Chapter Text

Witching Traditions Always Prevail

Prologue

Ethel motioned for the door to close and turned away, shivering as the wind blew through the farmhouse. She’d had no intentions of listening in to the conversation between Miss Hubble and Mr Jones, or Spike, as he insisted on being called...for some reason. All she’d wanted was to keep warm while the others fell asleep so she wouldn’t disrupt them with her apparent “snoring that would wake the dead”.

It turned out Mildred had had next to no sleep during the friendship trap, which wouldn’t be surprising except that the cause hadn’t been the light she insisted stay lit on Mildred’s side of the bed while they slept.

The last thing she had ever expected to come from the trap (aside from the punishment-bond breaking without outside intervention) was a blurted confession from Mildred Hubble who could not keep still while she was carrying out important prep for Potions (that Mildred could have been learning from, would she only pay attention for five seconds and stop looking at the door or trying to make conversation about Esme… especially when that particular verbal track led directly to the fact that Ethel herself was the first person to start breaking said bond in an embarrassingly visible way, and, as if that wasn’t enough they’d only been on their own for less than two minutes; what could she say? Her room was her safe haven—she kept telling herself that over and over for the next two-and-a-half years, anyway). So when Mildred had dropped this… bizarre information in her lap: how the last time Mildred had been in her room it had been almost midnight and she herself had been asleep, it suddenly seemed vitally important to deter any uninvited guests, especially when attached to the biggest magnet for trouble (except herself? At that time did she see herself—Fine.) The second biggest magnet for trouble at Cackles… Looking back she’d been too harsh; she sighed. That wasn’t new.

But anyway, it didn’t matter what she intended and it never had—she knew that now; knew that by now. There wouldn’t be any problems this time, Ethel Hallow promised herself and vowed to keep it. Aside from the four days no-one in the farmhouse, including herself, had any recollection of. But it wasn’t her fault this time, and it didn’t appear to be Mildred’s either…

There was so much that could go wrong regardless—pigs, chickens, a dog named after an escape artist of all things, the familiars, Gerald, though he was nestled safely away from danger as always; and presumably frogs in that large pond: wherever there was a frog there was trouble. Just look at the wedding for Miss Bat and Grandfather Hubble—though actually, that gave her an idea.

She crept back into the room and silently cast an entrancement spell. Miss Hubble and Mr Jones were finding it difficult to spend so much time living together after so long apart. But now, she had the solution! To this problem at least. And the other one she would keep working on—she had to hurry. The magic wasn’t exactly permitted by the Witches Code but it was harmless and she was well practiced—unlike the dragon transformation or clone spell? Well no, but no-one was around to interfere with the spellcasting this time so… she had to try, didn’t she?

She looked over at the unconscious witches.

Yes, she had to try.

Chapter Text

FOUR DAYS EARLIER:

Maud Spellbody sat aside her broom which already had luggage and a wicker cat carrier attached—perhaps more luggage than she needed. It was a little over an hour to Mount Broom where the students were to remain until the end of the day and... 

‘An hour is plenty, Maud Spellbody.’ She told herself sternly and tapped the broom before she had a chance to change her mind. ‘Enid, I was wondering if you might…’ She sighed. Her speech needed working on, and a lot of it. New goal! If she couldn’t at least get to the end of her first sentence by the time she reached the end of her village, she was turning back round and getting it all down on paper properly.

That was more realistic and, also, less terrifying.

Mildred ended the connection. She must be out somewhere. Out of the “dastardly duo” Maud wasn’t the one who took unnecessary risks. And at least she had confirmation from the mirror network that her message was there waiting.

‘Let’s talk to my adviser first then.’ Her fingers gripped the mirror tokens card more tightly and sweat started to crease its edges. She waited as the mirrors tried to connect. Oh—oh! It had actually worked, she wasn’t totally sure it was going to. Though, judging by the fact that she could only see Ethel’s and Sybil’s backs as they sat across the room, it didn’t exactly fill her with hope that she’d be seen any time soon.

‘... and after that mix-up with the dinners I think she prefers mackerel.’ Sybil gestured as Ethel nodded surrounded by books, most hidden by Ethel’s chair and Sybil’s restless arms. The youngest Hallow sister was sat on the edge of the bed, leaning away from the mirror and towards the desk. Mildred knocked on the glass.

Just as she was about to call the whole thing off, a black cat jumped in front of the mirror—with an unmistakably majestic air. It studied her and lightly headbutted the glass where Mildred’s palm was pressed against it in what she knew to be a rare sign of affection, then turning fluidly on four paws, mewed in the direction of the desk.

‘Let me just finish this sentence, Nightstar. We’re only talking about what to feed Sparkle.’ Ethel put down her pen and needlessly marked her open page with what looked like a bookmark made from faded leather as she twisted in her chair. ‘It’s still too early to—’ Whatever else she was going to say was lost as she realised who was on the other side of the glass. ‘Mildred Hubble.’ She stood and approached the mirror.

The witch in question nodded awkwardly, suddenly and unexpectedly self-conscious. ‘Ethel Hallow.’ She gave a tiny smile. ‘And-and Sybil too, hi there!’

Sybil’s face lit up even further, if possible, and she waved enthusiastically as she joined her sister. ‘Hi Mildred!’

She let out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding and grinned at the pair, ignoring the highly amused (and slightly smug) expression on Sybil’s face. ‘Is there any chance you could come here for a bit, to get a headstart on Head Girl stuff?’

‘For a bit, do you mean hours or days Mildred? I shouldn’t leave Sybil on her own for more than a day at most.’ In front of the mirror Mildred’s eyes widened, barely taking in Sybil’s protesting. ‘I can however transfer to your flat and back multiple times over the course of...’ Ethel waved an arm in a gesture of no particular number.

‘I’m not at the flat, and how do you even know—? Nevermind. I’m at my dad’s farm.’

‘You found your father?’

‘Yep! It turns out Izzy is my sister, well, my half-sister.’

‘Isabella Jones? The girl who submitted your name for Head Girl in front of the whole school, and is best friends with Indigo Moon’s daughter Azura. She is your sister?’

The door behind her opened and Mildred felt her smile becoming a little forced. Who’d overheard? Hopefully not Izzy, she’d probably get the wrong idea. And definitely tell Azura. ‘I know right; what are the chances?’

