Hamish Darrow felt about as prepared for this odd little adventure as he was likely to be. A large flask weighed down the inside of his jacket pocket—a smaller never-emptying one would have been preferable, but ultimately impractical, given that magic was down for the count—and a fully-stocked oil lantern was clutched in his non-dominant hand. A small pack rested on his back, for he was determined that starvation would not be the end of him. The professor had brought Oona along for the adventure as well, and the dachshund trotted happily alongside him, leaping at the occasional locust that saw fit to stir.

"Well, we must find out sooner or later," Hamish remarked jovially, "though perhaps this fellow might offer us a bit more information? Forewarned is forearmed, after all."

It was rather entertaining to see the young faces he had taught—some more recently than others. At the very least, he was confident in the little tribe that they had assembled, particularly with Miss Sykes present as well to help shepherd the children to a sensible conclusion.