#ada and hecate follow her on a shared second place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hovercraft79 · 4 years ago

Text

Hello

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 6, 021

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: smoking, bitterness

Summary: It’s been fifteen years since Ada Cackle last set foot on Cackle’s Academy grounds. But while her destiny can be delayed, it won’t be denied. Alma has finally demanded that her prodigal daughter return and prepare to take up the mantle of leadership. Is Ada ready for everything that entails? Maybe. There’s one surprise, though, that she never saw coming.

Notes: This is a slightly revamped entry from last year’s Hackle Summer Trope Challenge. I’m including it because it’s actually the first part of this year’s challenge – the ‘school’s out’ trope will pick up after this installment.

My plan is to fill in some of the gaping holes in the canon storylines: when Ada met Hecate, Hecate becoming a teacher and deputy head (as well as coming to terms with her confinement) and finally, the time period where Ada and Agatha tried to co-head the school. Somewhere along the way, these two might even fall in love.

I’ve kept everything within canon (though I did keep the 13-year age difference between Ada and Hecate, there’s certainly room for Ada to be older than that). If you notice anything that I missed feel free to let me know. This is using the ‘First Time’ prompt from last year.

The title comes from Lionel Ritchie’s song of the same name.

Thanks to Sparky for finally whipping this wip into shape.

The sun disappeared behind a cloud just as the dark figure on a broomstick began her descent towards the ground. “Fitting,” she muttered under her breath. She touched down lightly in the middle of the courtyard, sliding off her broomstick and stretching the muscles of her lower back.

Staring up at the castle, she snapped her fingers and a lit cigarette appeared at once. She took a deep drag, blowing a dense cloud of smoke across the lawn. It all looked much the same as it did the last time she was here, nearly twenty years ago. It felt smaller, though, like an old dress that didn’t quite fit anymore. Another drag, another cloud of blue-gray smoke. Another time, she thought. She raked her fingers through her windblown hair – or tried to anyway. The tangled mess refused to cooperate.

“You’re hardly the picture of a proper headmistress, Ada.” Alma Cackle appeared in front of her daughter, waving the cigarette smoke away.

“Criticizing before you’ve even fully materialized? That’s quick, even for you.” Ada dropped her cigarette onto the grass and crushed it with her boot. “Good thing I’m not Headmistress, then.” She placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Well met, Mother.”

“Welcome home, Ada. You’ve been gone too long. It’s time you started preparing for your birthright.” Alma transferred Ada’s belongings to her rooms. “I’ve cleared Mrs. Drill’s old room for you. It’s been empty since she left to spend more time with little Dimity.”

Ada nodded. She hadn’t fancied staying in the room she and Agatha had shared as children. Too many memories coupled with too much emptiness without her sister there. She’d barely tolerated the two years she’d spent in the room alone, after Agatha had been sent to Wormwood’s.

“Come along then.” She looked pointedly at Ada’s jeans and the faded Pretenders t-shirt under her leather jacket. “I’m sure you’ll want to change into something more appropriate.” Alma turned and walked towards the castle door.

Rolling her eyes, Ada nonetheless followed her mother into the castle. “I don’t reckon you’ll see me in traditional witching robes any time soon.”

Alma sighed but didn’t argue. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“She sends her regards,” Ada said, suddenly very tired. They’d spoken, all right. Agatha’s angry words still scraped inside her skull. Favorite. Betrayal. Abandoned. Why didn’t Agatha understand that Ada didn’t have any more choice in this than she did? They were each forced to live out a destiny based on nothing more than which name came first on a birth scroll.

It’s not like she’d asked for this.

She’d spent nearly twenty years being anywhere but here. She’d left for Weirdsister’s the week after she’d finished her final term at Cackle’s. She’d stayed for summer terms, spent holidays with friends whenever she could and taken an entire year to broomstick across Europe – sometimes with Agatha, sometimes not. She’d taken her teaching credentials to Moonridge High School and then on to Amulet’s Academy. Now she was back. Home, she supposed. Her mother had left no room for argument. In a few years, Alma would retire, and Ada would be headmistress. It was time for Ada to assume her place. She’d start by teaching a few Potions classes, lifting the load from the insufferable Miss Gullet. Then, she would take over as Deputy Head Mistress, learning the ins and outs of running an academy. It all seemed rather bleak and planned out as far as she was concerned.

Ada studied the dining room. The banners had been replaced, but the food was just as bland and the chairs just as uncomfortable as they’d ever been. She’d forgotten how cold it was in the castle and already regretted giving up her leather jacket for a long-sleeved denim shirt.

“Do you have your lesson plans sorted yet?” Alma asked. “You’re taking over the first and second years, correct?”

“For now. I’ll be adding a level each term until a permanent Potions teacher can be hired. Everything is ready, Mother. I’ve taught Potions before, you know.”

“But you haven’t taught it here, Ada. I’ll not have my own daughter coddling the girls. Cackle’s has a long—”

“A long tradition of top marks in Potions, yes, Mother, I know.”

Alma was about to reply when Miss Gullet interrupted her.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. C. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” Miss Gullet reached across and patted Ada’s hand. “After all, you couldn’t ask for a better mentor than yours truly.”

Gwen Bat, the Chanting teacher, threw her napkin down on her plate. “I rather think I could, Miss Gullet,” she snapped as she pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Cackle, I’ve lost my appetite.” She walked stiffly away, disappearing before she’d even gotten halfway to the door.

Blinking back and forth between Miss Gullet and her mother, Ada wondered what that was all about.

“Oh, never you mind that old witch.” Miss Gullet waved Gwen away. “She’s been in a mood ever since that dodgery old wizard did a runner on her. Can’t say I blame the bloke.”

Ada looked at her mother, but Alma just shook her head. Later, she supposed, she’d have to get the story later. For now, Ada would be content to get through dinner and retire to her rooms. A headache pricked just behind her left eyebrow, and she felt certain that a tumbler of Witch’s Brew would be just the trick for getting rid of it.

-----

For the third time, Ada ran her finger along the spine of each book on the library shelf. She couldn’t quite believe that Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry wasn’t there. Humming softly, Ada checked the adjoining shelves, just in case. She didn’t find it there, either. Hands on hips, she huffed her hair out of her eyes. Ada glanced around as if she didn’t already know she was standing in the restricted section of the library. Students weren’t allowed to check these books out. They weren’t even allowed in this section without explicit permission. A long-forgotten memory wriggled its way out of a dark corner of Ada’s brain.

It was the middle of the night and the library was much darker than Ada expected it to be. She cast a tiny light spell – about half a second too late. “MONA! Look out!” Ada pointed at the lamp on the table, but Mona had already knocked it with her elbow. Her heart pounded in her chest as the lamp tipped, wobbled, then settled back on its base. She’d scarcely relaxed when Agatha’s hissing made her jump again.

“Will you two be quiet! We’ll never hear the end of it if Mother catches us in here!” Agatha leaned over Mona until the she shrank back, huddling next to Ada. “And if I miss the dance at Weirdsister’s next week, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” Agatha whipped around and continued sneaking through the library. “And put that light out!”

Ada and Mona exchanged worried glances and crept along behind her, fumbling their way into the restricted section. Agatha had bamboozled the young new librarian into revealing that the wards surrounding the restricted section only kept the books in; it didn’t keep the girls out.

“I still don’t see why this dance is sooooo bloody important,” Mona griped.

Once again, Agatha spun around and glared. “Because Georgie Wintercherry will be there, which means Judith Starling will be there. Which means I will be there. No silly rule that you have to be at least seventeen is going to keep me out of that dance. That toad isn’t getting her claws in him if I can help it. If you weren’t such a little girl, you’d know that.”

“Toads don’t have claws—”

“Shut UP, Mona!” Agatha hissed.

“Well they don’t! And I don’t know what you’re on about – you’re three months older than me. Ada’s older than you!”

“Don’t get me started on that bloody thirteen minutes.”

Ada shook her head, pulling herself back to the present, though she couldn’t keep her eyes from finding the volume they’d been after that night. They’d found it then, too, but hadn’t been powerful enough to make it work. Agatha hadn’t been able to sneak into the Weirdsister’s dance, and Judith had indeed gotten her claws into Georgie – their oldest girl would soon be entering Cackle’s. Looking back, Ada realized that night was probably when the seed for the plan to take their mother’s power had been planted in the garden of Agatha’s brain. Oh well, Ada thought, it doesn’t pay to travel down some old roads. Gathering up the rest of her books, she made her way to the circulation desk, reminding herself to smile at each student as she passed.

“Ada!” Miss Inkwell wriggled a pinky in the air. “I mean, Miss Cackle,” she said in her poshest voice. Ada rolled her eyes and dropped her books onto the library counter, thunking much louder than Ada intended. A dozen heads popped up, as curious students looked to see who was making all the noise.