Ethel’s tone was measured as she replied. ‘Well I suppose fate stands the chance of being every bit as likely as ancient forbidden trees, extinct wise owls, hypnapillions and swamp trolls…’ The red-haired witch laughed a little despite herself. ‘Hello, Miss Hubble.’

‘Hey Miss Hubble.’ Sybil chorused, lighting up all over again.

‘Hiya ladies.’ Mildred turned to see her mum glancing at the mirror, small frown on her face. ‘Millie love…’

‘You asked me to get a headstart—’

‘On your homework. Not your own miniature magic council, or whatever it is you, Maud and Ethel are doing next year.’ Julie Hubble folded her arms. ‘So go on then, tell me. What homework have you got?’’

Mildred shrugged. ‘None.’ She looked at Ethel who nodded.

‘Oh, cause you covered all that with the Head Girl contest.’

‘Yeah!’ Mildred said. ‘Only I doubt that’ll happen in half-term next year when I’m actually Head Girl for real.’

‘Best I let you get on with it then eh? How about you Sybil, what are you up to?’

‘I’m here with Ethel, for Yuletide.’

Mildred peered at them. ‘There’s going to be someone with you, right?’

‘Mum and Dad are with Esme to celebrate. I wanted to stay here.’ Sybil said quickly, and the sisters smiled at each other.

‘Hang on a minute.’ Julie said, holding up a hand. ‘Do you mean to tell me that there’s just you two at home? No-one to look after you for the whole of the school holidays?’

‘It’s fine, Miss Hubble.’ Sybil said.

Mildred looked across at her mum, who looked even less convinced.

‘Honestly Miss Hubble, it’s fine. I’m used to looking after myself. Sybil…’ The red-haired witch wasn’t surprised at the myriad of emotions flickering across Ethel’s face at her words. ‘I’ll take care of you too. Thank you for your concern though, Miss Hubble.’

‘But it’s not fine Ethel.’ Her mum sounded beyond exasperated. ‘And in fact, if I still had my magic I’d snap my fingers and bring you both here like that!’

Her mum snapped her fingers, and all at once there was the magical slipstream carrying with it the very familiar pulse of Ethel’s magic and the slightly detectable tremor of Sybil’s. It vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving behind Ethel, Sybil, and what looked to Mildred like their brooms and luggage from Cackles.

Mildred peeked in the mirror. Yep, almost all of the non-furniture bits and bobs from the bedroom were gone. She chuckled; it even sounded weak to herself.

‘So I guess there’s no point in me, Bea and Clarice researching if it’s possible for you to still have magic Miss Hubble.’ The red-haired witch was so thankful for Sybil and her patient, kind nature right then. She watched the youngest Hallow sister smile softly at the witch that had accidentally transferred them—her mum. Her mum was magical again. Oh boy.

‘What? ’ Her mum and Ethel asked, for what sounded to Mildred like different reasons.

Mildred knew she was right when not even a second later, Ethel stepped between her mum and Sybil, one hand holding her younger sister behind her.

‘Look Miss Hubble—’

‘Ethel.’ Mildred ventured, lifting her arm to chest height, palm facing outwards but otherwise didn’t dare move an inch.

‘...I know I’m a horrible person—’

‘ Ethel .’ She tried again and this time started edging closer to her mum.

Almost there… 

Ethel’s gaze dropped to her ‘...and you can turn me into as many ornaments as you want just—’

‘Ethel!’ Mildred’s voice was louder than she’d intended, she wished just for once that her advisor would stop being such a toad brain .

The red-haired witch looked away from Ethel, and realised everyone was staring at her. Well at least they weren’t staring at mum now.

Sybil looked away first, opening and closing her mouth a few times without any words coming out. Mildred watched her grab her sister’s hand and awkwardly turn her around.

‘Don’t worry about that. She’s had it at least since the wedding.’ Sybil said, cool as a cucumber again.

‘What? ’

The youngest Hallow folded her arms. ‘Don’t you all look at me, it’s Clarice’s theory. And none of us have found out how this was possible.’ She tilted her head ‘...that I know of, anyway.’

‘Ooh!’ Izzy’s voice sounded from down the hall. ‘Have we got magical visitors?’

Mildred could hear footsteps approaching her bedroom. Her attention snapped to Ethel and she hoped she looked as panicked as she felt because out of the two of them, Ethel was the more convincing liar when put on the spot, a terrible liar if you knew her and weren’t in the middle of panicking yourself but still, it should be enough for Izzy right? She couldn’t know her that well?

She gave her mum a quick glance and bit her lip. Please don’t ask questions, please don’t ask questions, please—

‘See, Mildred Hubble, I told you.’ And Mildred didn’t even have to pretend to roll her eyes. And her head for good measure—it was pretty much a reflex at this point. ‘It is possible to transfer multiple witches and belongings if the witches in question work together.’

Mildred turned back round to face her sister, who she’d heard stop in the doorway. ‘Hey Izzy.’ She greeted with a welcoming grin and gestured awkwardly at her unexpected guests. ‘Look! People, here, with us—’

A mewing from the floor saved her from having to say anymore. Two black cats with purple collars were padding leisurely around the bedroom too.

‘And cats!’ She had her other arm up now for some reason, as though it was the end of a particularly impressive… well, anything. Jazz hands felt right. ‘Ta da…’

‘Mildred!’ Ethel hissed, and Mildred knew without looking that Ethel was bristling behind her, fists clenching tighter and glaring at the back of her head.

She looked awkwardly between Izzy and Sybil, who looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. She was sure her mum was looking at her in the same way if the quiet hum in her throat was anything to go by. ‘Erm…’

Mildred smiled at Izzy. She was sure she looked like she had no semblance of reality. Did she ever look like she did?

What was reality really? She’d messed with time twice and looked into a future that wouldn’t have come true without her. In fact come to think of it, is that why only half the vision was accurate? It hadn’t been decided? And that reminded her, she really needed to speak to Ethel about Agatha at some point—there were a load of coincidences leading up to the last day of term!

Actually, how had Agatha known her spell would fix broken things so she could reverse it to turn Miss Cackle into glass? Did she have something to do with her magical burnout, even? And that wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t looked into the future… but how on earth did Agatha know she would do that ? Not to mention she really did think Ethel would have believed her had Star not drank the water…

Maud had told her once that magic could do whatever it wanted, but why were she and Ethel not in the year photo before they left but appeared during what was their present day? Miss Hardbroom had mentioned once in detention that that was how the teachers knew to come and get them. Even if Maud, as an entirely different person had taken Mildred with her because she didn’t care for the school; it just didn’t make sense ...The past was the past, wasn’t it?

