Prescott opened his mouth to answer, and then stopped. He straightened to his full height, angry and indignant. "You're making fun of me."
"You make it hard not to, sir. Would you be willing to let me speak to this source of yours?"
Prescott brightened. "Yes! In fact, I would! I arranged with Miss Sacarhina for him to come along. He's right over…" He glanced around, his brow furrowing.
"You arranged with Miss Sacarhina?" Finney asked, glancing up toward the top of the courtyard steps. Much of the school faculty, as well as a number of students, were watching with benign interest as the crew industriously packed their gear. Neither Miss Sacarhina nor Mr. Recreant was in sight. "She knows this source of yours, does she?"
"She knows him, all right," Prescott said, still scanning the crowd. "Where is he?"
"He came with the crew?" Finney asked, glancing around. "I don't remember meeting him."
"He was there. Quiet, squirrelly fellow. Had a twitch in his right eyebrow."
"Ah, him," Finney nodded. "I thought he was a little odd. I'd very much like to have a word with him."
"So would I," Prescott agreed darkly.
On the top of the steps, Mr. Hubert turned toward Headmistress McGonagall, Neville, and Harry Potter. "I think we can trust our friends to manage their departure from here. Madam Headmistress, I believe we have a few loose ends to attend to?"
McGonagall nodded, then turned and led the group inside. Harry smiled down at James. "Come along, James. Ralph and Zane, you too."
"Are you sure?" Ralph asked, glancing up at the Headmistress as she strode into the hall.
"'Mr. Hubert' specifically asked for you three to accompany us," Harry replied.
"Nice to have friends in high places, isn't it?" Zane said happily.
"Well," the Headmistress said as they entered the empty silence of the Great Hall, "that went as well as could be expected, even if Mr. Ambrosius was a little heavy-handed with his Amorous Charm. Mr. Finney has insisted that I join him for dinner next time I find myself in London."
"An offer I believe you should take him up on, Madam," Merlin replied, taking off the gigantic hornrimmed glasses and shaking his hair out of the 'Mr. Hubert' ponytail. "I enchanted him with the slightest possible charm. How could I have known that Detective Finney would have a natural predilection for tall, strong, handsome women?"
"How indeed," McGonagall answered. "I believe you are grinning, sir."
James spoke up. "But how'd you know about the Garage, Merlin? I thought for sure we were sunk!"
Merlin glanced back over his shoulder. "I didn't know about the Garage, James Potter. It was beyond the knowledge of the trees, unlike the Anglia vehicle and Madame Delacroix. Improvisation, however, has always been one of my stronger talents."
"But how'd you get the Wocket in there?" Ralph asked. "That was totally brilliant!"
"The trees knew about that, therefore, I did as well," Merlin replied. "It was simply a matter of encouraging an exchange of environments."
Zane grinned. "So the Alma Aleron's cars are out in that old barn in the field?"
"It'll do them some good, I expect," Merlin nodded.
The group walked purposefully through the Great Hall and climbed the stairs onto the dais. McGonagall opened a door in the rear wall and led the others through, into a large antechamber with a stone floor and a dark fireplace. Sacarhina and Recreant were there, sitting on either side of a third person James didn't recognize.
"This is an outrage, Headmistress," Recreant said, leaping to his feet. "First, you bring in this… person to usurp our authority, and then you have the gall to perform the Langlock jinx on us! The Minister will--"
"Do shut up, Trenton," Sacarhina said, rolling her eyes. Recreant blinked, wounded, but clamped his mouth shut. He looked back and forth from Sacarhina to the Headmistress.
"Wise advice, if ever I heard it," Harry agreed, stepping forward. "And I suspect that the Minister will, in fact, hear about this."
"We've done nothing wrong, Mr. Potter, as you know," Sacarhina said, glancing idly at her fingernails. "Mr. Ambrosius' appearance has secured the secrecy of the magical world. All is well."
Harry nodded. "I am glad you feel that way, Brenda, although I find it interesting that you already seem to know 'Mr. Hubert's' real name. No doubt there will be no link proven to connect him, you, and the unfortunate Madame Delacroix. What are we to make of your friend, here, however?"
All attention turned to the man seated in the chair between Sacarhina and Recreant. He was small, pudgy, with thinning black hair and a twitch in his right eyebrow. He shrunk from the gaze of everyone in the room.
Ralph, who'd been the last to enter, pushed his way between Merlin and Professor Longbottom, his brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Dad?" he said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"
The man grimaced miserably and covered his face with his hands. Merlin looked down at Ralph, his large, stony face somber. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "This man says his name is Dennis Deedle. I was afraid you'd recognize him."
"What is he doing here?" Neville asked.
"I think his role in this debacle is fairly evident," the Headmistress replied, sighing. "He is the man responsible for leading Mr. Prescott into our midst."
"What?" Ralph said, rounding on McGonagall. "Why would you say that? That's terrible!"
"He came with Mr. Prescott's crew," Harry said quietly. "He was trying to remain unobtrusive. Perhaps he was worried that you'd recognize him, Ralph. Later, when it was all over, it wouldn't have mattered, of course. But then again, things didn't happen as he expected."
"This is ridiculous," Ralph insisted. "Dad's a Muggle! He signed the Muggles' non-disclosure contract, didn't he? He wouldn't do this, even if he could! I don't know what he's doing here, but it isn't what you all think!"
Merlin still had his hand on Ralph's shoulder. He patted him slowly. "Perhaps you should ask him yourself, then, Mr. Deedle."
Ralph glanced up at the enormous wizard, his face pinched with anger and trepidation. He looked around the rest of the room, from face to face, ending with his father. "All right, then. Dad, why are you here?"
Dennis Deedle still had his hands on his face. For several seconds, he didn't move. Finally, he took a huge breath and sat back, dropping his hands. He looked at Ralph for a long moment, and then glanced around at everyone assembled.
"All right. Yes," he said, having composed himself, "I told Prescott. I sent him the Chocolate Frog and the GameDeck. I'd used it to communicate with somebody on the school grounds, somebody who went by the name Austramaddux. Once I'd done that, I knew that Prescott could locate the school with his GPS."
Ralph's face was frozen with disbelief and misery. "But why, Dad? Why would you do such a thing?"