Safely back within the confines of her own room, Hecketty Broomhead finally let go of the anger that she had been holding inside since her rather fractious departure from Cackle's Academy. Mr Hallow had invited her to the school; had led her to believe that she could be in a position to take over the running of the place...what he had neglected to tell her was that the staff were going to conspire against her and the pupils were going to drive her to the very edge of insanity.

She slammed her meagre luggage down upon her narrow hard bed and began pacing impatiently back and forth trying to deal with her anger.

How dare Amelia Cackle have the temerity to eject her from the school and to address her in such a manner; that was insulting enough. What aggrieved her more was the unsettling feeling of betrayal; Constance had gone behind her back to get in touch with Amelia. She had betrayed the trust that had been placed in her. That hurt most of all. Constance had been a pupil of hers; a very definite protégé. She had considered her as someone she could rely upon. She had not envisaged that her former star pupil would turn on her in this way.

She clenched and unclenched her fists as she sought to reign in her steadily growing temper. There was no point in sitting and quietly fuming about it; it was time to do something positive and act.

There were so many things that she could do to redress the balance; to re-level the playing field as it were. It was just a case of working out what.

She cast her eyes over the tall shelves full of spellbooks that occupied one wall of her otherwise Spartan accommodation and allowed herself a small smile. There were so many ways to gain revenge that she barely knew where to start. She reached for a favourite book of enchantments but pulled up short; such a revenge, although immediate, would be ultimately hollow and lacking in the required degree of satisfaction.

Her fingers brushed past the well worn leather spine of the book and travelled along the shelf until they came into contact with the elegant curved outline of an exquisite porcelain doll.

Carefully she picked the figurine from its place on the shelf and held it up to the light. As perfect in form as a Meissen, the glaze on the porcelain was a luminous white, giving the face an almost lifelike sheen.

Hecketty smiled and ran a finger down the long flowing outline of the figure before replacing it back in its place on the shelf.... oh yes; there were many avenues of revenge open to her. There was no need to rush anything...if served correctly; revenge was one dish that could not only be served cold, but could also be revelled in for an eternity.

From its place on the shelf; frozen in helpless immobility, two aged eyes stared back pleadingly at Hecketty... begging for that day of final release. Two tiny rivulets of tears ran down the otherwise frozen face of the doll; a hopeless symbol in the presence of someone who didn't understand the meaning of mercy.

Hecketty looked into the anguished gaze and smiled. Oh yes, she decided, there were far better ways of gaining revenge than casting a quick spell.