Author's Note:

Dear reader,

Thank you for returning once more to this fanfiction.

To all those who have reviewed my story thus far, Chrissiemusa,HBrules, PrincessSammi,chocomoon,AleksandraHardbroom, melissaIvory, and LongVodka (whose screen name I adore) a big THANK YOU and I hope that you will enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am sorry that I didn't get a chance to reply to all your wonderful words before posting this chapter. I will endeavour to do so as soon as possible, if the god of internet is on my side and makes my internet connection last for more than five minutes. Also, the promptness of this chapter is an expression of my gratitude towards you, those that encourage me to go on with this fanfiction.

As usual I need to mention NextChristineDaae,whose reviews are not only wonderfully motivating but also whose storyAppearancesCanBeDeceptiveis the finest example of fanfiction (Seriously, if you haven't read it, I urge you to do so as soon as possible… I do believe that it is mandatory reading for every single Worst Witch fan)

Before you start reading, I need to give you one piece of advice. The discussion between Constance and Hope is really important for understanding the entire plot, and although I did try to make it as clear as possible, feel free to ask whatever questions if there are things that you don't understand. Honestly, that discussion is one of the keystones at the basis of this story so I advise you to pay attention.

Yours faithfully,

Lemondrop

FIRE AND ICE

BOOK I: THE WIELDER, THE GIVER AND THE HEIR

Chapter9:Lifeisasumofallyourchoices(Albert Camus)

Day 5

Pain. All she could feel was mind-numbing, horrible pain, splitting her head in two, twisting and turning at her insights, tearing her flesh from her bones. Whether it was sharp like a million needles pricking at each and every nerve in her body, or dull like a wave of molten lead eating away at her skin, that awful, terrible pain was always there. She wanted to laugh and scream at the same time at the unfairness of the situation. She wanted nothing better than find a way to completely and utterly destroy Evan, to slowly but surely burn him until his very soul was disfigured and begging on his hands and knees for mercy. Instead, it was she whose every single fibre was protesting in horrible pain, whose power was so weakened that she couldn't maintain her spiritual form in the very place to which her ancestors had laid foundation and which she was sworn to uphold and protect.

Looking utterly disgusted at her translucent hands and mourning the days she had been able to have a fully-fledged physical form in the realm that was exclusively hers, Hope took a long look at the place she found herself in. Her surroundings were completely and utterly deserted and she could do nothing about it. She barely had the strength to transcend the barrier between the earthly and the spiritual realm and even that, as her ghost-like appearance proved, she hadn't been able to do fully. She hated him. She wanted to rip his hands, to claw out his eyes, to make him wither in pain. With eyes that were blood red, she sadly looked at the desolate mounds of dirt surrounding her and muddy water that showed, less clearly than usual, the realm of humans. The flames that used to burn brightly on top of every mound of dirt, a not-so-subtle celebration of the victory of the Lady of Fire over her brother, the master of Earth, were now gone and without their almost cheerful orange light the place was plunged into darkness. The only source of light was that coming from the lake and from the sad images it showed. Within its depths she saw the souls that she should have released and she mourned for every single one of them, her hatred towards her male counterpart increasing with each look of torment that she saw in the water.

Did he even realize what he had done, or was it merely another game for him? Even in her weakened form she could almost smell his scent and knew that he had, not long ago visited the place he called The Otherworld. If he had truly gone there, and she was almost positive that he had, and had looked within the depths of the water of the lake, how could he have continued in his vile pursuits, knowingly harming innocent souls in the process? She wished that she could do something, anything, for those souls whose sanctity she had sworn to protect. Evan had broken their unwritten code, had tarnished their rules and by seeking revenge and retribution he had committed the most horrible of crimes. For that, he would pay.

"Are you scared of me?" she said calmly from under the same old oak tree, her red skirt messily sprawled around her long thin legs as she sat on the dry grass. If at his feet the grass was greener, healthier, around her the same grass seemed dryer, more starved for water and the air was hotter, much more static.

He didn't answer but instead he watched the series of fluid movements she made to get up from the ground and willed the breeze that seemed to follow him everywhere to go to her. Her black hair rose in the air, wild long curls flying freely and she laughed. The same childish, clinking laugh that revealed a perfect set of pearly-white teeth and that had haunted him since the first time he had seen her. Evan didn't know what the hell had possessed him to come and see her once more. His rational mind told him that he shouldn't have. His brain knew how insanely dangerous the pretty, apparently harmless young girl was. But something else within him, something deeper, made him want to return.

"Are you scared of me?" she once again asked softly, the breeze still ruffling her hair as she closed the distance between them.

"No" his voice was strangled; his eyes were hungrily feeding on the beauty of her porcelain features, on the grace of her hands that were nervously gripping at the silk red skirt "Are you?"

"No" she admitted in a weak voice, barely above a whisper, her blue eyes looking into his deep hazel ones. Even with the light wind that he had sent to surround her, the air was so much hotter in her presence. It was as if every pore of her body was emanating pure heat.

Like she had done before, the girl raised her hand and placed it on his cheek. He closed his eyes and allowed the touch to overwhelm him. Her hand was dry and hot, almost feverish but he liked how her hand made his ice-cold skin feel warm. The air around her smelled of dried wild flowers and scorched earth and he inhaled it deeply, hungrily. It was such a refreshing smell, something so widely different from the one of fresh grass and rain he was accustomed to, that he relished in it. He allowed his hands to gain a life of their own and touch her slight waist, explore her bony shoulders and ultimately crush her against his chest. With her eyes closed, she didn't shy away from the touch and wrapped her long arms around his neck, her head firmly, yet gently secured in the nape of his neck. It seemed like her entire being was absorbing his emotions and in return she was giving away her own.

