Polly wakes up to the murmuring of Miss Spinnaker’s voice above her. She opens her eyes slowly. It takes a moment to work out where she is.

Eventually things swim into focus and she recognises the ceiling of the school sick bay. She has visited here enough to know the long crack above the door that looks like a spider’s leg. Polly often has headaches that take her to sick bay, but nothing like this one.

She slides her eyes slowly to the right, where she can hear Miss Spinnaker’s voice and the gentle jangling of her jewellery.

Her brain clenches in pain.

Polly closes her eyes again as her teacher rests a cool palm on her forehead. Some of the pain disappears.

‘We’ve called your mother,’ Miss Spinnaker says. ‘She’s on her way.’

Polly screws her eyes closed even tighter. ‘My head hurts …’ she murmurs.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Miss Spinnaker says. ‘That was quite a spell you cast back there.’

Images flash into Polly’s mind. Sparks flying from her fingertips. Rage boiling through her. The terrified looks on the monsters’ faces as they hung from the walls.

Buster, coiled tight and small on the floor.

Polly opens her eyes again. They feel dry and scratchy, as if she has stood too close to a fire.

‘I don’t know how it happened,’ Polly whispers. Hot tears leak from her eyes and run down her burning cheeks.

Miss Spinnaker looks at her with concern. Then she glances over her shoulder, leans in, and lowers her voice. ‘I didn’t see what happened. But based on what I saw when I got there, and from reports of those who did see it, you cast an extraordinary spell for a witch of your age. Extraordinary.’

Polly sees the glimmer of a smile twitch at the corners of Miss Spinnaker’s mouth. ‘And for someone who has trouble making potions? I have to be frank, I am more than a little surprised. Did you know you could do that?’

‘No!’ Polly says, trying to sit up. A blinding flash of light forces her head back onto the pillow. ‘No,’ she says again, more quietly this time. She begins to shake. ‘Miss Spinnaker, I’m scared,’ she says. ‘It was horrible. It was like … it was like there was something in me. Something I couldn’t control. I don’t ever want to feel that again. Can you take it out of me? I don’t want that to happen to me again.’

‘Polly,’ Miss Spinnaker says. She turns Polly’s face so that she is forced to look directly into her teacher’s eyes. ‘Polly. Listen to me. Yes, I could probably take it out of you, or if not me, the headmistress could. There are spells to remove magic abilities when they aren’t being used properly. But why would you want that? What you have is a gift. It’s an enormous power. Just imagine what you could do with it, once you learn to how to use it properly. I have been teaching at this school for over twenty years and I’ve never seen such power in a witch as young as you. Imagine, with training, what incredible spells you could do!’

Polly turns away again, and closes her eyes. All she can see is her dear friend Buster, curled up and hurt on the gallery floor.

Where is he now? she wonders. Is he OK?

To her surprise, her teacher seems to read her mind. ‘Your monster friend is OK,’ she says calmly. ‘I phoned his school to check up on him.’

Polly jerks her eyes open. ‘He’s not my –’

‘It’s OK, Polly,’ Miss Spinnaker says very quietly, a small smile on her face. ‘Not all witches and warlocks think the same way about monsters. I happen to have quite a few close monster friends myself.’

Polly’s mouth drops open. ‘Really? But my mum says witches shouldn’t mix with monsters.’

Miss Spinnaker frowns. ‘Unfortunately quite a lot of witches feel like that, Polly. Especially those on the Committee, like your mother. Does she know you are friendly with the monster who was being bullied at the gallery?’

Polly nods solemnly. ‘But I promised her I’d keep it a secret. She will be so upset if other people find out. I think she’s worried about what the other mums will say if they know she lets me play with monsters.’

‘Well, there’s no real reason for the other mothers to find out,’ Miss Spinnaker says, and a curious smile twists her lips. ‘When I arrived, I rushed over to Malorie to find out what had happened. It will probably come as a surprise to hear, but she remembered the events quite differently.’

‘Really?’ says Polly.

Miss Spinnaker nods. ‘In her eyes, the spell you did was to protect her, not your monster friend. I heard another story from the teacher at Darklands, which I guessed was the true story, as I haven’t known you and Malorie to be that close before. And I know that monsters don’t usually pick on witches for no reason. But as far as Malorie is concerned, you’re her hero! I have no reason to convince anyone otherwise.’

‘Ha!’ Polly laughs weakly. She would laugh louder if her head didn’t ache so much. ‘Me, a hero? That’s pretty funny.’

Miss Spinnaker takes Polly’s hand and smiles at her kindly. ‘Standing up for a friend is being a hero, Polly. No matter who that friend might be. Witch or monster.’

Her teacher pauses to narrow her eyes at Polly. ‘Which is why, Miss Oleander Proggett,’ she continues sternly, using Polly’s full name to show just how serious she is, ‘the headmistress and I have decided not to suspend you from the Academy for using magic out of school grounds this time.’

Polly fiddles with the thin cotton blanket that has been tucked in around her.

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she says glumly. ‘I got so mad, and then it just … happened.’

‘I understand,’ says Miss Spinnaker, her voice softening again. ‘Oh, look! Here’s your mother. Just in time, Mrs Proggett. Polly has just woken up. I’m sure she’ll be very happy to see you.’

‘Oh, Polly!’ her mother says, dashing into the room and crouching by Polly’s side. ‘What happened?’

Miss Spinnaker turns to Polly’s mother. ‘Polly was protecting her friend from some unsupervised monsters from Darklands …’

Polly bites down on the smile that is twisting her lips. She is very impressed with the clever way her teacher has told the truth without actually telling the whole truth.

‘She did quite a spell, Mrs Proggett! A Protector spell, to be accurate. Quite unlike anything I’ve seen in a witch so young. Do you have any Black Witches in the family?’

Polly’s mother frowns. ‘Oh, Polly. You poor thing!’ Then she turns to answer Miss Spinnaker. ‘Black Witches? No! Oh, but Polly’s father was quite gifted at spells. He worked for the mining company before …’ Her mother’s voice drifts off sadly.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Proggett,’ Miss Spinnaker says softly. ‘I had heard that Polly’s father was in the accident.’

The two of them sit quietly for a moment, remembering all the lives that were lost when the mine collapsed five years ago.

‘And Aunt Hilda?’ Polly croaks, reminding her mother.

‘Oh, yes, that’s right. Polly’s aunt on her father’s side had all the makings of a Black Witch. But she ran away from home at sixteen,’ Mrs Proggett sighs. ‘We don’t like to talk about her much. Anyway, no-one on my side of the family.’

She puts her hand on her daughter’s burning forehead.

‘Gosh, you were very brave, Polly, to stand up to those monsters,’ she says, before turning back to Polly’s teacher. ‘You do realise, Miss Spinnaker, that the Committee aren’t going to like hearing there were unsupervised monsters at the gallery? Even if they were from Darklands. Deidre Halloway has been saying for a long time that monsters are a menace. I must say, after today, I am beginning to agree with her. It’s infuriating that the Mayor won’t take this threat seriously enough.’

‘Well, I am sure our Mayor will create new rules as she sees fit,’ Miss Spinnaker says calmly, ‘but I don’t think monsters mean to cause any harm. Yes, they may be noisy and a little boisterous at times, but we all know there hasn’t been a witch harmed by a monster since the uprising of ’77. And I don’t see signs of that changing any time soon.’

‘Well, I hope you are right, Miss Spinnaker,’ says Polly’s mother, shaking her head. ‘I really do hope you are right.’