Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your kind reviews and comments. My apologies for the delay in updating this, but life has been somewhat difficult of late and then I just lost interest for a bit.

I've twisted timelines very slightly to fit the chapter.

If you are still reading this, I hope you enjoy. :)

What You've Left Behind

Chapter Nine

There were some people in life who just had that knack of being in the right place at the right time.

Depending on how one looked at it, Mildred Georgina Hubble was not one of these people.

The twenty-one year-old still wasn't entirely sure what she had been forced to step into, but she had already gleaned enough to know that this was not going to be a friendly tea party. It wasn't, however, until she had heard the key turning in the lock, followed by a loud crackle as the door was magically sealed shut, that Mildred realised she had just become the pawn in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

She tried to not to focus too much on that particular point, nor on the small pool of blood she could see gathering around the wound on Constance's head. She also tried not to think about the fact that, with Miss Hardbroom out of action, she was effectively on her own.

On her own and completely at the mercy of Heckitty Broomhead.

Although she had met her only the once, many moons ago when the elder witch had come to inspect the school, that once had been more than enough to last a lifetime. There was no denying that Mistress Broomhead was a truly unpleasant woman, but that wasn't what had set twelve-year-old Mildred on edge.

It was her eyes.

Yes, there was something unnatural lurking within those eyes. Mildred would even go as far as to say that there was something evil. Granted, it was a different kind of evil when compared to the likes of Agatha Cackle: where the Cackle twin was akin to a bumbling pantomime villain, Heckitty Broomhead was more like an accomplished serial killer. Everything about her was cold and calculating, and filled the Hubble with a terrible sense of dread even now.

Fortunately, she'd had no cause to ever encounter the woman again as by the time the next inspection rolled around, she had left Cackle's Academy, and was busy studying miles away at Weirdsister College. Part of Mildred still couldn't believe that she had been accepted into one of the most prestigious magical establishments in the country, let alone now having graduated from it! She had certainly come a long way from that girl who had crashed her broomstick into the bins on her first day at Cackle's Academy.

While her life was finally starting to come together, it seemed that Constance's had fallen apart. Mildred could practically feel the despair emanating in the air, and she felt her heart break for her former form mistress.

Contrary to what Constance Hardbroom might have believed, Mildred had never hated her. True, their student-teacher relationship had always been somewhat tempestuous, and the Hubble had often felt like she couldn't do right for doing wrong, but she would never wish any ill on the witch. In fact, she had actually thought about her a lot over the years. Speculating on what she was doing with herself, trying to understand exactly why she had left in the first place, and hoping above all else that she was happy.

Happiness, it seemed, was a slightly misguided concept.

While everyone naturally loved to believe in the idea that the grass was greener on the other side, it so often wasn't the case. In truth, what one had once thought would bring them true happiness rarely ever did.

The chastised students of Cackle's Academy had often thought that if the strict deputy headmistress were to leave, then the school would become a much warmer and happier place.

As it turned out, it was colder.

Emptier.

It was as if something rare and precious had been broken, and when glued back together, the pieces just didn't fit.

Still haunted by her guilt of almost ten years before, Mildred bit down on her lip as she stole a glance at the woman who lay motionless on the floor.

She crept silently along the corridor, praying that the light from the candle would at least last until she had made it safely back to her bedroom. Part of her was starting to think that this may not have been such a good idea after all, but there was no point in turning back now.

Having tossed and turned for minutes that had felt more like hours in her mind, tried counting ceiling tiles, sheep and everything in between, Mildred Hubble had eventually admitted defeat, deciding that if she wasn't able to sleep then she may as well do something useful and make a start on her homework.

Well, that was the plan anyway.

The new, super productive her was immediately put on hold though as she realised that she had left her potions book in the classroom.

Again.

Even at the risk of incurring Miss Hardbroom's wrath, she bravely made the decision to go and retrieve it, convincing herself that her teacher would actually be impressed with her unusually pro-active approach to her studies. Before she had a chance to talk herself out of it, Mildred had picked up her candle and started making her way down the second years' corridor, noting how the castle never seemed this creepy during the day.

Peering through the small window of the potions laboratory door, she wasn't overly surprised to find that Constance Hardbroom was still up and working at stupid o'clock. Honestly, did that woman ever sleep? Maybe there was some truth in that old rumour about her secretly being a vampire?

Mildred was about to leave, to go back to bed before the handle was wrenched from her grasp, and she was rewarded with six months' detention for spying or for creeping about the castle late at night when she should be fast asleep in bed. Or both, depending on how far Miss Hardbroom was on the livid scale this particular night. Try as she might though, her feet just wouldn't cooperate.