If an outsider were to watch the strangely tight embrace the two found themselves in , he or she would have found nothing out of the ordinary. To the naked eye, it was nothing more than a perfectly harmless hug. Yet Evan knew, and he was sure Hope had known as well, that it had been so much more. Holding onto the young girl for dear life, Evan could feel how his entire world was shattered and completed at the same time.

Evan woke up, beads of sweat crowding themselves on his brow, his hands gripping the decadent satin sheets of his bed. Horrible, terrible, blasted creature, which not only haunted every moment he was awake but that now appeared in his dreams as well. What more did he have to do to finally rid himself of her? He had locked her up, he had striped her of her power, he had left her to die a miserable, slow death of thirst and starvation, so what more did he have to do to get rid of her image? As far as he was concerned, although the rational part of his mind knew it wasn't true, Hope Hawthorne was dead and gone. She was locked away in a coffin of her own involuntary choosing, pathetically waiting for her end to come. So why couldn't he seal her image away at the back of his mind and never open it again? He took a deep, frustrated breath and realized that, even if it was merely a figment of his imagination, her smell still lingered as if it was embedded in his very pores. He wanted that smell to disappear. He wanted her to disappear. Knowing that there was no chance in hell that he could go back to sleep, Evan conjured a glass of water, drunk it hungrily, relishing in its coolness and made his way downstairs. Maybe if he could find something to read, he could make her disappear form his mind. For an hour. Or maybe, if he was really lucky and the book was really interesting, for even two.

They had all lost the notion of day and night and were instead measuring the passing of time according to the three daily ratios of water that Miss Hawthorne was distributing regularly. No one had any idea how the woman was measuring time, but quite frankly they couldn't have cared less. All they knew was that the ratios they received were increasingly smaller and that despite their better efforts, only four out of the ten mini-cauldrons were still filled with the liquid that was keeping them alive. Maybe it was better that they couldn't tell time. Maybe if they did know for exactly how many days, hours, minutes, seconds they had been trapped in there, they would have all lost hope. As Mildred had predicted things had become worse, not because something especially bad had happened, but because their bodies were becoming weaker and weaker by the second. With no real sustenance to support them, they were all loosing weight by the minute, and while someone like Maud could joke that once the ordeal was over she would have the figure she had always dreamed of, Ethel and Enid, who were already thin to begin with, were looking positively skeletal now. Many a time they had all looked longingly towards the potions supply cupboard and only the fact that it was locked and the key was in Miss Hardbroom's safekeeping made them refrain from storming the supplies and gulping down whatever plant was there. Of course, the idea that they could cook and eat something from that cupboard had been put forward and discussed a great deal of times and no matter how logical HB's answer sounded every time they brought the matter forward, they still hoped that one day the strict potions mistress would manage to somehow produce something editable from there. They had reached a point where they couldn't have cared less that even the plants that were supposed to be comestible were all treated with chemicals that made them last longer and thus rendered them poisonous, and had the cupboard been opened they would have all stormed it.

Every time the girls asked her for something to eat, Constance felt sick. Every single time she looked upon the famished faces of the four students, she could feel her heart give a painful jolt and the fact that every time she had to give the same negative answer was killing her. She had thought of everything that was humanly possible, she had considered every available option to try to make at least some of the plants comestible, but they were all, to say the least, unfeasible. Even if she did manage to find a way to counteract the effect of the chemicals with which the plants were treated, in order to make a potion, an antidote, you needed water. And while the girls would have been more than happy to give a cauldron of their water in exchange for something to eat, to make a potion you also needed fire. She had taken to keeping a small diary of sorts, jotting down any idea she had, no matter how outlandish it was, that could possibly make some of the plants comestible, but she knew that she kept it for her own sanity rather than belief that she could actually solve the pressing problem of the food. What use was the art she had studied for so many years if she couldn't feed the girls, her girls? Although questions like that had a tendency to recur with regularity, followed by an overwhelming sense of helplessness, Constance had found out that it was better both for her mental sanity and health to try to abate such thoughts when possible.

A few minutes after they had all realized that they were trapped within the potions lab, the candles that were used to illuminate the place were all suddenly blown out, so the room was scalded in a surreal blue light, which, according to Miss Hawthorne, came from the thing that was keeping them prisoners. They were somehow grateful for the presence of that light, firstly because without it they would have lived in complete and utter darkness, and also because it had a soothing quality to it. It was a lot like the light coming from the moon and stars on a night with a clear blue sky. Also, with the full support and encouragement of the two adults, although their form tutor clearly grumbled for a bit, the four girls had transformed the potions lab and created a mock-house out of it. It wasn't that they truly needed to, but it gave them something to do and after those first twenty-something hours that were mostly spent in quiet contemplation of their predicament, they all found that, albeit they wanted to go spare, they all needed some sort of activity. After the first night their bones had been terribly sore, so the first thing they decided to do was create some sort of make-shift bed. Taking the initiative, Mildred and Ethel had worked together on that particular problem. With Hope's help they had pushed four of the desks together in the far-end corner of the room and at her suggestion, while receiving dirty looks from their form tutor, they had ripped apart their books and notebooks and made four small pillows using Sticking Potion. Good natured as always, Mildred had offered to make two pillows for the two adults as well, and while the young teacher issued her thanks and said that she didn't need one, Miss Hardbroom offered an appalled look which made her standing on the defiling of books more than clear.

