darkened. 'That's not what I mean. Make them move! You know they can! You!' He spun on his heels and pointed at McGonagall. 'You had a conversation with a portrait in your office just yesterday! I watched you! I heard the painting talk!'
McGonagall made a face that was so comically surprised that James, who was standing just inside the doorway with the rest of the assembled students, had to suppress a giggle. 'I can't imagine what you mean, sir,' the Headmistress replied.
'Here, now, you leave the lady out of this, why don't you?' Finney said archly, taking half a step in front of the Headmistress, who was a full head taller than him. 'Just you conduct your almighty investigation, Prescott, and let's get this over with.'
Prescott boggled for a few seconds, and then composed himself. 'Ooookay. Forget the moving paintings. Silly me.' He turned back to Hubert. 'I presume class is currently in session, Mr. Hubert?'
'Hm?' Hubert said, as if startled. 'In session? Well, I… I guess so. I wouldn't expect--'
'You wouldn't expect we'd like to see, would you?' Prescott interrupted. 'Well, we would. Our viewers have a right to know exactly what is going on here, right… under… our… noses.'
'Viewers?' Hubert repeated, glancing back to the camera. 'This is, er, live? Is it?'
Prescott dropped his head forward and slumped a bit. 'No, Mr. Hubert. It isn't. Didn't any of you tell him how this works? We record it, we edit it, we broadcast it. Miss Sacarhina, you understood all of this, am I correct?' He glanced aside at Sacarhina, who smiled and spread her arms. She mouthed a few words, and then gestured vaguely at her throat. Recreant cinched his grin a notch higher. His forehead was beaded with sweat. 'Great,' Prescott muttered. 'I see. Marvelous. Continuing.' He straightened and glared at Hubert again. 'Yes, our viewers would very much like to see what happens in these so-called 'classrooms', Mr. Chancellor. Please lead the way.'
Hubert turned to Delacroix. 'What do you think, dear? Divination or Levitation?'
'Dey are both equally impressive. Honey,' Delacroix said, forming the words rather awkwardly. She seemed to want to say more, but despite the workings of her jaw, her lips clamped tightly shut.
'My wife is foreign, as you can see,' Hubert said apologetically. 'But she does her best.'
'The classrooms, please, Mr. Hubert,' Prescott insisted. 'You can't keep the press out, sir.'
'No, no, of course not. We appreciate the publicity, in fact,' Hubert said, turning to lead the crew down a hall. 'Prestigious as we are, sometimes, it's hard to keep our heads above water. Magic is a, er,
Prescott walked briskly into the open doorway of the classroom, followed by his camera crew and boom microphone operator, scrambling to keep up with him. Finney remained near the back of the group, staying as close to Headmistress McGonagall as he could. Harry and James, at the head of the crowd of curious students, leaned in through the door to watch.
'Here, our students learn the ancient art of predicting the future,' Hubert said grandly. A dozen students were scattered around the room, staring grimly down at the objects on the desks in front of them. At the head of the class, as if on cue, Professor Trelawney raised her arms, producing a musical jingling from the assortment of bangles on her wrists.
'Seek, students!' she cried in her mistiest voice. 'Stare deep, deep into the face of the all-knowing cosmos, represented in the swirling patterns and designs of the infinite! Find your destinies!'
'Tea leaves!' Finney said happily. 'My own mam used to read fortunes in tea leaves for the tourists! Got us through some hard times, back in the day. How perfectly picturesque, keeping such traditions alive.'
''Traditions', pah!' Trelawney said, arising from her seat and swirling her gauzy robes dramatically. 'We find the embedded nature of perfect truth in the leaves, sir. Past, present, future, all bound together for those who bear the eyes to see!'
'That's just what my mam used to say, too!' chuckled Finney.
'This is how you tell the future?' Prescott said, staring disgustedly into one of the students' cups. 'This is ridiculous. Where're the crystal balls? Where's the swirling smoke and the ghostly visions?'
'Well, er, we have those things, too, Mr. Prescott,' Hubert said. 'Don't we, dear?'
'Advanced Divination. Second semester. Two hundred-pound lab fee,' Delacroix replied mechanically.
'Covers the crystal balls,' Hubert said behind his raised hand. 'Those things aren't cheap. We have them special made in China. Real crystal and everything. Of course, the students get to take them home at the end of the school year. They're kind of a memento.'
'I believe you mentioned levitation!' Prescott said, marching out of the room. His entourage followed swiftly, clanking and unrolling more electrical cord.
'Certainly, yes. A staple of the magical arts,' Hubert replied, following Prescott across the hall and into another classroom. 'We combine that class with Basic Prestidigitation. Yes, right in here.'
Zane stood in the center of the classroom with a wand in his hand. A few dozen other students sat along the wall, watching in amazement as the bust of Godric Gryffindor floated and bobbed around the room, apparently at the behest of Zane's waving wand. There was a gasp and sigh of amazement from Prescott's crew. The cameraman squatted slowly, zooming in on the action.
'Aha!' Prescott said excitedly. 'Real magic! Being performed by children!'
'Just as promised,' Hubert said proudly. 'Mr. Walker here is among the best in his class. Mr. Walker, what year are you, by the way?'
'First year, sir,' Zane said, grinning happily.
'Excellent form, my boy,' Hubert replied. 'Try a loop, why don't you?'
The students applauded politely as the bust raised and spun slowly in the air. Then, suddenly, it dropped, falling onto a mattress which had been placed in the center of the floor.
'Oh, too bad, Mr. Walker. So close,' Hubert chided.
'It wasn't my fault!' Zane yelled. 'It was my backstage! Ted, you dolt, you yanked when you were supposed to swoop! How many times do I have to explain that!'
'Hey!' Ted objected, bursting noisily out of a closet at the rear of the room. He held a handful of wires in his hand, all of which snaked up to a series of pulleys attached to the ceiling of the closet. 'You want to try coming back here and working these controls in the dark? Huh? Besides, Noah is the one to blame. He was slow with the cross pulley.'
A voice from the depths of the closet yelled angrily, 'What? That's it! I want to be on stage next time. I've had it with this 'assistant' role. I want to wear the hat!'
'Nobody's wearing the hat, Noah,' Zane said, rolling his eyes.
'Well, somebody needs to wear the hat!' Noah cried, his face appearing around the doorway of the closet. 'How does anybody know who's the magician and who's the assistant?'
'Boys, boys,' Hubert placated, raising his hands. 'We only have one hat per classroom, and Miss Morganstern is using it to practice the rabbit trick. Mr. Prescott, Mr. Finney, would you like to see the rabbit trick?'
'Why, yes,' Finney said brightly.
'No!' Prescott yelled.
Tabitha Corsica had pushed herself to the front of the students crowding the doorway. Her face was red with anger. 'Mr. Prescott,' she began, 'you--'
