The Truth Is Out There

A crossover Harry Potter and X-Files fanfic. Takes place during the GOF World Cup.

Chapter 1 - A Beginning

The email notification popped up on Mulder’s computer screen. It was a bright, sunny, summer afternoon, but the basement office that was the FBI agent’s second home didn’t look much different day or night. Cold, fluorescent light glared down from above and the old chrome of the desk reflected it dully. There was no window - no natural light. Piles of paper and files covered every surface. The walls were lined with dull mismatched steel file cabinets. The whole effect was one of dreary disorder.

Mulder prided himself on knowing where everything was in the mass of files and paperwork. He kept everything - articles on yeti sightings, conspiracy-theory newsletters, blurry photos of strange lights in the sky, and a thousand other oddities for his work. The X-Files were the name given to cases of unexplained phenomena which the Federal Bureau of Investigation didn’t feel worthy of traditional investigation. Fox Mulder had fought for the job of investigating these cases. He found some were pure bunk - hoaxes or things with traditional explanation. He was good at eliminating those and most of the cases he actually worked seemed to have a truth about them that was beyond normal explanation.

Truth was the theme in Mulder’s life and he sought the truth hard and with everything he had. He knew it was out there somewhere, waiting for him to find it. This truth quest had led the agent to experience extra-terrestrial life, government conspiracies, genetically altered life forms, and a multitude of other strange phenomena. He investigated these cases and gathered evidence, striving to find that truth and prove it to the world. Most of the time his theories were laughed at, his evidence thin, and he was not taken seriously. He knew that that one great truth was still out there waiting to be found. Knowing this was what drove Mulder to continue his work at the FBI.

Mulder’s face looked pale and sallow in the bluish light of his office. He didn’t realize it, and he wouldn’t have cared if he had. He’d been working on some case research. Nothing urgent, nothing all that interesting, really. But, Mulder thought, you never know when research will come in handy.

Mulder welcomed the distraction of the incoming email. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and moved the mouse to click on the blinking email icon. “Probably just more spam for Viagra,” he muttered to no one. His partner was out wrapping up loose ends on their last case.

The email opened. Mulder pulled a rakish grin as he read the sender’s name. The email consisted of two short sentences:

The email was signed, “Beatrice.”

Mulder picked up his telephone and pressed a speed-dial button. A few minutes later he was reserved on the redeye flight to London.

Chapter 2 - Bea

Upon arrival in the London airport, Mulder was not surprised to see a tall, dark-haired woman watching him leave the international arrivals concourse. He knew her immediately and greeted her warmly with an embrace. “Bea!”

Bea and Mulder had met many years ago. They had been at Oxford University together, Mulder for Psychology and Bea for Journalism. They had become very close, experiencing a slightly torrid affair - Bea being engaged to another man at the time. Six months later, however, their relationship had ended in an explosive, messy breakup.

For both, the pain felt fresh for years. Mulder had completed his Oxford degree the same year they broke up. He went back to the United States to start his career, getting recruited almost immediately by the FBI where he would become a golden-boy of the agency, well known for his investigative prowess and skill at profiling. He had worked - and solved - a number of high profile cases in those years, building his reputation.

Several years after starting with the Bureau, Mulder leveraged his distinguished reputation to go chasing aliens and mutant life forms in the dark world of the X-Files. Most people in the Bureau said it was a great waste of his talent. His reputation as a top notch investigator tarnished and he became laughably known as “Spooky” Mulder.

Bea had another year left at university after their breakup. She kept to herself mostly - too hurt to begin another relationship. After completing her course of study, she took a job with a London newspaper and started her new life.

Over the years, Bea became the top crime reporter in the UK. Her byline was famous. She not only reported on events, but her investigative and research skills had even cracked some cases. She knew nearly every detective at the Yard and was good friends with the Metropolitan police commissioner.

Mulder and Bea had different lives on opposite sides of the ocean and had no reason whatsoever to connect for many years.

About a year ago, they had met again while Mulder was in London working a case. Bea was in the midst of working a big story about an escaped killer, and was very surprised to hear from Mulder. He rang her and asked if she wanted to meet him for a drink. Bea hesitantly agreed.

