Evan for a couple of years, and suffice to say that we haven't exactly been the greatest of friends. We were always caught up in a power play of some sort…"she offered vaguely, but she knew that it wouldn't be enough for the woman who was now watching her with a strangely inquisitive look "Evan has some control over water. And I knew that if he was involved in this mess, he will also stop our water"
"He is an Elemental Master? One of THE Elemental Masters?" Miss Hardbroom whispered a trace of confusion and fear clear in her voice. While still a young witch in training she had read about the origins of magic and those people who could tame magic in its purest of forms, namely the elements. At that time she had discarded it as a very old legend that held no importance for today's magical world. Apparently she had been wrong. Suddenly something struck her and she looked at the woman in front differently, more cautiously. She had heard Miss Drill talk about how the girl managed to prevent the two potions accidents and she was fairly certain that the gym mistress mentioned the word "fire". Or maybe it was "flames". It didn't really matter. It suddenly dawned on her that the smooth-talking Mr Mallard wasn't the only Elemental Master affiliated to Cackle's.
"Yes" she confirmed, inwardly cursing that the woman seemed to know about the existence of Elemental Masters.
"But why would he come here, at Cackle's of all places?" she hated the fact that she had to drag every single piece of information out of the younger woman, but she knew that it was very important, not only for her but for the safety those inside that room as well to have all the facts.
"That I don't know…" Hope lied smoothly but the other woman didn't seem convinced.
"Tell me, Miss Hawthorne, are you truly an apprentice student teacher in potions?" she asked in her, albeit much more feeble, trademark mocking tone,
"What?" Hope said unconsciously and mentally beat herself for her slip of tongue.
"I thought so" Constance said calmly, the girl's reaction confirming what she needed to know. "The way I see it, Miss Hawthorne, both you and Mr Mallard have a certain power over the elements. He controls Water, and you Fire. I don't exactly know why, but Mr Mallard decided to take an interest in the Academy and you decided to follow him here. By your own admission you aren't on friendly terms with him and I could only infer that you either wanted to bother him or stop him from doing something. Seeing our current predicament, you either bothered him too much or failed in your mission to stop him..." She acted as if she was explaining a difficult lesson to a less than bright child but was satisfied to see a flicker of recognition in the other woman's usually cold blue eyes. Knowing that she was treading in dangerous waters, Hope decided to put a stop on the conversation by turning her back on the woman and wordlessly taking her place at the back of the class.
Although she was dissatisfied that the younger woman had decided to cut their conversation short, the deputy decided not to pursue it any further. For now she had all the information she needed and she had already thought of another option from which their situation could arise. An option that terrified her and that she had decided to dismiss for the moment. There was a possibility that Miss Hawthorne was the one who had an interest in Cackle's and Mr Mallard was the one that wanted to stop whatever she wanted to do. She decided to not dwell on this option for one simple reason: she and four of her students were locked in a very small space with the woman and although her powers seemed to have vanished, no one could tell how dangerous she could become when placed under suspicion and cornered. Still, Constance was resolute to keep an eye on the impostor student teacher and, if ever they managed to get out of the potions lab alive, to make sure that she left Cackle's as soon as possible.
Davina\d(a)-vi-na\as a girl's name is pronounced dah-VEE-nah. It is of Scottish and Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Davina is "beloved".
For the first time in her long tenure as a teacher at Cackle's, Davina felt it would be inappropriate for her to go and hide in her beloved closet. As she kept silent company to the obviously tired headmistress she looked longingly at her wooden supply cupboard. Oh how she wanted to hide herself in that small, protective space and not come out until the whole mess was over. Despite her wishes, Davina had enough sense to know that now it would truly be a bad time to lock herself up. Although most of the people in the school treated her as a negligible quantity during a crises and usually turned to what they believed to be more competent members of staff like Miss Hardbroom or even Imogen, Davina knew that in this particular moment there was at least one person who truly needed her. Amelia Cackle, although resolute to keep a brave front and be full of optimism, was breaking apart right in front of her eyes and the chanting teacher honoured their long term friendship by helping the headmistress as much as she could. She realized that for once, despite her impulses, she had to be an adult.
There had been a great sense of loss in the Academy during the day despite the staff's better efforts to keep things as normal as possible. Amelia had told both Imogen and herself that lessons would continue no matter what for the benefit of the student's morale and that they would avoid, as much as possible, any discussion related to what was happening in the potions lab. In an uncharacteristic bout of responsibility, Davina headed her employer's orders as best as she could and she tried to hide the inherent sense of panic that would take hold of her more often than not. Of course the fact that Sybil Hallow had come teary-eyed to her chanting lesson and demanded between sobs to know what was happening to her sister, didn't help to calm down Miss Bat who almost burst into tears herself. How could she tell a thirteen year old girl that they had absolutely no idea of what was going on in that room? How could she tell her that as far as they knew, her sister might be dead? For the first time in her long life, Davina wished that she was more like Constance. She wished that she could hold a tight reign over her feelings and calmly and logically explain to the hysterical girl that everything would be sorted out, one way or the other. Instead, her response to Sybil's question had been a far too tight hug that not only almost strangled the student but also made her cry even harder.