“Sorry, girls!” Ada ducked her head and waved. “Carry on.” She turned to Miss Inkwell and grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it, Ada. You probably just woke half of them up.” She pulled Ada’s books towards her. “Gracious, you do have a bit of light reading planned.” Her eyes widened as she read the titles. “You must be planning to keep those girls on their toes!”

“It’s really for me – just trying to keep the old quill sharp.” Ada tapped her temple with a long red fingernail. “Um… I wasn’t able to find quite everything I was looking for. The card catalog shows that we should have a copy of Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry in the restricted section, but I can’t seem to find it. I can’t imagine that someone would check it out.

“Thornapple’s?” Her eyes widened when she heard the title. “Ada… that’s some advanced work, even for Fifth Years… surely, you aren’t…”

“Merlin’s beard, no! I’d rather live to a ripe old age. The truth is, it’s been a while since I’ve taught Potions; I’ve been teaching Spell Science for the past eight years. I need to brush up.”

“I see… best get cracking then.” Miss Inkwell summoned a well-worn box with a drawer, its walnut finish darkened by age. “Let me just check on that book for you.” She slid open the drawer, and expert fingers flipped through the cards. “Oh! Why yes, it is checked out, but it’s due back in on Tuesday. I’ll set it aside for you.” Smiling sympathetically up at Ada, she was just closing the drawer when a loud crack and puff of yellow smoke came from the far end of the library. “Let me just…” She held up a finger and transferred away.

Ada glanced back towards the sound but decided Miss Inkwell would have things well in hand. She pulled the drawer around to sneak a peek at the card. Maybe she would ask whoever had it if they were finished with it. She pulled out the card and read the name: H. Hardbroom, written in precise script. Ada thought she’d met everyone on staff, but apparently she hadn’t. A second puff of smoke wafted over the bookshelves. Sighing, Ada transferred into the thick of it.

-----

“Stop fussing with the collar, Ada,” Alma said without looking up from her paperwork.

“It itches.” Ada tugged again at the offending collar.

“You’re whinging like a petulant child.” Alma finally looked up, peering at her daughter over the top of her bifocals. “It’s better than that ridiculous leather jacket you insist on wearing.”

“Hmpf.” Ada pretended to check her list of preparations for the Yule Party. The jumper was warmer than her motorcycle jacket, but she’d never admit that to her mother. She’d already stopped wearing her concert t-shirts, mostly, bowing to her mother’s persistent insistence that they weren’t professional enough, even if they were hidden under her robes. She knew her mother wouldn’t be satisfied until Ada wore the same drab skirts and frumpy jumpers that she did. Never, Ada vowed to herself, no bulky jumpers – sleek power suits would be her signature outfit once she was Headmistress. “I’m going down to the kitchens. I want to go over the preparations for the Yule Dinner with Mrs. Coriander.” If she expected more than a grunt from her mother, Ada didn’t get it.

By the time she arrived in the kitchen, Ada was doubly glad for the jumper. No matter how many warming spells they cast, it just wasn’t possible to heat the entirety of the castle in winter. Corridors were simply left as they were.

Ada opened the doors to the hurly-burly of the kitchen and realized immediately that she was in the way. Pressing herself against the wall, she finally spotted Mrs. Coriander on the other side of the kitchen, going through an order of produce with a young woman Ada didn’t recognize. Holding her breath, Ada made her way across the kitchen, dodging floating pots of boiling soup, flying vegetables, and a near-miss with the backswing of a meat cleaver. She reached Mrs. Coriander just as the unfamiliar witch transferred away. “Bouncing bats, Edna! I had no idea it would be so… chaotic!”

Edna Coriander laughed a raspy, acid-washed laugh. “Just you wait, Miss Cackle. Now that the last of the produce is here, we can really get our skates on.” She passed off the basket of vegetables to a kitchen witch that scurried by. “What can I do for you?”

Ada picked up a sheet of paper that had been blown off the table by the passing witch: the receipt for the produce. Ada scanned the items, impressed at the variety of plants available at this time of year. The name at the bottom caught her eye, H. Hardbroom, written in the same neat script she remembered from the library. She turned to ask Mrs. Coriander about the young woman but was cut off by the squawking of three different time crows going off at once. Now was certainly not the time. With a jaunty wave to Mrs. Coriander and a shout of ‘good luck’ to the rest of the kitchen witches, Ada transferred out into the hallway. Breathing in the sudden quiet, she wrapped her jumper tighter around her chest and began the long trudge back to her mother’s office.

-----

“Have you finished with the expense reports yet, Ada? We need to pay this month’s bills before next month’s get here.”

“Almost, Mother, there’s one that doesn’t make any sense.” She levitated a notice to her mother’s desk. “It’s for a grocery delivery, but not to here, to Darkwood Cottage.”

Alma didn’t even glance at the paper; she just flicked her fingers and sent it floating back to Ada. “Just pay it.”

“Why would I pay it? Why would groceries be delivered to Darkwood?” Ada snatched the bill from the air. “I’ll speak to the grocers; I’m sure it’s a simple mista—”

“Pay it, Ada!” Alma barked. Forcing her voice back to calmness, she went on, “It isn’t a mistake.”

Ada may have spent the better part of the last twenty years away, but she remembered her mother well enough to recognize that this bill represented A Thing. And whatever it was, it was something that her mother didn’t want to get into. And that meant Ada had to ask. “What is this about, Mother? There’s something you don’t want to tell me.”

Alma took her glasses off, methodically cleaning and recleaning the lenses with a cloth she’d magicked up. Ada held her tongue, certain that any more pushing on her part would shut the entire topic down.

Finally, Alma put her glasses back on and looked up with the saddest, weariest eyes Ada ever remembered seeing in her mother’s face. “I guess you may as well know now; you’ll become the Sealkeeper once you take over as Headmistress.”

“Sealkeeper? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Ada felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“No. You wouldn’t have, thank the heavens. It’s old magic. I think Hecate is the last witch requiring a Sealkeeper.” Alma gestured to the chairs in front of the fireplace and summoned her tea set. “Not quite ten years after you’d graduated, I think you were at Moonridge at the time…” Alma poured herself a cup of tea, thinking. “No matter,” she said at last. “You’d been gone a while, and we’d started a new term and were just getting to know our new girls. There was one… Och, Ada, she was a real firecracker, that one. Bright, lively, clever little thing. Still holds the record for the highest scores on her entrance exams. Her name was Joy – and if ever a girl was suited to her name, it was her. Joy Hardbroom.”

“Hardbroom? There’s a Hardbroom that sells us produce and checks out books from the restricted section of the library. You don’t mean that Hardbroom?” Alma nodded and sipped her tea. “Hang on then… aren’t the Hardbrooms also that old-fashioned family that keeps lobbying to bring back the boundary rules that separated us from the Ordinary world?”

“That’s the one. Remember that about them; it’s important.” She summoned a plate of biscuits and offered one to Ada. The Hardbrooms… old magic. Powerful. Unyielding in their adherence to the Code. They brought Joy up the same way – in a very strict, very structured household. But like I said, Joy was bright, curious, vivacious. I think coming to Cackle’s was the first time she’d ever had any sort of freedom at all.”

Ada frowned. This already sounded like a story with a bad ending. “What happened? When Joy got all this freedom…something had to have happened.”

“To this day I don’t know where she got the idea, but during her second year she decided to sneak down to the village one weekend.” Alma vanished her teacup and hoisted herself to her feet. After a moment staring into the flames, she started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Seems the girl spent weeks in the library working out how to get past the wards. Too clever for her own good it turned out. That first trip to the village was like getting dosed with Faerie dust. She went back again and again. Found an Ordinary girl with just enough magic that she could see through the Concealment spell.”

“How is that even possible? If she could see…” Ada joined her mother at the fireplace. “What happened? Did the girl expose Joy as a witch?”

Alma shook her head. “No. Rumors had been going around that Joy had been leaving the grounds, but nobody thought she was going to the village. At least not until Miss Willowbark found a poster in Joy’s room. It was for a music festival that had happened in the village.”

A chill settled in Ada’s chest, right behind her breastbone. Willowbark. She’d never met a person less suited to teaching than Imelda Willowbark. She hated children. She was a stickler for the Code – for all rules, really. “She got caught, didn’t she?”

“Breaking one of our highest laws. Imelda wanted her expelled. Immediately. I… well… after what happened with your sister… I wanted to give her another chance. Imelda went to the Great Witch to try and have the girl expelled. Fortunately, the Great Witch sided with me. Joy wouldn’t be expelled, but she would be confined to the Academy for the remainder of her schooling.” Alma shrugged. “It seemed reasonable. She could go with her parents on holidays, but during term she would be confined to the school grounds.”

“But something else happened, didn’t it?” Ada did a few quick calculations. “She’s got to be twenty-three… twenty-four? Why does she get groceries from Cackle’s?”