It was a surprise to both when they found the feelings of resentment and the bitter memories had gone and left them both with a comfortable, friendly feeling. They found they could talk without pain. They had no illusions of reestablishing their romantic relationship - they both had their own lives to lead and there was too much history for that. Still, they were comfortable with each other and rekindled their friendship that night over drinks.

Mulder’s case had just wrapped up. He had a few days before he needed to be back in Washington. Bea told him about the story she was working on - it was an odd one - an escaped convict named Black - in for a life sentence, apparently, and escaped with no trace after 12 years.

Mulder was immediately interested and spent his days off investigating the story with Bea. It was all very hush-hush. They hadn’t been able to locate Black’s family or even find out which prison he’d escaped from. Members of the British government then made it clear to Bea that other than warning the population to be on the lookout, they didn’t want any of the matter brought to light. This tweaked their interest naturally. However, as it turned out, they found no answers and came up with only more unanswered questions. One thing they had each found in their time spent together, was a good friend. They had parted since then but kept in touch.

“Mulder!” Bea exclaimed as Mulder released her from his hug. “How have you been? Still chasing aliens?” She grinned at him. “Or should I call you ‘Spooky’?” He gave her a pained expression at this. Mulder had filled Bea in on his new career path. He hadn’t, however, told her about that awful nickname. Well, he thought, she isn’t renowned for her investigative skills for nothing.

Bea had straight, dark hair cut in a short pixie style. She was tall and sturdily-built but even so, she still looked lean. She had a no-nonsense attitude that served her well in her job. She was English, born and raised in Manchester, although she was now based in London.

Bea’s father had done factory work in the industrial city, but was determined to see to it that his daughter got as much education as he could afford. She’d gone to a good boarding school, her father picking up extra shifts when he could and putting every pound he could toward his daughter’s education. Later Bea was able to take up a prestigious scholarship which enabled her to attend Oxford.

Bea’s father had died only a few months ago, after a brief but intense struggle with pancreatic cancer. Bea had spent hours on the phone with Mulder, who had helped her through her grief.

“So, what’s up?” Mulder asked Bea.

She grabbed him by the hand and lead him toward the exits. “Let’s go. I can talk and drive at the same time.”

Bea and Mulder left the airport in Bea’s car, a small economy model. For all her success, Bea was still that frugal child of a blue-collar father. Mulder folded his long legs into the small space and was quiet as Bea concentrated on getting through the chaotic airport traffic.

They spent the first hour of the drive catching up on old times. Bea told Mulder about some of her bigger stories in the last year, including covering the murder trial of a celebrity. Mulder told Bea about a strange case he had worked in the Montana - mutilated cattle, and a case of serial murder where the victims were apparently killed by human pheromones.

Their small talk wound down and they both knew it was time to talk about why they were here.

With the dexterity born from often working from her car, Bea pulled a folder from the attaché case behind her seat. Mulder grimaced with a fake expression of fear, nodding toward the busy highway full on oncoming traffic. “I could have got that for you, you know.”

Bea passed him the folder. Mulder opened it. Inside were news clippings, wire reports, and scraps of paper covered with notes in Bea’s messy hand. Mulder looked at Bea curiously.

Bea explained. She had run across a pattern of odd occurrences while researching for work. She had been auditing local country newspapers - a good way to pick up a scoop sometimes - and strange items had caught her eye here and there. Amusing items in many cases, but very odd. She began saving the articles, first simply as a curiosity. A few days and several clippings later she began to detect a pattern. There were strange things going on all around the United Kingdom and in her home base of London. She tried to explain this to Mulder.

“Of course, odd happenings in London aren’t all that, well, odd” Bea continued, “but coupled with everything else…”

Mulder looked skeptical.

Bea continued, “Then I sent my assistant up north - where I believe the focus of the whole thing is - to have a look round and…” She hesitated a moment, “Well, the strangest thing…”

Mulder jumped in, eyebrows raised. “She didn’t come back?”

Bea laughed suddenly as if caught by surprise. “No, of course she came back. Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? She went up there and she came back - almost immediately. Said she forgot an appointment with the dentist. And when I asked her about the trip, she had no memory of anything at all.” Bea gave Mulder a serious glance. “All she remembers is she got there, remembered the appointment, and came right back.”

