The Wicked Witch of the South East - Part 1

nce upon a time, in a kingdom not so very far away, there lived a witch of a most peculiar sort.

  

She was not a kind witch, nor a gentle one. Indeed, she was renowned for being proud, spiteful and thoroughly unpleasant. Wherever she went, those who crossed her path were left wondering what terrible enchantment had taken hold of her heart.

 

For no one could quite understand how a person could become so bitter.

 

Had some dreadful misfortune befallen her in her youth, leaving her heart cold and bleak? Had some wicked curse been cast upon her when she was but a child? Or perhaps—though some whispered it only behind firmly closed doors—she had simply been born with a swinging brick where a heart ought to have been.

 

Whatever the truth, the years passed, and the young witch grew older and more ambitious.

 

She set her sights upon a grand position: that of Head Witch at one of the kingdom's most respected schools of magic, nestled among the leafy hills of the south-east, close to the great capital itself.

 

Now, this was no small undertaking.

 

For the witch had already travelled from school to school across the kingdom, leaving behind her a curious trail of quarrels, broken spirits and considerable destruction. Yet such things did not trouble her. She was not one to allow a little history stand in the way of ambition.

 

She had grander designs.

 

And so, armed with a cunning disguise, a silver tongue and no small amount of trickery, she set about her plan.

 

First, she managed to deceive the local Ministry of Magic, who apparently failed to notice the rather large warning signs fluttering in the breeze behind her.

 

Then came the school's governors, who, being considerably more trusting than wise, were persuaded that this mysterious witch was precisely the person they had been searching for.

 

And so, through guile and deceit, she succeeded.

 

The beloved and wise Head Wizard who had served the school faithfully for many years finally retired, leaving behind a school full of happy pupils, devoted witches, wizards and hopeful governors.

 

But before long, the new witch arrived at the gates.

 

She swept through them with great confidence, her robes billowing behind her, and took possession of the castle.

 

And thus began the strange and troubling reign of the unkind witch...

The school had long stood as a place of learning, friendship and shared endeavour, and many devoted witches and wizards had served the kingdom.

They had helped hundreds of children find their way through the enchanted forest of knowledge. Many had flourished under their care, and they took great pride in the part they had played in their achievements. These had not been accomplished by magic alone, but through the patient work of a skilled and dedicated company of witches, wizards and supporting folk, all labouring together towards a common purpose.

***

The Saddest Change

Within months of the new Head Witch’s arrival, the kingdom had changed beyond recognition.

The staff had watched with growing sadness as the once-welcoming halls of the school grew colder, and the spirit that had bound its people together began to wither. The daily life of those who worked there had become increasingly bleak and discouraging, and many among the staff shared the same troubled thoughts. Many knew that it was time to leave, though the prospect filled them with sorrow.

The Head Witch had arrived bearing grand ambitions and an appetite for transformation. With great haste and little heed, she set about remaking the school according to her own designs. The pace was relentless, and the consequences were felt far beyond the Witch's own chambers. What she regarded as progress brought anxiety, distress and, for some, profound suffering.

The school had once possessed a culture carefully woven over many years. Its staff had been assured that the new ruler would honour this inheritance: that witches and wizards would be consulted, that their judgement would be trusted, and that the spirit of community would remain at the heart of the kingdom's values.

But the Head Witch appeared determined to change almost everything, whether or not there was a clear reason for doing so. One reform followed another, each sweeping through the school like a storm, leaving little time for reflection and even less opportunity to understand what good these changes were meant to achieve.

It was a place inhabited by children, each with their own hopes, fears, gifts and difficulties. Their individual experiences ought to have mattered above all else. Yet the staff could no longer escape the painful conviction that the Head Witch scarcely considered them at all.

***

The Witch Who Would Not Listen

A truly wise ruler did not impose change for the pleasure of seeing the world rearranged. A wise ruler brought people along, listened to their concerns and recognised that those who worked closest to the children might possess knowledge of great value. The welfare of the pupils was a purpose shared by all, and there was no need for every member of the kingdom to hold precisely the same opinions in order to serve it well.