Then again, Mrs Alma Cackle had a spell for extracting magic in that little book of hers so with forgetting powder; perhaps she had cast some form of illusion spell that also worked on Maud’s desk?

But most worrying of all her unanswered questions, how much influence had Agatha had — her gut twisted, something about that felt wrong and not just in the uncomfortable way — could still have? The Head Girl ceremony started at quarter to seven, but the next thing she and Maud knew it was half past ten and everything was a race against time. Even if Agatha was very gifted at predicting the future, something more sinister had happened that night. What was it?

Get a grip Mildred Hubble! And her Ethel-voice critic was back too. Great!

It wasn’t as though anything major had happened to the academy that hadn’t been put right—But, hang on. Hadn’t Miss Bat once told her the school records went back millenia, so why, in their second year did Miss Cackle say the academy was centuries old? There was something about when she said it that was important too, but Mildred just couldn’t think.

Was it because Miss Cackle said it, rather than when it was said? That great wizard who meddled with time was lost forever, except that Miss Cackle knew how to get back. 

Mildred herself had invented two spells that people had previously assumed impossible...Was performing the unthinkable connected to the academy, somehow? 

No, she corrected herself. Neither of her own came without repercussions, did they? She remembered chasing her animal talking project on broomstick but… Nothing bad had happened, aside from the collapse of the East Wing and Ethel stealing her project, which ironically enough contributed to her finding the Founding Stone, which was still admired —

— The Founding Stone, revealed by leftover magic from the Annihilation Spell?! The Founding Stone Miss Mould was going to use to free Agatha!

But that couldn’t be possible. Miss Mould didn’t have a plan for freeing Agatha, and besides her ancestor Mirabelle had told her herself; and Mirabelle had helped more than once so how —

“ The Wishing Star is attempting to complete your wish. It is giving you another chance .” “She only spoke to you through glitching magic caused by the Founding Stone disaster; she will not speak now!” “ — Just as you did, she stole the Wishing Star—” How often was a Wishing Star handed out as a reward for good work? Mildred thought back to hers and Ethel’s accidental trip to the past. When Miss Cackle was younger she’d received an awful lot of awards.

Mildred remembered the portraits of the twins in the corridors and study in the present day, definitely older than schoolgirls. Her throat was getting tight and her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Her magic was thrashing around inside her, a series of tides threatening to pull her under.

Her gaze flicked to Ethel. How did she talk to you? What magic did she have to do that? Whose magic did she have to do that? How — What — ‘What have we done?’

‘Mildred?’

All of a sudden she felt hollow, and it was like a blanket had been tossed over her mind. She was sure she should know the woman who’d just said her name...

Her vision dimmed at the edges, and she wondered if she’d ever remember how to stand again.

Julie lurched forward and wrapped her arms round Mildred’s middle, lifting her back to her feet as best she could.

‘What’s going on?’ Sybil, her mind prompted distantly as she propped Mildred against her pillows. Izzy climbed silently on the other side and stared at her half-sister. Julie watched in growing horror as all the vibrancy and life seemed to drain from Mildred’s face, like a watercolour that had been made with too much water—leaving all the colours bleeding off the page. She held her daughter’s hands as tightly as she had the day she’d found her in the castle like an ice palace from a fairytale; her breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes. She felt confident again; she knew how to fix this.

‘You’re–you’re coming out of this right now, young lady.’ Slowly, she opened her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on Mildred. No change. She stared, almost feeling herself go numb.

Time seemed to crawl, what felt like hours later her daughter’s face was still ashen. She bit her lip. She wouldn’t cry—crying would mean she’d given up, and she refused to do that.

‘Foaming frogspawn—call Maud Spellbody!’ Julie jumped at the sudden volume and intensity coming from the middle Hallow but her thoughts were already pulling her elsewhere.

“D’you, d’you remember the time I left Ted in the caravan and we had to drive back like 200 miles just to get him? The time I gave you a haircut while you were still asleep? That was magical mum! My old mum was so, so magical.”

“All I want is for you to be happy. Do you think you’d be happy coming here?”

“I don’t know but, I think I’ll have to try, if they’ll let me.”

“ If they’ll let you? You saved their whole school.”

“I did! Didn’t I?”

“Absolutely. Don’t you forget it. They’re lucky to have you… So am I.”

“Mum! You saved me mum!”

“We are a Witching family mum… Just when everything was gonna be different. The only way to save them is by giving it up.”

“That’s the only way? To not do witch stuff anymore? The way I never got to do witch stuff? Well Mildred, my life is full of magic. And I don’t need a broomstick for that to be true. And neither do you.”

“... and the family that we are. I now know that magic is real but you don’t need a cauldron, and you don’t need a spellbook. There is magic inside each and every one of us… witch or not. You just have to believe in it.”

“It’s not growing apart. It’s growing up. And whenever you need your non-magical mum, she’ll be there like that. Higher than a broomstick, faster than a transportation spell. And that’s the most magical thing ever, isn’t it?”

“Miss Hubble, as an ordinary person I realise you are not acquainted with the Witches’ Code, however—”

“Oh? Section 2, subsection C perhaps? The bit about senior witches having a duty of care for junior witches?”

She slowly stood from the bed and nodded her head, looking at the wall. 

‘I’ll call Miss Hardbroom. She’ll know what to do.’

‘No!’ All the young witches shouted in unison. She started.

‘You can’t Miss Hubble.’ Maud said from the mirror. How long has she been there?

‘Mildred needs you.’ Izzy said from somewhere behind her.

‘Miss Hardbroom... she, well—’ Sybil tried, but got no further as Ethel erupted.

‘Miss Hardbroom has spent the last however many years of her life upholding tradition. Even if she thinks it’s wiser to stop, she isn’t necessarily going to be able to. She’s going to be so busy trying to get you to give up your magic and check that you can never access it again to protect everyone—especially Mildred—that you won’t be here with her!’

‘That.’ Enid’s voice rang out from the mirror.

‘Stand back.’ Maud again.

Izzy took her hand and yanked her back, sitting her on the bed as the Hallow sisters leapt backwards. More wispy smoke and Enid and Maud had joined them, clutching each other for comfort but letting go once they realised they could be seen. Their cats peered round from behind their legs and slowly crept forward to mingle with the others.