While the surprising pair of Mildred and Ethel worked on creating the sleeping area and were neatly covering the desks with two of the larger towels that Miss Hardbroom kept in her cupboards in case of especially messy spills during potions lessons, Enid and Maud were charged with the creation of what had come to be known as the "living room". Parallel to the wooden bed, they had placed one of the desk and six of the chairs in a neat semicircle. At first both girls were of the opinion that their "dining table" should have been larger, but after Maud had tactfully, in a quiet voice, pointed out that there was no need to use more than a desk, they both agreed to push the remaining ones against the wall. One of the free desks, on which their water supply was placed like a most cherished resource, was exclusively used by Miss Hawthorne to prepare their ratios and was affectionately, and bitterly, known as "the kitchen". As their part of the room involved less creativity and less logistical problems than that of Mildred and Ethel, both Maud and Enid had also taken upon themselves to provide the entertainment for the group. From sheets of paper that HB freely gave them, the two girls made a deck of cards, notes for charades, and came up with a whole list of games that could be played without any props.

Although most of their time was spent talking about idle things and, as they were becoming weaker, sleeping, the four girls found that they actually enjoyed spending their time playing games and that they were becoming more and more comfortable in each other's presence. Ethel, although sometimes as stuck up as ever, especially when she was partnered with Millie during charades and their team was loosing, had learned to censure some of her thoughts and words and seemed happy enough to be included in the activities of the three best friends. For their part, Enid and Maud, at Mildred's quiet pleas, had learned to tolerate their former arch enemy and sometimes, not very often, laughed at her dry, sarcastic and potentially insulting jokes.

Regarding the two adults, the girls' attitudes towards them were also changing considerably with the passing of time. As they had all found early during what seemed like their second day in confinement, once she came down from her mighty red heels, pulled her black hair into a messy bun and pulled up the sleeves of her pristine cream blouse, Miss Hawthorne naturally, and very easily became Hope. To their surprise, she even gently encouraged them to call her by her given name and while they did keep an air of deference towards the young woman, they treated her with much more informality than they would have treated a teacher. They even went as far as to invite her to participate in their games and while, more often than not, she politely refused them, she did agree a several times to play cards with them. By comparison, none of the girls would have even dreamed of referring to Miss Hardbroom as Constance or, heaven forbid, some demeaning nickname like Connie. HB remained HB, their impassive form tutor, and was considered as the principal figure of authority within the room. As the woman withered and wasted away at an alarming speed, they did however, have a tacit agreement between themselves to try and protect their form tutor as much as possible. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Mildred was the silent champion of the Miss Hardbroom cause and the other three girls, even Ethel, although somewhat reluctantly, seemed to follow her lead. They had not only toned down their complaining about how hungry or thirsty they were, but they had also all taken upon themselves to entertain the woman whenever she seemed up to it, not through games, but with the subject she had dedicated her life to.

Constance easily recognized the girl's efforts and although she didn't show it, was immensely touched by them. She knew that, possibly apart from Ethel, none of the girls had any interest in potions whatsoever and yet they all seemed to reserve a certain amount of time every couple of hours, to ask her about ingredients, brewing methods or fully-made concoctions. Many of the questions they asked, especially those that came from Mildred, were things that she had already covered in class or that they were already supposed to know from the readings she had assigned, but once she realized what the true purpose behind the many potions-related questions was, she learned to bite back her caustic remarks. With a patience she didn't have during class, she answered their questions and in turn, encouraged them to think logically about what she was saying by asking them her own questions. Constance was surprised at how much her students were able to either deduce or remember when they weren't put under pressure, the greatest surprise being the witch she had named "the worst witch in Cackle's". On one particular instance, while Mildred was explaining determinately, albeit in a slightly shaking voice, what she believed to be the effect of mixing bindweed and hellebore in a potion, Constance could see Miss Hawthorne smiling sardonically from her usual spot at the back of the class room and the potion mistress couldn't help but remember the conversation she had had with the woman on her very first day at the Academy.

"I talked to her after the incident and she acted like she had expected the potion to go wrong…"

"What are you trying to say, Miss Hawthorne?" the older woman asked in an ice cold voice, knowing fully well what the girl was implying.

"Maybe she lacks the encouragement she needs…" Hope was unnerved. It was ironical, for her, out of all people in the world to be unnerved by something as mild as a stare but she found that she was.

"Are you criticizing my teaching methods?" Constance asked with the same steeled tone but although she could feel the younger woman was somewhat intimidated, she refused to lower her blue eyes.

"All that I am saying is that, maybe, she would perform better if she wasn't punished all the time" Hope replied in the same calm, almost monotone voice, looking the deputy in the eye.

"At Cackle's we try to take a firm hand with the girls and not coddle them. We are trying to prepare them for the world" Miss Hardbroom stated simply and coldly as if what she proclaimed was a universal truth, her tone involuntarily rising up a notch.

"By bullying them?" she asked with a certain amount of derision….

Constance felt somewhat ashamed that someone who wasn't even a teacher in training had been right about how faulty her teaching methods were. She didn't know what to make of the younger woman and was still very suspicious of her motives, but she had to admit that Hope had behaved herself more than exemplary during the time they had been stuck in the same room. The potions mistress was well aware that the girls were trying to shield her from anything and everything that was unpleasant and she quietly cursed the disease that plagued her body and made her become someone who needed to be protected rather than protect. She also knew that as a result, they all tended to turn towards her younger counterpart and as much she hated to admit it, the woman was doing a good job. Although they all looked up to her and her word was law in the room, Constance noticed that the four students seemed to gravitate towards Hope, go to her in their moments of desolation and hysteria, talk to her about random topics, ask her about ways to abate their boredom. As much as the deputy wanted to think that this particular dynamic had been established only because the girls wrongly believed that she couldn't be burdened by mundane things, she knew that it was something else that came into play. Unlike her, Hope was approachable; not only because of her younger age but also because of how she had treated the girls from the beginning. Sometimes, while she watched how easily Miss Hawthorne interacted with the girls, her girls, she felt a pang of jealousy comparable to the one that had sent her, about four or five days earlier, raging towards the potions lab.

