vera could feel the darkness creep in. and even if some small part of her tried to combat it, it was no use. her own magic was magic she inherited from her dark witch of a mother, and it would always be dark magic, regardless of whether or not vera used it for good. her magic jumped at the chance to be wielded, to be free, to be used for far more than potion-making.
she stood in the middle of the dance floor, and raised her hands. she willed the sleek tiles of the floor to heat up, and grinned as shoes began melting and sticking to the floor. students began running of the floor for fear of getting burned, and vera stood in the middle of it all and cackled.