But the Head Witch appeared unable to tolerate disagreement.

She seemed to believe that wisdom resided almost exclusively in her own thoughts, and that opinions which differed from hers were obstacles to be overcome rather than contributions to be considered.

The staff could not understand why the Head Witch seemed so unwilling to acknowledge the work of those who had come before her, or to consider that the kingdom might already have possessed many virtues worth preserving. 

Rather than reflecting upon the past and inviting others to help shape the future, she appeared determined to become the very embodiment of change itself.

And so the school was transformed, not through a shared vision, but through the force of one person's will.

***

The Guild of the Wizards

In those troubled times, another fellowship played an important part in the life of the school of magic: the National Witches’ and Wizards' Guild, established to protect those who taught and to help ensure that schools served their communities fairly.

But the Head Witch viewed the Guild with suspicion and appeared dismissive of the value of its presence within the school.

The representatives of the Guild believed that its work was essential. It encouraged collaboration, protected shared values and gave witches and wizards a voice in matters that affected their professional lives.

Yet speaking up on behalf of fellow witches and wizards brought the Guild’s school representatives not gratitude, but mounting pressure from the Head Witch. And the voices that might have helped the establishment flourish were gradually discouraged from speaking.

***

A Kingdom of Silence

Once, witches and wizards had been drawn to the school because its people seemed genuinely invested in what they could accomplish together. They cared about the children, took pride in their work and believed that the school could achieve great things when everyone contributed.

That sense of belonging had been one of its greatest treasures.

Now, it seemed to have all but disappeared.

The expertise of experienced magical staff was too often disregarded. During a training day, the Head Witch had encouraged the staff to take risks and to throw their wands into the air, as though the future were theirs to shape.

Yet the reality proved quite the opposite.

Rules and restrictions multiplied. Staff were given less freedom to exercise their professional judgement, and decisions increasingly flowed from the Head Witch's chambers without meaningful consultation.

Above all, there seemed to be one law for the ruler and her cronies and another for everyone else.

The Head Witch appeared to stand beyond accountability.

The consequences were reflected in the steady stream of departures from the kingdom. During her first two years of rule, close to twenty members of staff had left, including eight witches and wizards.

Each departure had its own circumstances, of course. Yet  virtually all of those who left shared a deep unhappiness about their treatment by the Head Witch and serious concerns about the direction in which the school was being taken.

Such a loss of experienced people could hardly be dismissed as a passing inconvenience: it was a stark measure of the damage being done to the life of the school. For an increasing number of people, the school had ceased to be a rewarding place to work.

Nor was the damage confined to the staff. Important relationships across the school becoming disconnected: between teaching staff and children, between the school and parents and carers, and between different members of the wider community.

In so short a time, the kingdom had become a very different place.

***

The Last Appeal to the Council

Before leaving the school, one wizard decided that the governing council and must be told what had happened.

The council was entrusted with a solemn duty: to oversee the school of magic, to ensure that its ruler acted responsibly, and to protect the interests of those who lived and worked within its walls.

The wizard therefore wrote a long and earnest letter to the governors, setting out their concerns in detail. He described the achievements of the school, the deterioration in its culture, the Head Witch's manner of leadership, the pressure placed upon staff, the harm he believed had been caused, and the growing fear that those who spoke out would suffer for doing so.

The letter was not written lightly.

The wizard had loved the school. He had taught wonderful children, forged lasting friendships and taken genuine pride in the work he and his colleagues had accomplished. To leave such a place with a letter of this nature was a source of profound sadness.

But silence, he believed, would have been a betrayal of everything he had once valued.

He offered to provide further details of any of the concerns he had raised. He hoped, perhaps, that the governing council would look carefully into the matter, ask difficult questions and fulfil the responsibilities entrusted to it.

The letter was acknowledged.

And then, as far as the wizard could tell, nothing happened.

There was no visible sign that the Head Witch had been held to account. No indication that the council had meaningfully investigated the concerns, or that the treatment of staff had prompted any reckoning.

The council had been told. The concerns had been placed before it. The duty to act had rested with those who governed.

Still, the kingdom remained silent.