PresentTense: If you have bought Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows since its release a few hours ago, would you please turn to page three of the book. Are the first words on that page: "eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light"? If so, then it was indeed leaked a few days early, writes Shane Hegarty.
Anyone with the inclination to do so, and a half-decent broadband connection, could bring up the book on their computer screen before it made it to the shelves. Or, rather, they could download photographs of each page, including the blank ones, as taken by a patient but devilish soul whose only identifying marks were short fingernails and a pebbledash carpet on which they rested the book.
They may have been a bookshop employee, a security guard, but probably not one of the 20 or so people who were supposed to be keepers of the secret. These included JK Rowling's husband, printer, editor, illustrators and 28-year-old Cheryl Klein, the "Potterologist" employed to ensure continuity between books. Quite why the writer of the seven books can't ensure continuity is a mystery in itself.
Either way, it was a late breach of a security operation that is reported to have cost £10 million (€14.8 million). This is more than any but a minuscule number of books will ever make, never mind cost.
The printers put up a barbed wire fence and staff were banned from taking mobile phones into the factory to stop them taking pictures of pages. Reports said staff at the German printer had to work in dim light so that they couldn't read it. The publisher, Bloomsbury, had a litigation specialist on 24-hour call in case an injunction was needed to deal with any breaches. And the lawyer charged with flying the manuscript to the US publishers, Scholastic, sat on it all the way over and read the in-flight manual instead while, presumably, hoping he didn't need to use the bathroom.
Meanwhile, Rowling has reportedly received letters from people asking her to reveal the ending of the seventh book because their terminally-ill relative may not live until today.
From the publisher's viewpoint, it was justifiable paranoia. The last two books were stolen at an early stage, while pre-ordered books have had a habit of turning up early. That happened again this week, giving the New York Times the excuse to run a review 24 hours in advance of the book's release. Those lawyers may be about to justify their fees.
Ultimately, then, the publisher's money was spent on damage limitation rather than absolute secrecy. In an age in which everyone is a walking cameraman, to have got this close before the book was given a digital airing was an achievement. It makes you realise just how daft the Roswell conspiracy is. If there really was a UFO stashed somewhere in the Nevada desert, then not only would there be cameraphone pictures all over the web, the aliens would have their own Bebo site.
The publishers claimed that the security was all about maintaining a "magic moment", when readers come to the book innocent of what happens next. In reality, it was as much about protecting the magic moment that will come with their end-of-year bonuses. While secrecy genuinely mattered to fans, it also helped manufacture a once-in-a-lifetime cultural event out of a mere book launch. And in this they were assisted by the media which, though it normally loves to ruin a surprise, has maintained a collective omerta. Journalists have refused to be spoilsports, not for fear of ruining the fun - they did that enough before the final episode of The Sopranos - but because they know that to do so would lose them a generation of potential readers.
But as an interesting footnote, it briefly made books potential booty for pirates. This doesn't happen very often: it's more difficult to run off thousands of knock-off books than it is CDs. There's not normally much call for books on sites which allow the public to illegally download music, movies and games. This week, you could download a PDF of the Alastair Campbell book, but you were more likely to be offered others on making quick cash, playing poker or porn.
The many people who downloaded Deathly Hallows were of two types. By going to the bother of reading blurred lines on a computer screen, they'll probably want to buy the book anyway. More likely, they're the sort of person who doesn't care that much and just wants to skip straight to the end and say they did it before everybody else.
Most readers will make it to the bookshop with their innocence intact. Thanks to the media silence, it took effort to have it any other way. But when they get there, they'll need to have their fingers in their ears. Because somebody is bound to blurt out the ending as they walk past the queue. From today, the biggest threat to the secret of Harry Potter is the book's readers.