“But,” Bea paused moment, “she charged her expenses. There’s a bill for a room, two meals, and a car rental. And she was gone two days. Something happened to her. She’s been my assistant for years. I know she wouldn’t lie to me. I think she truly doesn‘t recall anything.”

Mulder’s eyes registered interest at this and he paused his perusal of the articles. “Memory loss? Unless she’s had some kind of mental issues in the past… No? Well then, that is something. Sounds like some kind of directed memory loss.”

“And when she arrived at the dentist - no appointment. Poor thing. She’s sure there’s an error by the clerk and won’t hear a word about it.” Bea kept her eyes on the road. They were going through a patch of heavy traffic.

Returning to the folder, Mulder started to read through some of the articles. They were odd bits and pieces from around the U.K. Many were about perculiar happenings in railway and bus stations. Most referred to people described as strange-looking, oddly dressed, or foreign. The articles were recent - within the last few weeks. Mulder read a few at random.

At King’s Cross Station in London, a young boy had been miraculously saved after falling off the platform onto the tracks of an incoming train. Mr. Edward Jameson of London had been hanging from the platform, his legs held by fellow passengers, trying to reach the boy when the child had inexplicably flown into his arms. Mr. Jacob Silverman told a reporter at that same moment he noticed a group of oddly-dressed people. “One man, he had a stick. This stick he pointed at the boy and he said something I couldn’t understand. Then the child was saved.” Mr. Jameson had no comment except to say something about a strong gust of wind or that he must have been closer to the child than he thought.

A man was struck by a motorcar. Passers by indicated he simply stepped out into the street, looking at automobiles with what was described as a “curious expression.” Ambulance personnel reported that the man was delirious en route to hospital. “He was carrying on - said a lot of stuff we didn’t understand - and then he went on and on about not wanting to miss the World Cup. Had to be delirious, because everyone knows the World Cup of soccer isn’t even this year.” The police had reported it as a suicide attempt.

A very recent article from the Pugleton Daily noted that the small northern village of Pugleton had reported to the county that its annual summer visitor tally had climbed from 25 last year into the thousands this year. Bea had attached a note that she could find no published events in the surrounding area to explain the jump.

Another article from Pugleton reported Mr. Angus McDermott was walking his dog in a nearby woodland when he emerged at the edge of a moor and spotted three extremely tall golden poles topped with rings. His dog then ran off back into the woods, acting very strange. Mr. McDermott left to find his dog, resolving that he would return next day to investigate. The following day he couldn’t find anything - in fact he couldn’t find the spot he had been earlier. This was very odd as Mr. McDermott had lived near Pugleton all his life and was believed to know every inch of the country.

There were many more articles, notes, and telephone interview transcripts. Bea and her assistant had been phoning many of the subjects of the articles and were getting more and even stranger information. People who had given statements to police about a group of unruly men in a northern pub had, a week later, recalled nothing about the incident. A woman who had been hanging out her washing when a stranger suddenly appeared out of nowhere right before her eyes now said she must have been mistaken.

“Can you see it?” Bea asked Mulder. “Or am I going nutters? I think something’s been building up the last couple weeks. Its gathering steam. I think something big may be happening any day now.”

Mulder nodded a bit. He wasn’t fully convinced, but he was interested. Bea continued, “I think a big group of people - odd people - foreigners or something - are gathering somewhere near the village of Pugleton. For what reason, I can’t tell. I don’t know why it worries me, but I am curious. Could be a story in it somewhere.”

She pressed on, “Perhaps nothing will come of it, but my instincts say otherwise.”

Mulder’s did too. Mulder guessed where they were headed. He had slept for most of the flight over and wasn’t tired. He’d been used to strange waking hours from his work on the X-Files. He didn’t know why he was intrigued. There really wasn’t much evidence here - nothing concrete - nothing even that substantial.

These events were innocuous and odd. But something piqued Mulder’s interest. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention and he got that feeling in the pit of his stomach - the one he got when he knew he was on to something. This was like working an X-Files case. Strange, unexplained, and seemingly unrelated phenomenon could all be pieces of a larger puzzle. The completed puzzle would be the “truth.” Mulder always believed if he could put enough pieces together he would have it.