“I need to show you something. Come along.” Alma held her hand out. Ada stared at it for a handful of seconds before grasping it.

The next thing she knew, they were standing at the edge of the forest on the south side of the castle. Before them stood a statue of a girl wearing a Cackle’s Academy uniform. “I don’t remember this being here.” Ada circled the statue, noting the detail. She ran a hand down the statue’s arm. It was exquisitely done. Too exquisitely. A knot began to form in the pit of her stomach.

“You wouldn’t.” Alma stepped up and brushed some dirt and leaves from the shoulders. “This is Indigo Moon, the friend Joy made in town. Her best friend.”

“How…” Ada snatched her hand off the girl’s arm. “How did this happen?”

“Loneliness. I don’t think anyone understood just how lonely Joy was. I know I didn’t. I should have, though. When her parents refused to pick her up on holidays, I should have seen about her, but she insisted she was fine. Turns out, she was miserable – isolated and lonely. Desperate for her friend.”

Ada brushed tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t one to break the Code, not after everything that had happened with Agatha, but surely they had to see that sometimes what a young witch needed was understanding. She turned back to Indigo Moon. “How did this happen, Mother?”

“Joy stole my Wishing Star. She couldn’t leave Cackle’s, so she brought her friend to her. Then she gave her magic so she could stay.” Alma shivered as a cold draft of air whistled through the trees. “Night’s falling. Let’s finish this up in my office.” She transferred them back.

“I don’t reckon I need to tell you what happens when you give magic to a non-magical person, do I?” Alma asked once she’d settled herself back in her chair.

Ada leaned forward, elbows to knees, cradling her head in her hands. “No.” Everyone knew what happened. Magic in the Ordinary drove them mad. And turned them to stone if they didn’t relinquish the magic. How many of Witchdom’s childhood stories involved an Ordinary getting their hands-on magic and the terrible consequences that followed? No one ever gave up their magic in the stories. “So what happened? Her confinement just became… permanent? Even though she was a child?”

“Eventually, yes, that’s the punishment she received. She would remain confined to the Academy grounds for as long as the girl remained stone.”

“But she was a child!” Ada threw her hands into the air. “This is just like Agatha! One mistake and your whole life gets taken away from you?”

“The Code is the Code for a reason, Ada!” Alma pointed towards the forest. “What about that little girl out there, Ada? Her life got taken away as well.”

“Don’t try to defend this, this, abomination of a decision that you imposed on a child!”

“That I imposed?” Alma laughed bitterly. “You’re suffering from bloody delusions of grandeur if you think a headmistress has that sort of authority. No, Ada, that punishment came from the Great Witch herself.”

“But you didn’t try and prevent it, did you, Mother?” Ada was shouting now. “She was a child, Mother, and you just let her life be ruined, exactly like you did Agatha.”

“Prevent it? No, Ada, I didn’t try to prevent it. I argued with every last breath I had for them to confine this brilliant little girl to Cackle’s instead of stripping her of her magic, erasing her memory and throwing her out to the Ordinaries.”

Ada sucked in a lungful of air so fast she choked.

“That’s right. They wanted to strip every drop of magic from her blood. Publicly. Turn her into an example for everyone. Her parents were perfectly happy to have her confined if it kept it all private. It worked. The Great Witch made me responsible for her. That’s why I’m Sealkeeper. It’s why you will be, too.” Alma slumped down in her chair. “As long as that girl is stone, Hecate remains confined to the grounds.”

“Hecate?”

“Her middle name. Joy changed her name after that day. She changed everything about herself. How she looked, how she acted, what she went by. I can’t even imagine the guilt that little girl felt – still feels. She caused the person she loved most in the world to cease to exist.”

Ada dropped into the chair across from her mother. An Ordinary life with freedom but no magic? Or a life with magic, but no freedom? Ada wasn’t sure they’d really done Joy, or Hecate, any favors. “And no one’s been able to reverse the spell?” She knew the answer before her mother shook her head. “So, what did you do with her?”

“Do? I did whatever I could for her. I gave her as much freedom as I could. I gave her free reign in the library so she could try to find a spell or potion to restore Indigo. I brought in a counselor once a week to help her deal with her guilt and shame.”

“Did it work?”

“For a time. It took a while, but eventually, thanks to one very persistent young witch, she made new friends. She had a new best friend, but it all fell apart when they graduated. I think that’s when it truly became real for Hecate, when she watched them all leave but she couldn’t.” Alma shrugged. “As for her future… I made sure there was no mention of any of this on her school record and arranged for correspondence courses. I offered to arrange for a tutor so she could get her teaching credentials in case she ever wanted to work as a teacher here. She never expressed any interest in it, and I don’t blame her. She moved to Darkwood Cottage and keeps to herself. We provide her needs and purchase her vegetables and potions ingredients. On rare occasions I’ve been able to persuade her to join us for the odd ritual or holiday.”

Ada leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. “Am I her… jailor? Warden?”

“NO!” Alma snapped. “If it were up to me, she would have been free to leave years ago. Her original crime isn’t even a crime anymore. “But it isn’t up to me,” she sighed. “The Great Witch placed the wards herself, and only she or her successor can undo them. As long as Indigo Moon remains stone, Hecate is confined to Cackle’s. If Indigo is ever restored, you’ll be able to remove the ward. It doesn’t happen automatically.” Alma summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. Ada accepted hers gratefully. “Truthfully, Ada, I don’t think she’d leave even if she could. I don’t think she’d leave Indigo behind.”

Ada downed her glass in a single gulp and immediately poured another. Some days, she really wished Agatha had been born first.

-----

“What do you mean, we’re out?” Ada stared at the empty cupboard. “How can we be out? I know we ordered more than enough nettles.” Mrs. Coriander wrung her hands for an answer. “What happened to the ones we had?”

“As best I can tell, the Spell Science Fourth Years were working on some sort of healing spell and accidentally summoned a plague of locusts. All I know is more bugs flew through my kitchen than I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Ada shook her head, struggling to keep her cool. “Where can we get more? The market?”

“Sorry, Miss, I tried them straight away. We cleaned them out with our first order. I tried the other markets, too.” Her hands twisted harder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cackle… With everyone wanting nettle soup for the spring meal… We’ve got all the dairy and such for the more traditional part of the meal.”

At least there’s that, Ada thought, ruefully. The nettles were the main ingredient in the soup Cackle’s served for their Imbolc luncheon – the very same soup that Christobelle Cackle had served the first class of girls over a millennium ago. Back then, it had simply been her favorite soup, made from the first greens of spring and appropriate for feasts celebrating new beginnings, such as Imbolc and Selection Day. Now, time had rendered it an honored tradition, passed down through generations of Cackles and carried on by countless former students.

New beginnings, her mother had said, as had every headmistress of Cackle’s Academy that had preceded her. Ada wasn’t about to be the one that broke that tradition – or tell her mother that they couldn’t make the proper soup. Her nerves screamed for a cigarette.

Ada pushed the craving away, for now. “It isn’t your fault, Mrs. Coriander. You were hardly responsible for a plague of locusts.” She squeezed the cook’s arm. “Go on and get done what you can. I’ll try to come up with something.” Ada nodded, trying desperately to convey confidence she didn’t feel.

Ada strode down the corridor, her heart and feet both flying as she raced to the potion’s storeroom. She rifled through every shelf, adrenalin sparking like magic when she spotted a jar labelled ‘nettles,’ but it crashed just as quickly when she pulled the jar down and saw they were spiny-leafed nettles. Her temper started sparking along with her adrenalin. Miss Gullet caused this whole disaster, or allowed it, yet she was nowhere to be found when it was time to put things right. Trying to think clearly, Ada studied the jars and boxes, searching for anything that might work as a substitute, but there was nothing.

She slid down the wall, cradling her head in her hands. Why did she ever think she would be capable of being Headmistress. She felt something roll against her foot, a jar of dried flower petals. She turned the jar and read the label – Dog’s Mercury. The label was handwritten in small, neat script. Ada’s eyes narrowed – she recognized this handwriting. It was the same handwriting she’d been seeing on the grocery receipts. For produce. Hecate Hardbroom’s handwriting. It was a long shot, Ada knew that. But… She pushed herself to her feet and summoned her broom. She could be at Darkwood Cottage in less than an hour. “What do I have to lose?” she muttered to no one in particular as she mounted her broom.

-----

From the sky, Darkwood Cottage, tucked at the very edges of the Academy’s extensive grounds, looked warm and welcoming. Up close, Ada could see how worn and tired it had become. It was tidy, though. She could tell that it wasn’t being neglected. As she touched down, she felt the slight tingle of magic as she passed through the occupant’s wards. Glancing about, Ada was impressed by the neat rows of vegetables off to the side of the cottage. The front garden was a jumble of flowers and herbs, each one healthier and lusher than the last. Clearly, powerful magic had brought spring early to Darkwood Cottage. The desperate spark of hope glowed a bit brighter.

