Chapter Text
It wasn’t the first time she had seen an animal in the grounds. Good were, after all, known for their animal friends. There were birds and squirrels and mice running freely without fear. But this was the first time that Agatha had seen a cat.
She thought she’d imagined it at first – the dark grey of the cat’s fur blended in with the shadows of the bush it was stalking through, but the wave of homesickness had yet to pass, and anything that reminded her of her mother and Gaveldon was like a lance to the heart. So she’d crept closer, silently cursing the voluptuous skirts the fairies had forced her into that morning. It was a lovely cat, with sleek, shining fur, and for a second the cat turned and looked at her with violet eyes before it turned and stalked away.
After that, Agatha kept an eye out for that cat or others. But if there were others, she didn’t see them. There weren’t even cats to keep the kitchen stores clear. There just… weren’t any.
“Oh no,” Professor Dovey had laughed high and false when Agatha had finally asked about whether there were cats, and if she could maybe try and befriend one. “There aren’t any cats here at the School for Good.”
Cats, she informed Agatha, did not much like Princesses, but tended to prefer the self-serving nature of witches. And cats, she added, were very often not loyal to a single master. And the mice didn’t like them being around.
Agatha thought this was particularly rude to cats. Reaper had been her most loyal companion. She accepted it as yet another tick in why she was in hell, and went back to her wandering along the edge of the woods, lonely and missing Sophie and Reaper and her mother.
It was a few more weeks, when she had stopped looking, that she noticed the cat again. This time it was sunning itself on the paving slabs of an out of the way courtyard, tail flicking lazily. Agatha stood still, holding her breath and just absorbing the fact that she had been right – there was a cat after all. She settled down on the stone herself, arranging her significantly more manageable skirts, and opening the book she had taken. If she couldn’t approach the cat right off, she could at least let it know she wasn’t a danger. She and the cat sat in the courtyard for a quarter of an hour, before the cat got up, stretched languorously, and stalked off towards the woods again.
It seemed that Agatha’s propensity for finding lonely places suited the cat, because more and more often she would stumble across the cat sunning itself, or just sitting regally. The cat never came close, observing only. Sometimes it would slink off round a corner towards the castle rather than to the woods, but usually it was heading that way.
She never saw the cat in the castle - until one day she decided to take a shortcut past Dovey’s office. Normally she went out of her way to avoid the Dean – disliking the stressed tone of her overly cheerful voice. But Dovey seemed to have become more real and human with Agatha since the Wish Fish, and they were approaching something like a truce.
Dovey’s door was slightly ajar, and Agatha slowed down in confusion when she heard Dovey’s voice speaking softly to herself. She peered carefully through the gap. Dovey was reading from a note in one hand, the other hand scratching the back of the smoke-grey cat.
“…going to be late again, well I suppose it can’t be helped,” Dovey sighed, putting the note down and scooping the cats face to press a kiss to its head. “Why don’t you go and curl up and I’ll write a note for you to take back with you, hmm?”
The cat purred, and then jumped delicately down to Dovey’s lap. Dovey sighed in fond amusement.
“I meant a cushion, not my dress,” she chastised, but scratched the cat behind the ear and just leant forward to continue her work, “You know this fabric isn’t good with your fur.”
But the cat seemed happy, and so did Dovey. For all that about Good not having cats, Dovey seemed extremely fond of this one. Agatha backed up slowly, and continued down the corridor, wondering just whose the cat was, and why Dovey had lied to her.
When not worrying about Sophie and all the stupid things she seemed to be planning to get Tedros’ attention, Agatha kept an eye out for the mystery cat. She was curious about everything to do with it. And in the school for Good, where she was constantly a freak and alone, it felt good to have a curiosity that was simply hers.
Then, one day, she saw the cat again, wandering its way slowly towards the wood. It stopped and looked at her for a long moment, then turned to walk away. Then it stopped and looked again. The invitation was clear.
It had been a long day, and she was tired of being told to simply accept things. She followed it. The cat followed a narrow but well-trodden trail through the woods, one that Agatha might never have even noticed, that came out by the bridge between the schools. It leapt up on the side of the bridge, stalking purposefully across. Agatha concentrated on her desire to know more, and felt her finger glow and her skin turn translucent. Was she invisible now? She hoped so.
She stepped onto the bridge, following the cat towards the imposing edifice of grey and ghoulish stone that made up Sophie’s school. Her heart beat faster when she saw there was a wolf on sentry, but it merely sniffed, turned, caught sight of the cat and huffed unimpressed.
“Herb garden,” it said gruffly, to the cat apparently, and turned back to staring across the lakes.
The cat seemed to know what that meant, and leapt lightly down, making a direct line towards a slim gateway built into the wall. Agatha followed, certain that at any moment a hand would clamp down and she would be punished for entering the School for Evil without an invitation. The cat ducked and weaved through dripping stones and gnarled trees, eventually slipping through an ivy-covered door (probably poison ivy, Agatha was careful not to touch any of it).