Bea was quiet as Mulder read through the rest of the articles and notes. She hoped he would come to the same conclusions - she’d hate to have dragged him here on a fool’s errand. She glanced at Mulder’s handsome face. Of course, it was quite good to see him again…

Chapter 3 - Investigations

Upon arrival in Pugleton, Bea and Mulder headed for the local pub. That would be the best place to gather information from the locals. It was an English country pub that Mulder thought looked like it had been pulled from a movie set. They had a bit of lunch - the pub’s specials board advertised Toad in the Hole and Pie and Mash. Mulder certainly didn’t miss English food after he left University. Bea ordered their lunch and two pints of “best.”

It was just after midday and there were a few locals in the pub. Mulder started to scope them out while they ate.

Mulder and Bea approached a woman, in her fifties probably, who had a weary-looking face. After Mulder bought the woman a pint of the bitter she had been drinking, she was pleased to answer his questions about happenings in the village.

It turned out that Mrs. Grundy had seen strangers in the village recently - quite a lot of them. Neither she nor the locals were sure why they were there. “Not usual,” she shook her head, frowning. “Not at all usual ‘round these parts.” Her neighbor told her it was a hippy cult of some kind. Apparently most of them - there seemed to be thousands with more arriving every day - were staying at a local campsite. She had finished off the pint and looked questioningly at her glass.

Mulder signaled the barman and listened to Mrs. Grundy continue on about ‘furiners.’ A few minutes later, the pub door opened and a man walked in. Mrs. Grundy nodded her head at the man who entered. “That’s the camp manager, Mr. Roberts. He knows the most about it all. Although, if you believe what’s going round, he’s been a bit off his rocker his self of late. That’s what comes from mixin’ with a bunch of furiners and crazies.” Mrs. Grundy didn’t seem to worry about insulting the ‘foreigner’ with whom she was speaking. “I know his wife from the shops, poor thing. She’s a dear - and they have two young ones as well.”

Mulder and Bea thanked the woman for the information and left to talk to this Mr. Roberts. It turned out that Mr. Roberts did indeed own a camp ground consisting of a few ‘improved’ spaces and surrounded by large empty fields and woods used for tent camping.

“Funny, the whole lot of them were reserved ahead. And I’ve mowed both fields to make more sites. Whole lot of people been coming in - more every day - today they’ve been coming in by the hundreds. And none of ‘em got cars or camping vans. Any road, I ‘spect we got thousands now. Sure is a sight to see with the fields filled up with tents. Never seen the like of it I haven’t.”

Mr. Roberts downed most of the pint he was drinking. “Most years I get a few people here and there in the summertime - on the week ends mostly. Never seen the like of it. Just nipped down to the local here for a quick drink - all this is playing hell with my nerves. But I got to get back soon.”

Bea asked if he knew what was going on to bring these people here. Mr. Roberts shook his head dourly. “Nah, don’t know. Not really my business, is it?”

Next Bea asked Mr. Roberts about the people staying at the campground and what they were like. Mr. Roberts got a strange, glassy expression and paused a moment. Then he murmured, “Just people. Same as you and me. Nothing to tell, really.” He took the last drink from his glass.

A man who had been standing at the bar nearby had been listening to their conversation. He jumped in at Roberts’ words, “Now, that’s not what you said yesterday, Donald.” The man thumped Mr. Roberts on the shoulder with the newspaper he held. “You went on and on about that lot. Said they were some were foreigners from God knows where and they were all strange - trying to pay in foreign money and dressing in the oddest clothes Didn’t you say there was a man in a ladies housecoat and someone wearing a kilt and a poncho?”

The man nodded at Mulder, frowning. “He said they looked a right bunch of nutters.”

Mr. Roberts looked surprised and like he was almost remembering something. Nothing more was forthcoming, however. The glassy expression returned to his face. “Well, got to be off. The Missus will want me home.” With that he left the pub, leaving Mulder and Bea staring after him.

Mulder and Bea returned to their lunch table to talk.

“Directed memory loss. That’s got to be it. I’ve seen it before.” Mulder told her.

Bea looked interested, “Where have you seen it before?.