She felt an overwhelming feeling of uselessness and guilt when she had to send the girl to Miss Cackle's office to calm down. Why did she become a teacher when she was unable to guide and help her students? Moreover, as one of Sybil's form tutors she should have been able to do something, anything, for the girl. Once again, the question that had been ever-so present in her mind during the past few hours came to fore: What would Constance do? She would probably straighten her back, push her chin upwards with that regal air of confidence that only she was able to display, open her mouth in that encouraging smile of hers that all her students sought and offer some well-chosen words heartening words in her trademark powerful voice. Davina was aware that she couldn't do that, for Davina wasn't Constance. She couldn't show any confidence for she completely lacked it, her smiles were too freely given to mean anything for the students, she neither had any well-chosen words nor a powerful voice that commanded both respect and urged the student to settle her nerves. The only thing that she knew how to do was chant and that seemed to be far too useless in the present situation. She was certain that no matter how powerful they were, even her Mongolian chants wouldn't do anything to improve anyone's spirits.
Ethel\e-thel\ as a girl's name is pronounced ETH-el. It is of Old English origin, and the meaning of Ethel is "noble"
Although her calm exterior didn't show it, Ethel was panicking. For the hundredth time she calmly tried to mutter a simple transformation spell under her breath and found that nothing was happening. Although they all tried to avoid the subject she was aware that they all knew that somehow they were unable to make use of their natural gifts within the room. Much like herself she had seen, out of the corner of her eye, HB trying to cast simple spells when no one was noticing. The fact that her powerful teacher, the most powerful witch she knew, was unable to make use of her talent, that she was as powerless as them, made the young girl tremble with fear. In this particular scenario the fact that she was a witch of superior skill, the fact that she was a Hallow didn't seem to matter much and that frightened her. After all, those were the two things that defined her, that gave her an identity and made her who she was. What would she be if she couldn't cast spells and who would she be if she wasn't a Hallow?
Next to her, her arch enemy was throwing her worried glances and she resented every single one of them. Although she didn't need pity from the likes of Mildred Hubble, she found it strangely reassuring that someone was concerned for her. One of her fears, although she would have never admitted it, when they realized that they were stuck in the potions lab was that she would be alone. Of course, Miss Hardbroom and Miss Hawthorne were there and so were the other three students, but she was afraid that they would all exclude her, that they would leave her to her own devices. She feared that as adults, the two teachers would stick together and so would the other three girls who were practically best friends. This fear was reiterated by the fact that she was well aware that it was her stupid mistake, her stupid prank that had gotten them into the detention in the potions lab in the first place. She was sure that the others blamed her and would punish her by isolating her.
Yet, with her annoyingly perceptive nature, Mildred Hubble seemed to understand this particular sentiment of hers and after exchanging some whispered words with her two friends, she came and silently sat down next to Ethel in the corner of the classroom she had chosen as her own. The girl didn't speak, didn't smile, she didn't do anything, really. She just sat there, next to Ethel and although she hated to acknowledge it, the prim and proper Hallow heir relished in this limited human contact for it gave her a strange sense of security. That didn't mean that she suddenly started to like her arch enemy. On the contrary. Now more than ever, despite ( or maybe because of) the immense sense of gratitude she felt towards the other girl, she hated her. She loathed her for one simple reason: by coming next to her, by initiating what seemed to be like a silent truce between them, Mildred Hubble had proved herself to be the better human being, and Ethel Hallow hated to be bettered by anyone.
"I hate you, Mildred Hubble…" Ethel said softly, her voice dripping with venom but her words carrying little sentiment behind them.
"I know, Ethel" the other girl answered calmly, unfazed by the harsh tone, a sly smile forming on her lips and her eyes sparkling mischievously as if she was privy to a secret no one else was.
"Why don't you go back you your friends?" Ethel asked, upset with herself that she wasn't able to show a modicum of civility towards her arch enemy.
"I like this corner" Mildred answered simply, not wanting to wound Ethel's pride any further. She was well aware that although she wouldn't admit it, Ethel wasn't as strong as she wanted others to believe she was and she needed someone to be there for her.
"Well, I came here first" Ethel replied with her characteristic superior air and Mildred's smile never faltered.
"You are right. This is your corner. Could you please let me share it with you?" she asked meekly.
Ethel looked at the other girl in surprise and refused to acknowledge what Mildred Hubble was doing. Her arch enemy, the girl who she hated most in the school, once again proved to be the better person by taking care not to hurt Ethel's feelings any further. Firmly believing that she was doing Mildred a favour by sharing her corner, and feeling slightly better about herself, she nodded and received a beaming smile in return. She refused to look at that smile, she refused to smile back and instead fixed her eyes on Miss Hawthorne's beautiful red shoes. One day she would wear shoes as beautiful and expensive as hers and everyone would admire them. If she got out alive, that is.