Ada leaned her broom against the house and knocked, straightening her clothes as she waited. Feeling unusually self-conscious, she wished she’d taken the time to change out of her dark jeans and Iron Maiden t-shirt. She’d been planning to change later, of course, but then the whole business with the nettles started and…

The door swung open, and Ada found herself face to face with a beanpole of a young woman. She looked down at Ada with eyebrows raised impossibly high – whether that was from surprise at finding Ada on her doorstep or the severe bun that sat atop her head, Ada couldn’t know.

Smiling as brightly as she could, Ada bowed deeply. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom. I do apologize for showing up unannounced.” Dark eyes traveled up and down Ada’s body, frowning, and once again Ada wished she’d taken the time to change. “Please forgive my appearance, it’s been a rather hectic day.” The young woman was still staring at her, and Ada couldn’t tell if it was confusion or distaste that was winning the battle for her expression. She held her hand out, hoping that would break the tension. “I’m Ada—”

“Cackle. Mrs. Cackle’s oldest daughter.” With a start, she raised her hand and returned the formal greeting. “Well met, Miss Cackle.” She straightened and opened the door wider, beckoning Ada inside. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Ada dropped her hand and followed Hecate inside. She explained the problem with the nettles, but her eyes never stopped roaming the inside of the cottage. Shelves filled with potions ingredients lined the walls. Hundreds upon hundreds of bottles and jars sat neatly in rows, each labeled with that same precise script Ada remembered. It was better stocked than any potions lab Ada had ever seen. Finally, her situation explained, Ada couldn’t contain herself anymore. “This is incredible, Miss Hardbroom! I’ve never seen any lab as well turned out as what you’ve made here!”

Flushing with obvious pride, Hecate looked around the room herself. “It’s my life’s work, I suppose you could say.” Her shoulders sagged as her eyes dropped to the floor. “I assume you know… my circumstances.”

“Mother told me.”

“I’m sorry for the burden I’ve placed on you.” Hecate turned around and made her way into the pantry, returning a moment later with a pair of wicker baskets. “I know where to find what you need. There’s a grove that’s sheltered; plants usually sprout earlier in the season. I can transfer us there in a moment, if you’ll allow me?”

Ada nodded and held out her arm. The strength of Hecate’s magic surprised her. No wonder she’d been able to visit the Ordinaries and harness a Wishing Star. In no time, both baskets had been filled and the nettles magicked back to the kitchens.

“You’ve saved my skin, Miss Hardbroom,” Ada said as she helped Hecate clean the baskets and put them away. “I didn’t fancy having to tell Mother we couldn’t make the traditional soup.”

“I expect not,” Hecate said, drying her hands. “Your mother has been very kind to me, though, certainly kinder than I deserved.” She gestured to her kettle. “May I offer you some tea? Or do you need to get back for the banquet?”

“The banquet, I’m afraid.” A thought struck her. “I would be honored if you would join us, Miss Hardbroom. After all, we would hardly be having the banquet if it weren’t for you.” At least I wouldn’t, Ada thought to herself, Mother would have me cleaning out the kitchen bins for sure.

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Cackle, but—”

“That’s a yes, then? Excellent!” Ada’s cheeky grin was contagious, and soon the younger woman was agreeing to go.

“You don’t have to fuss over me, you know,” Hecate said as Ada was mounting her broom. “Just because I’m bound to the Academy doesn’t mean that you’re obligated to me in any way. I’m content here, and my work keeps me busy.”

Ada thought a moment. Hecate’s work, no doubt, consisted almost entirely of trying to find a potion that would release Indigo Moon. She’d seen the bookshelves filled with journals, and a quick peek at an open one on the kitchen table had Ada itching to read more. “That’s something we have in common then, isn’t it?” Ada asked, leaning on her broom. “We’re both tied to this place, in one way or another. I hope that we might be friends.”

Hecate blinked in surprise – then blinked again, trying to keep tears at bay. “That would be… I don’t... If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Ada said, holding a hand out as she mounted her broom. “I’ll see you at the banquet, then? It’s at the usual time.”

Hecate reached out and shook Ada’s hand. “At the banquet. I’ll be there early, in case you need an extra pair of hands.”

“Well met, Hecate Hardbroom. I’ll see you then.” Ada pushed off and made her way back to the castle, certain that she’d just met someone extraordinary.

#Hackle Summer Trope Challenge 2019 #but it's part 1 of HST 2020 #Hackle #pre-relationship #season 3 fix-it #TWW17

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refreshingly-original · 5 years ago

Text

Firsts

It hadn’t been intentional. It never had been every time it happened before. It just happened and then it was as though she throw every bit of commonsense into the wind and watch it scatter to lands far away, only to return upon her mournful cries of friends lost.

You see, Hecate was not always the distant, collected witch many knew her as today.

Once, many years ago, before she settled at Cackles, she was different; free.

She grew up in a home where she was taught the importance of control, of both her magic and emotions. But when she left home for her studies, she left that behind, wanting to be open with those around her, wanting to have the ever lasting bonds with people outside her family like the characters in her books. She worked hard, making sure her grades were the highest they could possibly be, often times being the top of the class, but for the few friends she’d made, she made time so they could be together. As she grew, some friends faded away, others came into her life, but one always stayed.

Pippa Pentangle.

An extraordinary witch who was just so free with everything that Hecate couldn’t help but full in love with. She knew the second Pippa landed beside her in the courtyard at the beginning of their final term that she was in love with her and when her friend moved in to hug her, she had turned and pressed a firm kiss to the pale pink lips she’d been dreaming of since the previous term.

Hecate’d had no fear of Pippa’s reaction, knowing even if her feelings weren’t returned, they’d never be held against her, at least by Pippa. But as she’d soon learn, once she fell, commonsense would flee.

She’d been right about Pippa of course, while she didn’t return her feelings, she made sure it changed nothing between them. They still spent as much time together as they could, even sneaking into each others dorms for sleepovers after lights out.

However the other girls who’d been in the court yard had seen, and every chance they got to tease and torment her about the kiss they did, but only when she was alone. After weeks of the constant reminder of her actions, Hecate finally gave in and sat down with her friend and told her of everything, crying without shame as she repeated some of the things her peers threw at her almost daily.

The next few weeks were much nicer for Hecate, no one said anything to or about her, and she thanked Pippa by baking her favourite cake. Only she’d never managed to give it to her. She had been cornered by Pippa’s other friend and told rather bluntly to leave Pippa alone, that she couldn’t handle being around someone so obsessive any more. They’d up ended the cake on to her uniform as a final act of horridness and left, leaving her angry and confused with tears rolling down her face.

She’d been heart broken, and wanting to not believe a word they’d said, she’d fled for Pippa’s room, wanting reassurance that everything they said was a lie. Only when she got to the door, she could hear the laughter coming from within from none other then the three girls who’d cornered her mere moments before.

That night as she cried into her pillow, blankets twisted around her tightly, the wind blew in her open window.

The next day, she decided to focus on her studies for the remaining months and cut off all contact with Pippa Pentangle. She vowed to herself that next time she fell in love, she’d be more careful.

If only she’d managed to do so.

Her first year into witchy college and she fell for another student in the year above her. Annette. At first it’d been wonderful and wild and she forgot all about her promise to herself. But as the months flew by, she found herself falling more and more and Annette pulling away. It finally came to a head when not even four months in to the relationship she found Annette in bed with another and her world ripped to shreds by the uncaring words from dark purple lips.

“It’s not like we’re in love Hecate, it was only ever a bit of fun.”

After that she returned her focus to her studies, her pain only ever escaping at night after she’d set as many spells as she could manage to prevent others from hearing.

Her senses returned to her and for the following years after that, she stayed just a step back from everyone, not truly shutting herself off from her friends, but keeping her away from them, lest she go and fall in love again. With her attention shifted, she graduated at the top of her year and set out to enjoy the world before taking her place as Potions teacher at Cackles.

She travelled that summer, rarely staying in one place long enough to settle, always looking for something new. The longest she stayed with anyone, which she regrets to this day, was with a witch she’d started travelling with after falling into bed with her.

Bridget was different from everyone else she’d ever been with, both emotionally and physically. Bridget was older, and not looking for something permanent, which worked perfectly for Hecate as she had no wish to either. But as they moved from town to town, Hecate felt herself slip, just slightly. She should have payed more attention to it, but the affection and kindness from Bridget soothed the feeling of wrongness she felt and she forgot about it.

But like all things, it came to an end, much worse then she’d previously experienced.

She slipped up, her thoughts falling past her unwilling lips in a moment of passion.

“I love you.”

