Lesson 20: The Final Exam

"The Yamal peninsula is on the Arctic coast, so the guidebook says to pack warm clothing. It suggests bringing a down jacket, hat, gloves, rain poncho and galoshes."

Kyle Slater rolled his eyes. "It's summer, Zeph, remember? What does it say to pack in the summer?"

"That was the section on packing for a summer in Siberia. The galoshes are for all the mud. In the winter it says to either transfigure yourself into a Yeti or pack a parka, fur hat, several layers of thermal everything and the warmest boots you can find and then stay home, because you'd have to be an idiot to go there in the middle of winter if you're reading this book for advice on what to bring." Zephyrus replied matter-of-factly.

"And what is it again that makes you so sure Professor Vance is going to let us go with him to Siberia?" Amy asked.

"We have a plan," Kyle said.

"We're going to reason with him," Zephyrus replied confidently.

"Gummy's a reasonable man."

. . .

"Absolutely not," Gummy answered firmly. "It's far too dangerous." Professor Montgomery Vance looked at his three best students. Graduate students, he reminded himself. But nonetheless, how could he take them with him? "This isn't a holiday. We have no idea what was locked away in those Siberian holes, but they have to be found and dealt with one way or another."

"All the more reason we should go with you, Professor," Kyle replied in the most persuasive tone he could manage. "We can help."

"Kyle is really good at charms and working with magical creatures, Zephryus added quickly. "Amy excels at transfiguration and knows astronomy like the back of her hand. I'm pretty good with potions and herbology. And all of us are good at research."

Admittedly, the Sheta Sesh had lost some very talented members the previous Fall. They had managed to protect the world from the evil locked inside Bastet's Fortress, but at a great cost. The young wizards and witch standing in front of him, earnestly pleading their case, could be of great help. "No. No. You have no idea how dangerous this could be." Gummy shook his head. It was time for class. Where were the rest of the students?

"We're worried about what came out of those holes, too, Professor. We want to help. And--

Gummy paused, the tone of sincerity in Amy's voice sounded like an echo of his own, long ago. Had he sounded so different decades ago when he made his plea to be let into the ancient society of the Seta Sesh?

--and," Amy continued, "I want to know. I want to know what's really out there, what really happened in the past. You know secrets of antiquity and have held ancient objects of power that most people think are just myths. I want that, too. All three of us do." Kyle and Zephyrus held their breath, sensing their professor was on the edge of conscenting.

"There's no time," Gummy hedged. How could he say no to them when they were asking nothing more than what he, himself, had once asked and been granted. "I need to leave right after the exam."

"We're all packed for a summer in Siberia. Our backpacks are in the hallway," Amy replied quietly.

"Galoshes?"

"Got 'em."

"Well, you three had best finish up your final exams quickly," Gummy said with a smile, his mind made up just as the rest of the students began filing into the room, glancing over notes in a last-minute attempt to prepare for the exam. "The four of us have a very old mystery to solve. Whatever it is has waited over ten thousand years in that permafrost, but I have a feeling things are about to get very interesting indeed."

Kyle, Amy and Zephyrus quickly took their seats with excited grins on their faces. Professor Vance turned his attention to the class as a whole. "I'd like to thank you all for a fantastic year. I've enjoyed teaching you more than you can imagine. I hope you've enjoyed it as well and have learned a little something along the way." Gummy held up the final exam papers in his left hand. "I guess we'll find out in a few minutes exactly how much you've learned." He pulled his wand from his inner robe pocket and with a series of quick swishes, the exam papers folded themselves into paper airplanes and, much like memos in the Ministry of Magic, each delivered itself to one of the students.

"Witches and wizards of Hogwarts, I present to you your final exam."

Lesson 19: Siberian Craters

"So, you're back, are you?" Professor Vance asked rhetorically as he opened the window. He stood back so that a very familiar Northern Hawk Owl could fly into the classroom. The brown and white striped owl landed gracefully on the corner of the professor's desk and lifted its right leg. "All business as usual, I see. Well, at least you managed to get here before class started this time."

Gummy carefully untied the message from the bird's tawny leg and then reached into his top right desk drawer. He stifled a laugh as he watched the bird's round eyes follow the movement of his hand and its head twitch at the sound of the drawer opening. He grabbed a good-sized piece of the crocodile jerky which he knew the messenger owl couldn't get enough of. As soon as the bird had the jerky in its beak, it found a perch on top of a bookshelf near the back of the room.

This should be interesting, Gummy thought as he unrolled the scroll. He'd been eagerly awaiting this message. At last he would learn what magic the Russian branch of the Sheta Sesh had been able to uncover at the site of those weird holes. The familiar handwriting of his friend, Dragunov Yuliy Timofeyevich, covered the parchment. A quick scan of the contents made Gummy's brow furrow in thought. It was not at all what he had expected. "Curiousier and curiousier."

Shuffling in the hall announced the arrival of his students, so Gummy rolled up the scroll and tucked it into a pocket. The sight of a Northern Hawk Owl perched on the bookshelf had three of his students huddled together, whispering, and throwing speculative looks at both the owl and their teacher. Professor Vance couldn't help but smile. There was nothing he loved more than a good mystery, so he knew how Amy Timko, Kyle Slater, and Zephyrus Fry had to be feeling. He would have bet a month's salary that all three of them were about to burst with curiosity.

"Alright everyone, settle down and get ready to take some notes. The last quiz of the school year is next class, in case you've forgotten." Moments later the students had settled into lecture mode and he began the lesson. "The XIII Olympic Winter Games took place in February of 1980. They were held in Lake Placid, New York in the United States. While there were many spectacular performances during those games, the 1980 Winter Olympics are best remembered for what Muggles have termed the 'Miracle on Ice.'"

Professor Vance paused, about to ask a question that he felt certain would somehow result in Kyle Slater claiming aliens were behind the nearly impossible win of the US Mens' Hockey Team, when the round, golden eyes of the messenger owl caught his attention. History is about to be re-written, he thought. That's the real lesson here.

"Who knows what historical revisionism is?" Even Gummy was surprised at the words that had come out of his mouth. Forget Felix Felicis. Forget the 1980 "Miracle on Ice". This felt much more like the right lesson to teach today. "Anyone?" he asked.

A hand shot into the air and Gummy nodded to Slytherin Zephyrus Fry. "Historical revisionism is when history as we know it is reinterpreted or what is generally believed to be true is changed. The Boston Massacre in 1770 is an example. The actual incident between British soldiers and American colonists was really minor. It likely would have been entirely forgotten, if it wasn't for a of rabble rousers.. er... patriots. I guess it all depends on your perspective. Anyway, Paul Revere made a woodcut that was completely fictional. It made it look like the British had intentionally fired on a big group of unarmed civilians for no reason. And then this other guy, Samuel Adams, printed it in his newspaper and handed out copies left and right. Next thing you know, everyone believed what happened in the picture was what really happened."