It had taken doctor Elwood four days to locate Evan Mallard's manor. When Noah managed to find what he suspected to be the devil's lair, he was suppressed to see that the place where Evan lived was nothing but a pleasant country manor surrounded by the greenest of meadows and bounded by a thick forest. Quite frankly, Noah didn't exactly have a purpose in coming to that place. He didn't know what had made him go there; he didn't know why he wanted to confront the man so badly. Truth be told, he was well aware that he was doing something stupid, pointless and potentially dangerous. He neither believed that he would resolve any of his problems by going to see Evan nor did he think that he would manage to make the man tell him what he had done to both Hope and Constance. The only thing that he knew was that during the four days it had taken him to find the place where Evan lived he didn't feel useless. He had convinced himself that he was doing something to help them and that delusion had allowed him to hold a grip on reality and prevented him from falling into the depths of despair that comes with purposelessness. As he stood in front of the massive oak door of the manor, picturing the blond head he had only seen in his visions, he knew that his efforts would not be in vain if he managed to land a punch on the man and wipe the superior aristocratic smirk off his face.

"Doctor Elwood, do come in… it is in poor taste to wait in the doorway" the door opened suddenly as if pushed by a particularly strong gust a air, and a male voice resounded calmly, a slight hint of impertinence and mockery clear in its tone.

There weren't many times that Noah had lost his temper. In fact he could count those times using the fingers of his left hand alone, and he did know that this was one of those times. As he entered what seemed to be a cosy, tastefully decorated parlour lit by a few candles and a merry fire in the fireplace, he knew that he wanted to murder the man. Evan was sitting cross-legged, on a plush sofa, in front of the fireplace, looking like nothing was wrong in the world. In fact, he looked like the very picture of relaxation and that, coupled with the man's smirk and condescending behaviour made Noah's blood boil.

"What have you done to her?" he allowed a low growl to escape his throat.

"Which one of them?" Evan said with a cool smile, calmly pouring some whiskey into two glasses and handing one of them to his agitated visitor.

"Both" Noah replied angrily, looking incredulously at the glass he had been handed and wanting nothing better than smash the said container against the man's head.

"Hope is only receiving what she was long due to receive. Call it retribution, if you would. As far as Miss Hardbroom is concerned, it is not me who is killing her…" he smirked.

"Retribution? Whatever Hope did, she only did it to protect what she cares about and she doesn't need to be judged by scum like you…" Noah instinctively defended his friend, although he was well aware that there might have been a lot of things for which Hope deserved some sort of punishment.

"Are you really sure about that, Doctor Elwood? Are you sure that your friend's intentions are so very noble?" Evan said in a low, voice , fully aware of how the doctor's good image of his friend was faltering slightly at that precise moment.

"Of course I am sure. I know her." Noah answered forcefully; perhaps too forceful, trying to quiet down the nagging voice in his head that there might have been some truth in what Evan was trying to imply.

"Even so, you know what they say: the road to hell is paved with good intentions…" the wielder of Water said softly, in a languid, silk-like tone, relishing in the way in which his words were planting the seeds of doubt in the doctor's voice.

"I know what you are trying to do and it won't work. You won't turn me against her…" Noah whispered realizing that from the moment he had decided to come see the man he had lost the battle. He knew enough about Elemental Magic to know that the Master of Water was also someone that was able to control feelings and emotions in a blink of an eye. He suddenly felt the room become too hot for him, and he tried to protect his mind, to the best of his ability, against what Evan way doing.

"You are a fool. You know nothing about her. The difference between me and dear Hope is that unlike her, I conduct my business in the open. You might not be aware of this, Doctor Elwood, but she knew my purpose from the beginning. She knew what she was subjecting herself and others to, and yet she decided to disregard the feelings of others. She even decided to disregard the feelings of her supposed best friend…" he said in the same soft voice, hardly above a whisper, his hazel eyes becoming almost white, his entire being feeding itself upon the increasingly confused feelings of his interlocutor.

"What the fuck do you mean?" Noah had truly wanted to stay quiet. He truly wanted to block what the other man was saying, and yet, involuntarily the words had rolled off his tongue and he felt like he had lost more ground in the mental war that was waging between his convictions and his doubts.

"Alas, Doctor Elwood… it is not my place to explain…You should ask Hope herself about it" he said in a sarcastic tone "If she makes it out alive, that is. If she doesn't, at least you will have the consolation of keeping your best friend and her most noble intentions on a polished pedestal forever" getting bored of the doctor's presence and their little game, also knowing that his job there was superbly done, Evan waved his hand dismissingly and the other man found himself unceremoniously thrown out of the room. Knowing that it was better for him to leave as long as he had his sanity intact, Noah bit the less than flattering remarks that were threatening to slip from his lips, turned on his heels and made his way out of the mansion.

In the spirit of trying to stay active and forget even for a few minutes the dire situation in which they found themselves in, the four girls were playing an animated game of "I've Never". Although the game had started on the mild side, declarations like "I've never played with dolls", from Enid who had always been a tom-boy, or from Ethel directed towards Mildred, "I've never crashed into the Grand Wizard during Halloween", being issued, in the fervor of the game the girls had apparently forgotten that the two adults were present and their "I've never" declarations were becoming of an increasingly personal nature and tended to have a romantic character. Bottom line, locked in the potions lab or not, they were still hormonal teenage girls who attended an all-girls boarding school.