The girls were oblivious to the fact that the two adults were watching their exchange with a modicum of interest and each had different feelings about what was happening. Hope looked at the two girls and couldn't help but smile at the way in which Mildred had managed to practically manipulate Ethel into accepting her help. She didn't expect such a display of slyness from the girl and that coupled with what she knew about Mildred and her powers made the idea of turning the girl into a potential ally have much more merit. On her part, Constance also smiled and simply felt very proud at how much the girl she had dubbed as the worst witch in school had grown as a human being.
Noah\noah\ as a boy's name is pronounced NOH-ah . It is of Hebrew origin, and the meaning of Noah is"peaceful".Also possibly "long-lived","comforter",or"wanderer".
Noah Elwood fancied himself a very calm man, but when he had received the call from Cackle's Academy, informing him that Constance, Hope and four students were trapped in one of the classrooms with no chance to get out, he wanted to break something. Or rather someone. His morning had been uneventful up to that point. Ever since Hope went to teach in the academy, every single morning would be the same for him. He would wake up early, get dressed, grab a spot of breakfast in the shabby dining hall of the old inn while reading the morning paper, call home for news of his mother and check once again the file of his newest patient. He couldn't say that this particular routine was bothering him. On the contrary. In all the years he had spent cooped up in his own mansion, he found that having a certain amount of routine in his life was settling for both him and his mother. He also found, early in his self-imposed solitude, that he liked this lack of excitement for one simple reason: the activities that were most likely to disturb the monotony of his day were tantrums or psychotic episodes coming from his mother. Needless to say that he abhorred that particular kind of surprises.
When his phone rang in the middle of breakfast on that particular day, Noah was once again reminded why he hated anything that disturbed his morning routine. He utterly loathed that small black cell phone. For a split second he toyed with the idea of ignoring the annoying Carmina Burana ringtone that Hope had set on his phone as some sort of twisted joke, and focus on his breakfast. He would have concentrated on his half eaten home-made scone more if he didn't know that only three things in the entire world could make Carl Orff's O Fortuna from Carmina Burana disturb his morning peace. One of them was Hope herself but in light of the argument they had the other day he doubted that she would call him. Unless it was an emergency, that is, but he couldn't imagine something that she would be unable to handle and need his help with. After all, she had made it pretty clear how much she resented his help and how little she trusted him. Another possibility was the maids from Elwood Manor informing him that something had happened to his mother. Yet so, they had enough common sense to know that unless something potentially life-threatening was happening to his mother, he could do little to help being miles away. The third and final option was the one that scared him most. As the second measure of O Fortuna rang, mercilessly filling the room with highly macabre tones, he somehow knew that the call was coming from Cackle's and was somehow related to Constance. He could only hope that it wasn't something serious. He dearly wished that nothing had happened to her.
As he answered the phone, his suspicions confirmed upon seeing the caller id, he was greeted by the slightly hysterical voice of the chanting teacher. As calmly as she could manage she told him the entire situation and he felt like the last piece of scone he had eaten was stuck in his throat. With trembling hands and a shaking voice he ended the call, promising the agitated woman that he would visit the Academy as soon as possible, and fought the urge to throw that vile, little carrier of bad news against the wall. A million questions were running through his mind and he had to take a steadying breath and a serious gulp of water before he managed to fully process the situation. "A blue force field of magic." " We are unable to reach them." "The Castle trapped them in the potions lab." "We haven't seen them since yesterday evening" They were all phrases his mind failed to fully comprehend. How could they be trapped in a classroom? Why were they unable to come out? How could the castle Constance loved so much turn against her? Why wasn't Hope, possibly the most powerful witch in the world, unable to break through the force field? Did Constance have her medicine with her? Did they have food? Did they have water?
That last question was the one that made him realize that the answers of almost all the other ones were contained in one single word: Water. All his information about Elemental Magic came from Hope, which considering the secretive nature of his friend meant his information was at best scarce. He didn't know all the details of the powers of the four, or rather two, Elemental Masters held, but he did know the big picture. He knew why his friend was unable to break through the field. Like everything in nature all the elements were contradictory to each other. The opposite of Water was Fire. The opposite of Air was Earth. If an Elemental Master was to cast a curse upon another using only his element and not his magical power, the other Elemental Master would be unable to stop it simply because he or she didn't have the tools to influence that particular element. Noah realized that what Miss Bat had described as a "blue force field of magic" wasn't really magical energy but Water. Or better said, the spiritual essence of Water. Hope's primal element, Fire, would be useless against Water.
If she couldn't use Fire, why didn't she use the second element under her command? Why didn't she use Earth to break through the barrier of Water? Earth and Water weren't opposites, Earth could absorb Water and make the barrier disappear. So why didn't she use it? The only logical reason Noah could think of was that she couldn't use her second element. This conclusion scared him for it meant that something in that room made his friend lose her command on at least one of her elements and if that was so, there was a big chance that the others had lost some of their magic as well. The only thing that made Noah cling to his wish that everything would be well and that no harm would come to pass to Constance while in that blasted room, was the knowledge that Hope, probably the most powerful person he knew, was there. He knew that his best friend was obstinate, disproved of his relationship with the deputy headmistress and didn't particularly like the woman. But he also knew that for whatever reason he wasn't privy to, she needed to keep her alive and protect her. Now, as he reached the conclusion that most likely Hope's powers were obsolete he felt a terrible sense of desolation wash over him.