"Well done! Take 10 points for Slytherin," Gummy responded with a broad grin. "Mr. Fry has just described one kind of historical revisionism --- the negative kind. As they say, history is written by the victors, and in this case, propaganda was taught as fact to generations of American elementary school students. But we know much more of the story now because of another kind of historical revisionism. Existing information is re-evaluated, and new facts pop up every day. Sometimes documents that have been lost or maintained in someone's private collection suddenly become available. New Muggle technology such as DNA mapping can help solve mysteries by revealing information that was previously impossible to obtain. Archaeologists unearth something unusual and, suddenly, our entire understanding of the past may change."

Professor Vance reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and removed a small stack of papers. He shuffled through them for a moment and selected a few which he set out on his desk before returning the rest to the drawer. He tapped the first of the sheets with his wand and it floated up into the air before expanding until the image on the paper was large enough for the entire class to see clearly.

"This," said Gummy, pointing to the image of a large cylindrical hole in the middle of a grassy field, "is about to rewrite history. This hole was discovered during the summer of 2014 on the Yamul Peninsula in Siberia, Russia. It's about 200 feet deep and 98 feet in diameter. The crater has smooth sides and all that dirt you see piled up around the top was forced out from inside the hole. The question is, by what? Muggle geologists currently have two favored theories." The professor swished his wand at the enlarged photo floating in the air above his desk. It immediately shrunk back to its original size and dropped back onto the desktop. With a tap of his wand on another paper, Gummy made another image of the Siberian hole float upward and enlarge itself for easy viewing. In this picture, the size of the giant hole could be seen more easily because the people in it looked very small indeed.

"The first theory makes no sense to me at all. They are basically saying that it could be a type of sink hole known as a 'pingo'. The land in which this hole suddenly appeared is covered in permafrost. That means that the earth below the first couple of feet remain frozen all year round and have likely stayed that way since the last ice age. The pingo theory suggests that warmer temperatures have caused the permafrost to melt. The melting destabilized the earth and it collapsed." Some of the students exchanged quizzical looks and a hand shot up into the air.

"Then why is there all that dirt that looks like it exploded up out of the hole?" asked a Gryffindor who looked particularly unconvinced by the pingo theory.

"Yes. I find that rather troublesome as well. The methane hydrate theory sounds a bit more plausible, in my opinion. Under the right temperature and pressure conditions, water and methane can freeze together and form methane hydrate. The frozen methane hydrate remained locked below the ground in the permafrost until recently when temperatures began to rise. As the permafrost melted, methane hydrate unfroze and separated into water and explosive methane gas. And then, BOOM! There was suddenly a really big hole in Siberia. The methane hydrate theory at least accounts for the earth that was clearly ejected from within the hole and the elevated levels of methane recorded at the bottom of the hole."

Gummy paused for a moment, as he considered how much he should tell the students. Then, with a shrug, he pulled the message from his pocket. "Wizards have been investigating these holes, too. At this point, we know of seven large holes like the one in the picture. Each of them was found in areas of permafrost. And in every case, magic detection spells revealed large amounts of magic that were too chaotic to decipher. This occurs when multiple layers of spells crisscross an area. It usually occurs in areas that are routinely used for practice, on dueling platforms, or where large magical battles have taken place." Professor Vance decided not to mention that it was also occasionally used by wizards to very effectively hide the magical signature of dark and nefarious deeds."Spell layering in this manner makes it nearly impossible to determine what the spells were cast, the direction and target, or how old the magic is in terms of order of casting. Nearly impossible. Sometimes wizards can unweave the chaotic magic and tweeze out the individual spells."

As he spoke, the History of Magic Professor watched his three most promising students exchange knowing looks. Amy whispered, "The Adze of Thoth!" Kyle and Zephyrus nodded. All three focused intently on their teacher, eager to learn what the Russian branch of the Sheta Sesh had discovered using the ancient magical tool that could unweave even the most chaotic tangle of spells.

"Spells were cast from six directions, probably at the same time," the professor continued. "All had the same central target, which resulted in a hexagonal shaped zone of magical effect. And that's the first reason history is going to be re-written by these holes in Siberia. These spells date back to just after the last ice age, which is before magic users were believed to have sophisticated spells or be organized enough to work together in groups such as this." The students didn't look nearly as excited by this somewhat esoteric revelation as Gummy was himself, so he pressed on without further comment.

"The types of magic this group used and the spell sequence hints at something a bit more exciting. The oldest spells, the first the group cast, produced heat -- presumably, enough heat to thaw the frozen ground to a depth of about 100 feet. It took a lot of those warming spells, so it was apparently not an easy task. The next spells cast were a series of movement or transport charms to remove earth. In effect, they magically dug a hole, but the spells they used are quite different from what we used to dig wells and so forth today."

Gummy looked down at the message for a moment. "Right. The next layer of spells was different from the others in trajectory. In this case, it appears that all six witches or wizards stood back-to-back inside the hole and used some really massive heat spells that melted the earth and rock, solidified it." His respect for the ancient magic users was growing the more he thought about what they had managed to accomplish. "The rest of the spells all appear to have been cast from around the top of the hole. There were four more series of charms," he explained, referring to the message again.

"First more transport charms, which I presume refilled the hole. Then water charms followed by cold charms that would have settled the ground and then frozen it solid again. The most interesting charms, though, were the last that were cast." The professor watched his students carefully. He wanted to know which of them would be the first to recognize the significance of what he was about to say. "Pacification, immobilizing and sleep charms appear to have been cast on the ground over and over again, periodically, over the course of the next hundred years or so."

"Merlin's beard!" Kyle exclaimed. "Professor, what was in that hole?"

"And where is it now?" Amy asked.

The bell to end class rang suddenly, but, for once, no one moved. "At this point, your guess is as good as mine. As I said, history is being re-written as we speak. Witches and wizards are looking into it. I'll probably head out that way myself. Nothing I like more than solving a juicy mystery like this one. You lot, however, have homework to do." Gummy swished his wand and homework papers appeared in front of each student. "Off you go now, I've got a trip to prepare for."

Lesson 18: The Edmund Fitzgerald

Amy Timko, Kyle Slater and Zephyrus Fry sat at a table in a secluded corner of the Hogwarts library. Kyle shut 'Ancient Amulets: A Survival Guide' and pushed the large, heavy book to one side before reaching for another. "No mention of the Adze in that one either," he said, reaching for one of the few unsearched tomes left on the table. "Let's see if 'Bewitched Antiquity' has anything."

