Doors Closing

Havermouth, Present Time

Meguitte’s hands shook as she finished the first batch of the explosive mix, spreading the powder out in baking trays and setting them high on a shelf to dry. The mixture would not be explosive without the ignition, which would only be added just before its use, but she did not want anyone to interfere with it at this delicate point of the process. It would not take much to affect the delicate balance of ingredients.

As she set the final tray onto the shelf, she braced her palms onto the counter. “Don’t do it Meguitte,” she said under her breath. He’d be thirsty and hungry by now, she argued with herself. And she needed samples.

She wrung her hands against each other as she made her way through the warehouse to where the witches were cooking their evening meal. “Can I have some food for the prisoner?” She asked quietly.

They gave her a bowl and a cup of tea, which she placed on a tray along with a candle, scissors and the tiny little condiment bowls from the k