Out of all the magical gifts he had been blessed with, the one he cherished most was that of his ability to see more than others could. This particular gift had always been keyed to his friend and to the future of her one and only enemy: Evan Mallard. He knew that the chance of obtaining useful information from the man who was probably the cause of all the misfortune was practically non-existent. Yet he also knew that he was probably the only person who truly realized the key part that the haughty Mr Mallard played in the events happening within the academy. As such, with no further thought, he allowed his mind to be emptied of all feelings and focus on the familiar face of the wielder of Water and Air. After a few minutes, when he had found what he was looking for, Noah broke his trance, took his travelling cloak and decided that he would pay the man an unannounced, and probably unwelcomed, visit.
Enid\e-nid\as a girl's name is pronounced EE-nid. It is of Welsh origin, and the meaning of Enid is"soul,life"
For the twentieth time in the past hour, Enid tried to remember how long people were able to live without food and water. She was sure that during their adventure in the great outdoors in their first year at Cackle's, Miss Drill had mentioned something about survival skills and how long people could live without food and water. Enid cursed herself for both not listening and not remembering. There were so many things that she deemed unnecessary over the years, things that she discarded as completely useless and that now seemed of paramount importance that she couldn't help but feel like in not learning those things she had cheated herself. For example, she clearly remembered her father wanting to enrol her into the magical equivalent of girl scouts. He used to say that it would not only be good for her overall physical health but that she would also learn how to survive without magic. Of course, as flippant as ever, Enid had plainly refused and pointed out that the chance of her having to fend for herself without magic was infinitely small. Had she been able to see into the future, had she been able to look at herself as she was now, head placed on one of the wooden desks in the potions lab, her stomach almost screaming for food, her throat dry with thirst, she would have taken the opportunity in a heartbeat. But she hadn't been able to have this kind of foresight and she hated herself for it.
She was sure that they had been stuck in the potions lab for more than a day and as much as she wanted to believe that it would not be long before they would be rescued, Enid was unable to lie to herself in such a manner. She wondered for a second what the other inhabitants of the room felt. There seemed to be an eerie sense of calm coming from every corner of the classroom and a pregnant silence that was ever so often disturbed by Miss Hawthorne's high heels when the woman decided she had had enough staying in one spot and started pacing around the room. Although under normal circumstances she would have found that sound annoying, Enid was grateful for its presence. It meant that they were alive, that they still had a chance to find a solution, it meant that they weren't giving up and that they weren't going to succumb to a pathetic death. She dreaded the day that sound was going to stop. She dreaded the day Miss Hawthorne herself will be too tired to move and the soft clicking sound of her heels would fade away together with the woman who was wearing them.
Lost in her musings over the situation, Enid barely noticed the student teacher standing behind her and placing a small cup of water on her desk. She wasn't sure that she was going to laugh or cry at the sight of the small ratio she was given. That was to be both her breakfast and her launch and the girl wondered how she should drink the blasted cup of water. Should she gulp it down and quench the aching thirst in her throat or should she sip it slowly, trying to make it last longer? Should she drink it all now, or should she save some for later? The girl was amazed that so many questions could arise from something that she had previously taken for granted. She swore, then and there that after they got out of this whole mess, she would cherish every single sip of water she took and every single morsel of food she ate. Deciding that she would be cautious, she took the cup and sipped half the amount slowly saving the other half for later. Feeling the dryness of her throat and lips lessening she nodded her thanks to Miss Hawthorne and the woman acknowledged it with a nod of her own.
Truth be told, Enid wasn't sure that the woman was even human. During the entire time they had been locked up she had seen her distribute the water they had saved in the small cauldrons into small ratios, she had seen her walk around the classroom and share the cups between the students, but she had yet to see her take even a small sip of water. The girl wondered how her young teacher felt, if she, who was on the third ratio of water in the past twenty four hours, felt like she was going to cough up sand any minute now. Her theory that the woman wasn't human was further supported by the fact that she had yet to see her sleep. No food, no water, no sleep for more than twenty four hours and Miss Hawthorne was still as calm, as unperturbed as usual, not a hair out of place, the same easy air of confidence hanging around her.
In a stark contrast to the easiness with which Miss Hawthorne seemed to take the whole ordeal in her stride, HB looked like death warmed over, despite her attempts to hide it with her usually impassive mask. She was pale as hell, it was obvious that she sometimes had trouble breathing and the shake of her usually steady hands was progressing at an alarming rate. Enid also had yet to see her form tutor sleep but unlike the student teacher who made it look easy and effortless, it seemed that HB was going through a veritable battle of wills not to allow herself to succumb to her tiredness. Despite her usual dislike for her strict teacher, Enid found that she admired the woman's sheer determination. If someone had asked her a week before how she would feel if she was locked in the same room with HB, she would have said that she would have rather died before allowing herself to be in such a situation. Yet now, when she was actually trapped in the same space with her formidable teacher she found that she drew comfort from the woman's presence. In fact, it was more comforting for her to see how her form tutor managed to conquer her obvious weakness every single minute than see Miss Hawthorne and her unaltered both physical and mental state.