Amy closed the book she was reading and picked up two of the other discarded books as well. The small group had spent hours combing through both newer reference books and old, musty tomes. So far, not one of them had even mentioned the artifact their History of Magic teacher had sent to his friend in Siberia. How were they going to figure out what was going on if they couldn't even figure out what was what the Adze of Thoth was? "I'll re-shelve these and see if I can find anything else that might reference the--"

"Hold on, Amy. I think I found it." Zephyrus stared intently down at the book in front of him, flipped the page, and then his face lit up.

Kyle was out of his seat in an instant. Leaning over the book, he whistled quietly. "You did it, Zeph. Look at that thing."

Amy dropped the books she was holding onto her chair and leaned over the table. The picture showed an old, woodworker's hand tool. It looked as if a flat stone blade had been tied to the end of an ordinary ax handle. But even though the picture was small, and she was looking at it upside down, there was no mistaking the ibis emblem of Thoth etched into the tool's side. "What's it say, Zeph? I can't read upside down."

Zephyrus ran his hand through his dark hair, as he did whenever he was nervous or excited. "It says, 'According to legend, in the aftermath of the Ancient Egyptian Wizarding War, Thoth and a group of his followers were attempting to locate a band of Seth's fighters. The magic-locating spells used by Thoth lit up the entire canyon. The supporters of Seth had used spells to hide the entrance to their base and then had cast layer-upon-layer of spells over the surrounding area, rendering magic-locating spells useless. Thoth asked his followers to find something he could enchant into a tool to unweave the chaotic magic flooding the canyon. A discarded Muggle woodworking tool was found. Thoth bespelled the adze and, using it, they found the hidden entrance and dealt with the vicious followers of Seth within.'"

"Ooooo. That is interesting. Does it say anything else? Amy asked.

"Not much. It does mention that the current location of the Adze is unknown. The last known use of the Adze of Thoth was in 1312 by the Knights Hospitaller, leading to their victory over the Turkish fleet in the Cyclades." Zephyrus looked up at the other two in confusion.

"Don't look at me," Kyle protested. "I didn't even know hospitals had knights."

. . .

Montgomery Vance stood before the windows of his History of Magic classroom. It was May, and Spring had, finally, truly come to Hogwarts. His thoughts, however, were miles away. He had begun to accept the mixed feelings that came with teaching. On the one hand, he enjoyed teaching even more than he had thought he would. But it was difficult to know that his old colleagues were facing dangers, learning secrets and solving mysteries without him. He felt as if he ought to be there with them. It wasn't his own ego, simply recorded fact: fewer of them tended to die when he was around.

"Go not forth, O Hiawatha!
To the kingdom of the West-Wind,
To the realms of Mudjekeewis,
Lest he harm you with his magic,
Lest he kill you with his cunning!"

"Who's Mudjekeewis?" Zephyrus asked, "Is he the one laying down all the magic in Siberia?"

"What? Mudjekeewis? Siberia? No." Gummy stammered. The students were nearly all in their seats. Already. He must have been lost in thought longer than he realized. "Mudjekeewis has nothing to do with Siberia, but I'm guessing you--" Gummy glanced around and saw two other sets of eyes intently on him, keenly interested in the conversation. "--and your friends have been doing some rather interesting research. Good. Good." Gummy gestured for Zephyrus to take his seat. "Mudjekeewis is a character in The Song of Hiawatha by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It's an excellent poem with beautiful language and imagery. But today, we are talking about the Edmund Fitzgerald which was shipwrecked in Gitche Gumee, as Longfellow called it, or as most people call it, Lake Superior."

Professor Vance pulled a small roundish rock from his pocket and placed the mottled grey and dark red ball on his desk. With a tap of his wand, the air above the little, spherical rock flickered twice and an image formed.

"This is the Edmund Fitzgerald. The Fitz, as she has been nicknamed, first sailed in 1958. She was 39 feet high, 75 feet wide, and 729 feet long. That's a pretty big ship by any standards. Although she could carry other raw materials such as salt and grain, this long, wide, flat ship was primarily built to haul iron ore, like the little rock on my desk, from mines in Minnesota to steel mills in Detroit. The Fitz had a number of other nicknames during the years she sailed. Some called her 'The Toledo Express'. Others referred to her as 'The Queen of The Great Lakes'. Her most unfortunate, although perhaps most apt, nickname was 'Titanic of The Great Lakes'." Gummy tapped the rock again, and this time a map flickered into existence about the little piece of iron ore.

'On November 10, 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald sank to the bottom of Lake Superior, taking all 39 crew members with her." A hand instantly shot up in the third row and Gummy nodded, granting the student permission to speak.

"A ship that big sank in a lake? Even the Giant Squid would have a hard time dragging something that big down," a dark-eyed Gryffindor asked incredulously.

"Ah, yes, well, The Great Lakes are really big. I suppose I should back up just briefly to explain the size of the lake we're discussing today. The map you see flickering in the air above my desk is Lake Superior. It's just one of the Great Lakes in North America. There are a total of five Great Lakes which are interconnected. As you can see from the map, the northern edge of Lake Superior, and that of the other Great Lakes as well, runs along the Canadian border, and the southern edge is along the U.S. border. Lake Superior is the northern most of the five lakes and it's about the size of Austria. In fact, if all the water was drained from Lake Superior, it would cover the entire land mass of both North and South America in a foot of water. All the Great Lakes are big enough to have real waves. Lake Superior regularly has 20 foot waves. 30 foot waves have been recorded during storms, so even a mammoth ship like the Edmund Fitzgerald could find a storm on Lake Superior rather challenging." As he had been describing just how large Lake Superior was, the expression on the Gryffindor's face changed from skeptical to surprise to wide-eyed shock. Professor Vance couldn't help but chuckle a little.

"Exactly. On a lake that big, a monster storm doesn't need the assistance of a magical creature to take down almost anything Muggles can build." The professor assumed his customary stance for lecture time. With his arms crossed comfortably against his broad chest, he leaned against the desk, his long legs stretched out before him. Just as he was about to continue, he noticed Kyle Slater whispering to Amy Timko. Gummy sighed. From the avid look on Kyle's face, he knew where this was going. Might as well address it head-on,he thought. "Mr. Slater, why don't you tell us what you've heard about the Edmund Fitzgerald."

Kyle looked abashed at being caught whispering in class. It lasted for about two milliseconds before he eagerly launched into what the Muggle-born Ravenclaw had doubtlessly learned from TV. "There was this mysteriously-huge storm. I'm talking suspiciously-huge, you know? Anyway, the Edmund Fitzgerald was in radio contact with another ship for most of the evening. In their last transmission, the captain said that they were taking on a little water, but were 'holding their own'. That's a quote, by the way. Then, suddenly, they disappeared from radar and radio contact and were never seen again. No distress call went out. Not a single body was ever found. It's obvious why, of course. I mean, put the pieces together. An unusual storm, sudden disappearance with no distress call, and every single person missing without a trace: aliens!"