Julie stared at the teenagers, they were all so young… She patted Izzy on the hand. ‘I’d best tell your dad what’s going on. You’ll be more help than I will to research this.’ She stood up, everyone’s eyes on her. ‘But I need you all to promise me, you will come and get me the moment I can help—’ She took a breath. No-one needed her to panic right now. ‘The moment I can help her.’

Everyone nodded.

Julie attempted a smile and headed for the door, squeezing her eyes shut to keep back the tears as she turned away. 

Maud had silently transported several stacks of books onto the bedroom floor before she had even realised what she’d done. With a second moment of realisation, she took in Ethel knelt down by what appeared to be her own luggage, pulling yet more thick, dusty tomes from within.

Izzy shuffled forward and tried to read one of the titles. ‘Witching Principles In Theory & Practice Volume—’ That series of books was forbidden ! Outlawed by the Code! She shook her head and refocused her attention on her own materials.

Maud double-checked all her books on magical maladies had been transported. Those would be most likely to have a solution for whatever was wrong with Millie.

She looked at Enid, but didn’t even need to nod. Enid had already sorted through the pile closest to her and found seven books which danced silently into place, index pages open with an air of grace only Enid ever seemed to achieve with her spells… or playing Witchymatch, or… anything at all, really.

She pointed at her own pile and let out a shuddering sigh of relief as the magic sorted them for her—she didn’t know how long they had to reverse this thing and, she glared sharply at Ethel who was gently trying to prise Izzy’s fingers off what was presumably an entire pile consisting solely of banned books, they couldn’t afford to fail this time.

There was a lot that could be wrong with Mil; phrases of poultices, symptoms and ailments swam in front of her vision. Concentrate, Maud Spellbody! She adjusted the arms of her glasses—that always helped her regain her focus.

‘Should I try and contact Clarice?’ Sybil’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

‘Clarice?’ She parrotted.

‘She already suspected Miss Hubble had magic, and if it’s connected…’

Maud’s head shot up, her gaze locking onto Enid’s wide-eyed stare that she was sure she mirrored.

‘Yes!’ Ethel said, sounding relieved. ‘And take Isabella with you.’

‘But—’ The ginger-haired witch protested but got no further as they vanished into the magical slipstream.

‘Enid?!’

The witch in question nodded to Ethel. ‘If it’s connected to Miss Hubble’s magic…’

The penny dropped. ‘And Miss Hubble having magic is forbidden by the code—’

‘Then, we’re more likely to find out what’s going on from books that are also forbidden by the code.’

Volume Three of Witching Principles In Theory & Practice floated to rest alongside the books on magical maladies. She took a deep breath.

The index page; she watched as the pages fluttered. Oh, there were a lot of entries that could be what they were looking for:

Magical Ailments… Magical Autonomy… Magical Barriers… Magical Breakages… Magical Bruising - External, Magical Bruising - Internal… Magical Capping, Magical Caps… Magical Coagulation… Magical Conflict, Magical Conflicting Realities, Magical Conflicts… Magical Defenses - subconscious… Magical Ending —

That wasn’t good! It was probably a case of jumping to the worst-case scenario but—she drew the book closer and began to read—Millie couldn’t afford for them to take chances.

Magical Ending, also known as Magical Fading, is a rare phenomenon where a witch or wizard’s magic will decrease over time after they reach a certain age as opposed to continually growing, as is the expected standard. Of the four-hundred discreet studies carried out when cases of the phenomenon grew to reach fringe levels, there have been no detectable patterns between the individuals affected. Also of potential interest for those interested in Magical Ending: Magical Rejuvenation.

A shiver crept up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. This could be it! The pages turned again.

‘Magical Rejuvenation.’ She started. ‘A rare phenomenon where a witch or wizard who has lost their powers for any and all reasons will find they have returned after some time has passed.’ She saw Enid kneel up out of the corner of her eye. ‘The time varies and little is known about how or why this occurs… Commonly reported among the cases recorded however is a temporary increase in magical strain on the witches and wizards around them resulting in faints, increased stress, headaches, and a brief lapse in powers. All reports claim these effects to be temporary, lasting no more than half a day.’

‘So she’s going to be okay.’ Enid said, dropping her head into her hands.

The Head of Year couldn’t fight the smile spreading over her face. ‘She’s going to be just fine.’ She remembered everyone agonising over Mildred’s current state. ‘But we need to tell everyone else!’

‘And fast!’ Enid said, already leaping up to run out of the room. Maud shook her head fondly and watched her go.

Maud turned back to face Mildred who was still lying on the bed unmoving. She’ll be just fine.

She closed the books hovering in mid-air one by one.

‘I’ve sent a note to Sybil. She and Isabella will be returning—’ Ethel had no need to say anymore as the two young witches reappeared.

Izzy was already springing forward before the spell had finished, almost skipping with how light she appeared on her feet now. ‘This calls for eggs on toast! And Hairy Houdini! I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.’ She popped her head back round the doorframe. ‘Come on Sybil, you can help me carry it all back.’ She skittered out into the corridor and Sybil trailed after her wearing a perplexed expression.

Maud waved her hand and Volume Three of Witching Principles In Theory & Practice started to float slowly across the room. 

She was about to transport the rest of her own books back home when she heard the sound of someone writing at the other end of the room. Her head snapped up.

‘Ethel?!’ The witch in question had her head buried in Volume Ten of Witching Principles In Theory & Practice and was scribbling what looked like extensive notes in a soft, leather-bound book.

‘Mm?’ She flicked back to earlier notes, nodded and made an adjustment to what she’d just written. She wrote a further line and her pen finally stilled as she stiffened, and looked up at Maud with a look on her face Maud couldn’t quite place.

Ethel sighed and placed a bookmark in her notebook before transporting the banned collection from the room with a wave of her hand.

She looked utterly defeated.

‘So,’ Maud started, wondering why she was making the effort with someone who never seemed to try at all. ‘I know that’s not your clone spell…’

Ethel let out a laugh that was more a puff of air than anything else. ‘Similar idea. I just hope this goes better than that did. Well… it can’t go worse really, can it?’

Maud was surprised by how much Ethel’s bitter tone didn’t surprise her, and answered more honestly than perhaps she was meant to. ‘I don’t know. Depends on what you have in mind, I think.’

The blonde witch nodded. ‘I know it will have to be something that lasts for a limited time. One, to reduce the risks and two… Mildred will get to choose this time.’