Constance Hardbroom swept a finger along the edge of the desk, checking for any last hidden specks of dust, a rather unpleasant memory stirring in her mind of the last — and only — time she hadn't been as thorough with her dusting. Satisfied that everything was as clean as it was possibly going to be, she sat down, practically collapsing into her chair as the weariness and stresses of the day finally caught up with her.

The thought of what she'd have to face tomorrow made her feel physically sick, and the less she tried to think about it, the more it became all she could focus on. Every breath she took became more strangled than the last and she soon found herself in the grip of a massive panic attack — something she hadn't suffered from since leaving witch training college, and the watchful eye of Mistress Heckitty Broomhead.

Constance gently closed her eyes, focusing all of her energies on clearing her mind and taking herself back to her calming place, knowing that she had to regain control of her senses and pronto! She took a deep breath, and then took another, and then one more after that, eventually feeling her quickening heart rate slow before returning to normal.

A single tear broke free from her dark eyes. The rest quickly followed suit as the iron cage buckled and the floodgates broke.

The normally stoic witch was reduced to a blubbering mess. Burying her head in her arms, her narrow shoulders shook under the weight of her normally suppressed emotions as she cried for her past, cried for her present, and cried for the academy's future.

Mildred Hubble's mouth hung open in shock, unable to believe what she had just witnessed. She couldn't recall ever having seen Miss Hardbroom shed so much a single tear before, and yet here she was now, having what looked like some sort of emotional breakdown.

Hovering outside the classroom, the twelve-year old bit down gently on her lip, a little unsure of what she should do next. For at least half a second, Mildred considered just backing away, knowing that Miss Hardbroom would be beyond mortified to have been caught in such a vulnerable state — and by her worst pupil nonetheless! But she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was a large part of what made her Mildred Hubble: she hated to see anyone in pain.

With her decision made, Mildred slowly counted to three, mentally preparing herself to enter the laboratory, telling herself she would deal with the consequences later. No sooner had she taken a step forward, the aged floorboards creaked beneath her feet. The sound seemed to echo, amplifying in volume as it reverberated along the corridor.

Startled out of her reverie by the sound of approaching footsteps, panic flashed in Constance Hardbroom's bloodshot eyes, and she vanished into thin air.

Maybe if she had just gone into the potions laboratory that night or even tried to find Miss Hardbroom after she had disappeared, she might have been able to stop her.

As much as she wanted to believe in her own words, Mildred knew that it was just wishful thinking on her part. She had spoken with her mum about it, at her various points over the years, always wondering if she could have done more, but now she knew for definite that it didn't matter what she had or hadn't said or done, as it would never have changed the outcome.

The simple truth was that Constance Hardbroom had left because she was afraid.

Although she was still very much in the dark as to the specifics that had ultimately led to the older woman's decision that fateful night, Mildred could at least sympathise, knowing first-hand how difficult trying to face up to one's fears could be. She could actually remember asking the headmistress, during spells' class one afternoon, whether fear could be magicked away, and now she found herself wondering as to what the reply might have been if a certain someone else had been the one heading up the class that day.

Given that she had always been such a force to be reckoned with, it was sometimes easy to forget that Constance-the-all-powerful-superwitch-Hardbroom was still human. In fact, there had been a short while after she had first begun her education at Cackle's, where a young Mildred Hubble had truly believed that there was nothing capable of phasing scary, old HB ... until she had realised that the teacher was just a good actress.

A very good actress.

Underneath the clever guise of withering glances and pointed tones, Mildred suspected that the deputy was probably the most scared of them all.

Having noticed where Mildred's eyes were focused, Heckitty Broomhead waved her hand casually, as if she were disregarding something that was of little importance. "Oh, now don't worry about her; Dear Constance and I have just been getting reacquainted. After all, we never did get a chance to catch-up all those years ago when I first came to Cackle's," she simpered away.

Her tones were light and airy, and if it weren't for the look of maddened possession in her eyes as she continued to stare at the unconscious Hardbroom, they might have been believable too.

"... Such a pity."

Out of habit, more than anything else, Mildred instinctively reached into her pocket to retrieve her phone, before remembering that she had left it on charge, having wrongly assumed that she was only going to be a few minutes — not that an iPhone was really going to be much of a match against Heckitty Broomhead! Withdrawing her hand as nonchalantly as possible, she forced herself to look the old crone right in the eye, while she racked her brain, trying to work out how exactly she was going to get herself — and Miss Hardbroom — out of this predicament.

"Now then, Mildred," Heckitty continued on, stopping briefly to light up her cigarette before leaning back in her armchair, clearly enjoying every minute of this oscar-worthy performance. "Since our hostess is temporarily ... indisposed, would you like a cup of tea?"