She wasn’t even aware she’d fallen for a third time until that moment. It shocked her, but not nearly as much as the hand connecting with her face with a resound crack of skin on skin. She’d reeled back, her own hand coming up to cover the flaming area as tears stung her eyes. She said nothing as Bridget packed her things and left. She stayed standing, refusing to let any of the tears she felt gathering fall as she had done, until the sun rose the next morning. When there was enough light to fill the room she’d rented for the week, of which they’d only spent two nights, she turned around and waved her hand. In moments all but her quill and paper were packed, and she was left to sit at the small table and write a letter to her employer, alerting them to the fact that she would be their a few days early.

It surprised her when she found herself at Cackles that evening. It was an even bigger surprise when she was greeted by not the Headmistress, but her daughter who had just taken up position of Deputy Headmistress, Ada Cackle.

The hand print from Bridget was still visible, a bright red against her pale skin, but Ada said nothing of it, for which Hecate would be eternally grateful for; she knew if even one word was said about it, she break and that would not do, not anymore.

Years later, she would realise that that was her first misstep with Ada Cackle.

The second was allowing her to join her that evening for a cup of tea before bed.

The third was letting her do it again the following night, and the one after that and the next.

It set a routine. One they rarely deviated from.

It grew of course, with Ada slowly chipping away at the wall Hacate had built up the morning of her arrival at Cackles with occasional walks around the school grounds and shared desks in the library for research. Hecate came to anticipate the times they spent together. She grew fond of Ada and her oddly endearing love of cream cakes.

It took her years of patiently waiting for Hecate to talk about anything other then her personal life. But when she did, the night after Ada took over as Headmistress officially and Hecate as Deputy, it was with an openness she hadn’t shown since Pippa. She thought for sure she’d find herself receiving the cold shoulder from Ada the following morning, she’d prepared herself for it, but it didn’t happen. Ada acted as she always did, warmly and with an honesty she had yet to see anywhere else. Throughout the day and into the night, Hecate was racked with nerves, wondering if it was now that Ada would come to her senses and realise that she was a mistake waiting to happen. But when it came time for their usual cup of tea, Ada came and sat, already talking a mile a minute about the budgets and how the numbers were dancing on the page once more, and Hecate relaxed. Nothing had changed between them.

Another chip fell from her wall.

It continued like that, every so often with Hecate opening up and regretting it, only to accept it when Ada continued on as though nothing had happened. And every time, another piece fell form the wall that surround Hecates heart.

On the night of her tenth year at Cackles, Hecate was sitting in Ada’s private lounge, enjoying the warmth of the fire, when she realised, mid way through her sentence that she was in love. With a horrible excuse, Hecate fled, transferring herself to her own rooms. She paced and paced and paced until the sun rose and paced some more after. She only left her rooms upon remembering she had students to teach.

The poor dears didn’t know what happened, but she swore to herself she’d make it up to them.

Just as soon as she figured out how to stop loving their Headmistress.

She avoided Ada as much as possible, and she knew the only reason she managed it for as long as she did was because Ada herself was allowing her to get away with it. However, she knew soon enough even Ada’s patience would run out and she would come looking. So come Friday evening a week later, she set out the tea, and a plate of cream cakes, and waited for her guest to come knocking.

When she opened the door, she was very conscious of her actions. She reached out, taking hold of her hand as gently as she possibly could, just in case Ada wished to pull away, and pulled her inside her rooms. Without hesitation she shut the door, nudging her friend back to rest against it and leant down.

The kiss was short, barely a press of the lips, but it made Ada sigh so happily that Hecate found herself doing it again.

When she pulled back this time, she nervously waited for Ada’s reaction.

“I love you too Hecate.”

It was the first time someone had said it back, and Hecate couldn’t have been happier that it was Ada who did it first.

#hackle summer trope challenge #Ada Cackle #Hecate Hardbroom #Hackle #it's a mess #I haven't written something in years

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shadowdianne · 6 years ago

Note

Hicsqueak prompt : "Hey! I was gonna eat that."

Oneembarrassing amount of time later… Thanks for the prompt! I hope you like it!

A03 Version

Late enoughfor the moon to raise between slowly scattering clouds, the interior of Hecate’sheadquarters, albeit calm, were full of the golden hue of candlelight, itsgleam keeping the silver of the moon at bay.

Inside theoffice, with the gleam of the candles filtering beneath the door but finding nocurious students that could knock on the door, the untouched bed occupied alarge portion of it, followed up by the books that, pristine, waited patientlyto be the ones picked and occupy the place at the small yet functional nightstand at the left of the bed. Thatnight, however, didn’t bring quiet reading and, as such, two witches werehunched atop their respective work. One of them seated at the office’s tableand the other comfortable seated at one of the two armchairs that had been arecent purchase.

Hecategrowled at the papers she was still marking, each number written on her angularhandwriting at one corner, black sinuous ink quietly arranging itself if shechanged her mind about the student’s work.

“Not doneyet?” Pippa Pentangle’s voice reached to Hecate as the tall woman picked up yetanother paper of the pile at her right, left fingers drumming on the watchthat, instead of hanging from her neck as usual, was now resting next to her, ina soft purple cushion. One she would pick it up as sun rose and another daybegan.

The blondewitch was still surrounded by her own pile of work. Less student’s papers andmore bureaucracy related, however, her pile wasn’t as imposing as Hecate and,one leg crossed over the other as she munched happily on a small doughnut, shelooked twice as relaxed as the other woman. Something Hecate was too close togrowl at before recomposing herself, back as straight as ever.

“I amstarting to think that I should talk with Ada on starting a class onhandwriting. Each day it passes these witches seem to have worse penmanshipthan the last.”

It camecloser to a whine than intended and Hecate bit down on the tip of her tongue;not appreciating how her tiredness was beginning to seep through. It wasn’tthat late, she thought, glancing at the clock at the silver numbers that winkedat her, cockily, for her to be this tired.

Albeit, avoice on her head whispered, it wasn’t tiredness what made her read and re-readeach line, sometimes unable to focus completely on the task at hand.

Pippa’slaughter woke her up from her reverie as the blonde bit gingerly on herdoughnut and shrugged, the pink and white camisole she wore almost slipping toone side as she did so.

“Are yousure that is what is bothering you?”

Hecatecould feel her nostrils flaring at the question, a small yet strong blushthreatening to claw up the collar of her dress. She, unlike Pippa, still neededto change.

The blondewitch was right, of course, that wasn’t what was bothering Hecate. Or, atleast, not as much as to make her unable to focus enough on each paper. Theculprit for that was precisely the other woman who, with a small tilt of herhead and blonde hair already down, looked like the proverbial cat about tocatch the mouse.

She hatedthat side of Pippa, her brain whispered somberly as she felt her fingers twitchthat she didn’t hate it, still holding her pen, her magic bubbling just alittle too close to the surface. A side that had been there when they had beenkids but not as strong, not as rooted on her. Years, another voice added, didthat to people; made them capable of seeing what as children weren’t able to.

And,precisely because of that Hecate knew that Pippa’s new rule of trying to betogether every other month, sharing headquarters and playing with her like afiddle was a way to make her a mumbling idiot.

She couldalmost see it on Pippa’s eyes, the challenge there that never disappeared, nomatter if they were alone of not. The glow calling for her as Pippa managed tosneak a caress in front of both students and colleges, the trepidation when theblonde kissed her goodbye, far too close to her lips.

“I know you want this.” She could hear the words. “But I won’t make it easy for you.”

Coughing asshe realized she had been staring at the other witch for far too long, Hecate chastisedherself, coming back to the present. Mind out of the gutter. That had been arule she had imposed herself when Pippa had begun the game, small smilescurving lips Hecate found more and more dragged to with every new conversation.

Just asthey were kids, perhaps, but different. A good kind of different maybe, onethat made Hecate burn with want.

“Hecate?”

Thebrunette blinked, realizing that she, yet again, had lost herself on her musings.Ears way too hot, she pointed feebly at the doughnut that, half-eaten was stillon the other woman’s hand.

“I’m justworried about crumbs.” She muttered, and she saw the way Pippa’s eyes narrowedjust slightly at her words. “I’ll never understand how you like these things…too much sugar.”

The blondeglanced at the doughnut, falling silent for a second, making Hecate think thatmaybe, maybe, she was going to be able to return to her papers, grade them andgo to sleep without being subjected to more teasing. She, of course, was wrong.

Standingfrom the armchair and putting her papers aside with one small burst of magic,the blonde approached her, sauntering almost until she could look at her,inches above her as Hecate was still at the desk, pen so tightly clutched shefeared for its integrity.

Gorgeous,her mind provided as she stared at the camisole the blonde wore, the way it letHecate think of curves and skin. Temptress, her more rational side muttered toher. An epithet she wasn’t sure Pippa would have any problems with it.