Maud’s attention snapped back to her best friend, still unconscious. ‘What are the risks?’

‘I don’t know the full extent, yet. And I have no plans to attempt a reversal until I do.’

Maud looked at Mildred again, and finally it dawned on her. ‘You’re trying to undo the appearance changing spell! How? It’s impossible.’

‘So is making animals talk, and repairing things damaged beyond repair.’

It’s probably not as straightforward as you think. Maud opened her mouth to voice these thoughts but was cut off by a loud bark as a furry blur hurtled into the room.

Izzy followed closely behind and sat at the foot of the bed. ‘Houdini! Over here.’ The dog stopped chasing his tail and padded over. ‘Good boy! Now… lick Mildred’s face.’ She moved her hand over Mildred’s face until Houdini started to sniff the unconscious witch tentatively. ‘Go on!’ He started to sniff faster and reached forward with a pink tongue.

Maybe we shouldn’t have told Izzy it was anything less than half a day. The dog started licking her in earnest. She’s going to be gutted when—

A laugh came from the bed and Mildred started batting the dog away, eyes still closed. ‘Stop!’ She giggled and tried to hide her face in her arms.

‘Millie!’ Maud exclaimed, and rushed forward to hug her best friend.

She heard hurried footsteps as she pulled away to see Enid, Julie, Dave, and Sybil all bright-eyed and smiling at the now-awake Mildred who had sat up and was giving her sister a tight hug.

‘Good boy.’ Izzy said over Mildred’s shoulder.

Maud beamed and stroked Houdini’s head—good boy indeed.

Chapter Text

Mildred carefully detached herself from the limpet Izzy was doing a great job of impersonating and looked back at Maud. Hang on.

‘Maud! When did you even get here?’

The welcoming sound of her friends’ laughter filled her ears and Mildred had a second realisation. ‘Enid!’ She looked more closely at her family in the doorway. Her mum and dad had all but sagged against each other and there was a suspicious shine in Enid’s eyes as she grinned back.

‘Mum? Did you—’

‘I invited them.’ Her head snapped to the side and she saw Ethel kneeling on the floor next to Star who was lazily thumping his tail on the floor, seemingly not having been worried in the slightest. The other witch cleared her throat and wouldn’t meet her eyes. ‘With your mother’s permission, of course.’

She saw Maud look sideways at the blonde witch out of the corner of her eye. If there were any doubts that Ethel was lying to her again , a little voice in her head whispered, they were gone now. Mildred shook her head, that wasn’t necessarily important… but, on the other hand, it confirmed they definitely needed to talk about some things.

She looked around the room again and felt a giggle fizzing nervously at the back of her throat as visions of her dream, the distorted reality where Tabby was competing in the Head Girl race danced in front of her face: his increasingly insistent mews as he patted a ball of red sashes around in his paws—her shoulders shook with barely restrained laughter and she bought a hand up to wipe at the tears that were leaking from her eyes.

‘Oh you have one absolutely bonkers dream and become absolutely batty.’ Even as she said the words, in her mind’s eye, she saw Tabby on her chanting desk and howl his way through the chanting challenge; as everyone around him cringed, Miss Bat stepped forward, delighted, and took the badge from Miss Cackle to give it to—

Almost before she was fully aware of it, Mildred could scarcely breathe from how hard she was laughing. She wrapped her arms around her ribs and managed just two words between guffaws. ‘I’m fine.’

She watched everyone traipse out of her room, perplexed and Tabby mewed as the last person to leave, Izzy, vanished from view.

A fresh batch of tears rolled down her cheeks and she knew she couldn’t stop laughing any time soon.

Julie looked across at Dave once all the kids had found somewhere to sit or stand in the kitchen, only to find he was already looking at her. She shrugged; he shrugged back and took a piece of buttered toast.

‘Well?’ He said. ‘Dig in now, and we’ll sort out chores after.’ The witches were relatively unfazed until the word chores came out of his mouth, at which point everyone acted like they’d never seen buttered toast before. She hid a chuckle behind her hand.

The plate was passed politely around the room. If not for the cold the atmosphere would have been pleasant. She felt a gentle nudge and looked up again to see Dave offering her his piece. She rolled her eyes and took it from him, leaning briefly over Maud’s shoulder to tear it neatly in two over the plate; she passed him a half and winked, pleased to see a slight rush of colour come to his cheeks and the remaining tension ease from his shoulders.

They ate in a comfortable silence, except for the quiet jingle of Houdini’s collar as he padded around, scouring for every last crumb and receiving affection from his friends, both new and old alike. She smiled as the dog came to a stop by Izzy and sat contented by her side.

A rustling drew her attention and she saw Dave with a pad of paper in hand, casting his eyes this way and that. She coughed lightly and gestured to her ear.

‘I knew that.’ He muttered and pulled the pencil out from behind his ear, though his bright smile gave him away.

‘Did you forget where you’d put your pen again Dad?’ Izzy looked at her. ‘He’s always doing that.’

‘Er, for your information Izzy it was a pencil —’ Dave was stopped from saying anymore as Houdini had sat in front of him and leaned back on two paws, tongue lolling out. ‘No. You’re not having this toast; this is my toast, not— Fine.’ He gave the last portion with a faux disappointed sigh to the border collie and ruffled his ears, sending him back to Izzy with an affectionate pat.

Julie beamed at the pair and lightly shook her head.

‘So anyway as I was saying…’ Dave waited until he had everyone’s attention. ‘Chores!’ He moved his hands like he was imagining how the word would look on a decorative banner. He put the pencil almost to paper and froze. Without another word he spun on his heel, lightly tossing both pencil and paper onto the sideboard as he did so. ‘Izzy my darling daughter, sheep wrangling with Houdini and young Sybil here; Maud, budgeting for the winter months with Julie if she’d be so kind; Enid and Mildred, when she comes in, chicken feeding and egg collecting; Ethel, the stables with me - I have an idea and I’ll see how open you are to it.’ Julie watched as he smiled with no small amount of smugness and felt a rush of affection for him. 

She looked over at everyone else, the teenagers’ mouths had dropped open—well, except for Izzy who was ecstatic, glowing from head to foot with pride.

She heard footsteps coming from down the corridor and turned her head.

‘Sorry everyone, that was one heck of a dream—I mean, I’m not sorry the dream was hilarious but...' Mildred saw no judgement in anyone’s eyes and realised with a bittersweet pang that she was just as relieved she didn’t need to explain herself as she was not to have worried anyone more than she already had.

