Nobody knew what to do with it. It squatted malevolently on the bench, almost grinning like a tree frog. There was something odd about this cauldron. Miss Pentangle had dismissed it as a flight of fancy when several students had complained that using it had subverted their potion. After ten of her subjects and two of her teachers had declared it unbearable to work with, she inspected it herself. She sought to lead by example and began to brew a simple potion, one she'd done so many times before but it didn't do to look so careless. She made a show of concentrating hard and measuring accurately, stirring reverently and slowly, chanting to perfection and was incensed to find out that it had turned orange.

'Oh. Well, a witch always owns up to her mistakes, does she not?' She said breezily, although secretly flustered. That had never happened before.

She made the potion again. All seemed well, until it wilted the spoon. The students laughed to see the pathetic scrag of metal dripping potion.

Miss Pentangle frowned. 'Where did you say this one came from?'

It had passed through Amulets Academy recently. Beyond that, they weren't sure.

'Hmmmmm. It's certainly odd. Perhaps we will take it outside.'

'And do what with it?' Asked Miss Gimlett suspiciously. She had half a mind to call the Grand Wizard over this.

'Just…outside' said Miss Pentangle and vanished the potion. Taking hold of the offending object, she marched it to the back door, settled it down just to the left of the exit and left it there, giving it a nice view of the hedge and weekly tradesmen.

There it sat, surveying its domain. The former Agatha Cackle.