"Mr. Prescott!" Hubert yelled over the sound of the now agitated crowd. "I really must insist that you allow me… Mr. Prescott! This is highly irregular!"

        Prescott led his crew out of the main entrance and across the courtyard. The crowd of students had grown considerably, and the noise of their passage had become quite loud. Everyone had seen the exterior of the Alma Aleron's Garage, but very few had been inside or seen what it housed. The babble of worry and curiosity was a dull roar.

        "This could be bad, James," Harry said, keeping his voice below the noise of the crowd.

        "What can we do?"

        Harry merely shook his head, watching Prescott turn the corner, leading the group toward the canvas structure overlooking the lake. He turned, framing himself before its canvas walls. His crew arranged themselves in position, lowering the boom microphone over him and adjusting huge white umbrellas to reflect the sunlight on his shadowed side. Prescott turned slightly, showing his best side to the camera as Vince squatted slowly, focusing. It was, James had to admit, a very dramatic moment.

        "Ladies and gentlemen," Prescott began, raising his natural orator's voice, "my crew and I, and all of you, have been the victims of an elaborate hoax. This is no simple school of sleight of hand and card tricks. No, I have witnessed within these walls true magic of the most astounding and blood-chilling variety. I have seen ghosts and watched actual levitations. I have observed doors appearing magically in otherwise solid stone walls. I have seen beasts and giants that boggle the mind. Today, we have been played for fools, deceived by a pack of wizards and witches--yes, actual magical people--who believe they can fool us with parlor tricks. But now I will reveal the truth of this place. Behind this canvas is a form of uncanny magic that will shock and astound you. When this truth is revealed, Mr. Rudolph Finney, detective for the British Special Police, will be inclined to launch a full-scale, official investigation into this establishment, with the help of police agencies from all across Europe. After today, ladies and gentlemen, our lives will never be the same again. After today, we will be living in a world where we know, without a doubt, that witches and wizards are real, and that they walk among us."

        Prescott paused, letting his words echo over the stunned crowd. Then he turned toward the area where McGonagall, Hubert, Sacarhina, and Recreant were gathered. Finney stood next to the Headmistress, frowning slightly, his eyes wide. "Mr. Hubert," Prescott called out, "will you open these doors for us? This is your last chance to do the right thing."

        Hubert's expression was grave. He stared very directly at Prescott. "I have to advise you against this course of action, Mr. Prescott."

        "You open it or I will."

        "You'll ruin everything, sir," Hubert said. Next to him, Delacroix was grinning even more manically.

        "I'll ruin nothing but your secret, Mr. Hubert. The world needs to know what is behind those canvas doors."

        Hubert seemed frozen in place. It looked as if he wasn't going to do it. And then he moved forward, lowering his head. There was a long, collective gasp from the crowd. Prescott stepped aside, glancing triumphantly at the camera as he did so. Hubert approached the tent and stood in front of it. He sighed deeply, and then reached up, grasping the knotted strips of canvas that held the tent's wide flaps closed. He turned his head to look at Prescott. After a terrible pause, he pulled. The knot came undone and the flaps dropped open, unfurling like flags, slapping the poles at either side of the broad tent opening. The crowd gasped, and then there was a long, puzzled silence.

        James peered in. He couldn't immediately make out what it was. The inside of the tent was rather dark, but he could see that the flying vehicles were gone. Most of the tent's interior was obscured by a large, oblong shape. A few people near the front of the crowd began to giggle, and then a wave of laughter washed over the crowd.

        "Well, you've done it," Hubert said, still staring at Prescott. "You've ruined the secret. And this was meant to be our big finish. I have to say, sir, you are no fun at all." Hubert finally stepped back, getting out of the way of the tent so that the camera crew could see directly inside. Tiny, colored Christmas lights flashed in sequence around the huge papier-mâché flying saucer. Black letters were painted on the side, clearly visible in the flashing lights.

"And I hate to say it, Mr. Lupin," Hubert said, turning to Ted, "but you misspelled 'rocket'. How dreadfully embarrassing."

20.Tale of the Traitor

        "But I saw them!" Prescott said insistently, his voice growing rather hoarse as he followed Vince between the Landrovers. "Giants! One of them was as tall as the trees! They made footprints the size of… the size of…!" He gestured with his arms desperately. Ignoring him, Vince packed his camera into a foamlined suitcase.

        "You've made quite a fiasco for yourself, Mr. Prescott," Detective Finney said, polishing his glasses on his tie. "Don't make it any worse."

        Prescott turned to the older man, his eyes wild. "You've got to investigate this establishment, Detective! It's not right! They've tricked you all!"

        "If I spearhead any investigations, Mr. Prescott," Finney said mildly, "they'll be investigations of you and your methods. Did you have permission to trespass on these grounds in the first place?"

        "What, are you mad?" Prescott sputtered. He stopped and collected himself. "Of course. As I've already told you, I was tipped off about what was happening here. Someone on the inside led me here."

        "And you checked the background of this person?"

"Well," Prescott said, "the chocolate frog was pretty convincing. I didn't really…"

        "Excuse me. Did you just say 'the chocolate frog'?" Finney asked, his eyes narrowing.

        "I… er, well. The point is, yes, my source was quite certain that something strange was going on here…"

        "That they were, in fact, teaching magic?"

        "Yes. Er, no! Not tricks! Real magic! With monsters and giants and… and… vanishing doorways and flying cars!"

        "And the chocolate frog confirmed this, did he?"

        Prescott opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped. He straightened to his full height, angry and indignant. "You're making fun of me."