Star’s wet nose nudged her hand and she saw that Sybil was pushing a plate with one remaining slice of toast in her direction. She joined Maud and Enid, chewing thoughtfully. What had she missed? Oh well, she could enjoy the silence for—

A plaintive whining broke into her thoughts and she looked down to see Star drooling at her feet, eyes fixed on the last half of the snack. ‘Star, this is mine.’ He licked his chops, swallowed and continued looking. She turned her head away and took another mouthful; his whining got louder. ‘You’ve got terrible table manners.’ She fake scolded him as she relented, giving him the last bite.

A snort came from the other side of the kitchen. ‘Like father, like daughter.’ Ethel said, sounding amused. Mildred narrowed her eyes at her and focused really hard on not smiling— she wasn’t sure she succeeded.

‘And on that note,’ her dad said, something in his voice that might have been pride. ‘I think it’s time we got started. Ethel!’

She couldn’t stop her eyes from widening slightly as Ethel followed her dad—her dad , not even a witch like her mum—without a word of complaint; and felt smug all of a sudden as being deeply pleased in the happy sense probably wasn’t appropriate… even if the other witch’s words had felt like an incredible compliment.

He tripped leaving the kitchen and for a moment she and Ethel were left looking at each other trying not to laugh from the absurdity, or relief or—then she was gone and Mildred shrugged, lips twitching as she stared intently at the floor.

Enid laughed and quickly pretended to cough when Maud tutted. She grinned unabashedly then as Enid threw her arms around them both and the three embraced, thankful for the two best friends she could ever ask for.

‘Come on Mil. We’re on chicken duty.’ They walked together out of the kitchen. ‘Tell me you know what we’re doing, at least.’

‘Oh yeah.’ She linked her arm through Enid’s and smiled brightly at her. ‘Let’s raise he—’ She became aware of her mum and Maud following them out ‘...hen feathers.’

It was a terrible pun but trying not to look at each other as they walked soon meant it had them in stitches.

‘You’ll have to tell me about that dream.’ Enid said as they strolled together in the sunshine.

‘Okay so Tabby’s running for Head Girl in my place…’

‘Wait wait wait… Tabby won ?’

‘It didn’t really happen Enid.’

‘No!’

Mildred laughed as the two walked slowly back to the farmhouse, very carefully carrying the egg trays. ‘Yes. Tabby won the Head Girl contest and Maud became his deputy—’ She had to put the tray down for a second; Enid followed suit. ‘Better safe than sorry.’

Enid nodded. ‘So, what about the whole Head Girl contest is making you so nervous anyway? You won, right?’

‘I’m not…’ Mildred sighed. Enid had a point and after talking about everything and nothing in the chicken coop they both knew it. ‘I don’t know how to tell Maud that she’s not going to be the only person helping me as Head Girl next year; she was extremely upset after you left—’

‘And I miss you both so much up at Mount Broom but I had to go.’

‘Enid no. Don’t ever think I’m upset or… not one-hundred percent behind you on that. In a way it feels like this is the first time you’ve put yourself first and not changed your mind since you came to Cackles and, you know, if anyone deserves to have that it’s you.’

‘Not just me… but thanks.’

They picked up the trays of eggs again and started making their way back down the path.

‘Always.’

‘Seriously Mil,’ she looked at her best friend. ‘Maud won’t be upset. You do know that, right? And even if she is… Bats! She and I were at loggerheads when I first came to Cackles and now look at us! All three of us, I mean.’ Mildred smiled at Enid as a slight blush was making its way onto her cheeks.

‘Yeah, I know… But at the time, that dream—’

Enid chuckled. ‘Must have been hilarious.’ She sighed, frowning. ‘It’s just a shame you’re losing your sense of humour.’

The two witches looked at each other and giggled.

‘Never change Enid.’

‘Oh you know me well enough by now Mil. Never.’

Chapter Text

Ethel looked around the barn for what must have been at least the sixth time and ran through the instructions she’d been given. The top and middle of the hay had been turned over, the droppings of whichever animal was usually housed there had been moved outside and hosed away (presumably to dry out and be used as manure for plants, like Grandfather Hubble— Mr Rowan-Webb used to). The middle of the floor was swept clear of any loose bits of straw, but all the same…

Grabbing the pitchfork, she marched over to the nearest hay pile and started jabbing at the base, turning the tool in her hands every time she took it back out to ensure that there really was nothing caught in—one of the tines got snagged; hay flew everywhere, landing on the ground before she could stop it.

Ethel threw out her arms, letting the pitchfork fall.

Meow .

She closed her eyes, ‘thank you Nightstar,’ tipped her head back and took a deep breath, muttering as she exhaled. ‘I don’t want to spend the rest of my life as a troll. I must not use my magic when I’m angry.’ 

Her shoulders slumped as she recalled something else. ‘And I made a promise.’

Mr Jones held the pitchfork he’d just finished explaining the uses and features of. ‘Right, so what’s this?’ He pointed to the top of the tool.

‘A handle.’ 

‘And on the bottom?’

‘Tines.’ Ethel was mystified. How was this going to help anything ? She’d try to keep her skepticism to her —

Mr Jones sighed; she should probably rethink how much she could keep her thoughts to herself. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear it was a Hubble trait: daughter, mother, and now father.

‘If you try to use the spade when you’re mucking out, you get rid of too much and you’ll have hardly anything left. You might think the tines are inconsequential, or they don’t matter because they’re small… but that’s exactly the reason why they work in the first place.’’ He shuffled his feet. ‘It’s a bit like the opposite of that saying. All that about not seeing the wood for the trees; but too far away and you’re focused on that same wood without realising you’re actually stood in a meadow thirteen feet from it.’

‘So...’  Mr Jones looked at her and cocked his head slightly. ‘It’s about not throwing out the good with the bad?’

‘And patterns. Habits, you know?’ He straightened slightly. ‘Some of our worst ones come when we’re focused in other places, intentionally or not .’

Ethel ducked her head and nodded. Was she expected to still meet his eyes now—

‘You just focus on what you can do to improve,’ he let his words hang in the air a moment too long while he gestured around him, ‘the place. And one more thing…’

Curious, she met his gaze again.

‘No magic.’

‘B — ’ She fell quiet. It seemed this lesson had a purpose to it.