Kyle's enthusiasm was actually kind of endearing. Gummy smiled and said, as gently as he could, "Sorry, Kyle. No aliens this time, either. It was November, which is a bad month for storms on the Great Lakes. No aliens and no magic were involved in the storm. The Edmund Fitzgerald was stressed beyond what it could take. The wind and waves applied a torque or twisting force that ripped the ship apart. The front half sat right-side-up on the bottom of the lake. About 170 feet of debris separated it from the rear-half of the ship which lay upside-down." Gummy tapped the chunk of iron ore one more time and the map was replaced by an image of the beaten, broken Edmund Fitzgerald as he had described it, deep below the waves.

"And that brings us to where magic comes into play. As Kyle mentioned, not a single body was ever found. But they weren't beamed off the ship by aliens or apparated off by Maritime Rescue Wizards. No. Unfortunately, they sank with their ship. Lake Superior has a reputation for holding on to the bodies of those who drown in her. It's rather simple, really. The deep lake water never gets above 39 degrees Fahrenheit, so the bacteria that normally feed on a drowned body never get to multiply. And it's the gas formed by that bacteria that makes drowned bodies float. In short, the lake stays too cold for the bodies of the lost to ever surface and wash ashore. But why is it always so cold?" Gummy paused for effect and tried to utter his next word with the same degree of passion as Kyle had used earlier, but instead of "aliens", Gummy said, "Magic!"

There were some giggles from students and Gummy's rich chuckle joined them before he continued, "Many, many years ago, before any European had set foot on the shores of Lake Superior, when it was still known as Ojibwe Gichigami, or Ojibwe's Great Sea, there lived a witch by the name of Ishkoodah. Ishkoodah was a very strong Legilimens. She could seek truth in a person's mind as easily as you or I could scan through a copy of the Daily Prophet. She watched a young man named Adjidaumo grow to adulthood within the tribe. She could always sense darkness within him. The Ojibwe people loved him because he was handsome and seemed to do things to help people, but Adjidaumo always had hidden motives that only Ishkoodah could discern. You see, Adjidaumo wanted to lead the tribe, but the tribe had a chief and the chief had two sons who had inherited the wisdom and strength of their father. Ishkoodah knew that Adjidaumo was adored and people thought he could do no wrong, so she kept silent and spoke to no one of the dark motives of the young man.

"Eventually, however, the situation became dire. Adjidaumo had just returned from a scouting mission. He said that he had seen excellent game in an unusual location. He proposed they quickly form a hunting party that included the chief and both his sons. Ishkoodah looked into his mind and saw that he had made a deal with members of another tribe with whom his people had battled for generations. The hunting party was a trap! Adjidaumo was planning to hand all of them over to their enemies! What was Ishkoodah to do? No one would believe her, but lives were in danger and the good of the tribe was in jeopardy. So regretfully, Ishkoodah waited until Adjidaumo was alone, and then she invaded his mind so forcefully that the treacherous young man fainted from the attack. The witch then used her magic to bind him and take his life. But what to do with the body? That's always a problem when it comes to murder, isn't it?" Gummy asked wryly. He glanced at the clock. As usual, he was running out of time.

"Ishkoodah used her magic to move the body out onto the deep lake near what is now known as Whitefish Point. She removed a cowry shell pendant from around her neck, cast a chilling spell upon it, and then bound the enchanted pendant to Adjidaumo's corpse. 'You acted with such coldness in life that you deserve no warmth in death,' Ishkoodah said as she watched Adjidaumo's remains sink into the lake. The pendant is still down there, still refusing to let the Ojibwe Gichigami warm above 39 degrees. And that is why Lake Superior is so unwilling to give up the bodies of its dead: Ishkoodah's magic is still at work, keeping the waters icy cold."

As if on cue, the bell rang. Class had come to an end. "Homework assignments are on the desk by the door. Pick one up as you leave, please. If you have any questions, owl me or invade my office or shout questions to me over breakfast. I'll be around."

Lesson 17: The Roswell Fiasco

Rasim tilted his head and assessed the man he had flown from Siberia to find. The Northern Hawk Owl's job was only half-completed. This portion required both patience and the relentless application of subtle reminders that an answer was required. He would not leave this tall, broad shouldered man until there was a messaged tied to his leg or a package clasped in his talons.

Absently, Professor Montgomery "Gummy" Vance reached into the top right drawer of his desk and pulled out another two pieces of crocodile jerky. One piece he handed to the owl sitting on the corner of his desk; the other piece he, himself, began to chew. "I don't suppose they could wait until after the semester is over? " Gummy asked the owl. "I could bring it to them myself?" He would have preferred to have a first-hand look at what was going on in Siberia, anyway. It sounded fascinating.

Rasim swallowed the piece of jerky and held out one leg as if prepared to have a message tied to it then and there. He was no barn owl chick, fresh from the egg. He was a professional. He couldn't be bought or distracted with delicious crocodile jerky. He was expected to obtain an answer quickly and return to the Russian branch of the Sheta Sesh as quickly as possible -- standard procedure.

The Hogwarts professor sighed at the owl's reminder that when the Sheta Sesh made a request such as this, time was of the essence. "Fine, but I you need to deliver this into the hands of Dragunov Yuliy Timofeyevich. The Adze of Thoth has a bit of a kick to it; not just anyone can control it." The owl tilted his head to the left until it was nearly upside down and gently shook his outstretched leg. "I know. I know," Gummy said as he pulled out a quill and parchment. "Put it in writing. You're just the messanger."

By the time Gummy had his letter written, it was nearly time for class. He hastily dropped it into the box that contained the Adze of Thoth and closed the top. "Signatum Manum," the man solemnly intoned as he circled his wand three times. Brown smoke poured heavily from the wand tip and settled around the box, growing more and more solid until it suddenly cleared, revealing a package now covered in what appeared to be brown paper and tied with strong white cord. An elaborate seal on the top of the package pulsed dimly for a moment and then flared bright red. ”What the—?“ Gummy instinctively raised his wand and pivoted toward the classroom door.

Three students stood in the doorway with expressions that ranged from surprised to terrified. Professor Vance quickly lowered his wand and chuckled. “Terribly sorry. The seal is set to alarm if the package ends up with anyone other than the intended recipient. If you don’t mind, stay where you are until I get our Northern Hawk Owl friend out the window. If you get too close, it might explode and we’d lose a very useful historical artifact.” Seconds later, Rasim had grasped the package in his powerful talons. He bobbed his head once toward Professor Vance and flew out the window.