She stopped short when she realised she was in a beautifully maintained kitchen garden – the likes of which made her miss her mother and her home in the graveyard even more than she thought possible. The beds were laid out in neat rows, little handwritten labels on all the plants (including some dire warnings and threats regarding the care of the more poisonous ones). In the middle of the square there was a little patio with a pretty garden furniture set for two. There was a jug of juice or something covered on the table and a teapot, and a grey coat slung over one of the chairs. But no person. And no cat.
Agatha walked slowly and carefully along the outer edge of the herbs, taking in the mix of smells that reminded her of home. How come Sophie never told her about this place?
She was startled out of herself when she heard a soft exclamation.
“Where have you been?” It said softly, affectionately, and while the voice was familiar, Agatha didn’t want to place it. It wasn’t until a head of wild red curls appeared over the top of a bed of something leafy and green that Agatha accepted it really was Lady Lesso she had heard.
The cat meowed. Lesso chuckled, and sat back on her heels, pulling off some thick heavy duty gloves. Agatha was more scared of this strange-acting Lesso than she had ever been of … anything. Lesso shouted and snapped and made sweeping statements of inadequacy… not… this. The cat was butting its head against her hip, purring loudly.
Lesso smiled, and, gloves discarded, picked the cat up, threading her fingers through its fur. The cat butted its head against her chin.
“You’ve been sitting with Clarissa again haven’t you,” She chuckled, running her hands through the fur and apparently snagging a note? Agatha would never understand magic. “You smell of good magic. I know the sun is warmer over there, but can’t you just stay out of trouble for once? Anyway, shall we see what she says? She better not be cancelling…”
Without shifting the cat, she opened the note and began to read, chuckling out loud more than once. She shifted, pushing herself up to standing. She was in her usual grey suit trousers, but a waistcoat and shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and her hair pushed back off her face. An dirty apron covered the front of her clothes, protecting the wool from the soil.
“She calls you out you know,” Lesso informed the cat and began to read aloud from the note, “I am not running late, but as I don’t know when Ravenna will make her way back to you, I am sending this note just in case. See Ravenna? We know what you’re like. Thank you for delivering this though. Are you staying for tea?”
The cat squirmed. Lesso laughed and set it down on the table top and unwound her apron.
Agatha did not know what mirror world she had stepped into. The cat was Lady Lesso’s? And Professor Dovey knew that?
That Lady Lesso was a cat person, and her cat so clearly adored her, surprised Agatha, but only in that she hadn’t thought of it before. Cats were sometimes loyal to witches, Professor Dovey had said. Agatha felt a sudden burst of kinship with Lady Lesso, even if she would never admit that to a single living soul, ever. Suddenly the imperious Dean of Evil didn’t seem quite so…Evil anymore. What was it Tedros had said? Cats were good judges of character. Maybe Lady Lesso wasn’t quite as all Evil as she pretended to be.
Agatha was startled out of her thoughts again when there was a whisper of gold, and Professor Dovey swept into the garden, arms full of folders.
“Sorry I’m late darling,” She called out, shuffling forward between the beds, being careful not to disturb them, that she knew exactly where to place her feet suggested she had been here before – many times. Lesso shook her head, and stepped forward to receive the files. Then, to add to Agatha’s list of surprises for the evening, Lesso leant forward and dropped a kiss on Professor Dovey’s lips. Just a quick soft kiss of welcome to your lover.
“You know, Ravenna only got here a moment before you did,” she said, sweeping back to the table, Dovey hiking her skirts up to do the same. “I’m glad it we don’t use our cat for anything more urgent.”
“If I wanted to send you an urgent note dearest, I’d send a bird,” Dovey informed her, with the amused tone of someone who had had this argument before. “We might need to try and curb Ravenna’s adventures around my gardens though, I think Agatha is starting to get attached.”
She reached down and petted the cat, Ravenna, they said it was called. Agatha started to creep back the way she had came, not wanting the two Dean’s to know she was spying on them and feeling extremely guilty for doing so. The cat meowed happily.
“Don’t go anywhere Young Lady,” Lesso said, not looking up from the drinks she was pouring. Her voice had turned sharp as barbed wire again. Agatha turned around slowly. The violet eyes of the cat were on her, as were the disappointed eyes of Professor Dovey. Agatha shifted. Apparently she was visible again.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. The cat just…”
“Likes you?” Dovey finished, picking the cat up. “Ravenna we talked about this. You can’t just go bringing home strays.”
Agatha felt hot with embarrassment. Lesso just glared at her, chin tilted up, a challenging glint to her icy eyes.
“I had a cat,” she blurted out without thinking, “Back in Gaveldon. And your cat made me feel a little less homesick. And this evening, when she wanted me to follow her I did because this whole place makes me feel so alone, and maybe I was stupid to follow a cat, and maybe I was stupid to stay when I realised it was your cat Lady Lesso, but…”
Lesso and Dovey looked at each other. The cat butted its head against Dovey’s chin and purred.
