"Sir," the girl said in a small voice, apparently thinking of Franklyn's advice from the day before. "Technomancy is, I believe, the study of the science of magic?"

        "You are of the Ravenclaw House, Miss Gallows?" Jackson asked, eyeing her. She nodded. "Five points for Ravenclaw, then, although I don't approve of the word 'believe' in my class. Belief and knowledge have little, if anything, in common. In this class, we will apply ourselves to knowledge. Science. Facts. If you want belief, Mistress Delacroix's class will be convening down the hall in the next hour." He pointed, and for the first time there was the surfacing of something like humor in the stony façade. A few students dared to smile and laugh quietly. Jackson turned, flicking his wand at the chalkboard again.

        "The study of the science of magic, yes. It is a common and sad misunderstanding that magic is a mystical or unnatural pursuit. Those that believe--and here I use the term 'believe' intentionally--those that believe magic is simply mystical are also prone to believe in such things as destiny, luck, and the American Quidditch team. In short, lost causes with no shred of empirical evidence to support them." More smiles appeared in the room. Obviously, there was more to Professor Jackson than met the eye.

        "Magic," he continued, as the chalkboard began to scribble his notes, "does not, I repeat, does not break any of the natural laws of science. Magic exploits those laws using very specific and creative methods. Mr. Walker."

        Zane jumped in his seat, looking up from the drawing he'd been working at while the others scribbled notes. Jackson was still facing the chalkboard, his back to Zane.

        "I need a volunteer, Mr. Walker. Might I borrow your parchment?" It wasn't a request. As he spoke, he flicked his wand and Zane's parchment swooped up and wove toward the front of the room. Jackson caught it deftly with a raised hand. He turned slowly, holding the parchment up, not looking at it. The class looked with marked silence at the rather good caricature of Jackson Zane had drawn. Zane began to sink slowly in his seat, as if he was trying to melt under the desk.

"Is it simply magic that makes a true wizard's drawing take on life?" Jackson asked. As he spoke, the drawing on the parchment moved. The expression changed from a caricature of steely-eyed sternness to one of cartoonish anger. The perspective pulled back, and now there was a desk in front of the Jackson drawing. A tiny cartoon version of Zane cowered at the desk. The Jackson drawing pulled out a gigantic cartoon clipboard and began to make red slashes on the clipboard, which had the letters O.W.L. across the top. The cartoon Zane fell on his knees, pleading silently with the Jackson caricature, which shook its head imperiously. The cartoon Zane cried, his mouth a giant boomerang of woe, comic tears springing from his head.

        Jackson turned his head and finally looked at the parchment in his hand as the class erupted into gales of laughter. He smiled a small but genuine smile. "Unfortunately, Mr. Walker, your subtracted five points cancel out Miss Gallows' awarded five points. Ho hum. Such is life."

        He began to pace around the room again, placing the drawing carefully back onto Zane's desk as he passed. "No, magic is not, as it were, simply a magic word. In reality, the true wizard learns to imprint his own personality on the paper using a means other than the quill. Nothing unnatural occurs. There is simply a different medium of expression taking place. Magic exploits the natural laws, but it does not break them. In other words, magic is not unnatural, but it is supernatural. That is, it is beyond the natural, but not outside it. Another example. Mr. um…"

        Jackson pointed at a boy near him, who leaned suddenly back in his chair, looking rather cross-eyed at the pointing finger. "Murdock, sir," the boy said.

        "Murdock. You are of age for Apparition, I am correct?"

        "Oh. Yes, sir," Murdock said, seeming relieved.

        "Describe Apparition for us, will you?"

        Murdock looked perplexed. "S'pretty basic, isn't it? I mean, it's just a matter of getting a place nice and solid in your mind, closing your eyes, and, well, making it happen. Then bang, you're there."

        "Bang? You say?" Jackson said, his face blank.

        Murdock reddened. "Well, yeah, more or less. You just zap there. Just like that."

        "So it is instantaneous, you'd say."

        "Yeah. I guess I'd say that."

        Jackson raised an eyebrow. "You guess?"

        Murdock squirmed, glancing at those seated near him for help. "Er. No. I mean, yes. Definitely. Instantaneously. Like you said."

        "Like you said, Mr. Murdock," Jackson corrected mildly. He was moving again, proceeding back toward the front of the room. He touched another student on the shoulder as he went. "Miss?"

        "Sabrina Hildegard, sir," Sabrina said as clearly and politely as she could.

"Would you be so kind as to perform a small favor for us, Miss Hildegard? We require the use of two ten-second timers from Professor Slughorn's Potions room. Second door on the left, I believe. Thank you."

        Sabrina hurried out as Jackson faced the classroom again. "Mr. Murdock, have you any idea what it is, precisely, that happens when you Disapparate?"

       Murdock had apparently determined that abject ignorance was his safest tack. He shook his head firmly.

       Jackson seemed to approve. "Let us examine it this way. Who can tell me where vanished objects go?"

        This time Petra Morganstern raised her hand. "Sir. Vanished objects go nowhere, which is to say, they go everywhere."

        Jackson nodded. "A textbook answer, Miss. But an empty one. Matter cannot be in two places at once, nor can it be both everywhere and nowhere. I'll save our time by not taxing this class's ignorance on the subject any longer. This is the part where you listen and I speak."

        Around the room, quills were dipped and made ready. Jackson began to pace again. "Matter, as even you all know, is made up almost entirely of nothing. Atoms collect in space, forming a shape that, from our vantage point, seems solid. This candlestick," Jackson laid his hand on a brass candlestick on his desk, "seems to us to be a single, very solid item, but is, in fact, trillions of tiny motes hovering with just enough proximity to one another as to imply shape and weight to our clumsy perspective. When we vanish it," Jackson flicked his wand casually at the candlestick and it disappeared with a barely audible pop, "we are not moving the candlestick, or destroying it, or causing the matter that comprised it to cease being. Are we?"