”There we go,” Gummy said as he closed the window behind the departing bird. ”You can come in now. It’s quite safe. I think you’ll like today’s lesson, Kyle. It’s about Roswell.”

”Too cool! Can you teach me that spell?” Kyle asked, far more interested in a spell that could glow bright red and explode than he was in aliens from the 1940s.

”And what was in that box, Professor?” Amy asked, quickly approaching his desk. What are you getting involved in now? she wondered, excited by the hint of mystery that always seemed to surround her favorite teacher.

”Oo, would you teach me that spell, too, please?” the third student, Zephyrus, added while picking up the books he had dropped in surprise. He had never had seen anyone transition so fluidly between bad-ass fighter and cheerful professor.

Gummy looked from one to the other. Curiosity was a good thing, but he wasn’t at liberty to tell them all that much. He decided to begin with what he could say. ”That was the Adze of Thoth. I’m loaning it to an old friend who has need of the artifact’s unique abilities. And that spell is rather impressive, isn’t it? I couldn’t wait to learn it, myself. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to teach it. My old employer would have my hide.” Other students had begun to fill the classroom. ”Sorry, you three. I’d teach you if I could. Why don’t you take your seats and we’ll get started with the lesson?”

After the class had settled into their seats and gotten their quills and note paper out, Professor Vance began. “As you know, the International Statute of Secrecy was enacted to hide the wizarding world from Muggles. Whether or not you agree with the statue is a topic of discussion for another day. What we certainly all agree on is that keeping magic and the wizarding world hidden can sometimes take quite a bit of work. The Ministry has witches and wizards trained to effectively deal with breaches. Creating a logical memory to seamlessly cover the witnessing of magic is an art form and best left to them. Today, we take it for granted that breaches will be skillfully handled and soon forgotten.”

Gummy leaned back against his desk with a wry smile. “Today we’re going to talk about how bad a breach can get and how much worse it can be made if it’s mishandled.” The professor gave his wand a quick twirl and flick. Papers fluttered onto the desks in front of each student.

The History of Magic students all looked down at the copies of the front page of the Roswell Daily Record from the eighth of July, 1947. The headline read, “RAAF Captures Flying Saucer On Ranch in Roswell Region”.

”What you are looking at,” Gummy explained, “is arguably the biggest foul-up in wizarding history. Breaches in the Statue of Secrecy are supposed to be quickly forgotten. This one became famous in the Muggle world. Tourists still flock from all over the world to the town of Roswell in the American southwest to see where the flying saucer crashed and be close to where one of the greatest modern-day military cover-ups and government conspiracies happened. Muggles still create television programs and movies that feature this event and even hold a festival each year in this little town in the New Mexico desert to commemorate the Roswell event.” The professor turned to Kyle with a broad, expectant grin. ”I’m hoping our class-expert on aliens can give us a synopsis of what Muggles say occurred.”

Kyle had straightened up in his seat when the eyes of the class turned to him, and there was an unmistakable hint of pride in his voice when he began to speak. ”I do know a bit about the event, sir. There are a lot of Muggle TV shows about it. In 1947, on the Fourth of July, American Independence Day, witnesses saw something large and bright crash into the desert near Roswell. A day or two later, a rancher found some very strange debris on his ranch, where the object had crashed. He and a couple other guys brought it back to his house and then brought it to the Air Force base nearby. The Air Force investigated and brought in a lot more of the debris – which might have included alien bodies. The Air Force wrote a press release saying they had captured an alien craft. Word of the flying saucer crash spread like wildfire through the newspapers, but then suddenly, there was a big crack-down. The government came in and it was hushed up. Then they showed pictures of some lame weather balloon that they said had been mistaken for an alien craft. Except, even today, no one believes them because too many people saw too much and the government couldn’t hide it all."

”Nicely done, Kyle. Take 10 points for Ravenclaw for that excellent summary. Except, I’d like to add that some people do think it was a weather balloon. Other people think it was a top secret military aircraft that crashed during testing. But, yes, a lot of Muggles do believe it was an alien spaceship. Does anyone know what it actually was?” None of the students raised a hand, but Kyle’s eyes were huge and Gummy was afraid he might actually fall out of his seat. ”Jude’s Academy. If you’ve never heard of it, it’s a wizarding school located in the American Southwest. The New Mexico desert was selected for its remote location. That is one of the few sensible decision made by its founder, a wizard known as Jude the Imprudent. He is also occasionally referred to as Jude the Blithering Idiot, but that epithet is nearly always used by his detractors.”

Kyle was definitely about to burst with curiosity, so Gummy continued quickly, “Jude's Academy students are an interesting lot and it’s considered best to have them spend most of the year in the relative safety of the open desert. Consequently the Fourth of July coincides with the academy’s end of term celebration. The high point of the celebration, up until 1947, was a competition between the houses for the best prank.” Stifled giggles bubbled up among the students. Gummy didn’t blame them. It really did sound like a fun way to end a year of lessons. ”The winning prank in 1947 involved magical fireworks, a bathtub, a grindylow and a pair of the Headmaster’s underwear. At any rate, the whole kit and caboodle went shooting off into the desert as the entire school cheered.” Gummy looked up at the clock and wondered where the time had gone.

”No one would have thought twice about bright lights on the Fourth of July, but the Head of House for the winning team decided picking up the wreckage could wait until after his vacation. That was imprudent move number one. Then, when the rancher was spotted loading up wreckage into his pick-up truck, instead of alerting the proper authorities, the remaining Jude’s Academy staff members decided to just take care of it themselves. That was their second mistake. Their third mistake was not putting together a simple, boring story to use as implanted memories. Instead, there was a lot of embellishment, and far too much creativity. Muggles ‘remembered’ bodies, feather-light I-beams, glowing purple symbols, unearthly materials, and men dressed in black who threatened witnesses and made things disappear.”

The bell rang and students began to rise from their seats. “Please consider this a cautionary tale. Making mistakes is one thing. Covering them up is another. And doing a piss poor job of covering them up is something else entirely. Homework is on the back of the newspaper articles and is due by May 7th.”

Lesson 16: The Tunguska Event

Snow had turned to rain a couple of hours before. At the first, distant thunder crack, he swooped low over a small patch of snow that was destined to melt before the day was out. Now, thunder’s roar was the periodic accompaniment to the steady beat of Rasim’s wings. The Northern Hawk Owl never faltered. Lightning suddenly flared, painfully bright to the brown-and-white striped owl. Rasim blinked his eyes and carried on. Thoroughly professional, he was, and proud of it, too.