"I've never… been on a date" Enid declared boldly and the others didn't even touch their cups of water, confirming the sad truth: none of them had been on a date.

"Trust me; you didn't miss a thing…" Hope mockingly intervened, a smile forming at the corner of her lips.

"Have you been on lots of dates, Hope? " Enid asked, being the one that was the most comfortable to informally using the woman's given name.

From her desk, Constance watched the interaction between the four students and their former student teacher wearily. Although she disproved of this particular kind of familiarity between students and teachers and her first impulse had been to admonish Enid for referring to the young adult in such an impersonal, familiar manner, for the first time in a lot of hours, she could finally see some colour returning to their cheeks and some laughter in their eyes. Truthfully, she could understand why the girls allowed themselves to be so familiar towards the other woman. As she stood at that particular moment, sitting cross-legged on a desk, her hair messily pulled up, and her short bell-skirt wrinkled around her thin frame, Hope didn't look anything like a strict teacher and more like a careless young girl.

"Far too many, and each one was worse than the other…" she sighed dramatically, the corners of her mouth turning upwards

"Which one was the worst?" Mildred asked while resting her tired head against the back of her chair.

"Probably the guy that took me to meet his parents on our first date" Hope lied smoothly and the girls giggled softly. Even they, as novices, knew that it was bad form to make your partner meet your parents during the first date. Of course, that hadn't been Hope's worst date. Truth be told, that hadn't even happened to her or to anyone she knew, for that matter. Yet, in the interest of keeping the peace, not having to touch on delicate subjects like orgies, paedophilia and necrophilia, all related to,in one way or another, to drug abuse, and definitely not wanting to give the prude Miss Hardbroom a heart attack, she decided to go with a PG-13 answer.

"What was the best one?" Ethel asked and adjusted her position to a more comfortable one, leaning her head on her crossed arms on the desk.

"The first one I ever went on…" Hope smiled, a soft, genuine smile that hid both affection and bitterness "My favourite book back then was an old illustrated copy of Alice in Wonderland, so the guy that I was dating made a perfect replica of the Mad Hatter's house in the middle of the forest, covered every single tree in sight with red and white paper and even had a white rabbit come and lure me into the forest… " she followed, remembering fondly how much she had laughed at seeing him dressed like the Mad Hatter, and what a wonderful first night they had spent together in that wonderland scenario.

"That's so romantic…" Maud whispered, imagining that one day she would find a boy that would do the same for her.

"Is he your boyfriend now?" Enid asked and Miss Hardbroom once again wanted to intervene, but bit back her cutting remark. She found the look of softness combined with sadness in the younger woman's eyes a refreshing change from her usually blank expression and knew that whoever that man was, Hope had loved him.

"No…" she answered kindly, the word that rolled of her tongue having an air of finality.

"But why? Didn't you love him?" Millie said with confusion, her innocent eyes widened slightly

"I did. Very much" she once again smiled at the innocence of the question and felt a certain degree of sadness upon realizing how young and unknowing the girls were "You are too young to understand it now, but one day you will see that loving someone isn't enough to make a relationship work…"

"I wonder how it feels to fall in love…" Ethel remarked, a dreamy kind of look passing on her young features and softening them considerably.

"It's beautiful and awful at the same time" Hope replied calmly, her voice quiet and subdued. Constance looked at the younger woman and realized that she couldn't have agreed more with what she had just said.

As he felt Noah Elwood leave the perimeter of his dwelling, Evan couldn't help but look back on the conversation they had had. What he had told the doctor was true… The way to hell was indeed paved with good intentions, even more so for a person like Hope who refused to admit failure and defeat. Yet, it was good intentions that society judged and not the means though which they had been attained. He wasn't naïve enough to think that someone will ever consider thanking him for what he was doing. For ages, regardless of who was holding it, his position was considered that of a villain. With that thought in mind, Evan once again rejected Imogen's call and decided to turn off his cell phone.

He turned his eyes to the fireplace, a glass of fine scotch in his hand to sooth his increasingly troubled feelings. Red flames merrily danced within the confines of the stone frames of the fireplace and he felt his heart being brutally squeezed in his chest. In those beautiful red flames, her flames, the essence of her character, he could see her, not like she was now, but like she had been so very long ago. He watched as they moved with surreal grace and he could remember the gentle, warm touch of her fingers upon his cold skin, the mischievous look in her wide blue eyes, and the way in which her long black hair rose like a messy halo around her porcelain white face, carried by the gentle breeze that always seemed to follow him. The memories of those eyes, those hands, that willowy body that had once been his made his heart mourn.

Despite his better efforts, for years and years he had been resentful, cruel, and cold but he had been consistent in his affections, loving none but her. All the girls he had slept with, all the Imogen Drills he had taken to his bed were either an attempt to recreate Hope, his Hope, in another woman or a futile way to replace her image with something completely different. Every time tried, he failed, for his heart was hers, and hers alone. She had claimed it ten years before on an unbearably hot day, on a lawn where grass, despite being well-tended to, was slowly dying. When he had first met the gym mistress, he only thought of what tactical advantages he could gain from being with her. Yet, as a meeting between himself and Hope was becoming more and more likely, Evan had tried, truly tried, in his anger and hurt pride, to make himself feel something, anything for Imogen. But his mind and heart, both treacherous organs, could not help but compare the two and as much as he wanted to find Imogen as being the superior creature, he was unable to. How could he, when one was a mere human being, while the other was pure fire, passion and the ultimate antithesis to what he represented? He had meant to forget her and for a long time he had imagined that he had managed to do it. It was so easy to pretend that he was indifferent to her when she wasn't there. When he couldn't see her. But then, that day when he had seen her at the window of that shabby old inn, when he had nodded at her in greeting and she had nodded back, he knew that she still had that unusual hold on his heart. A word, a look, anything would have been enough to make him decide to stop the irrational war of ambitions between them. He would have given himself freely, willingly. He bitterly realized that, even now, after all that had happened between them, he was ready to offer himself to her with a heart that was much more hers than it had been the first time they met.