‘Do you promise?’

She scoffed without meaning to and winced. ‘I’m not exactly the most trustworthy pers —’

‘You’re here, right now; not then or whatever or whenever you’re thinking of. No excuses.’ He smiled and held out the pitchfork.

She took it.

‘That’s a promise?’

She straightened her shoulders and nodded, once. ‘It’s a promise.’

She took the pitchfork from the floor and slowly started reforming the hay bale. It felt oddly like a weight was slowly lifting off her… or she’d chosen to push it away, she realised.

Meow . She laughed a little and looked over at her—

‘Tabby?!’ He mewed again and sat staring at her, eyes twinkling; then abruptly turned his head and started cleaning himself.

She got back to work, partly to give him some privacy. ‘Thank you Tabby.’ She said softly, not altogether surprised when she heard the rustle of straw then felt the slight bump of Nightstar: brushing her head against her leg. She leaned down and tickled the ears of her beloved familiar. ‘Don’t worry. I could never forget about you. I’d never want to.’

Nightstar’s purr ran through her even as she remembered Agatha’s plan, hinged around the late and great Murphy.

‘Go on, enjoy yourself.’

Her familiar mewed and headbutted her once more before running out—with Tabby, Ethel noted in a faint surprise which seemed less so than it would have been five minutes ago—into the frosty, gleaming outdoors.

‘Now, normally our dinner is more substantial than pancakes.’ Mildred smiled as her dad turned to her mum and gestured emphatically, apparently oblivious to the batter slowly dripping from the spatula onto the floor.

‘Uh…’ Enid said, and Mildred realised the animals were making their way over to it.

‘Hmm?’ Her dad said, looking down with a start and hurriedly shoved the spatula back into the pan.

She saw Maud wave an arm out of the corner of her eye and the mess disappeared.

Her mum laughed and gently squeezed his arm. ‘You don’t have to convince me you know.’

The kitchen smelled amazing, and Mildred knew her mum was just as much a sucker for the sweet treats as Mildred or any of the other Cackle’s students currently in the house were.

‘Right… good. I mean I know that—I mean,’

‘Dad!’ Mildred looked over at her sister who quickly looked back at her and they grinned at each other.

‘Izzy! Seeing as you know where we keep all the toppings…’ Her dad needn’t have asked. She’d jumped to her feet as soon as he’d called on her and was now busy opening doors and pulling down jars.

‘Show-off.’ He playfully stuck his tongue out as she magically lowered the last of the containers to the worktop and Mildred laughed but couldn’t help hiding her face behind her hands.

‘Dad…’ Mildred didn’t have a clue where she was going with this.

‘I get it.’ Enid said. ‘My dad’s always setting off fireworks, everytime he turns up somewhere. It’s showmanship; I don’t think he knows how to turn it off when he’s not home. Did you know that before he met HB he planned to do that every time he came to parent’s evening?’

Mildred peeked out from behind her hands and saw Enid’s expression: a mix of mock disgust and real fear. She watched as Enid and Maud looked at each other, a shy smile on each of their faces, and then—at least it felt that way to Mildred—the whole house overflowed with laughter.

Maud looked around at the forest. After yesterday’s events, Mildred’s dad had claimed they were all excellent at farm life and could choose when in the day they did their chores as he would take care of the chicken feeding and egg collecting, and Julie would nip down to the village later on, to get a few bits and bobs.

She’d been concerned that everyone would choose later in the day, but between Izzy having been raised on a farm all her life, Enid’s new routine of running shortly before dark, Sybil’s anxiety of not getting everything done in time, her own ethos of work first, one of Ethel’s rarer moments of “common sense”—to put a long story short they’d managed to persuade Mildred that sooner was better rather than later.

Now they were all bundled up to varying degrees and wandering in the nearby woods. Izzy had mentioned needing ingredients for her Holiday Project with HB, and Ethel had looked guiltily at Mildred then promptly offered her help. Her best friend had lit up, transformed by the hope written all over her face and Maud had had to bite her tongue then, as memories flitted through her mind. She still almost said something, but the lack of a put-down at Millie’s expense and remembering the lack of jealousy when Millie was finally announced Head Girl made her decide to reserve her judgement… at least for the time being. What finally emerged were the words, ‘I’ll help too.’ She was going with Millie, Enid, Sybil, Izzy and Ethel Hallow into the woods and that was apparently that. Only time would tell whether it was the right call.

As Enid hummed alongside her, leaning in to bump their arms together in a conspiratorial way over nothing at all she couldn’t deny she was having fun though.

‘You’re quiet.’

‘Just listening.’

Enid nodded and started humming again.

Up ahead Izzy was chatting to Mildred and Sybil about the various potions ingredients Ethel named and pointed out with an accuracy Maud honestly didn’t know she had. Yet, this was the witch who had almost been forever turned into a tree because she couldn’t see that attacking the one ‘glittery’ tree among a mass of ordinary plants—according to Felicity—was a blatantly terrible idea.

Mildred had confessed to her last night that she’d asked Ethel to be her advisor. Her best friend had been almost shaking with nerves and at first Maud thought she’d somehow been bullied into it, but Millie was quick to say that: no, she just had a gut feeling about this.

And the truth was that Mil was a great leader—time and time again she’d proved it. That’s why people supported her for Head Girl, and she trusted Mildred with her life. So if that’s what Mildred thought was best and wanted to do… then she’d support her, one-hundred percent.

Though she was having trouble envisioning it, Ethel Hallow advising Mildred Hubble! With their history, Ethel’s track record of bad choices and poor behaviour and Mildred’s penchant for trouble. She grimaced as she remembered the Mists of Time, and the Wishing Star…

Being Deputy Head Girl was going to be a lot of work. And all the time being Head of Year had taken was why she’d publicly renounced the idea of being Head Girl in the first place. And Enid wouldn’t be there next year, either…

She found herself reaching out for Enid’s hand. Enid stopped humming. Maud blushed, embarrassed as it occurred to her that she may have crossed quite a significant boundary. The word sorry was on her lips when Enid grabbed hold of her hand and moved a half-step closer. Enid started whistling then.

A hooting interrupted the peace, and they looked up to see a familiar golden bird.

‘Is that…?’

‘Yeah.’ Enid said and squeezed her hand.

‘A wise owl?’ Izzy said loudly.

Maud felt herself smiling automatically. A zest for life was definitely one of the traits Mil had in common with her younger sister.