Hogwarts and the assigned recipient of his message were close now, just hours away.

. . .

CRACK!

Professor Montgomery “Gummy” Vance jumped, as did a number of his students. “That one sounded as if it was in the room with us, didn’t it?” Gummy laughed a bit nervously. It really had sounded as if the sky had split open right above them. “Thunderstorms,” he said with a grin. “It must be April. But let’s get on with the lesson, shall we?”

The professor pulled a newspaper out of his inner robe pocket and smoothed it out on the desk. “It’s a Muggle newspaper, so it won’t move when I enlarge it. You may be glad for that.” Gummy tapped his wand on the paper, whispered an incantation, and flicked his wand upward. The picture from the paper seemed to follow his wand motion and in seconds was hovering in the air next to him, stretching itself out until it was nearly a yard wide.

“Does anyone know what we’re looking at?” Gummy asked the class. Much to the professor’s surprise, a hand immediately shot into the air. The excitedly waving hand was attached to a boy wearing a big smile and an eager expression. “Kyle, please enlighten us.”

“It’s an old black and white photo of the Siberian forest around Tunguska. All the trees are stripped of leaves and branches. They’ve all been blasted in the same direction, like a big, circular ripple in a pond. Except it wasn’t a pebble dropped into a pond. It was an alien spacecraft. I saw a TV show about it once. They said it was proof that aliens had been visiting the earth and one of them blew up or something.” The boy finished up with a very pleased nod of his head. “I’ve been looking forward to this lesson, Professor Vance. I can’t wait to find out what wizards know about the aliens.”

Gummy gazed thoughtfully at the boy for a moment. Teaching Muggleborns was full of surprises. “Ten points for Ravenclaw, but we’re going to have to unravel a bit of what Kyle just told us. This is indeed an old Muggle photo of the Tunguska forest. It was taken in 1927, which is 19 years after the Tunguska event took place. Here are some of the things everyone, wizards and Muggles alike, can agree upon.

⚡ An explosion occurred at 7:17 am on the 30th of June, 1908, above the forest near the Podkamennaya Tunguska river in Siberia.

⚡ No Muggles were killed, but hundreds of reindeer lost their lives and approximately 80 million trees were destroyed.

⚡ The blast leveled 800 square miles of forest.

⚡ The trees at the very center of the blast remained standing, but they were burned and their limbs were sheared off, making them look like telephone poles.

⚡ Trees outside the epicenter were sheared of their limbs, burned and broken. When the blast radiated outward, it knocked the trees down in an outward radiating pattern. It does, as Kyle stated, look very much like the pattern you see when you drop a pebble into a pool of water.

The pebble in question, however, is where Muggle and magical accounts of the event diverge. By which, of course, I mean that Muggles do not know the true cause of the explosion and therefore continue to study and speculate.”

Gummy turned to look at the large photograph bobbing gently in the air above his desk. “And who can blame them? If there is something in your world capable of doing that much damage, you’d want to know what the heck it was. There are currently three major Muggle theories. The first theory is aliens, as Kyle pointed out. The second theory is an mid-air explosion of a small comet. The third theory is a mid-air explosion of an asteroid. The last two are really just splitting hairs with regard to what the space rock was made of, the size, and the altitude of the airburst.”

For the second time that day, Gummy pulled out a sheet of Muggle newspaper and spread it out on the desk. With a gentle flick of his wand, he dismissed the over-sized photo of the flattened Tunguska landscape and then smoothly replaced it with a new image. It was a drawing of what looked like a rhinoceros, except the animal was covered in shaggy fur and had an absurdly large horn on its head.

”This,” Gummy gestured to the image with a grand flourish, “is a Woolly Erumpent. Muggle paleontologists refer to it as Elasmotherium sibiricum and some silly people, mostly journalists, call it the Siberian Unicorn. Woolly Erumpents are extinct, but they roamed central Asia for many, many years. Like our modern Erumpents, the horns were filled with an extremely explosive liquid. The fossilized horns are rare and quite expensive, and that is how the Tunguska event began.” Gummy leaned back against his desk and settled in for story time.

”There had been an unfortunate cascade of explosions during the Erumpent mating season of 1902 which resulted in few surviving adult Erumpents. This soon translated into demand for Exploding Fluid and ground Erumpent horn far exceeding supply, which lead to all-time-high prices. If only there were more Erumpents in the world, someone could get rich! A group of Asian witches and wizards knew of an area in Siberia known as the Erumpent Graveyard. It was a large area, but was said to have the remains of ancient, fossilized Woolly Erumpents hidden beneath the earth. There was a good reason the area was unpopulated: the horns were still highly explosive.”

Professor Vance smiled as he watched most of the students shake their heads. “Yeah”, he responded to their unspoken dismay, “it’s pretty easy to see where this is headed. Greed makes people blind, though. So this group dug up a lot of fossilized Woolly Erumpent horns and gathered them together in their base camp near the Podkamennaya Tunguska River. Obviously there are no records of how many people died trying to excavate the horns, but owls sent to distant relatives of the reckless group indicate that there were numerous injuries and deaths before the final, tragic events.”

The History of Magic professor glanced at the clock. They were running short on time – again. “So, let’s skip ahead to the morning of June 30th, 1908. A large quantity of Woolly Erumpent horns had been prepared for shipment. A Turkish consortium had agreed to pay an outrageous number of Galleons for the horns. There was excitement in the camp. All the enterprising group’s efforts were about to be handsomely paid off. Thugs from the consortium flew in on giant, pale blue carpets. A dispute over the payment ensued. The consortium thugs attempted to fly off with the load of Woolly Erumpent horns. It’s unknown if the spell that hit the carpet was intentional or accidental, but the flying carpet and its load of fossilized horns exploded. Everyone at the base camp was killed—“ CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!

Gummy broke off in mid-sentence. Those cracks weren’t thunder. He turned toward the window with a slight sense of déjà vu. A large brown-and-white striped owl stared in, directly at him, and lifted its leg to display the message it was carrying. Without hesitation, Gummy strode across the room and opened the window. If there was one thing he had learned last semester, it was that trying to evade a bird delivering a message was utterly futile. “Well, I’ll be,” he said as the bird flew across the room. It landed on his desk and shook itself off on top of the newspapers. “You’re from Siberia, aren’t you?” he asked the owl. It cocked its head at him and held out its message. “What an interesting coincidence.

”If I’m not mistaken, this is a Northern Hawk Owl,” Gummy explained to the class as he removed the message from the owl’s leg. “You don’t find them around here. They are native to the same general region that we’ve been talking about today.” He unrolled the small scroll and began to frown as he quickly scanned the contents.

”Is it about Bubastis again?” one of the students asked.