With a brusque motion of his hand he made a stream of water pour into the fireplace and put out the flames. As he watched gray smoke rose from the ashes, he took yet another bitter sip of his scotch. The gray lifelessness of the smoke contrasted so very much with the beauty of the fire he had extinguished. It was such a pity that from something so striking, something so plain and ugly remained. It suddenly hit him that, like the flames she governed, she was fading away. She was turning to ashes and smoke.

The only benefit to being stuck in the potions lab was that it was that only class room in the entire school that had small supply cupboard connected to it and despite the temptation that all those apparently editable plants posed for the four students, it was a small mercy that the six people there had a place where each one could be afforded a modicum of intimacy. Of course, it had been established early on that the usage of the cupboard was under strict supervision and the girls were not allowed in there without an adult present. That adult was usually Hope, who often dragged one of the four girls in there and allowed her to cry, vent, and talked her through moments of despair. Another function of the small, shelved room was its exclusive use by Miss Hardbroom and the girls respected their form tutor too much to disturb her when she locked herself in there. They did however derive some comfort that as soon as the woman disappeared behind the wooden door, the younger adult in the room seemed to follow her almost immediately. None of them, apart from Mildred who had witnessed one of HB's episodes before and wanted to erase it completely from her memory, did know what was exactly happening, but judging by the raspy, wet cough coming from the small room, they all had a pretty good idea what was trespassing behind that door.

Constance didn't flinch when she heard the door slowly open for she already knew who was coming into the small room. Kneeling on the floor, her legs folded neatly under her and white hands tightly gripping the grey marble rim of a stone basin, the deputy headmistress looked ashen as rivers and rivers of blood freely flowed out of her open lips. As per usual, when it had first happened, the deputy had protested and said that she could do without any help. Yet, when Hope had pointed out, in a very dry and clearly annoyed voice, that she was the only thing holding the deputy and preventing the woman from cracking her skull open against either the floor or the shelves, Constance had to admit that she had a point. Thus, a new wordless ritual had been established. Every time she could feel her lungs burn and her mouth fill with the metallic taste of blood, Miss Hardbroom would, with as much dignity as her condition afforded her, walk towards the small cupboard and neatly position herself on the floor while allowing more and more red liquid to fall into the marble basin with each and every cough. As if on cue, the pretend student teacher would follow her into the small space and place her warm hands on her shoulders, giving her a much needed sense of steadiness. Neither woman ever said anything. Constance because she didn't know what to say, and Hope because she didn't want to insult or hurt the deputy's pride in any way. When the ordeal was over, Hope would wait for her breathing to become steadier, hand her a small cup of water and a rag to clean her lips of the remaining blood, help her up to her feet and would walk out silently.

As the ritual had to be performed more and more often and the time they spent together in the small space was becoming longer and longer every day, Constance had learned to read the younger woman's silences and usually stony expression. Most of the time, Hope's features wouldn't emote much but her eyes would say a lot about what she felt. Usually, there was a worried and slightly inquisitive look in those blue eyes. Other times, she could find some sort of morbid curiosity in the girl's eyes and although that particular look unsettled her, in virtue of maintaining the fragile peace that had been established in the potions lab, Miss Hardbroom never asked anything about it. She truly believed that for her own peace of mind, and the benefit of the students trapped with them, it would be better to remain ignorant on that particular matter. Today, unlike every other day, the girl's eyes were vacant, as if she was spacing out and Constance instinctively knew that the reason behind that look was the discussion she had with the girls.

Although the cough had stopped and Hope released her grip on her shoulders and handed her the cup of water, Constance shook her head with a slightly defeated look. Although for the moment she felt the pressure in her chest lessen for a bit, she knew that her body wasn't done just yet. With an almost supernatural grace, despite the perpetual weakness in her muscles, she dragged herself to the nearest wall and leaned her back on it for support. With an equally weak hand she opened the top buttons of her black dress, hoping that releasing the restrictive pressure on her throat would make her breathing easier and would calm the furious beats of her tired heart. Trying to take deep breaths, her head leaned against the cold stone wall; her hand involuntarily gripped at the golden pendant around her neck and found it as warm as ever. She didn't know why, but she found that particular warmth to be soothing.

Hope's eyes unwillingly widened at the sight of the thin golden chain and the round golden pendant that hung on it. She felt an immense gratitude towards whatever higher power had made the deputy close her eyes, for it took her more than an instant to compose herself and reset her expression into her usual unreadable one. She knew that she should have left the room. She knew that she shouldn't have lingered, but the sight of that small, apparently inoffensive object upon which the fate of the world, her fate, depended, made her stay. Maybe the lack of water was finally getting to her, or maybe it was the proximity of the pendant, but she felt her back sliding against the opposing wall and her knees buckling slightly under her weight. She sat on the stone floor, her legs folded under her, trying to ignore the way in which the ankh on the ring she wore burned the pale flesh of the middle finger of her left hand.