The aforementionedblonde simply smirked at her and held the doughnut close to Hecate’s lips,enough for her to almost taste the sugar on them.

“Come on,try it.” She said, mirth on her voice. “One bite. Only one and I will clean allthe crumbs.”

Licking herlips, the brunette tried to look away, only for the sweet to follow her everytime she tried to move away. It wasn’t threatening, she thought, but just likePippa’s continuous flirting, it was relentless.

A flirtingshe didn’t mind having, her less rational side added, sounding too much likeher younger self when she had realized that she, in fact, wanted to be the onewho kissed Pippa under the mistletoe that year. A stupid idea that hadn’t been fulfilled.

She couldfeel her magic still buzzing, strong enough for Pippa’s one to realize it,close as she was. Cursing that and a transfer spell always at the ready, shestared directly at the blonde’s eyes, shuddering as she saw the unadulterated desirethat floated there before Pippa masked it away. She wasn’t the only one feelingat the edge then, she realized it.

“I don’tlike sweets.” She said, and she wondered if that was their thing, speak on riddlesand just want for the other to keep on dancing.

Pippa huffedat that, rolling her eyes with her free hand crossed just below her chest, thecamisole’s fabric bunching up as she did so. Something Hecate tried her hardestnot to look at.

“That’s a lie and we both know it. You used toadore eating candy when you thought no one was looking. You had that horriblestomach ache back when we were 13, don’t you…”?

Hecateshook her head, remembering all too well that night, the first of many in whereboth she and Pippa had shared a bed, going against every rule about curfewsthat existed on their school, giggling even with the ache clawing at herinsides.

She wonderedif Pippa also remembered the night in the same fashion she did. Coward, herless rational voice whispered. You know that she does.

Brushingher fingers against the paper she had been grading as she put the pen down, sherose her hand, palm up, and tried to feign as much annoyance as possible.

“Fine,Pippa.” She muttered, quickly. “Give it to me.”

A tastewouldn’t be that bad, would it? She shot at the rational part of her mind, theone that, sternly, looked at her from one corner of her brain. A taste of whatexactly? Shot back the voice but Hecate couldn’t answer to that. Apparently,Pippa didn’t as well because, after a few seconds of amazement, the blonde tooka step back, enough to let Hecate stand as the brunette realized, still seated,and put the doughnut away.

“No, I don’t want to anymore.”

Hecatesighed, she knew that there it was the moment in where their game tended tostop until the next time Pippa felt like playing. A silent challenge and callto her, telling her to be the one who pushed the boundaries, to step furtheraway from them. She never moved further and, as such, Pippa moved away andwaited, knowledge on her eyes and a gentle smile on her lips.

It was,perhaps, the lateness of the night, the camisole or just the way Pippa hadn’tstill moved away but Hecate felt the name of the blonde rising through herthroat, exploding just above her mouth, parting her lips.

“Pippa…”

Question orplea, the doughnut appeared back in front of her, taunting her in a way thatmade Hecate arch a brow and glance at the now beaming blonde. A bite, shethought, a small bite and then she would…

Would what?Her rational side seethed.

Pushing itaway, she reached for the doughnut, opening her mouth while not once lookingaway from Pippa, taking into the way the blonde’s magic was positively bubblingand seizing inside the other woman’s chest strong enough for her to sense it.

Which wasenough distraction for her to realize just as she closed her mouth around thepastry that it had been magicked away.

“I wasgoing to eat that!” She protested as Pippa burst out laughing.

“Really?”The blonde’s eyes turned darker once again, lopsided smirk hanging from herlips.

Hecategrowled.

“Pippa.”She breathed again, and the blonde softened her eyes, presenting her the pastryjust as Hecate, finally, rose from the chair, towering slightly over the otherwoman. She felt about to burst, and she could feel her magic pulling her skintaut on several places, making her mouth feel like sandpaper as she glanced betweenthem, close enough and yet not really.

The pastry,as Hecate found out and would never admit it to a soul, was delicious.

Pippa’slips, however, were better.

#Hicsqueak #pippa pentangle #hecate hardbroom #useless lesbian? you can bet on it #prompt #anon

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hovercraft79 · 5 years ago

Text

Hello

Chapters: 1

Word Count: 5,813

Fandom: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)

Rating: Teen

Warnings: smoking, bitterness

Notes: We all know what kind of roller-coaster Series 3 was for the fandom. As I said, though, there were so many holes. This is my attempt to fill one of those holes – essentially, when Ada met Hecate. I’ve kept everything within canon (though I did keep the 13-year age difference between Ada and Hecate, there’s certainly room for Ada to be older than that). If you notice anything that I missed feel free to let me know. This is using the ‘First Time’ prompt.

Thanks so much to @cosmic-llin for organizing this event again! You’re awesome!

The title comes from Lionel Ritchie’s song of the same name.

This one is making its way into the wilds without Sparky’s oversight. We can all hope for the best. Or wait for the one I post to AO3 after she’s had a chance to correct my grammatical tomfoolery.

_______

Staring up at the castle, she snapped her fingers and a lit cigarette appeared at once. She took a deep drag, blowing a dense cloud of smoke across the lawn. It all looked exactly the same as it did the last time she was here, some fifteen years ago. Another drag, another cloud of blue-gray smoke. Another time, she thought. She raked her fingers through her windblown hair, or tried to anyway. The tangled mess refused to cooperate.

“You’re hardly the picture of a proper headmistress, Ada.” Alma Cackle appeared in front of her daughter, waving the cigarette smoke away.

“Criticizing before you’ve even fully materialized, Mother? That’s quick, even for you.” Ada dropped her cigarette onto the grass and crushed it with her boot. “Good thing I’m not a headmistress, then.” She placed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Well met, Mother.”

“Welcome home, Ada. You’ve been gone too long. It’s time you started preparing for your birthright.” Alma transferred Ada’s belongings to her rooms. “I’ve cleared Miss Drill’s old room for you. It’s been empty since she retired to spend more time with little Dimity.”

Rolling her eyes, Ada nonetheless followed her mother into the castle. “I don’t reckon you’ll see me in traditional witches robes any time soon.”

Alma sighed but didn’t argue. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?”

“She sends her regards,” Ada said, suddenly very tired. They’d spoken, all right. Agatha’s angry words still scraped along inside her skull. Favorite. Betrayal. Abandoned. Why didn’t Agatha understand that she didn’t have any more choice in this than she did? Both of them were forced to live out destinies based on which name was listed first on a birth scroll.

It’s not like she’d asked for this.

She’d spent the last fifteen years being anywhere but here. She’d left for Weirdsister’s the week after she’d finished her final term at Cackle’s. She’d stayed for summer terms, spent holidays with friends whenever she could and taken an entire year to broomstick across Europe sometimes with Agatha, sometimes not. She’d taken her teaching credentials to Moonridge High School and then on to Amulet’s Academy. Now she was back. Home, she supposed. Her mother had left no room for argument. In three years, Alma would retire, and Ada would be headmistress. It was time for Ada to assume her place. She’d start by teaching a few Potions classes, lifting the load from the insufferable Miss Gullet. On top of that, she would be Deputy Head Mistress, learning the ins and outs of running an academy. It all seemed rather bleak and planned out as far as she was concerned.

“Do you have your lesson plans sorted yet?” Alma asked. “You’re taking over the first and second years, correct?”

“Everything is ready, Mother. I’ve taught Potions before, you know.”

“But you haven’t taught it here, Ada. I’ll not have my own daughter coddling the girls. Cackle’s has a long—”

“A long tradition of top marks in Potions, yes, Mother, I know.”

Alma was about to reply when Miss Gullet interrupted her.

“Don’t you fret, Mrs. C. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” Miss Gullet reached across and patted Ada’s hand. “After all, you couldn’t ask for a better mentor than yours truly.”

Gwen Bat, the Chanting teacher, threw her napkin onto the table. “I rather think I could, Miss Gullet.” She pushed away from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Cackle, I’ve lost my appetite.” She walked stiffly away, disappearing before she’d even gotten halfway to the door.

Blinking back and forth between Miss Gullet and her mother, Ada wondered what that was all about.

“Oh, never you mind that old witch.” Miss Gullet waved Gwen away. “She’s been in a mood ever since that dodgery old wizard did a runner on her.”

Ada looked at her mother, but Alma just shook her head. Later, she supposed, she’d have to get the story later. For now, Ada would be content to get through dinner and retire to her rooms. A headache pricked just behind her left eyebrow and she felt certain that a tumbler of Witches Brew would be just the trick for getting rid of it.

For the third time, Ada ran her finger along the spine of each book on the library shelf. She couldn’t quite believe that Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry wasn’t there. Humming softly, Ada checked the adjoining shelves, just in case. She didn’t find it there, either. Hands on hips, she huffed her hair out of her eyes in frustration. Ada glanced around as if she didn’t already know she was standing in the restricted section of the library. Students weren’t allowed to check these books out. They weren’t even allowed in this section without explicit permission. Ada blanched as a long-forgotten memory wriggled its way out of her brain.