"What the hell have you done to her?" Mildred practically hissed, her previous fears momentarily forgotten. She could feel the remnants of dark magic circling the brunette and instinctively shifted a step nearer to Constance, feeling the unexplainable need to protect her from this monster. Although the elder witch passed no comment, the barely suppressed smirk told Mildred all that she needed to know.

Heckitty inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine touch every inch of the inside of her lungs, before she exhaled; the puff of smoke that filled the air only adding to her already dragon-like persona. "Why don't you take a seat, Mildred?" she offered, her free hand gesturing to the empty sofa. "After all, you might be here for a while."

It may have been posed to her as a seemingly innocent question, but Mildred knew that Mistress Broomhead certainly wasn't asking.

Looking from the unconscious witch on the floor to the spot Heckitty was indicating to, and then back again, she reluctantly sat down, tentatively positioning herself on the very edge of the armchair, lest she suddenly need to leap into action.

With a smile, Heckitty waved her hand and a fresh pot of tea appeared, along with two cups.

As they drank their tea in silence, Heckitty studied Mildred intently, barely able to believe her luck at the bargaining chip that had just landed on the doorstep ...

The way the beady, reptilian-like eyes were staring at her was not exactly helping in calming her nerves any. Desperately trying to avoid the harsh gaze that she knew was upon her, Mildred found herself rather unintentionally doing her nosy around the room. There wasn't a lot to see.

It was rather sparse in decor, but bar being a little on the messy side — something that seemed very outwith what she knew of the persona of Constance Hardbroom - it certainly looked to be clean enough. On the far left hand corner, there was a pile of cardboard boxes. Some of their contents had spilled out and over the floor, so she felt right in her assumption that much like herself, maybe the teacher had only recently moved in, and so was still trying to get the place looking ship-shape. Until she glanced sight of the worktop, through the largely ajar kitchen door.

For the second time that afternoon, Mildred could feel her heart breaking for her former form mistress.

If it was anyone else, she would have simply put it down to the results of an early housewarming party, and then thought nothing more of it. But this ... this was the inner turmoil of a woman who was clearly self-medicating.

Unfortunately, Heckitty Broomhead didn't miss a trick.

"Ah, yes," the elder witch remarked somewhat conversationally, while studying her nails with a feigned disinterest. "It would appear that it runs in the family."

"What does?"

"Let's just say that Mother Hardbroom had a penchant for a libation or two. Or three. Or, well, I'm sure you get the picture."

Though she had grown up in a non-witch household, not knowing that magic truly existed until she was about eleven, Mildred Hubble's childhood had been a carefree one, filled with plenty of love and just as much laughter. Even as a small child though, she hadn't been naive enough to think that everyone's life was as happy as hers. Her best friend from childhood, Cassidy, had had a borderline alcoholic for a father, and Mildred had seen first hand on visits to her house just how much damage booze could do to a family.

She still spoke with Cassidy on occasion, keeping in touch through the modern wonders of Facebook, and although Cassidy was forming a future for herself, it was evident that her stormy childhood had gone on to shape the rest of her life. Slowly, she turned her attentions away from Cassidy Turner, and back to another woman, whose name also began with a 'C'; thinking that it certainly went a long way to explaining Miss Hardbroom's previously almost obsessive need to always be in control. Mildred was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realise Heckitty was still talking.

"Frankly though, I must say I'm a little surprised Constance has gone the same way ... especially after what happened to Mummy Dearest."

"Why," Mildred asked, hoping that she came across braver than she currently felt. "What happened to her mum?"

"Alcohol poisoning," Heckitty answered solemnly as she picked up her teacup, lowering her voice so that the young woman only just heard her and no more. "One needs to be so careful around hemlock."

It took a couple of minutes for Heckitty's words to register in her mind, but the minute they had, Mildred's brain collapsed into itself, horror and terror washing over her at the exact same time.

Hemlock, scientifically known as Conium maculate was one of the most deadliest plants in existence.

Mildred could still remember the extensive lecture Miss Hardbroom had gifted upon them all during potions class one dulll March afternoon, as well as the two-hour double lesson she had then spent further outlining its dangers.

"... You killed her," Mildred said breathily, whispering the words.

She didn't even realise she had said them aloud, until Heckitty forcefully set her teacup down on its saucer; her eyes never leaving Mildred's as she sniffed indignantly.

"I may have sped up the process, but it was always inevitable. Vivienne Hardbroom was nothing but a drunk who would quite happily have sold her daughter to the gypsies if it got her a bottle of vodka. All this talk about wanting to 'get help' and 'be a better mother' was just that, talk. If young Constance was to stand any chance of becoming even half the witch she was destined to be, then I needed her under my sole instruction. A sacrifice had to be made. I believe you'll find the term to be 'collateral damage,' Miss Hubble."