"Sometimes I wonder how things would be had I done things differently. Had I made different choices…maybe things would be different, not only for me, but for others as well" Hope's voice sounded foreign to her own ears and she wondered what had possessed her to break the mutual silence both women were so used to.

"The choices that we make are our own and there is little use in regretting them." Constance opened her eyes and measured her words carefully. It was true that she didn't trust the woman in front of her, but at that particular moment she couldn't help but pity her. She didn't think that Hope knew or noticed, but as she stayed on the floor, leaning on the wall opposite her, she looked like a small, confused child. That particular broken look of desperation, of sadness and of infinite guilt made the deputy, for the first time since she had met the girl, wish to be kind to her.

"Miss Hardbroom, if four days ago I still believed that there could be something that I could do to get us out of here, now I firmly believe that there is a high chance that we will never leave this place alive. It would be an insult to both our intelligences if we keep pretending that you don't know who I am, and although I do appreciate your kind words, we both know that we are in this situation because of me" her voice was shaking, and the air seemed to thicken considerably. Of course Constance had known since the day she had confronted the young woman that Hope was probably to blame for the situation they all found themselves in. But that fact was less real when it remained unspoken. Now, when the woman openly admitted her guilt, she felt a strong wave of resentment mixed with empathy towards Hope.

"You can't do anything, can you?" although she wasn't the kind of person to ask futile questions and although she knew the answer to what she had asked, Constance felt she needed to say something to break the silence.

"Fire doesn't work against Water. He rendered my powers obsolete. It's not a case of two opposing forces cancelling one another…it's a case of the existence of one validates the existence of the other…" she said calmly, a slightly pathetic expression of sadness apparent in her eyes. "I didn't even know that he could do this…"

"So that is why our magic doesn't work inside the room…" Constance said softly, vaguely remembering something she had read long ago about the nature of magic.

"Yes… magic is an expression of all four elements combined, inside this room there are only two elements that manifest themselves and, as such, magic can't transform"

"Correct me if I am wrong, but you are the only person in the world that has power over fire, aren't you? So if you are here in the room and can't exercise your power, then the magic of all wizards and witches in the world is gone, isn't it?" the deputy asked, her slightly muzzled brain trying to process the implications of what was truly happening. Although she was terrified at what she was discovering, her pragmatic mind couldn't help but be secretly pleased that Hope was finally giving away some much needed information about their situation.

"You are right and wrong at the same time. I am the only person who has mastery over Fire, the same way that Evan is the only one who masters Water. But I'm not the creator of Fire. Fire exists whether I exist or not. I am the only one who can wield it, who can model it and convert its purest form into its purest physical manifestation. So while in this room Fire doesn't exist, not because I can't mould it but because the spiritual energy of its opposing element is preventing it to exist, everywhere else in the world, unless the entire planet is trapped in a giant cage of Water, the element of Fire is manifested. As such, magic should exist everywhere but here, within these walls" she explained carefully, and found that sharing her ideas and problems, even with someone towards whom she had no affection, felt good, almost liberating.

"I see… but if Water does exist here, why aren't we able to use it?"

"The thing is, I don't think it does. I don't know for sure how this works, but I do have a theory. First, unless the entire castle, or the entire country, is in a state of lockdown, in which case locking the potions lab would be pointless; I think Evan keyed the field of Water to manifest itself around the highest concentration of Fire. Fire, like Water, Air and Earth, exists in everything. Whether it is animate or not, every single object has a certain energy, a certain aura, and that aura is usually formed of the four elements, each one in a different ratios, considering the characteristics of the object. Of course, in the case of the natural manifestations of the four elements, the ratio of the element it represents is much higher. For example the aura of handful of dirt, although it is mostly formed of the elemental energy of Earth, the element it represents, it still has some of the energy of the other three elements. Like everything in the world, I have an aura which, because of my affiliation to Fire is predominantly made out of my own element…"

"So if he used maximum the concentration of Fire to be the trigger of the field of Water, the field would have been created around you because you represented the maximum concentration of Fire in the castle… " Constance interrupted, realization dawning on her, her pedantic academic mind taking in all the information she was given and processing it fervently despite feeling so very tired.

"Exactly. Of course, ideally, he should have been able to create a cage of Water only around me, and me alone. And because he obviously didn't manage, I have a second theory, and for it to make sense, it is very important to make a distinction between the Elements and their natural manifestations. As I was saying before, a handful of earth isn't actually the Element of Earth, but something whose aura has a higher ratio of the energy of the Element of Earth, and as such, has borrowed some of the characteristics of the element it represents. The same is true for the flame of a candle, for the water in a pond, or even for the air that surrounds us. These are merely natural instances within which a particular element is more prominent, but it isn't the true nature of that particular element. Furthermore, as I was saying, although we can control our elements, we can't create them. They exist whether we exist or not. And it is in this instance that it's very important to understand the difference between the true nature of an element, and the way in which it is seen in the world. For example, if I decide to light something on fire… "

"…or create a barrier of flames to protect the girls from explosions…" Miss Hardbroom added, remembering the impressive way in which the woman had protected her students

"Exactly… if I decide to create flames, I can do so because I can manipulate the energy of Fire that exists in the aura of every single thing on earth and force it to become what we perceive as flames. To be more precise, I can light a candle, a piece of paper or whatever object I choose, because I can manipulate the small particles of Fire within the aura of that object and command them to take the form of flames. Basically, I can't create those particles, but I can use them… "

"So, you think that outside this wall there is a huge barrage of water, like a cascade, that prevents us from opening the door and getting out?" the deputy asked, imagining that something like a floating container of water waiting for them outside the potions lab.