“Will you two be quiet! We’ll never hear the end of it if Mother catches us in here!” She leaned over Mona until the she shrank back, huddling next to Ada. “And if I miss the dance at Weirdsister’s next week, you’ll never hear the end of it from me.” Agatha whipped around and continued sneaking through the library. “And put that light out!”

“I still don’t see why this dance is sooooo bloody important,” Mona griped.

Once again Agatha spun around and glared. “Because Georgie Wintercherry will be there, which means Judith Starling will be there. Which means I will be there. No silly rule that you have to be at least seventeen is going to keep me out of that dance. That toad isn’t getting her claws in him if I can help it. If you weren’t such a little girl, you’d know that.”

“Toads don’t have claws—”

“Shut UP, Mona!” Agatha hissed.

“Well they don’t! And I don’t know what you’re on about – you’re three months older than me. Ada’s older than you!”

“Don’t get me started on that bloody thirteen minutes.”

Ada shook her head, pulling herself back to the present, though she couldn’t keep her eyes from finding the volume they’d been after that night. They’d found it then, too, but hadn’t been powerful enough to make it work. Agatha hadn’t been able to sneak into the Weirdsister’s dance and Judith had indeed gotten her claws into Georgie – their oldest girl would soon be entering Cackle’s. Looking back, Ada realized that night was probably when the seed for the plan to take their mother’s power had been planted in the garden of Agatha’s brain. Oh well, Ada thought, it doesn’t pay to travel down some old roads. Gathering up the rest of her books, she made her way to the circulation desk, reminding herself to smile at each student as she passed.

“Ada!” Miss Inkwell wriggled a pinky in the air. “I mean, Miss Cackle,” she said in her poshest voice. Ada rolled her eyes dropped her books onto the library counter, thunking much louder than Ada intended. A dozen heads popped up, as curious students looked to see who was making all the noise.

“Sorry, girls!” Ada ducked her head and waved. “Carry on.” She turned to Miss Inkwell and grimaced.

“Don’t worry about it, Ada. You probably just woke half of them up.” She pulled Ada’s books towards her. “Gracious, you do have a bit of light reading planned.” Her eyes widened as she read the titles. “These are some advanced potions books, even for Fifth Years.”

“It’s really for me, just trying to keep the old quill sharp.” Ada tapped her temple with a long red fingernail. “Um… I wasn’t able to find quite everything I was looking for. The card catalog shows that we should have a copy of Thornapple’s Advanced Potionry in the restricted section, but I can’t seem to find it. I can’t imagine that someone would check it out.

“Thornapple’s?” Her eyes widened when she heard the title. “Ada… that’s some advanced work, even for Fifth Years… surely, you aren’t…”

“Merlin’s beard, no! I’d rather live to a ripe old age. The truth is, it’s been a while since I’ve taught Potions, I’ve been teaching Spell Science for the past eight years. I need to brush up.”

“I see… best get cracking then.” Miss Inkwell summoned a well-worn box with a drawer, its walnut finish darkened by age. “Let me just check on that book for you.” She slid open the drawer and expert fingers flipped through the cards. “Oh! Why yes, it is checked out, but it’s due back in on Tuesday. I’ll set it aside for you.” Smiling sympathetically up at Ada, she was just closing the drawer when a loud crack and puff of yellow smoke came from the far end of the library. “Let me just…” She held up a finger and transferred away.

Ada glanced back towards the sound but decided Miss Inkwell would have things well in hand. She pulled the drawer around to sneak a peek at the card. Maybe she could ask whoever had it if they were finished with it. She pulled out the card and read the name: H. Hardbroom, written in precise script. Ada thought she’d met everyone on staff, but apparently, she hadn’t. A second puff of smoke wafted over the bookshelves. Sighing, Ada transferred into the thick of it.

“Stop fussing with the collar, Ada,” Alma said without looking up from her paperwork.

“It itches.” Ada tugged again at the offending collar.

“Hmpf.” Ada pretended to check her list of preparations for the Yule Party. The jumper was warmer than her motorcycle jacket, but she’d never admit that to her mother. She’d already stopped wearing her concert t-shirts, mostly, bowing to her mother’s persistent insistence that they weren’t professional enough, even if they were hidden under her robes. She knew her mother wouldn’t be satisfied until Ada wore the same drab skirts and frumpy jumpers that she did. Never, Ada vowed to herself, no bulky jumpers – sleek power suits would be her signature outfit once she was Headmistress. “I’m going down to the kitchens. I want to go over the preparations for the Yule Dinner with Mrs. Tapioca.” If she expected more than a grunt from her mother, Ada didn’t get it.

Ada opened the doors to the hurly-burly of the kitchen and realized immediately that she was in the way. Pressing herself against the wall, she finally spotted Mrs. Tapioca on the other side of the kitchen, going through an order of produce with a young woman Ada didn’t recognize. Holding her breath, Ada made her way across the kitchen, dodging floating pots of boiling soup, flying vegetables, and a near-miss with the backswing of a meat cleaver. She reached Mrs. Tapioca just as the unfamiliar witch transferred away. “Bouncing bats, Edna! I had no idea it would be so… chaotic!”

Edna Tapioca laughed a raspy, acid-washed laugh. “Just you wait, Miss Cackle. Now that the last of the produce is here, we can really get our skates on.” She passed off the basket of vegetables to a kitchen witch that scurried by. “What can I do for you?”

Ada picked up a sheet of paper that had been blown off the table by the passing witch: the receipt for the produce. Ada scanned the items, impressed at the variety of plants available at this time of year. The name at the bottom caught her eye, H. Hardbroom, written in the same neat script she remembered from the library. She turned to ask Mrs. Tapioca about her but was cut off by the squawking of three different time-crows going off at once. Now was certainly not the time. With a jaunty wave to Mrs. Tapioca and a shouted ‘good luck’ to the rest of the kitchen witches, Ada transferred out into the hallway. Breathing in the sudden quiet, she wrapped her jumper tighter around her chest and began the long trudge back to her mother’s office.

“Have you finished with the expense reports yet, Ada? We need to pay this month’s bills before next month’s get here.”

“Almost, Mother, there’s one that doesn’t make any sense.” She levitated a notice to her mother’s desk. “It’s for a grocery delivery, but not to here, to Darkwood Cottage.”

Alma didn’t even glance at the paper, she just flicked her fingers and sent it floating back to Ada. “Just pay it.”

“Why would I pay it? Why would groceries be delivered to Darkwood?” Ada snatched the bill from the air. “I’ll speak to the grocers; I’m sure it’s a simple mista—”

“Pay it, Ada!” Alma barked. Forcing her voice back to calmness, she went on, “It isn’t a mistake.”

Alma took her glasses off and spent a very long time cleaning them with a cloth she’d magicked up. Ada held her tongue, certain that any more pushing on her part would shut the entire topic down.

Finally, Alma put her glasses back on and looked up with the saddest, weariest eyes Ada ever remembered seeing in her mother’s face. “I guess you may as well know now, you’ll become the Sealkeeper once you take over as Headmistress.”

“Sealkeeper? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Ada felt the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

“No. You wouldn’t have, thank the heavens. It’s old magic. I think Hecate is the last witch requiring a Sealkeeper.” Alma gestured to the chairs in front of the fireplace and summoned her tea set. “Not quite ten years after you’d graduated, I think you were at Moonridge at the time…” Alma poured herself a cup of tea, thinking. “No matter,” she said at last. “You’d been gone a while and we’d started a new term and we were just getting to know our new girls but there was one… Oi, Ada, she was a real stand out. Bright, lively, clever little thing. Still holds the record for the highest scores on her entrance exams. Her name was Joy – and if ever a girl was suited to her name, it was her. Joy Hardbroom.”

“Hardbroom? As in the Hardbroom that sells us produce? That checks out books from the restricted section of the library?” Alma nodded and sipped her tea. “Hang on then… aren’t the Hardbrooms also that old-fashioned family that keeps lobbying to bring back the boundary rules that separated us from the Ordinary world?”

“That’s the one. Remember that about them, it’s important.” She summoned a plate of biscuits and offered one to Ada. “They were a very serious family. Very rigid in their adherence to the Code and they’d brought Joy up in a very strict, very structured household. But like I said, Joy was bright, curious, vivacious. I think coming to Cackle’s was the first time she’d ever had any sort of freedom at all.”

Ada frowned. This already sounded like a story with a bad ending. “What happened? When Joy got all this freedom…something had to have happened.”