”Is it about Woolly Erumpents?” another student suggested.

”Is is about aliens?” Kyle asked.

Gummy turned patient eyes in Kyle’s direction. “No aliens, Kyle. There are no aliens, but you’ll probably like the next lesson, too.” The bell to end class rang and Gummy thrust the message into his pocket. “It isn’t about Bubastis, Amy, that’s behind us. No need to worry about that any more. And it has nothing to do with Erumpents, living or dead. But it is something I’m going to need to investigate. And meanwhile, you lot have homework to do.”

Lesson 15: Quiz

Each flap of Rasim’s strong, brown-and-white striped wings brought the owl closer and closer to his destination. He was an owl on a mission – a professional. The Northern Hawk Owl blinked his golden eyes and pulled his feet up against his torso with his sharp talons curled inward. The sleek line of his brown and white horizontally striped body was broken slightly by the scroll tied to his left leg. Rasim could feel the tug of the wind against the scroll, but experience, strength and determination made his flight look effortless nonetheless. It was a long way from central Siberia to Scotland. He had a lot of flying left to do. Hopefully Hogwarts would have snacks when he got there.

. . .

Professor Montgomery “Gummy” Vance was seated on the edge of his desk with a large bag of crocodile jerky. He pulled a long, thin piece of the golden brown dried meat from the bag and chewed happily. It was the special seasonings the Egyptian jerky vendors used that made it so good. The black pepper or teriyaki crocodile jerky they sold in Australia was good, but after living for so many years in the Cairo area, the Egyptian spiced treat tasted like home.

The students filed in and took their seats, eyeing the contents of the Professor’s jerky bag with interest and curiosity -- and a few with suspicion. “Does anyone know what is significant about today?” Gummy asked the class. A few hands raised and he nodded in the direction of one of the students.

”It’s Easter.”

“Well, yes,” Gummy responded. “Some people do celebrate Easter today, but that’s not what I was referring to. Anyone else care to try?” Fewer hands rose up this time. The Professor nodded at another student, granting permission for him to give an answer.

“We have a quiz today.”

“Also true, but not what I was referring to. Sorry, my question was a bit vague, so I’ll answer it for you. As of today – or technically when you each complete your homework – we will be three-quarters of the way through the year. A bit hard to believe, isn’t it? But after this, it’s just four more lessons and a final exam, then the school year is over.” Gummy held up the large bag of long, thin strips of golden dried meat. “Some of my friends from Cairo sent me this delicious crocodile jerky." The tall, broad-shouldered man smiled brightly. Because they lost the bet, he thought. I’m still here teaching and doing a damn fine job, too.

Gummy twirled his wand. Quiz papers fluttered to the desk tops in front of each student. “You’re all welcome to take some jerky. It’ll give you something to chew on while to take the quiz. Come on. Give it a try. It’s darn good, if you ask me.” A couple of the students jumped up and took a few pieces, eager to try something new and different. Others were much more wary about this unusual snack. They took small pieces and sniffed them cautiously. A few stayed in their seats mumbling things about having just brushed their teeth or being allergic to crocodile.

Once everyone who wanted any was munching on crocodile jerky, Gummy set the bag aside. “Take your time and read the questions carefully. The quiz is pretty easy, actually. Use your text books, of course.” Professor Vance picked up the bag of jerky, selected a piece that looked particularly good, and began to chew. Tastiest bet I ever won.

Lesson 14: The Roanoke Colony

One by one, as they entered the room, the students looked around and then fell silent. Some wandered out of habit to stand where their seats would normally be – if there had been any furniture in the room at all. A handful of students stood before the chalkboard and quietly debated the meaning of the single word written on it.

CROATOAN

”Well, what’s that supposed to mean?” asked a lean, sandy-haired Gryffindor. “Has class been moved? Has it been cancelled? Where’s Gummy?”

The Ravenclaw standing next to him choked down a laugh, ”I’m sure Professor Vance will be here soon,” he responded, lightly stressing the History of Magic professor’s title. But after several more minutes of just standing in an empty room looking at each other, nearly everyone was shuffling their feet and ready to break out a game of Exploding Snap.

”Right, well, you can all wait here, but I’m—“ the Gryffindor said turning toward the door.

”Have a seat, Connor, class isn’t over yet.” Professor Montgomery Vance’s deep, rich voice filled the classroom. With a sweep of his wand, the desks, bookcases, shelves, and assorted historical knick-knacks reappeared in their usual places. As the students settled noisily into their spots, the Professor strode to the front of the room, making the students wonder where he had been just a moment before.

“Strange, is it not, arriving at a place where you expect to find things as you left them, but instead finding the place utterly vacant? And then, your only clue is a word written on a black board.” He turned to contemplate the word “CROATOAN” and shook his head before turning back to the class. ”Today we’ll be discussing the Lost Colony of Roanoke. It’s one of history’s mysteries for both Muggle and wizards alike. If we don't know what happened, then why do you think we're discussing it in this class?”

Gummy gave the students a moment to consider the question before giving in to the silence and answering it himself. ”We may not know what happened to the Roanoke Colony, but you can bet your last knut that some very bad wizards were in it up to their eyeballs.” Noticing the look of confusion on some of the students' faces, Professor Vance explained, “Up to their eyeballs is just a turn of phrase. It means they were deeply involved. No one, as far as I know, was actually buried up to their eyes. I wasn’t being literal.”

When looks of confusion turned to comprehension, Gummy continued. “On May eighth, 1587, three ships set sail from Plymouth, England carrying 89 men, 17 women, and 10 children. The goal of these people was to found the first English city in the new world. The expedition was led by a man named John White. The mystery begins before the ships even left England.” Gummy sat down on the edge of the his desk and got that look on his face that his students had come to recognize as a non-verbal cue to get settled in, because it was story time.

”As the passengers boarded the ships, their names were recorded in the passenger manifest by John White himself. And what we see is the name Thomas Harris appearing twice. Twice,” he repeated for emphasis. ”Muggle historians note this fact, but spend little time puzzling over it. They prefer to assume it was a mistake or that one of the Thomas Harrises should have been denoted as a child. But to wizarding historians, it is the first piece of evidence of that something was truly amiss.”

The Professor held up one finger, which was soon joined by a second. ”The second piece of evidence occurred off the coast of Portugal. Now remember that England was at war with Spain at this time, so that’s a dangerous place to be for an English ship. Records are a bit confusing, but they indicate that there was a storm which separated the ships. But there is also evidence that one of the ships was abandoned by the other two, despite the fact that they could have helped it. The lack of concern for the third ship was remarked upon as was John White’s inability to do anything about it. Oh, not to worry, that ship catches up with the other two eventually. In fact, they rendezvous near Santa Cruz in the Virgin Islands as if it was the plan all along. But where did the third ship go? And why?”

