Chapter Text
“Alright, children!” Miss Hubble called, standing outside the Fortress’ worn cedar gates. “I know it’s cold and dreary this morning, but we’ve got a mission to do and not enough time to do it in!”
The woman pulled her cloak—a colorful patchwork of various found fabrics—tighter around herself and stepped aside, allowing a small group of young girls and boys to stumble out into the snow. Mildred stifled a chuckle at their indignant grumbles. If only Miss Drill were here to lighten their moods.
“Mildred,” one of the boys whined, stamping his boot against the snow. “Why are we up so early today?”
“Secret mission,” she assured them. “We’re going to the teahouse.”
The children exchanged disbelieving glances.
“A what?” A teenage girl blinked. No one was sure they’d heard the headmistress correctly.
“The teahouse,” Mildred repeated, a certain mischievous glint in her eyes. She’d never understand how similar she was to Miss Cackle in that moment. How she’d grown to be just as baffling as her predecessor.
Two children whispered to one another at the back of the group: “Oh, she must mean that old shack.” “The one with all the rats?” “Ew.”
Mildred smiled at the six children before her. “Weapons?”
“Check!”
“Coats?”
“Check!”
“Then we’re off.” Mildred glanced up and offered a brief wave to Gris and Fen up on the wall, who both returned her farewell with grins and waves of their own. “Don’t lag behind, kids. Keep an eye on each-other.”
“Yes, Mildred!”
It was a short walk to the teahouse, or at least that’s what she told the kids. By ‘short walk,’ she really meant a half-hour long trek through thick woods and biting-cold weather. Mildred had the students follow the old route Miss Drill once preferred for their morning exercises. The route passed Mrs. Cosie’s Tea Rooms at the third-quarter mark, and was overgrown by now with brambles and bushes.
“I feel like we’ve passed that tree before,” a girl remarked, warily glancing at a tall, winding oak.
“Nonsense,” Mildred cheerfully replied, although they had most definitely passed that tree before. She knew these woods like the back of her hand, and decided that a few unnecessary circles would encourage the students to pay attention to their surroundings. “All trees look the same around these parts.”
Once she deemed the children exhausted enough, Mildred subtly brought the group around to the teahouse. The cottage had decayed over the years, carrying the faint scent of mildew and stale bread. Every window was shattered, and the moth-eaten curtains fluttered in the breeze. Delicate blue blooms, once held captive by window box planters, flowed down the walls of the abandoned home and over the grass beneath, as if nature itself had laid flowers over the teahouse’s grave.
Mildred strode into the teahouse, the children following close behind. While they regarded the cottage with apprehension, Mildred already had her shotgun lowered and her dagger sheathed.
A growl from the pantry. A wrinkled hand reached from the darkness, accompanied by the facade of a rotting, undead woman. Maggots crawled within one hollow cheek, in which her ashen tongue lolled out.
The students yelped and screamed. One jolted so violently, he shot his gun into the ceiling of the house and sent a fine layer of dust sprinkling down onto their heads.
Mildred merely high-fived the outstretched hand. “Hey, Mrs. Cosie,” she said simply, walking past the pantry. Upon a closer look, the undead was securely tied to a cushioned chair with rope. The bonds at her left arm had loosened, so a girl within Mildred’s troop took the liberty of tying it once again.
Eyeing the writhing creature skeptically, the group of young witches and wizards passed the open pantry, careful to keep their distance.
“Aha!” Mildred cried triumphantly from the disheveled kitchen of the house, in which nearly every surface was covered in rat droppings and mushroom growths. She emerged from behind a counter, blowing the dust from the cover of a hardcover journal.
The dust blew into the children’s faces.
Ignoring the chorus of coughs and mumbles, the woman read aloud, “Book of Recipes, Property of the Cosie Family.” A chuckle, followed by a sigh that was almost nostalgic. “Well, she always said Cackle’s was her family, so… We’re all clear, I bet. Come on, kids, we got what we came here for.”
“Wait, so there’s no danger?” A lad crossed his arms and glanced incredulously at his fellow students. “Why did we have to bring all these weapons, then? And get up so early?”
The boy next to him whined, “and why did we have to come if you could’ve just done this yourself?”
With a small smile, Mildred replied in simplified terms, “Once you’re in your fourth year, you can go on ‘Scavenger Hunts’ outside the castle with the rest of us. I thought I should offer you an opportunity to practice navigating the woods safely.”
The kids exchanged doubtful looks. They didn’t comment on her logic on the road home.
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
“Miss Cackle? Miss Cackle.”
Comfortably huddled beneath a knitted blanket and seated in a wingback armchair, Amelia Cackle slowly came to. Her gaze drifted from the roaring fireplace before her to Constance. The woman stood close, slightly crouched to match Amelia’s eye level, and gently clutched her arm with both hands. Con’s face, lit by the dim glow of the fire, betrayed the faintest hint of a smile and slight mirthful wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
“Constance?” Amelia asked drowsily.
“Mildred and I have something for you.” Constance stood up straighter and Mildred, a young woman by now, came into view. She carried something in her arms.
Amelia recognized the smell before she saw it. A faint whiff of vanilla and cinnamon. Sweet and a bit tangy.
The former headmistress hurriedly sat up and adjusted her glasses. In Mildred’s hands, resting perfectly in the center of a porcelain platter, was a cheesecake crafted as if by the hands of Mrs. Cosie herself.
“What…” She was speechless. She could’ve cried then, but she knew Constance would fuss if she allowed a single tear to fall. “How?”
“Magic, for the ingredients.” Constance replied coolly, adjusting her sleeves. “As for the recipe… Well, that was all Mildred’s doing.” She glanced at her daughter with a look of pride. “You know how that girl is.”
Mildred smiled and set the cheesecake down on the stand by Amelia’s armchair. “Happy 80th birthday, Miss Cackle.”