He hesitated a bit. Right, now here’s the part where she runs screaming… “I’ve run across it in some of my investigations. I think its something the aliens have used.”

Mulder had said it almost like it was a normal thing to say and like nobody within earshot would think he was completely barking. Bea looked at him. She knew about his obsession with strange occurrences - that’s why she had called him here after all. She knew he believed his sister had been abducted by extra terrestrial beings. She hadn’t, however, expected him to conclude aliens for her mystery! That was absolutely crazy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mulder told her. “You were the first to think something’s going on here.”

“Well, something. But I certainly didn’t say I thought it was aliens!” She looked shocked. Its just his one-track mind, she thought, he must always jump to this conclusion when confronted with the unexplained.

“What do you think it is, then?” Mulder asked.

Bea stammered. “Well, I don’t know, of course. We’ve only just arrived. Could it be some kind of cult? And maybe Mr. Roberts was faking that memory thing. Maybe he’s in on it as well. I don’t think we should speculate until we do some further investigation.”

Mulder sighed. “OK, lets go check it out then.”

They left the pub and headed for Mr. Roberts’ campground. It was now late afternoon. Before the turn-off, Mulder asked Bea to pull over. She was surprised but he explained, “We’re not going to go right up and knock on the door are we? Lets get out and walk from here.”

They did so, trying to look inconspicuous and stay near cover as they walked toward the campground. As the neared the top of a slight hill, they could make out many brightly colored tents pitched in the nearby fields.

Mulder pulled out a pair of small binoculars from his pocket. He looked through them for several minutes. With a slight whistle he handed the glasses to Bea. “Check it out,” he said, “Those may look like ordinary tents from a distance, but look close.”

Bea looked through the field glasses. At first glance, things seemed normal. Quickly though her eyes began to pick up on small oddities. First of all, there were a lot of tents. Most did not look like they were ordered from a camping catalogue. She spotted one that looked like it had a brick chimney on it. Well, that certainly wasn’t possible - must be an optical illusion. And that couldn’t be a weathervane, could it?

There were a few very large tents - bigger than Bea had seen apart from a circus. One was brightly striped in red and white and was tall with towers and minarets. Bea had never seen a multi-level tent before. Was it even possible? A flash of reflected light caught her eye through the binoculars. A smaller tent with a white picket fence had light reflecting from what looked incredibly like a water fountain.

She handed the glasses shakily back to Mulder. “All right. Either we’re both going completely, stark-raving loony, or … or … well, I don’t know!” She looked at him, “Right. Bloody hell! But don’t think I’m coming round to your alien theory! Why would aliens go camping, anyway? Stressful job? Need a holiday?” She ran her fingers through her hair several times. It was beginning to stand up on end and she knew she must look a bit mad.

“Let’s go in for a closer look,” Mulder suggested.

Bea was just a bit frightened at the prospect. “Do you think we should?”

“Yes, but lets wait ‘til dark. It’ll be easier to get in without anyone seeing us.”

They settled in to wait, periodically checking through the binoculars. There were many people about the campground - thousands or possibly even tens of thousands. Maybe more, Bea thought. Where were they all staying? The campground was large, but even so there couldn’t be more than a few hundred tents in all. There were people milling about everywhere. She pointed out to Mulder a steady stream of people emerging from one part of the woods, and walking across the campground and into another part.

An hour or so later the sun started to set. Bea nudged Mulder, who had been dozing in the fading heat of the summer sun - it had been a beautiful August summer day - warm but not hot, spots of fluffy clouds in the sky. “Looks like most of them have gone off into the woods someplace.” She handed him the binoculars.

Mulder grabbed them and saw that indeed, there were far fewer people milling about and there were still people heading into the woods. They waited a little longer and within a half hour the campground looked deserted.

“Do you see any people now?” Bea asked.

Mulder took another close look with the field glasses. Among the tents there was nobody having a cook-out and nobody playing volleyball and nobody sitting on lawn chairs. It seemed deserted.

Mulder shook his head. “Let’s go,” he said and took off walking toward the tents. Bea hurried to catch up to him, running to keep up with Mulder’s long strides. It was not dark, but the sun had nearly set.

