A witch at the academy of magic

When my mother asked me to take a basket with pies to my grandmother, who lived in the woods, I fell right into the arms of the director of the witch academy. But I didn’t have to admire him for long: all the forest witches came for a late dinner, and now we are sitting in a protective circle, thinking over our own rescue plan… I wish a beehive would fall on your head! Who else is crawling out of the darkness? This is not how a witch-to-be negotiated!