There was not an ounce of remorse in her voice as she spoke. In fact, her previously emotionless tone seemed to spark with a sudden vitality, clearly deriving pleasure in causing the misfortune of others.

An image of a little girl with long, dark hair, trapped at the mercy of this woman suddenly flashed in Mildred's mind, and she forced herself to swallow the nausea rising in her throat.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, magical torture does tend to be rather draining." Heckitty stood, walking over to where Constance's unconscious form was still sprawled across the carpet, and Mildred felt herself wince as the pointy-toed boots struck the brunette hard in the ribs. "Do let me know when sleeping beauty decides to grace us with her presence," With that, she disappeared.

Mildred remained rooted to the spot, unsure if she could actually move. She had assumed at first that Broomhead was only using her a ploy to toy with HB, but she now feared she was in as much danger as the witch currently passed out on the floor. Everything in her was itching to go to Miss Hardbroom, but the room was still icy cold, suggesting that Heckitty Broomhead hadn't completely left the building.

She was right.

"Oh, and Mildred," a disembodied voice whispered lowly in her ear just before the air finally began to warm again. "Don't try anything foolish."

Regaining control over her limbs again, Mildred immediately rushed over to where Constance lay and knelt down next to her, carefully assessing her injuries.

"Miss Hardbroom?"

There was no reply.

Despite the very real and life-threatening circumstances, an oddly calming sense of déjà vu washed over her as she remembered that this was not the first time they had been in this position.

Even now, she could recall holding her hand, gently rubbing the long, bony digits in a futile attempt to keep her teacher warm; her concern growing rapidly over just how cold the older witch seemed to be. She had done her best to keep her warm in the hours they had been at sea: her cloak had become a makeshift blanket and Tabby a somewhat unwilling fur stoal. She could still hear the crack in her own voice as she had begged, practically pleading with her teacher to wake up, whispering to her over and over again in a panic-induced frenzy, only for each heartfelt plea to be met with silence as Constance's eyes had remained closed.

Mildred had always thought that there was nothing scarier than HB when she was in her usual "HB-mode", but seeing her so vulnerable was honestly a million times scarier!

Once rescued and revived, the deputy had spent the remainder of the holiday in bed, plus a week once they had arrived back at the school, still suffering from the remnants of concussion, a bad cold, and a slightly sprained ankle.

The Hubble had been convinced that HB was really going to hate her now and so had been surprised to learn that she didn't. She had visited Miss Hardbroom while she was still on bedrest, partly due to own guilt and partly because she had to know that she was okay, and they had had the most enlightening of brief conversations. While she would never proclaim to understand the enigma that was Constance Hardbroom, she felt she had gotten just a little glimpse into the woman beneath the glare and the bun.

Wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, Mildred gently took hold of the frozen porcelain hand and gave it a squeeze, sensing that this woman needed the comfort, now more than ever.

Her eyes flickered.

She barely managed to open them a slither before they immediately closed again, deciding that the light was too much to cope with. For a while, she simply drifted in the comforting blanket of a black oblivion. Soon though, she found herself floating, seemingly suspended in a void of white nothingness. For a second, she wondered idly if she was dead and if this was her purgatory.

With a lot more effort than she possessed, Constance eventually managed to force her eyes to open. A hand immediately went to her head as if to ease the pain that was currently piercing through her skull like a red hot poker. Everything felt fuzzy and distorted. The world was the same as it always was, but it was as if all the edges had blurred.

Crawling onto her knees, using her hands to support herself, she attempted to stand; every nerve-ending burning as she did so. As she rose to her feet, she felt her blood run cold, remembering how she had been knocked out in the first place.

Heckitty!

Mentally sifting through a selection of spells she could use to defend herself, Constance immediately discounted as many, knowing as she did that Mistress Broomhead never played fair. Magic had a nasty habit of acting off its own intentions and she knew that she had to be very careful with what she tried next. Finally managing to hold her own weight, albeit a little unsteady on her feet, she turned, ready to face the music and accept whatever her fate was going to deliver.

"Mildred Hubble?" Constance whispered in utter disbelief.

The former 'worst witch' of Cackle's Academy was the absolute last person she had expected to see standing in her living room. She didn't know if it was planned or mere fortuitous. An unfortunately good fortune that had landed right into Heckitty's lap. Either way, it spelled trouble.

"Miss Hubble here dropped by to borrow some sugar, but I wasn't sure where you kept it so I suggested we waited on you joining us back in the land of the living." Heckitty smiled, her eyes maliciously flicking back and forth between the pair. "Now then, I don't know about you two, but I, for one, happen to think that revenge is much sweeter."