"No" Hope said flatly "I wish it was that simple, because if your theory was correct, then I could use my power over the element of Fire and get us out of here. What I think he did, and I didn't know it was possible until now, is that he managed to create a physical field made of the pure energy of Water…"

"The reverse of the process that you described…So instead of using the particles in the aura of an object to create the natural manifestation of water, like a stream or a lake, he did the opposite thing. He used what we know as water to drain its aura and create a field made of the Element of Water…" Constance said calmly, stifling a raspy cough, her mind thinking of the endless implications of what she had discovered.

"That's basically it, only that he didn't only drain the elemental particles from physical water, but also from all the objects and all the living things in the room. Including your magical auras, the magic imbedded in the walls of the castle, everything… I think that although he keyed the whole process to respond to me, as the one whose aura is made mostly out of Fire, the ratio of Water in my aura wasn't enough to form a field around me and me alone. As I was saying, he can't create more elemental particles, but once I was in a place with enough elemental energy of Water surrounding me, his curse activated, drained the elemental particles of Water and locked me, and consequently, you, in the potions lab " Hope added calmly, sighing softly

"And because Water doesn't exist here, Fire doesn't exist either…" Constance concluded softly, her hazel eyes studying the floor intently.

"Yes. It's called the Principle of Opposition. The existence of something doesn't have a meaning without the existence of its opposing concept. Like Life would not exist without Death, and Up would not exist without Down… What he did, was that by draining the Elemental particles of Water from the aura of everything that surrounds us in this room, he created something like an alternate universe where only two Elements exist…" she explained

Constance once again tried to stifle a cough, feeling the now familiar pressure being built in her chest. Although there were so many more questions to ask, the revelations of Miss Hawthorne's words were weighting heavily on her mind. How could they hope to survive this event, if such forces, far beyond their capabilities, were working towards their downfall? How could she, as she was now, weak and feeble and, most importantly, without her magic, protect her students? Now that she was made aware of what was happening she knew that it was more important than ever to hold onto all the resources that they had and try to stay alive for as long as they could. Trying to fight the metallic taste of blood that was rising from her throat, she took a small sip of the water that Hope had handed her. It was cool, and made the perpetual ache in her chest and the dryness of her throat lessen. As she placed the cup back onto the stone floor, something dawned on her and she couldn't believe that Hope hadn't thought of it.

"Water…" Constance whispered, her eyes fixed on the liquid in the cup "You made the girls save water…"

"Yes, because I knew that Evan would do something related to water…" Hope replied, not understanding the potion teacher's train of thought. Initially, when she realized that they were stuck in the room, she knew that there was a high chance that Evan was the one behind it and that he would naturally use his principal Element. That's why she made the girls save water. It had merely been an educated guess. Only after hours of thought and analysis had she been able to come up with a theory that was explaining all the occurrences.

"Tell me, Miss Hawthorne, what would happen if the aura of a manifestation of one of the elements was drained of that particular element?" Constance asked, a hint of excitement and urgency clear in her raspy voice.

"I don't know. I told you that I didn't even know that you could do that…" she answered calmly.

"What do you think, though?" the deputy asked a bit more impatiently

"Well, I think that if you eliminate the essential characteristics from the aura of an object that is fully based on an Element, that object would simply disappear…I mean, logically I don't think that a flame can exist if the Element of Fire is eliminated from its aura" Hope answered

"Exactly…" Miss Hardbroom answered with a small triumphant smile "So why do we still have water?"

"We don't…" Hope answered flatly, but suddenly realized what the woman was saying and fought the urge to bang her head against the wall "We do have water…"

"What I believe, Miss Hawthorne, is that although your theory is correct, there is a limit to the amount of elemental energy that he did drain…He didn't drain an infinite amount, he drained just enough to keep you trapped and unable to use your powers. And in that same vein, I think that the curse that he used was not only keyed to take effect around the source with the highest amount of Fire energy in its aura, but also to progressively drain the things that could potentially stop the curse, in order of importance. Naturally, as we are all witches, the first thing that was drained were the Element of Water from our auras, then from the magic of the castle walls, including the pipes, and from whatever objects in the lab… " she explained in a voice that for the first time in the past days seemed alive, and hopeful.

"That's why we actually had time to save the water… the field was being formed from our magical energies and all the water that we gathered, must have been before the process reached the pipes…" Hope said, a certain degree of admiration directed at the brilliance of the woman who, despite her weakened condition, had managed to realize something that she had missed for five days.

"Yes… And this means that there is at least one instance in which the four elements manifest themselves, together…" Constance concluded and watched how the younger woman looked at the cup of water, her brow furrowed in concentration. What they had discovered was an amazing breakthrough, a piece of information that gave them much needed hope. The only problem was how could they use this new discovery to the best of their advantage?

Author's note

Now, my dear readers, I do know that this chapter is slightly boring and is my very own lecture in magical theory, but in the interest of a proper dissemination of knowledge both between myself and you and between the characters, chapters such as this one, that offer lots of background information need to be written. They are also very important as far as the plot is concerned.

So, in the same vein, I hope I was clear enough in my theories about magic and that they did make sense. If they didn't, feel free to ask me or point out lapses in logic. Secondly, what do you think about the way in which the story is developed? Do you like it? Do you think that Constance and the girls will be able to get out of the lab? I know that some people were sceptical towards Mr Mallard, is your opinion the same? Anything else, feel free to contact me, whether through reviews or pm's.

Next Chapter: Plans are formed and developed. Noah has to make a tough decision and a little more of Constance's pre-Cackle's, background is revealed