Gummy my noticed some of students exchanging surprised or knowing glances. ”But wait, there’s more,” he said sounding a bit like a muggle infomercial. "So, two of the ships sat around in Carribbean waters patiently waiting on the third to arrive after its mysterious mission. Where did the ships drop anchor and put their passengers ashore while waiting on the third ship? These were experienced captains. They knew the Carribbean like the back of their hands. So did they find a good area with lots of fresh water and wild fruit? No. The captains set the passengers down in an area where the only available water made their skin and eyes burn – some couldn’t see for up to six days after washing their faces in the water. And the fruit the sailors suggested the colonists eat made their mouths burn so badly that even a nursing mother's breast milk burned her infant’s mouth as well. Accidental?” Gummy asked rhetorically. ”Doubtful. And it gets worse.” Gummy looked down at his fingers as he counted out the evidence so far: one, the double entry in the log; two, the ship feigning problems and being left behind; three, the long wait and the obvious rendezvous; four, the intentional cruelty to the colonists.

”Right, that brings us to number five. After the three ships were reunited, they proceeded north toward Virginia. En route, they were supposed to stop at a pre-determined location to take on salt which the colonists greatly needed for preserving food. They were also supposed to stop at a second location to bring on various plants and seedling trees that were to be the beginning of groves that would feed the colonists in the years to come. But as the ships passed the two locations the captains simply refused to stop. In a clear attempt to pacify the colonists, the captain of the lead ship told their leader, John White, that he planned to stop at a different place where they would meet with a man who would easily get the colonists both the salt and the seedlings they needed. However, as you've probably already guessed, when the ships reached the area the ships didn't stop. When John White tried to get the captain to stop, the captain said they they had already passed by the place he had spoken of, and it didn’t matter anyway because the man he had said would help them was long dead.” Gummy added his thumb to the four fingers he already had raised in his count of evidence.

”Finally the colonists reached Roanoke Island. By the way, Roanoke was not their final destination. The ships had agreed to stop at the Roanoke fort to check on the soldiers who had been left behind to man the little English toe-hold in the wilderness. Roanoke had never even been considered as a potential location for the new colony. It was completely unsuited due to its swampy terrain and poor resources. Moreover, there had been an incident of some kind with the local tribe several years before that made Roanoke particularly dangerous. So, anyway, the ships stopped. The colonists, eager to be off the ships if only for a day, were set down on the shore. Then, as soon as the last colonist was off the ships, the three captains told the shocked and angry colonists that their voyage was over. And the ships sailed away.”

If it wasn’t all so awful, Gummy would have been amused by the number of students so surprised and appalled that their jaws had dropped open. He felt it was only fair to warn them. ”Sorry to say, it gets worse. The colonists came across the bleached and dismembered bones of one of the soldiers on their way up to the fort. When they reached the fort, it was empty and half-razed to the ground from an attack. They had to live somewhere, so they set about rebuilding the fortification and the cottages inside. And, oh, by the way,” Gummy almost hated to add this part, but it was true nonetheless, ”because of all the lengthy delays during the journey and all that time waiting on the third ship to catch up, and then later for the captains to decide to continue the journey, it took the colonists four months to transit the Atlantic and the 1587 planting season was over.”

”What? That’s, that’s just… I mean… what the hell?” Connor sputtered.”No way is all of that just a coincidence. No one has that much bad luck.”

”You’re quite right, but let me quickly finish up the sad story of the Roanoke Colony and then I will fill in what bits and pieces wizarding historians have been able to gather over the years. Let’s see, where was I? Ah, yes. So, at this point the colonists were in the Roanoke fort and they were attempting to survive as best they could. One day, a man named George Howe went out crabbing. He later was found dead with an arrow through his chest. This increased the fear and no one was allowed out of the fort alone. In short, things went from bad to worse. The colonists - well most of them - survived the winter and in 1588 a ship stopped by. The little group insisted their leader go back to England, explain their situation, and finally get some supplies. Dutifully, Governor John White left his fledgling colony in a quest for desperately needed supplies and assistance. When he finally returned a year and a half later, this was all he found.” Professor Vance flicked his wand and a large watercolor painting filled most of one wall of the classroom. It showed a group of men in Elizabethan garb looking at a large stockade fence post with a single word carved in it: CROATOAN.

”There was also a tree with the letters CRO carved into it, but that’s all. No people, not even bodies, and not much of anything else was left in the fort. What happened and where they went is the big historical mystery. ‘Croatoan’ was the name of an island about 50 miles south of Roanoke. It was also the name of the Native American tribe that lived there. John White searched Croatoan for his people – his daughter and granddaughter among them – but never found any sign or word of them. Muggle historians and archaeologists are still searching today.”

”You said wizards were involved in all this, Professor. Were some of the colonists wizards? And if so, why couldn’t they send an owl or help defend the colonists?” one of the students asked.

”Excellent questions, Clarence. There were no wizards in the Roanoke Colony. That was a purely Muggle endeavor, or at least it was supposed to be. Wizarding investigators at the time believed there was enough evidence to indicate that the second Thomas Harris on the passenger manifest was in fact a wizard using Polyjuice Potion. But there had to be at least three wizards working together because of how events played out on the three ships. It’s believed that these wizards each had at minimum the captain of each ship, and possibly others, under an Imperius Curse. It’s likely that they used Confundus or Memory Charms on members of the crew at times to get them to go along with the strange orders and behavior of their captains. Our historians are split on the question of whether wizarding involvement ended when the three ships abandoned the colonists at Roanoke -- the worst possible location. It’s possible one or more of the wizards might have stuck around to ensure the total obliteration of the colony.”

”But why, Professor? What was their motive? What did they have to gain? And who were they?” Clarence asked, still completely bewildered by the entire episode.

”I’ve no idea, Clarence, none whatsoever. If I did, it wouldn’t be one of history’s enduring mysteries. Who sabotaged the Roanoke Colony? Who they were working for? Why? And what happened to all the people? There is an American wizard archaeologist who has been charged with watching over all excavations related to the Roanoke Colony and investigating all new findings. In recent years archaeologists have found some interesting evidence that some of the goods the Roanoke colonists brought with them wound up on Croatoan Island and another location about 50 miles inland. But personal possessions can be separated from their owners, so we still don’t have any answers.

”And look at the time!” Gummy exclaimed in surprise. This lesson went far longer than he had anticipated. With a quick swish and flick, homework scrolls appeared in the air above the students’ heads and fluttered down to land on the desk tops. ”There’s your homework. Oh, and next class will be a quiz, so we’ll get to see how much you’ve learned since winter break.”