CHAPTER ONE
t was early in the morning on what promised to be a fine day in March, a bit blustery but a perfect start for the first day of Summer Term at Miss Cackle’s Academy for Witches.
Dawn had only just broken when a lone figure on a broomstick came swooping and diving through the flocks of early-morning birds, soaring among them with such confidence that from a distance it almost looked like another bird.
The pilot was Ethel Hallow, top student at Miss Cackle’s Academy, early as usual and eager to be the first pupil to alight in the schoolyard.
She slowed to an easy pace and hitched her suitcase more securely on to the broom, as it had shifted duringa rather ambitious nosedive. Her cat, Nightstar, was wedged between the suitcase and a bundle of box fles, one leg in the air, doing some serious washing without a care in the world.
Ethel dropped down a little so that she was skimming the top of the forest which surrounded the academy for several kilometres. She could see the school now, misty on the horizon. There was no one else about, she was sure to be the first – she could take it more slowly from here.
Unusually, Ethel was anxious. The whole class had been set a holiday project and, for once, she hadn’t been able to get to grips with it. Normally, the project would involve pupils looking things up in their Spell Sessions book and learning some complicated new spell that they hadn’t been allowed to tackle before. However, this one was different. Miss Hardbroom, their extremely strictand exacting form mistress, had given them a completely free rein and simply told them to come back with something unusual and interesting.
‘That doesn’t mean you just give it five minutes’ consideration on your way back here next term!’ Miss Hardbroom had warned them on the last day of the previous term. ‘You’ve all been here long enough, so I’m expecting you to have a little self-motivation and imagination by now.’
Imagination – or the lack of it – was the trouble where Ethel was concerned. It was her only weak point and she found herself in the unheard-of (for her) position of doing exactly what Miss Hardbroom had told them not to do – trying to think up a brilliant project in five minutes fat on the way back to school.
Something caught her eye below and she saw, to her surprise, a tabby cat inthe topmost branches of a beech tree. It miaowed pitifully as she dropped lower and Ethel realized that she could see the top of a school hat, slightly bent, and a figure partly hidden by the tangled branches. That hat! That cat ! It could only be Mildred Hubble.
‘Mildred?’ called Ethel, hovering expertly like a helicopter above the little cat’s upturned face. ‘Is that you down there? Are you OK?’
The hat leaned back, revealing Mildred Hubble’s face. ‘Oh hi, Ethel,’ she said. ‘ You’re early. I just stopped here for a little rest – well, actually, Tabs fell off and I came down to save him and then we stopped for a rest. He’s done quite well so far, considering how scared he is of flying. It’s so difficult now that we have to keep them on the brooms all the time. Flying was so much easier when we could just bung them in their baskets.’
‘Easier for you , you mean,’ said Ethel, hovering down through the branches until she found a space next to Mildred. ‘Nightstar was just born to fly. She was brilliant from day one.’
‘Hmm,’ mumbled Mildred. ‘Yes, well, you’ve always been the lucky one, Ethel. It wasn’t my fault I was given Tabby – though he’s got a lovely nature and he’s the perfect pet, even if he can’t do anything else.’
Ethel arranged her broom and luggage carefully behind a cluster of branches which grew from the trunk like a giant upturned hand.
‘Budge up,’ she said, sitting down next to Mildred. ‘What’s that in your cat basket?’ she asked, peering inside the basket, where there was definitely something lurking at the far
t was early in the morning on what promised to be a fine day in March, a bit blustery but a perfect start for the first day of Summer Term at Miss Cackle’s Academy for Witches.
Dawn had only just broken when a lone figure on a broomstick came swooping and diving through the flocks of early-morning birds, soaring among them with such confidence that from a distance it almost looked like another bird.
The pilot was Ethel Hallow, top student at Miss Cackle’s Academy, early as usual and eager to be the first pupil to alight in the schoolyard.
She slowed to an easy pace and hitched her suitcase more securely on to the broom, as it had shifted duringa rather ambitious nosedive. Her cat, Nightstar, was wedged between the suitcase and a bundle of box fles, one leg in the air, doing some serious washing without a care in the world.
Ethel dropped down a little so that she was skimming the top of the forest which surrounded the academy for several kilometres. She could see the school now, misty on the horizon. There was no one else about, she was sure to be the first – she could take it more slowly from here.
Unusually, Ethel was anxious. The whole class had been set a holiday project and, for once, she hadn’t been able to get to grips with it. Normally, the project would involve pupils looking things up in their Spell Sessions book and learning some complicated new spell that they hadn’t been allowed to tackle before. However, this one was different. Miss Hardbroom, their extremely strictand exacting form mistress, had given them a completely free rein and simply told them to come back with something unusual and interesting.
‘That doesn’t mean you just give it five minutes’ consideration on your way back here next term!’ Miss Hardbroom had warned them on the last day of the previous term. ‘You’ve all been here long enough, so I’m expecting you to have a little self-motivation and imagination by now.’
Imagination – or the lack of it – was the trouble where Ethel was concerned. It was her only weak point and she found herself in the unheard-of (for her) position of doing exactly what Miss Hardbroom had told them not to do – trying to think up a brilliant project in five minutes fat on the way back to school.
Something caught her eye below and she saw, to her surprise, a tabby cat inthe topmost branches of a beech tree. It miaowed pitifully as she dropped lower and Ethel realized that she could see the top of a school hat, slightly bent, and a figure partly hidden by the tangled branches. That hat! That cat ! It could only be Mildred Hubble.
‘Mildred?’ called Ethel, hovering expertly like a helicopter above the little cat’s upturned face. ‘Is that you down there? Are you OK?’
The hat leaned back, revealing Mildred Hubble’s face. ‘Oh hi, Ethel,’ she said. ‘ You’re early. I just stopped here for a little rest – well, actually, Tabs fell off and I came down to save him and then we stopped for a rest. He’s done quite well so far, considering how scared he is of flying. It’s so difficult now that we have to keep them on the brooms all the time. Flying was so much easier when we could just bung them in their baskets.’
‘Easier for you , you mean,’ said Ethel, hovering down through the branches until she found a space next to Mildred. ‘Nightstar was just born to fly. She was brilliant from day one.’
‘Hmm,’ mumbled Mildred. ‘Yes, well, you’ve always been the lucky one, Ethel. It wasn’t my fault I was given Tabby – though he’s got a lovely nature and he’s the perfect pet, even if he can’t do anything else.’
Ethel arranged her broom and luggage carefully behind a cluster of branches which grew from the trunk like a giant upturned hand.
‘Budge up,’ she said, sitting down next to Mildred. ‘What’s that in your cat basket?’ she asked, peering inside the basket, where there was definitely something lurking at the far
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