Franklyn went on. "The theory states that there are extra dimensions, unknowable by any of our senses, but just as real. Effectively, Professor Jackson has created a spell that enables these vehicles to tap into those dimensions, allowing them to exist simultaneously in two places anytime they are inside the walls of this Garage. While they are parked here, they cross the dimensional bubble and exist in both places at once."

        "Remarkable," Slughorn said, running his hand along the fender of the Hornet. "So, effectively, your crew can service the vehicles regardless of where they travel, and you are afforded a view of home, even if you cannot access it."

        "Very true," agreed Franklyn. "It is indeed both a great convenience and a touch of comfort."

        Neville was interested in the cars themselves. "Are they actual mechanized creatures or are they charmed machines?"

        James lost interest as Franklyn launched into a detailed explanation of the winged cars. Walking over to the other side of the tent, he looked out into the grounds of the American school. The sun had just peeked over the roof of the red brick building nearby, casting its rose-colored light onto a clock tower. It was just after six in the morning there. How utterly strange and wonderful, James thought. Tentatively, he reached out his hand, curious to see if he could feel the coolness of the morning air in that other place. He felt a strange, numbing feeling in his fingertips, and then they brushed unseen canvas. Sure enough, he couldn't pass through or even feel the air of the place.

        "Too bad you can't come on over, friend," a voice said. James looked up. The head mechanic was leaning against the fender of the Beetle, smiling. "It's almost breakfast and today's mushroom omelet day."

        James grinned. "Sounds good. It's lunchtime, here."

        "Professor Franklyn," James heard Mr. Recreant's voice say rather loudly, "how does this, er, structure comply with the International Magical Coalition's ban on unproven or dark magic? Being virtually one of a kind, it would seem difficult to establish much of a safety record."

        "Ah, too true," Franklyn agreed, looking steadily at Mr. Recreant. "We have been fortunate enough not to have experienced any problems so far, thus we have gone more or less unnoticed by the Coalition. In any case, it would be difficult to prove the threat of any danger. Even a total failure of Professor Jackson's trans-dimensional spellwork would mean, at worst, that we'd have to take a taxi home instead of our beloved cars."

        "Excuse me," Miss Sacarhina interjected, affecting a rather plastic smile. "A what?"

        "I'm sorry, Miss," Franklyn said. "A cab. A rented Muggle vehicle. I was being somewhat ridiculous, of course."

        Sacarhina cinched her smile a notch tighter. "Ah. Yes, of course. I tend to forget the American wizard's fascination with Muggle machinery. I cannot imagine how it slipped my notice."

        Franklyn seemed oblivious to her sarcasm. "Well, I won't speak for my compatriots, but I admit I do enjoy tinkering. Part of my appreciation for the Garage is that it allows me to oversee the maintenance of my fleet. I never get tired of figuring out how things work, and trying to make them work just a little bit better."

        "Mm-hmm," Sacarhina nodded primly, glancing around at the cars.

        One of the mechanics touched a wire under the hood of the Stutz Dragonfly and there was a spurt of blue sparks. With a squeak and a jerk, the long wings of the car unfolded, beating the air several times before screeching to a halt again. Neville had had to duck backward to avoid being pummeled by them.

        "Good reflexes, Neville," Harry said. "That was almost a case of 'fly swats man'."

        Neville glanced at Harry and saw the suppressed smile. Hardcastle cleared his throat. "We should be moving along, ma'am, gentlemen."

        "Of course," Harry agreed. "Mr. Franklyn."

        Franklyn raised a hand. "I insist you call me Ben. I'm three hundred years old, give or take, and being called 'mister' just reminds me of that. Will you indulge me?"

        Harry grinned. "Of course, Ben. I look forward to seeing you at dinner tonight. Thank you very much for showing us your remarkable Garage."

"A pleasure," Franklyn said, beaming proudly. "I've got a very interesting thought-powered printing press back home I'd love to show you when you come to visit us in the States. I'd even show you the bell I helped cast back during the birth of our country, but the blasted thing's broken and they won't let me fix it."

        "Don't listen to him," Graham, the mechanic, called after them. "Or he'll have you believing he forged the copper for the Statue of Liberty." There was laughter from the rest of the crew.

Franklyn grimaced, and then waved Harry and the group on. "Tonight, my friends. Bring your appetite. And perhaps a competent Freezing Charm. I understand that Madame Delacroix is overseeing the gumbo."

        James hurried back to the Gryffindor common room after classes, shrugging out of his school robes as he ran up the steps. He changed into a jacket and an evening cloak, matted his hair down with water from the basin, frowned critically at himself in the mirror, and then ran back down the steps two at a time to meet his dad.

        Harry was waiting with Neville by the portrait of Sir Cadogan.

        "A spirited tussle it was," Cadogan was saying, leaning nonchalantly against the frame of his painting and waving his sword illustratively. He was talking to Neville, who looked extremely uncomfortable. "I saw the whole thing of course. Took place right there. Bollox Humphreys was his name, and he fought like a man possessed. Lost, of course, but noble as a thousand kings. Spilt most of his innards right where you're standing and still swung his sword with more strength than a mountain troll. Gallant man. Gallant!"

        "Ah, James, here we are," Neville said loudly as James approached. Harry and Sir Cadogan looked up. Harry smiled, looking his son up and down.

        "Your mum will be glad to know you're putting that cloak to use."

        "To be honest, this is the first I've had it out of the trunk," James admitted, grinning sheepishly.

        Harry nodded, "And it'll go right back into the trunk after tonight, won't it?"

        "Guaranteed."