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“Go and get Ms. Yasmeen at once and bring her here,” the Headmistress instructed him. “Tell her to dismiss her class early—she is needed urgently and I don’t think she’ll be back before the bell.”
The little gerrund bowed again and took off like a shot, leaving the office and scampering down the hall on his teeny booted feet.
He was back in next to no time with Ms. Yasmeen, who taught Megan’s Elementary Casting class as well as much more advanced material, I knew. She was a tall, thin woman with carroty hair who always dressed like she was going to a swanky cocktail party rather than spending the day teaching. Today she had on a deep red dress that clashed magnificently with her orange hair, along with a frown on her face when she saw the nearly exhausted but still laughing Mrs. Hornsby.
“What in the world?” she murmured, frowning at the Home Ec teacher.
“That is what I am hoping you can tell me,” Headmistress Nightworthy said. “According to Miss Latimer and Miss Fellows, Mrs. Hornsby took a bite of their cake in order to grade it and suddenly started laughing. And she has not been able to stop.”
“But I swear I didn’t do it to her, Ms. Yasmeen,” Megan put in. “We think Nancy Rattcliff and her friends might have something to do with it, only I don’t see how since I put a spell on her to make sure she could only work nice magic that benefited other people.”
“Hmm…” Ms. Yasmeen nodded. “Well, that would explain why I don’t sense any evidence of evil or harmful magic around her.” She looked closer at Mrs. Hornsby and then reached out to tap her forehead with a fingertip as she murmured a few words in Latin.
Mrs. Hornsby’s mad cackling slowed down a bit, but it didn’t stop completely. She acted like you do when you’re trying not to laugh somewhere inappropriate (like in church) but you keep starting up again anyway, even though you’re trying hard not to.
“Not…not funny!” she gasped and giggled angrily as she stared at me and Megan. “Put…put me under a…ha-ha! A spell!”
“No, we didn’t, Mrs. Hornsby—honestly!” Megan said quickly. “We would never do something like this!”
But Mrs. Hornsby did not look convinced.
“Don’t lie!” she exclaimed and then went off into a gale of giggles.
“I believe this is a simple ‘cheer up’ spell,” Ms. Yasmeen, murmured, still studying the Home Ec teacher from all angles, as though she was an interesting scientific specimen. “However, its strength has been tripled and it has been applied three times and by three different people. Such three-squared magic is exceedingly strong and difficult to break.” She looked at Mistress Nightworthy. “I am afraid I cannot stop her laughing completely without doing a ritual with the entire coven on the night of the full moon.”
“Ha-ha-ha-ha—what?” Mrs. Hornsby demanded. “Can’t…heeheehee…wait that long!”
Headmistress Nightworthy frowned.
“Yes, I am afraid that is less than optimal timing, considering that the moon is new right now—we would have to wait almost a month to effect the cure.”
“Well, I can look through the grimoires in the Spell Library.” Ms. Yasmeen sounded doubtful. “But there aren’t usually counter spells for good magic.”
“This…ha-ha-ha…is not good! Hee-hee!” Mrs. Hornsby exclaimed—she was snarling and laughing at the same time as she spoke—a very odd combination.
“I can help her—at least I think I can,” Megan volunteered. “Only, I’ll need your permission, Headmistress,” she went on, looking up at Headmistress Nightworthy. “And something to stick myself with.”
For a moment the tall Nocturne Headmistress looked uncertain but a glance at Mrs. Hornsby, who was still giggling angrily in fits and starts, seemed to decide her.
“Very well, Miss Latimer,” she said, frowning. “This one time only you may perform your magic outside of class.”
“Thank you.” Megan nodded respectfully. “Now, if anyone has a pin?”
“Here you are, Miss Latimer.”
Ms. Yasmeen pulled what appeared to be an ivory chopstick engraved with strange symbols out of her long, orange hair. She spoke a few words over it and the end sharpened to a point as sharp as any needle.
“Thank you.” Megan took the sharpened chopstick from her and poked the pad of her left index finger. As a drop of ruby red blood welled on her fingertip, she looked at Mrs. Hornsby and simply said, “Stop laughing.”
At once the Home Ec teacher stopped giggling and sank, gasping, onto a high-backed chair wooden across from the Headmistress’s desk.
“Oh!” she moaned, lifting the bottom of her apron to wipe at her face with trembling hands. “Oh, that was awful!”
“It most certainly was, I am sure,” Mistress Nightworthy said. “Myra, I am so sorry—”
“You promised me!” Mrs. Hornsby interrupted, pointing a shaking finger at the Headmistress. “You promised me when I agreed to take the job at this screwy place, that no ‘magical mishaps’ would befall me. Those are your words, Headmistress Nightworthy—not mine. You said that all the teachers here were ‘warded against bad magic.’ You promised!”