“To this day I don’t know where she got the idea, but during her second year she decided to sneak down to the village one weekend.” Alma vanished her teacup and hoisted herself to her feet then started pacing in front of the fireplace. “Seems the girl spent weeks in the library working out how to get past the wards. Too clever for her own good it turned out. That first trip to the village was like getting dosed with Faerie dust. She went back again and again. Found an Ordinary girl with just enough magic that she could see through the Concealment spell.”

“How is that even possible? If she could see…” Ada joined her mother at the fireplace. “What happened? Did the girl expose Joy as a witch?”

“Breaking one of our highest laws. Imelda wanted her expelled. Immediately. I… well… after what happened with your sister… I wanted to give her another chance. Imelda went to the Great Witch and fortunately, she sided with me. Joy wouldn’t be expelled, but she would be confined to the Academy for the remainder of her schooling.” Alma shrugged. “It seemed reasonable. She could go with her parents on holidays, but during term she would be confined to the school grounds.”

“But something else happened, didn’t it?” Ada did a few quick calculations. “She’s got to be twenty-three… twenty-four? Why does she get groceries from Cackle’s?”

“I need to show you something. Come along.” Alma held her hand out. Ada stared at it for a handful of seconds before grasping it.

“You wouldn’t.” Alma stepped up and brushed some dirt and leaves from the shoulders. “This is Indigo Moon, the friend Joy made in town. Her best friend.”

“How…” Ada snatched her hand off the girl’s arm. “How did this happen?”

“Loneliness. I don’t think anyone understood just how lonely Joy was. I know I didn’t. I should have, though. When her parents refused to pick her up on holidays, I should have seen about her, but she insisted she was fine. Turns out, she was miserable - isolated and lonely. Desperate for her friend.”

Ada brushed tears out of her eyes. She wasn’t one to break the Code, but surely they had to see that sometimes what a young witch needed was understanding. She turned back to Indigo Moon. “How did this happen, Mother?”

“I don’t reckon I need to tell you what happens when you give magic to a non-magical person, do I?” Alma asked once she’d settled herself back in her chair.

“Eventually, yes, that’s the punishment she received. She would remain confined to the Academy grounds for as long as the girl remained stone.”

“But she was a child!” Ada threw her hands into the air. “This is just like Agatha! One mistake and your whole life gets taken away from you?”

“The Code is the Code for a reason, Ada!” Alma pointed towards the forest. “What about that little girl out there, Ada? Her life got taken away as well.”

“Don’t try to defend this, this, abomination of a decision that you imposed on a child!”

“But you didn’t try and prevent it, did you, Mother?” Ada was shouting now. “She was a child, Mother, and you just let her life be ruined, exactly like you did Agatha.”

Ada sucked in a lungful of air so fast she choked.

“Hecate?”

Ada dropped into the chair across from her mother. An Ordinary life with no magic but freedom? Or a life with magic but no freedom? Ada wasn’t sure they’d really done Joy or, Hecate, any favors. “And no one’s been able to reverse the spell?” She knew the answer before her mother shook her head. “So, what did you do with her?”

“Do? I did whatever I could for her. I gave her as much freedom as I could. I gave her free reign in the library so she could try and find a spell or potion to restore Indigo. I brought in a counselor once a week to help her deal with her guilt and shame.”

“Did it work?”

“For a time. It took a while, but eventually, thanks to one very persistent young witch, she made new friends. She had a new best friend, but it all fell apart when they graduated. I think that’s when it truly became real for Hecate, when she watched them all leave but she couldn’t.” Alma shrugged. “As for her future… I made sure there was no mention of any of this on her school record and arranged for correspondence courses. I helped her arrange for a tutor so she could get her teaching credentials in case she ever wanted to work as a teacher here. She hasn’t wanted to teach here, and I don’t blame her. She moved to Darkwood Cottage and keeps to herself. We provide her needs and purchase her vegetables and potions ingredients. On very rare occasions I’ve been able to persuade her to join us for the odd ritual or holiday.”

Ada leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. “Am I her… jailor? Warden?”

“NO!” Alma snapped. “If it were up to me, she would have been free to leave years ago. Her original crime isn’t even a crime anymore. “But it isn’t up to me,” she sighed. The Great Witch placed the wards herself and only she or her successor can undo them. As long as Indigo Moon remains stone, Hecate is confined to Cackle’s. If Indigo is ever restored, you’ll be able to remove the ward. It doesn’t happen automatically.” Alma summoned a bottle of wine and two glasses. Ada accepted hers gratefully. “Truthfully, Ada, I don’t think she’d leave even if she could. I don’t think she’d leave Indigo behind.”

Ada downed her glass in a single gulp and immediately poured another. Some days, she really wished Agatha had been born first.

“What do you mean, we’re out?” Ada stared at the empty cupboard. “How can we be out? I know we ordered more than enough nettles.” Mrs. Tapioca wrung her hands for an answer. “What happened to the ones we had?”

Ada shook her head, trying desperately to keep her cool. The nettles were the main ingredient in the traditional soup served on Selection Day – the very same soup that Chistobelle Cackle had served the first class of girls over a millennium ago. Ada wasn’t about to be the one that broke that tradition – or told her mother that they couldn’t make the proper soup. “Where can we get more? The market?”

“Sorry, Miss, I tried them straight away. We cleaned them out with our first order. I tried the other markets, too.” Her hands twisted harder. “I’m so sorry, Miss Cackle…”

“It isn’t your fault, Mrs. Tapioca. You were hardly responsible for a plague of locusts.” She squeezed the cook’s arm. “Go on and get done what you can. I’ll try to come up with something.” Ada nodded, trying desperately to convey confidence she didn’t feel.

Ada strode down the corridor, her heart and feet both flying as she raced to the potion’s storeroom. She rifled through every shelf, adrenalin sparking like magic when she spotted a jar labelled ‘nettles,’ but it crashed just as quickly when she pulled the jar down and saw they were spiny-leafed nettles. Her temper started sparking along with her adrenalin. Miss Gullet caused this whole disaster, or allowed it, yet she was nowhere to be found when it was time to put things right. Trying to think clearly, Ada studied the jars and boxes, trying to find anything that might work as a substitute, but there was nothing.

She slid down the wall, cradling her head in her hands. Why did she ever think she would be capable of being Headmistress. She felt something roll against her foot, a jar of dried flower petals. She turned the jar and read the label – Dog’s Mercury. The label was handwritten in small, neat script. Ada’s eyes narrowed – she recognized this handwriting. It was the same handwriting she’d been seeing on the grocery receipts. For produce. Hecate Hardbroom’s handwriting. It was a long shot, Ada knew that. But… She pushed herself to her feet and summoned her broom. She could be at Darkwood Cottage in less than an hour. “What do I have to lose?” She muttered to no one in particular as she mounted her broom.

The door swung open and Ada found herself face to face with a beanpole of a young woman. She looked down at Ada with eyebrows raised impossibly high – whether that was from surprise at finding Ada on her doorstep or the severe bun that sat atop her head, Ada couldn’t know.

Smiling as brightly as she could, Ada bowed deeply. “Well met, Miss Hardbroom. I do apologize for showing up unannounced.” Dark eyes traveled up and down Ada’s body, frowning, and once again Ada wished she’d taken the time to change. “Please forgive my appearance, it’s been a rather hectic day.” The young woman was still staring at her and Ada couldn’t tell if it was confusion or distaste that was winning the battle for her expression. She held her hand out, hoping that would break the tension. “I’m Ada—”

“Mother told me.”

“I’m sorry for the burden I’ve placed on you.” Hecate turned around and made her way into the pantry, returning a moment later with a pair of wicker baskets. “I know where to find what you need. I can transfer us there in a moment, if you’ll allow me?”

“You’ve saved my skin, Miss Hardbroom,” Ada said as she helped Hecate clean the baskets and put them away. “I didn’t fancy having to tell Mother we couldn’t make the traditional soup.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Miss Cackle, but—”

“That’s a yes, then? Excellent!” Ada’s cheeky grin was contagious and soon the younger woman was agreeing to go.

Ada thought a moment. Hecate’s work, no doubt, consisted almost entirely of trying to find a potion that would release Indigo Moon. She’d seen the bookshelves filled with journals and a quick peek at an open one on the kitchen table had Ada itching to read more. “That’s something we have in common then, isn’t it?” Ada asked, leaning on her broom. “We’re both tied to this place, in one way or another. I hope that we might be friends.”

Hecate blinked in surprise – then blinked again, trying to keep tears at bay. “That would be… I don’t... If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Ada said, holding a hand out as she mounted her broom. “I’ll see you at the banquet, then? It’s at the usual time.”

Hecate reached out and shook Ada’s hand. “At the banquet. I’ll be there early, in case you need an extra pair of hands.”

“Well met, Hecate Hardbroom. I’ll see you then.” Ada pushed off and made her way back to the castle, certain that she’d just met someone extraordinary.

#hackle summer trope challenge #hackle #Hecate Hardbroom #Ada Cackle

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