Imogen\i-mo-gen\as a girl's name is of Irish and Gaelic origin, and the meaning of Imogen is"maiden"
As she conducted the routine exercise program for the third year girls, Imogen Drill felt a particular sense of hopelessness as she watched the sad and inquisitive looks Jadu, Rubi and Drusilla were throwing her. Despite being sworn enemies, the three girls had come earlier in the day, before their usual gym class started, looking for answers concerning the disappearance of their friends. As much as she wanted to help them and offer the answers that they were looking for, the gym mistress was unable to. Her inability to satisfy the girl's natural curiosity steamed from two particular instances. First and foremost, the headmistress had more or less forbidden both her and Davina to discuss what was going on within the school with the students. Although she completely agreed with Miss Cackle that offering the whole version of the truth would only create panic among the student body, she firmly believed that the friends of those involved in the ordeal should at least be given a modicum of information. Secondly, even if she had been at liberty to discuss what was happening with the three girls, she wouldn't have known what to tell them. Amelia had tried to explain, to the best of her ability, what she understood of what was happening, but the non-magical member of the staff failed to wrap her head around the events. For years and years she had seen incredible things happen because of magic, some of them stranger than others, but she had never seen magic being used in such a vile and dangerous way. In the slightly naïve perception of someone who had only observed school-level spells, she thought that despite the endless possibilities, magic was essentially harmless.
There was another fact that both confused Miss Drill and also gave her a sense of how dire the situation truly was. If there was one person she associated with magical prowess that was Miss Hardbroom. To her mind, her colleague was probably one of the most powerful magical beings surpassing even the fool that called himself Grand Wizard. She knew that Constance not only had an immense knowledge of magical theory but that her power was also vast. Even as sick as she had been during the past weeks, she was certain that her powers were still great. Furthermore, from what she had heard from the girls, the new student teacher was also capable of performing impressive bits of magic that managed to stop two potentially dangerous explosions. So how could two proficient witches allow themselves to be caught in what looked like a peculiar smoke screen of blue fumes? Although she wanted to believe that Miss Cackle was blowing the event out of proportions, she had to admit that if Constance hadn't been able to "magick" herself out of her own classroom, then the situation was pretty serious.
Another event that had her worried, and she truly hoped that it had nothing to do with what was happening inside the academy, was the fact that she had been unable to contact Evan. For more than a day, after being surprisingly distant during their last encounter, the man seemed to have pulled a veritable disappearing act which was slightly odd considering that their relationship had been more than perfect up to that point. Also, as the school's benefactor, didn't he have a vested interest in how things were going within the Academy? She knew for a fact that Amelia had tried to contact him earlier in the day, only to be greeted by his polite and impersonal voice-mail. Every single day since they had met, he had either come to meet her in the academy or at least called her when he couldn't make it. Until a week ago, that is. In fact, Imogen remembered clearly that the last day Evan had come to Overblow Castle was in fact the day before the new student teacher arrived. Although she wanted to dismiss it as a coincidence, in light of what was happening with the castle now and the reticent way he reacted to their conversation about Hope, she instinctively knew that there must be some sort of connection between the two seemingly unrelated events. It hit her with the force of a double decker that the only logical explanation was that the two people, Hope and Evan, knew each other.
Hope\ho-pe\ as a girl's name is pronounced hope .It is of Old English origin , and the meaning of Hope is "expectation;belief".
No matter how hard she tried, Hope could not bring herself to feel afraid. She was locked up in a room with four students, an angry and sick teacher, with no food and water and having a pretty good idea of what was in store for her, but she could not feel a the fear that would have been appropriate in such a situation. In truth, she barely felt anything. She had no idea if that was herself or merely her less than extensive grasp on human emotion, but the woman was certain that it wasn't fine to be as emotionless as a stone in such a situation. With a soft sight she once again took to pacing the classroom, relishing the way in which her high heels broke the silence and made the lab feel more alive. Instead of fear, she could feel her heart beat with trepidation and her mouth open up in a smile of sadistic amusement and curiosity. So this is what everything had come to.
She had known that Evan would regard her being in the academy and her using the ring as a provocation and it appeared, judging by her current predicament, that the man had decided to retaliate. Of course she knew that he would. Ever since she was born she knew of the existence of the Mallard family and of their elder son and heir. Evan was such a deceiving and ironic name for a man just three years her senior, who was charming and refined but with such cruel tendencies and ambitions. She had been brought up to fear and hate him, his image of absolute power being used by her father the same way that most parents use the Bogey Man or monsters to scare their children into obedience. His existence hovered above her like an awful ghost, a spirit that she could definitely do without but couldn't let go. After all, what would she be, who would she be, if Evan had never existed? She would be nothing. His existence gave hers meaning; his life gave hers a purpose.