They avoided Mr. Robert’s house, which was near the camp entrance, and went directly toward some of the tents. They stopped in front of a tent which was green. It was in a group of completely green tents. Bea noticed that strangely they weren’t green colored canvas or nylon; rather the tents were completely covered with what looked like plant material. Mulder reached out and touched it. Bea held her breath and looked on. He pulled his hand back and looked at a bit of the plant. “Clover?” He handed it to Bea.

“Looks like it,” Bea answered. “Shamrocks, they call it round these parts and, of course, in Ireland as well.” The tents didn’t seem to be suffering from being covered with a thick carpet of the stuff. Though why anyone would want to cover a tent with shamrocks, Bea didn’t know.

They next came across a large group of tents that were bedecked with strange, moving pictures of a scowling man and a caption reading “Krum.”

It looked a little like a flat television screen, Mulder thought. The pictures seemed to be on large pieces of a card-stock and Mulder could find no projector or electronic equipment of any kind. He touched the picture, which had no effect. It felt like paper to him. He wanted to take one of them for evidence and wondered if it would cause some kind of alarm or if it would be noticed. He felt around the edges and pulled, but it seemed to be well attached to the tent walls. He gave up on the idea for the moment.

Some of the tents were bedecked with flags as well. Bea whispered to Mulder, pointing, “That’s the Bulgarian flag, I think.”

There was an unattended fire outside of a brilliant puce colored tent. A gigantic black cauldron sat over the fire, a brilliant green substance boiling and bubbing slowly. Bea thought instantly of MacBeth’s witches.

A bit of color on the ground caught Bea’s eye as they continued through the campground. As she picked up the strange object, she saw it was a green ribbon rosette. She nearly dropped it as it squealed at her. The words were unfamiliar - they sounded like “Troy! Mullet! Moran!” She examined it closely and could find no battery or speaker. She showed it to Mulder who examined it and declared he could find no mechanism. The tinny voice stopped when she put the item in her pocket. This, Bea thought, was getting to be like that old American television program, Twilight Zone.

“Should we have a peek inside?” Bea asked - they were walking past some tents closer to the woods - most of these were a bit more normal-looking and with the exception of the one with a wooden doorway and a bell pull, mightn’t have seemed out of place in a campground.

Mulder agreed and pointed to a nearby canvas tent. The flap on it was unzipped. Mulder ducked down and went inside. Bea followed. What she saw made her gasp. It was incredible. They suddenly found themselves in what looked like an old fashioned living room parlor. For a moment, Mulder wondered if they had been transported to another place, but looking behind him he could see the tent flap.

This room was far bigger inside than the exterior of the tent. Bea muttered in astonishment, “What is this? Something out of Doctor Who?”

There was a small kitchen and bedroom as well as the sitting room where they were standing. The place smelled. “What’s that smell? Cats?” Mulder asked quietly. Bea was starting to breath very fast and she could only sputter incoherently.

“Breathe, Bea. Slow down - breathe out completely. I think you’re hyperventilating.” After a few moments, Bea was calmer.

“Sorry, went a bit wonky there for a minute. Mulder, have you ever, in your life, experienced anything like that?” She asked him shakily.

It looked like Mulder was thinking - he was actually cataloguing his X-Files work, comparing various degrees of oddness he had encountered. “Well, I have seen some very strange things. And a lot of stuff I couldn’t explain. But no, I definitely don’t recall ever having seen anything like it before.”

“What should we do?” Bea asked him.

“I wonder where all these people went off to,” Mulder said. “And how did they get here? I mean, do they have cars? Busses? I didn’t see any around. Its like they appeared out of nowhere.”

“Lets get out of this tent.” Bea still looked a bit overwhelmed, Mulder thought. He nodded and they exited the tent through the flap.

Bea was very grateful to be out of the strange tent and back into the open air where things were a bit more normal. It seemed that ‘normal’ was beginning to be quite relative, she thought as she noticed another tent nearby that looked like it had three stories.

Chapter 4 - Evidence

The tent Bea and Mulder emerged from was next to a path that looked like it had a lot of recent use. Mulder pointed toward the woods next to the tent. “There’s kind of a trail through there. I think that may be where the crowd was going, Should we take a look?”