‘Is it normal for his eyes to glow like that?’ She could just make out Sybil’s question, concerned and polite, before she realised she was looking at the woods no longer.

Five people were stood close together, looking at something just in front of their feet. Grass grew around them wild and untamed. The person in the middle swayed on their feet, and the two people closest reached out to steady them.

A hoot.

They were there and almost recognisable before almost being passed through and what was left was a ramshackle gravestone:

Alma Cackle.

Chapter Text

Maud felt a cold sensation rush through her and settle somewhere in her chest. She swallowed hard. What did it all mean? Why did the Wise Owl think it was important for them to see this? She looked at Millie, and something clicked into place, something that could be vital.

‘We can’t afford to panic. Trying to change the future could make things a lot worse.’

‘So our choices are either terrible or terrible? Great.’ Maud closed her eyes as she reflected on their chances, opening them again and looking directly at the evidently terrified Sybil.

‘Maud’s right.’ She looked at Millie, and felt grateful for her best friend all over again. Enid leaned comfortingly into her side as she beamed back at Mil too. They’d been through a lot together—her best friends—and she couldn’t imagine going through life with anyone else. She felt Enid soothingly rub her thumb against the back of her hand and assumed she was thinking the same thing. It would be nice to ask her though, Maud thought. Actually it would be nice to ask her about a lot.

Note to self, Maud thought, come up with better compliments.

Then Millie was talking again. ‘And we don’t even know if that’s a bad thing. Maybe instead… I don’t know, Miss Cackle sets aside a new holiday in the school calendar to pay respects to her family after what happened with—Agatha…’

‘It wouldn’t be the first time.’ Maud agreed, but now Millie was looking somewhere by her own feet and didn’t appear to have heard her at all.

What should she do now?

The door to the headmistress’ office closed and she watched as the witch slumped down the corridors. Either her magic or... perhaps her facade was fading—the garments she wore, touted as being outrageously vibrant, had become so muted they almost appeared sackcloth-grey. Her hands tremored, and even from afar, the motion was not entirely imperceptible as she walked around the corner and finally out of sight.

‘Now.’ She peered at her companion, whose voice would have been clear and regal, had it not wavered in the same way as her twin sister’s hands.

She lifted her staff off the ground, startled as the hand of her companion was suddenly around her forearm. She tried to move her arm, just to stand with a little more comfort; the effort was futile.

It was not all bad, however. The action had indeed confirmed that not only was this Agatha Cackle incredibly strong, but that she also had the reflexes befitting a master duelist.

She looked into the perceptive eyes before her, and Agatha must have taken comfort in what she saw, as her arm was released and the staff returned to the ground without fanfare. 

The elder—or should that be younger—witch threw her hand out and the door swung open.

‘Ada never did like to lock this place.’

She bent her head and followed, silently observing as her companion rolled her eyes and swept into the room. She kept her focus fixed on Agatha as she almost delicately removed the picture from the wall and turned to her. ‘ Now .’

She lifted the staff off the ground and brought it down, delighting in the familiar feel of its power flowing through her.

The witch from the painting re-formed in the room in a billow of smoke, although her image did not vanish from the frame. Interesting.

‘Who the blummin—’

‘Miss Gullet,’ Agatha interjected. ‘I’d like to introduce our newest ally. 

‘She helped free me from Vanishment when I was foiled by those hideous teenagers, and is the reason you are no longer stood in a frame.

‘Miss Gullet, this is the first Head Girl of Cackles Academy. This… is Gertrude Hallow.’

Gertrude watched with satisfaction as the older witch lifted her hand to her forehead and bowed.

Mildred looked down at the ground, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

‘It’s okay.’ Izzy piped up, and thrust her notebook so close Mildred could no longer see any of her surroundings.

She leaned as far away as she dared to get a better look at it. 

Her book was filled with a mixture of long and small notes, scribbled on the page at every conceivable angle. Mildred bit back a grin. ‘I think I’ve got more than enough for this holiday project anyway.’

Mildred stepped quickly to the side as Sybil ran by with Izzy hot on her heels.

‘Think I can beat that?’ Enid’s mock-whisper had carried across the clearing.

Mildred ran to catch up with Enid and Maud, having a good feeling that she knew what was going to happen next. Sure enough, no sooner had she slung an arm around Enid’s shoulders than she saw Enid untangle her hand from Maud’s, slip smoothly out from between her two best friends, give a mock salute—

‘A-and… she’s off.’ Mildred knew Enid wouldn’t turn around to look but she waved goodbye as she fell into step with Maud anyway.

The warmth of the kitchen as they trudged inside was the best thing Mildred could have imagined at that moment; her fingers were starting to go numb.

Sybil approached them at the doorway. ‘Everyone else has had theirs,’ She passed over two mugs of what from the look and smell could only be hot chocolate.

Mildred looked around the kitchen, bewildered—it was spotless.

‘Izzy kept saying we’d be a distraction.’ Enid added as Sybil sat next to her, though neither she nor Ethel looked up from the maglet propped up in the centre of the table.

This couldn’t be another magic-draining addiction—Enid seemed immune for starters, and she was about ninety-five to ninety-nine percent sure that Enid and Ethel wouldn’t between them find some way to do something illegal for the sake of an argument… like bet on a nosediving competition.

Mildred exchanged a look with Maud and they hurried over.

She took one glance at what was on the screen and her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

‘That’s the Deadly Nightshades!’ Maud mirrored her thoughts exactly.

‘Yep!’ Enid responded, popping the p with obvious pride.

Mildred couldn’t help but look over at her long-time rival who, now she thought about it, she hadn’t seen at all since the Wise Owl was spotted.

‘We need to talk.’ She blurted out.

Ethel sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘We voted on what to do. I was outvoted two to one.’

‘Reading transcripts from our mum’s time at the council to see what we can learn from them isn’t interesting!’ Sybil stared at her sister with evident disbelief.

‘It is educational.’

‘And this is fun.’ Enid said.

‘True.’ Ethel muttered.

‘Five.’

‘Are you counting how many times—’

‘Ethel finally admits that my parents are good at their job and that they’re entertaining to watch? Which is long overdue? Yep!’

She watched as the other witch grew increasingly tense as Enid talked, only to nod silently, admitting to it being overdue and then relaxing all at once.

‘That wasn’t what I meant by talk,’ Mildred muttered, though she sat down next to her to enjoy her drink and said no more about it.