It was an impossibly warm summer afternoon of her fourteenth year of life when her childhood bogey man presented himself to her in his entire manly glory. That day's events were so clearly burned in her mind that she could almost hear the feeble attempt of the wind to fly free through the almost burned leaves and the smell of the scorched ground. Hope, then a lanky fourteen year old girl with long black hair and impossibly white skin, sat in defiance of the heat, under an old oak tree on the grounds of Hawthorne Manor reading yet another one of the impossible long text her father wanted her to study. The person that appeared in front of her looked nothing like she had imagined that childhood image of terror to look like. For one, he wasn't scary. He was a tall teenager whose tall lean body had developed early into that of a man, with impossibly unruly blond hair and almond-shaped hazel eyes. That, coupled with the faded jeans and white T-shirt he wore, made him look so normal that Hope immediately wondered why the powerful wards around her family home hadn't reacted and evacuated the stranger. Yet, as she rose herself, removing dried earth from one of her favourite long red skirts, and approached the man she immediately understood why the wards hadn't been activated. She also immediately knew who he was.
It seemed, much like herself, he had been trained to hide his true nature, thus the signs of his power were almost invisible. It wasn't in his countenance or in the features of his thin face that she saw it. What betrayed him was that despite his better efforts the faint breeze seemed to swirl around him and that the dried grass was greener, more alive, at his feet. She realized that she didn't fear him. Now that she actually saw who he was, and how he looked like, she couldn't fear him. With a playful smile on her lips, her blue eyes sparkling like those of a mischievous child, she raised her hand and touched his cheek, feeling the traces of an almost invisible stubble break the smoothness of his skin. He was real, he was there, and he existed. When she looked up to see his chocolate eyes widened in horror she burst out laughing and ran towards her house leaving him behind to stare at her with confusion and hear the clinking, childish sound of her laughter. Evan Mallard had been her own personal childhood bogey man, and she was sure that she, the thin, pale Hope Hawthorne, had been his.
Maud\maud\ is a name of Old German origin, and the meaning of Maud is "mighty in battle"
Maud had tried to sleep for almost two hours before she finally gave up, and with a sigh she tiredly opened her eyes and sluggishly turned her head to look at the other inhabitants of the room. She felt the back of her throat burn with thirst and her stomach grumble with hunger but she didn't dare to ask any of the adults for some water. Their resources were more than scarce and Maud had a feeling that she wasn't the one that needed them the most.
She did not know why, maybe because she wasn't deathly pale, but Miss Hawthorne's presence was so much more comforting that the one of her own form mistress. The woman stood tall, pacing the classroom, her high red heels clicking on the hard wood floor, a neutral expression set on her features. Truth be told, apart from ordering them to save as much water as they could in the available cauldrons and the muttered conversation she had with HB, the woman didn't say much. She didn't offer an encouraging speech, she didn't tell them everything would be ok and although Maud quickly found that she was scared by the taciturn nature of her usually vivacious teacher, she did appreciate that the woman didn't fill them up with false hope. As pale as a sheet of paper, taking shaky breaths and sometimes closing her eyes in an involuntary sign of weakness, Miss Hardbroom was watching her much younger counterpart like a hawk. The student didn't know what the two women had talked about, but the conversation had been, at best, tense. Ever since then, both teachers seemed resolute to stay out of each other's way as much as possible, with their form tutor sometimes shooting suspicious glances towards the student teacher.
"You should try to sleep as much as possible, Maud…" Miss Hawthorne said kindly, her pale hand touching the student's shoulder.
"I tried, but I can't…" the girl said softly, her eyes studying the wooden desk intently. How could she tell her that she was too hungry, too thirsty, and too concerned to sleep?
"I know it's hard, but you should try…sleeping as much as possible is the best thing considering the current… situation…"she replied in the same low soothing voice.
Maud didn't reply and instead her eyes turned towards her form tutor who was now moving on shaky legs towards the potions cupboard at the back of the class. After a few seconds of searching she came to her desk, a vial filled with a purple liquid in her hand and offered it to the girl.
"I didn't want to use this so soon, if at all, but you seem to need it, Maud" Miss Hardbroom said in a soft, barely auditable voice "It's a Sleeping Draught and it will give you at least a few hours of sleep"
Maud looked at the small vial torn between taking it and refusing her teacher's kind offer. On the one hand she wanted to take it. She was tired and wanted to sleep so badly. She wanted to forget that she was thirsty and hungry and knew that she would find release in sleep. On the other hand, she felt guilty for taking something that could be needed by others later on. Miss Hardbroom herself looked like she was in need of a couple hours of sleep and the girl suspected that at that particular moment she was far less frail than her potions teacher. She was about to refuse when she met the steely glare of her form tutor and knew at once that her teacher was aware of her conflicting thoughts. For a moment, she felt ashamed to think that her teacher was so very frail and sick.
