Disclaimer: I don't own The Worst Witch.

A/N: Hello folks :) I'm not sure what this is to be honest, but it's a rather random (and I really do mean random) idea that entered my brain this afternoon and now it won't leave me alone! I admit that the concept was something I saw elsewhere on the site - but from the next chapter onwards my set-up and storyline will differ. I'm not altogether sure where this fic is going (since when has that ever stopped me? ;) ) but the rating might change later down the line.

This chapter may be a bit OOC so if it is I apologise, but it was really hard to set-up.


Phasma Phasmatis

Chapter 1

The faint click of her heels echoed against the flagstone of the hallowed halls as she walked through the castle's corridors at her usual brisk pace, noting how quiet it was. It was quiet; too quiet. It was something she had picked up on immediately, her ears long trained to detect the slightest whisper of trouble in her many years of teaching but there was nothing, instead the sound of silence surrounded her; something that instantly had her on alert. Though she couldn't be sure what the exact time was, the rays of bright sunshine streaming through the windows suggested that it was still rather early on in the day and if that was the case then the girls should've been in lessons but corridors, classrooms, and even bedrooms were empty. She was certainly looking forward to hearing their excuses later on, and if they were anything less than Oscar worthy then there would be even more hell to pay than the trouble they were already in.

As she passed by the potions laboratory she stopped. This was her sanctuary; her place to hide from the world. Turning the handle and opening the door she stepped inside, already feeling the usual feeling of bliss wash over her as always happened when she was engrossed in her passion. Her eyes scanned the room drinking in her surroundings as if she'd never see it again; everything from the shelf of books on the far right to the mini cauldrons that sat on the workbenches and were used on a daily basis by the girls. Finally her eyes came to rest on the potions cabinet; the place that housed her life's work, lined with shelf after shelf of potions that she had brewed throughout the years: both practical and experimental.

It was her pride and joy.

Running her finger along one of the glass shelves she tutted upon seeing the dust on her finger, testament to just how dusty the shelves were. She was horrified. She never let the shelves build up dust, spending up to a good two hours each day dusting them and the bottles containing the potions; everything had to be clean and it especially had to, just had to be perfect. Making a mental note to scold whoever was last given the job of cleaning them in detention she set about rectifying the damage, finding the task in hand to be rather therapeutic as she tried to ignore the strange feeling within her that told her she wasn't supposed to be here.

Satisfied it was up to her standards she carefully closed the doors before turning on her heel.

Walking through the corridor she entered the staffroom, fully expecting it to be full of hustle and bustle; of Imogen trying to introduce some new fangled sports game to the curriculum or her colleagues standing outside the stationery cupboard door as they tried to coax Davina to come out through the promises of fresh fruit salad and cream and bunches of carnations for her to snack on, but it wasn't...it was empty.

'What on earth is going on?' she wondered.

She noticed that the wastepaper basket was overflowing with tissues and bits of paper crumpled into balls were spilling out of it and onto the floor. Slightly puzzled she walked over to it and bent down to retrieve one of them. Unfolding it she strained her eyes as she tried to read the words that were written on it, but to no avail; most of them had been scribbled out with a firm force and most of the rest were illegible, letters smeared on the page and smudged from what appeared to be droplets of water.

Placing the paper on the table she sat down in her usual chair to try and decipher what was written on the page. The silence of the room was broken as the cuckoo clock chimed. It really was one of the most irritating things that Davina had brought back from her travels. It didn't seem to chime on the hour, it was more like every 10 minutes, but Amelia hadn't wanted to hurt her feelings and had allowed it to be the staffroom clock.

Which was all well and good until Davina had bewitched it to chime with a different bird sound each time. It was like being in a menagerie!

The sound of the door opening caught her attention and she looked up to see Amelia had entered the staffroom.

'Finally some normality' she thought before she studied her closer.

Her plump figure was much thinner than usual; the material of her black dress seemed baggy against her frame and her eyes were red-rimmed.

"Good Afternoon Headmistress."

Amelia didn't answer, instead she simply stared straight at the spot Constance was sat and looked right through her.


"Is everything alright?"

Amelia choked back a sob before backing out of the staffroom and half-running down the corridor.

Looking at the spot where Amelia had been standing only minutes before, confusion quickly found its way to her features.

'What was all that about?'

So many questions flooded through her mind like running water.

'Why was the school so quiet?'

'Why was Amelia ignoring her?'

The clock chimed again, signalling that it was now 1.30pm.

'And why wasn't she teaching potions right now?'

Something very strange was going on.

Something wasn't right and she was going to find out what it was.

A/N: Yes ... so this is the result of listening to the legend that is Kate Bush and playing (and singing) 'Running Up That Hill' for hours on end last night; always been my favourite song of hers. :)