“Do you take sugar?” Lesso asked in a bored voice. Agatha looked confused. “In your tea. You might as well stay until Clarissa goes back now. Otherwise the wolves would have free reign over you.” She laughed coldly, “And that wouldn’t be fun for you now.”
“Leonora,” Dovey chastised, setting the cat down and adjusting her skirts to sit. “Sit down Agatha dear, she won’t ask politely again.”
That was polite?
“Oh but I’m always polite Princess,” Lesso mocked, passing a cup of tea to Dovey without looking, and setting another cup of something down for the cat. She waved her hand and a third chair appeared. “Sit.”
Agatha sat. There was an awkward beat of silence, as Lesso and Dovey seemed to be having a silent conversation over their teacups.
“I won’t say anything,” Agatha blurted out at last, wanting to reassure them. “It’s your business, not mine or anyone else’s.”
Lesso’s eyes sliced towards her and narrowed. Dovey turned a placid, politely happy fairytale face on her.
“And I shouldn’t have eavesdropped,” She added quickly, fiddling with the tea cup. “I just didn’t know how to get out without making myself known and I swear all I wanted to do was find out where the cat lived.”
“Ravenna lives where she wants to,” Lesso said finally. “Mostly it’s here. But she likes going over to Good during the day. She’s gotten attached to you it seems, little Ever.”
And indeed, Ravenna had finished her tea cup of whatever and leapt down to Agatha’s lap, curled up and tucked her head on her paws to sleep. Agatha smoothed her fur softly, enjoying the feeling of cat after so many months without Reaper.
“My cat was called Reaper,” she said softly, missing Dovey and Lesso talking without words again. “He didn’t have this much fur. He was one of those really really short haired cats. And he was grey. He was my best friend after Sophie. I miss him.”
Lesso made a noise that Agatha couldn’t place, but Dovey seemed to if her look of triumph was anything to go by. “Fine,” She muttered and looked away. Agatha felt awkward all over again, and as she did when she felt awkward, she started to babble.
“And then this garden,” She looked around. “My mom and I used to live on the edge of the graveyard and we grew our own herbs and vegetables. This place is wonderful. Do we have one on the other side of the bridge? I can’t imagine you’d allow me back here, but I haven’t found anything similar over there.”
Lesso was looking at her oddly again.
“Clarissa has a rose garden,” She said abruptly, “This is my poison garden. I grow the herbs here for the potions.”
“Your yarrow looks better that ours ever did,” Agatha admired the verdant green of the leaves. “All your plants do.”
Lesso pursed her lips and looked at Dovey. Dovey raised an eyebrow, then looked towards Agatha,
“Perhaps we can get you cultivating on our side,” Dovey said softly, reaching a hand out to Agatha’s. “We always like our students to have useful hobbies, and well…”
“You can’t come here again,” Lesso finished, but it felt less like a warning and more like a period. It was another of those Rules. “You don’t belong this side of the bridge.”
“Leonora,” Dovey hissed.
“It’s the truth Clarissa,” Lesso snapped. “I didn’t invite her in the first place, but I’m not going to kick her out now she’s here. But coming across the bridge on her own is dangerous and you know it. She can’t come back. She doesn’t belong here.”
“I don’t belong anywhere,” Agatha snapped. “I don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in the School for Good no matter what you say Dovey. I like cats and herbs not birds and roses.”
“Some would say that’s sensible,” Lesso quipped. “But doesn’t change the fact you’re an Ever. And I can’t let you come back. When you leave, I’ll be putting wards up.”
Agatha nodded her understanding. “I am sorry for intruding on your evening plans,” she said. “I really didn’t mean to.”
“Not to worry,” Dovey said brightly, and it sounded false. Agatha turned to look at her and saw Lesso do the same with a roll of her eyes. “We had paperwork to discuss, but I can take you back to your dorm and then come over-“
“How’s your weeding?” Lesso interrupted, turning to Agatha. Dovey fell silent.
“Good, I guess?” Agatha answered slowly, looking between her two teachers. “I haven’t done any since I arrived here though.”
“Might as well punish you for eavesdropping, don’t you Princess-types despise physical exertion?” Lesso crooked a finger and an apron and various garden tools floated over. “Make yourself useful while Clarissa and I get on with our work. Start with that box over there and don’t touch anything with a P in red on it. Those are for Poisoners to work with and well… you aren’t one.” She laughed coldly.
Dovey sighed but didn't scold the Dean for Evil again, “Why don’t you try and change your dress into something more suitable?” She suggested to Agatha. “I can come get you when it’s time to go back.”
Agatha nodded slowly, standing up and leaving the two Dean’s to their “meeting”. Ravenna followed her quite happily, curling up in the basket that Lesso had given her for the exact purpose. She started to weed, losing herself in the feel of the earth beneath her fingers and the trowel causing callouses on her hands and feeling something resembling peace for the first time since she’d arrived at the stupid School for Good and Evil in the first place.