"Maud Moonshine, Miss Hawthorne and I are the adults here. It is our responsibility to take care of you four, not the other way around" her form tutor said in her usual determined voice and once again, Maud felt herself cower under the woman's powerful stare.
"Miss Hardbroom is right, Maud. Drink the potion" the student teacher said in a voice much kinder than HB's but equally determined.
Under the pressure of the two adults, the girl took the vial offered to her and put it to her lips. The potion tasted horrible, both salty and sweet at the same time and it made her dry lips and throat hurt but its effects were almost immediate and she could feel her eyelids drop and her consciousness slip at an alarming rate. Miss Hawthorne was still holding her hand on her shoulder as she placed her head upon the desk and she was grateful for that touch. It wasn't exactly motherly, or even extremely friendly, but Maud thought it felt good to feel another human being, someone who was alive and warm, so very close to her. For the first time in the hours she had found out that they were unable to open the door, she felt safe and protected.
"Miss Hawthorne, do you think we'll ever get out of here?" maybe it was the Sleeping Draught, or the proximity of sleep itself that made her voice her concerns, but once she asked that question she felt a huge load being lifted off her shoulders.
"I won't lie to you, Maud. I don't know for sure, but I can promise that I will do my best to get us out of here" she answered, her hold on the girl's shoulder becoming slightly tighter. It wasn't exactly a comforting answer, but Maud appreciated it much more than a blatant lie. As the realm of dreams claimed her, she could feel her mouth open in a slight smile. Miss Hawthorne had said that she would do her best to get them out of there and that was strangely reassuring.
After she made sure that the girl was asleep Hope lifter her hand from her shoulder and faced the deputy headmistress. The woman was watching her interact with the student, mixed emotions clear on her face. If possible she looked even sicker and more tired than before, so Hope decided to break the silence that had been established between them during the previous hours and handed her the small vial of Sleeping Draught together with yet another cup of water. Out of all of them, Miss Hardbroom was the one who needed rest and care the most but the woman's proud, obstinate and suspicious nature made her a disregard this obvious fact. The younger woman knew that left to her own devices, Constance Hardbroom would easily succumb to her self-sacrificing impulses and would practically throw herself into a very early grave. Considering the connection between them, that wasn't an option. Hope didn't really care if the woman was slightly suicidal, she very much wanted to live and even if she had to force potions, water and whatever else she needed to survive down her throat, she would do so.
"Miss Hardbroom, you should try to sleep as well. I know you don't particularly trust me, but I can promise that I won't murder you all in your sleep. What would I gain from it, anyway?" she said with a mocking tone.
"You need sleep as well, Miss Hawthorne" Constance stated matter-of-factly looking at the vial and cup of water she had placed on her desk.
"With all due respect, I don't think I look like I am about to kneel over and die in the next few hours so I can say that you need it more than me" she says in a straightforward manner, a wry smile gracing her features.
Once again Constance appreciated the girl's direct words and was fairly certain that had the circumstances of their acquaintance been different, had the young woman been honest and never raised such suspicions, they would have formed a relationship akin to friendship. As things were though, she couldn't help but mistrust the younger woman. Still, there was some truth behind her words and some rationale behind her logic and the deputy could see that the best way to protect her students either from what was keeping them inside the potions lab or from Miss Hawthorne was to stay alive for as long as possible. With an imperceptible nod towards her counterpart she raised the vial of Sleeping Draught to her lips and sipped a small amount of the potion.
Egbert\e-gbe-rt,eg-bert\as a boy's name is of Old English origin ,and the meaning of Egbert is "bright, famous sword"
Egbert Hellebore usually assessed the magnitude of the problems of Cackle's Academy by the way he was received there by the four staff members. As such he knew immediately that the school was in some kind of rut by his non-existent festive greeting. Entering the school as he always did, through the front door, Algernon close on his heels, he was welcomed by a slightly pale headmistress, a nervous and twitching chanting teacher and an almost indifferent gym teacher. He did not bother to ask where the fourth member of staff was for he knew that whatever was happening with the academy probably involved her and that was the reason for the worry of the other three teachers.
"Tell me, dear lady, what seems to be the problem?" he asked in an overly affected tone and Amelia Cackle wordlessly shook her head. Refusing to have this particular conversation in the middle of the hallway, the headmistress guided her two guests towards the staff room, stopping briefly on the way to show them exactly what the problem was.
The world renowned grand wizard gasped when he saw the blue manifestation of magic that was blocking all access towards the potions lab. He prided himself on being extremely knowledgeable, on being the counsellor of kings, but he had never seen anything that like in his entire long life. The field of energy seemed particularly harmless at a first glance, even more, it had a natural feel to it. As if one was able to encounter the thing it was made of daily. He extended his hand to touch it and was surprised that the blue vapours were as solid as a wall upon touch, like a stone wall, but still had a distinct cool and soothing feel of familiarity to it. For a crazy moment he had the impression that the thing in front of him was solid and liquid at the same time. He shook his head and followed his host in the staff room, where the chanting teacher offered him a cup of tea and promptly went to ask Miss Tapioca for some home-made pastries for their guests.
"How did that happen?" Algernon asked the headmistress, his friend visibly shaken as he had also touched the field and probably had the same peculiar feeling that he had.
"We have no idea. It just appeared out of nowhere yesterday evening and we tried everything to dispel it, but no ordinary vanishing spell seems to work." Amelia Cackle answered in a voice that wanted to be as cool as collected as possible but which clearly betrayed her distress.
"Was anyone in there when the that thing appeared?" the grand wizard inquired, sipping a mouthful of his tea, although by the absence of the stoic Miss Hardbroom he could infer that at least one member was staff was in that particular area when everything happened.
"Constance, four of our third year student, including Mildred Hubble and your new potions student teacher, Miss Hope Hawthorne" the headmistress asked and while Algernon lamented the loss of his favourite student, declaring how unlucky the girl was to always attract trouble, Egbert himself was more interested in another name.
"Hawthorne, you said?" he asked once again and the headmistress confirmed with a nod of her head. Although Miss Cackle seemed to be oblivious to it, the Hawthorne family was one of the oldest magical families in existence. Those that studied the origins of magic and the history of magical development in depth knew that the Hawthorne family was one of the few considered founding clans of magic itself. During the middle ages, when the magical arts started to develop, they, together with another family whose name eluded him at the moment, were regarded as the wielders of magic in its purest form. He had the honour of knowing old man Hawthorne before his death more than ten years before and although he had heard that he had produced a daughter, the girl seemed to never be heard of, either before or after her father's death. Could this Hope Hawthorne be that girl, or was it merely a name coincidence?
Mildred\m(i)-ld-red,mil-dred\ as a girl's name is pronounced MIL-dred. It is of Old English origin, and the meaning of Mildred is "gentle strength"
Mildred Hubble, usually the most energetic trouble-maker that Cackle's Academy had seen, sat quietly on the cold, stone floor of the potions lab and tried, like her fellow students and two teachers, to cope as best as she could with the situation at hand. Next to her, Ethel was curled in a foetal position, fast asleep and she wondered for a second if she wasn't cold. Maud and Enid were asleep, using their desks and arms as cushions. Even HB seemed to be dozing off, her thin figure gracefully slumped against the teacher's desk in the classroom, her delicate hands supporting her head, a few rebellious streaks coming loose from her usually perfect bun. She took a moment to look at Miss Hawthorne who had once again taken to pacing the classroom and briefly smiled at her. Mildred didn't exactly have the time to fully process what her young teacher had told her and she wasn't sure that she truly wanted to do it either. On the one hand, for once in her short life, the girl felt as if she did belong in the magical world. After all, if what the teacher had said was true and she possessed such amazing, special powers, how could she not belong? On the other hand, although this reinforced her sense of belonging within the magical community, it was one more thing that created a rift between herself and her non-magical roots. She knew that her parents loved her and she returned the feeling like any child should. They were nice, kind, indulged her fantasies and spoiled her rotten, but they failed to understand her. It was as if, since they had found out she was a witch, her parents couldn't help but be slightly scared of her. How would they react to the fact that their daughter had such an amazing power? Although she wanted to think otherwise, she knew that even if they appeared to be proud, they would fear her more.
Mildred sighed softly, feeling the weight of the world being placed on her shoulders and being able to do little to lift it. She was furious with herself, she was furious with Cackle's and she was suddenly furious with her parents. Why should she be worried that she was different? After all she could do nothing to change what she was born like? Her parents should know better than to visibly twitch when she talked about spells or nervously laugh when she confessed about magical pranks she had pulled with her friends. And on top of that, on top of the increasing awkwardness she had to face every single holiday while at home, now the only place where she felt like she did belong was falling apart. Things like this weren't supposed to happen at Cackle's. Here, everything was good and despite all the trouble she often found herself in, she used to feel safe within the school. That, apparently, no longer was the case. Truth be told, throughout the adventures she had been through, some more dangerous than others, Mildred had felt like she was a cat with nine lives. Whether it was defeating Agatha twice in her first year, helping Sybil escape a tornado in her second, or merely deterring Amanda Honeydew from purchasing the castle, the girl was well aware that it was almost miraculous that she had escape unscarred from all those feats. The problem was that she had a feeling that she had consumed most of her lives in her earlier exploits and didn't have much luck left. Her lives were running out.
She looked at her friends, at Ethel, at Miss Hardbroom and at Miss Hawthorne and a terrible sense of desperation overwhelmed her. They were thirsty, hungry and tired. They were weak without their magic and their bodies were becoming weaker by the minute without proper sustenance. The last drop that made her break down and allow her fears transform into bitter tears was that she instinctively knew that the worst was yet to come.
Author's Note:
So… what do you think? Feel free to comment/ ask questions / yell at me for being so cruel to our beloved characters / or just randomly talk about stuff, either through reviews or private messaging. I will reply to you as soon as possible.
Next Chapter: A meeting between the doctor and the lord, a twist in what is happening within the potions lab and more than a few tears from those that are outside.