They were just about to try the trail when they heard voices from the woods. Mulder and Bea ducked back into the canvas cat-smelling tent and watched as two strange-looking men walked by them on the path. One man was dressed in a Scottish kilt and was wearing a green poncho. The other man had on a tweed suit and what looked like hip-length waders. Bea and Mulder could hear them talking.

The man in the suit was bellowing, “What’s going on? Didn’t someone do a memory charm on Roberts today? It must be him, wandering around. Who else could it be? Everyone else is at the World Cup - which is where we should be.”

The other man - the one in the kilt - replied. “How in the bloody hell should I know. But someone’s been tripping the wards. We’ve got to check it out. Wouldn’t want any Muggles wandering about while everyone’s at the match. The quicker we get it done the quicker we can go back. I‘ve got ten Galleons on Ireland and I want to see it.”

The men wandered around, looking about while Mulder and Bea waited in the tent, trying to make no noise. Bea was practically holding her breath.

They caught occasional glimpses of the men through the tent flap. It looked like they were heading toward the camp entrance. Mulder grabbed Bea’s shoulder and jerked his head toward the flap. She could tell he meant to follow them. She hesitated a moment, realizing that at this moment she’d give anything to stay in this tent . She took a deep breath and nodded - she’d go with him. They left the tent. It felt strange to be outside again. The odd tent had begun to feel almost safe for Bea and now back out in the open she felt very nervous.

They crouched down and followed the two men, keeping one row of tents between them. The men approached Mr. Robert’s house and knocked on the door. The caretaker opened the door. Mulder and Bea could see and hear from their position crouched beside the edge of a nearby tent.

“What can I do for you gentlemen? Mr. Roberts said politely, looking strangely at their odd apparel.

One of the men removed something from his pocket. To Mulder it looked like a short piece of narrow pipe or maybe a thick stick. Mulder couldn’t tell for sure if it was metal or wood - it was dark in color was just under a foot long.

Mulder wondered if he should prepare to jump out and defend Mr. Roberts - but it didn’t look as if the man in the tweed was going to strike him with that stick. Suddenly, a voice rang out. The man in had called out a word that sounded like, “Obliviate!” Mulder didn’t know what he expected, but he was a bit surprised there wasn’t a noise like a gunshot or a flash of lightening or something.

“There, there, Mr. Roberts. Now, why don’t you go inside and have a spot of tea. And then maybe a nice sleep for the rest of the night? Take it easy - you don’t want to come outside again tonight - you should stay inside with your family.” The man in the tweed spoke soothingly.

Mr. Roberts yawned. Through the darkness, Mulder could just make out that same glassy expression from the pub. “Oh, I do apologize. Well, I’d better get back inside now. Time for a some tea I think. And then off to bed. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen…” He turned back into the house, closing the door.

“Nice work, that.” The man in the kilt said. “You do have a knack for memory charms.”

“Let just hope he stays inside now. Do you think we should post some personnel out here just in case?”

The man in the suit and waders laughed, “Do you want a riot on your hands? Nobody’s going to stay out here with the match going on. I only agreed because it was just the mascots and I thought we could get back before they released the Quaffle. But as it stands now we’ve probably missed the start.”

Mulder and Bea looked at each other. Mulder shrugged to indicate he had no idea what the man was talking about. He’d never heard of a Quaffle - or whatever it was they were talking about. And what did they mean by memory charm?

Bea thought back to the article about the delirious man in the ambulance who spoke of the World Cup. These oddly-dressed men mentioned the World Cup and referred to a match of some sort that they didn’t want to miss. She knew the World Cup in soccer was not being played this year, but perhaps some other sport? What in heaven’s name was a Quaffle? Something to do with this World Cup sport?

Mulder nudged her and she looked at the men again, who had walked partway across the field of tents back toward the place where they had emerged from the woods. Keeping them in sight and trying to make no noise, Bea and Mulder followed. They might not have bothered with their attempts at stealth - the men were talking and laughing loudly and they didn’t seem to be paying much attention to their surroundings.

The men entered the woods near what Mulder and Bea were now thinking of as ‘their’ tent. Mulder and Bea followed. The trail was dark. Mulder could tell the men had flashlights or a light source of some kind. Mulder felt for the flashlight in his pocket but thought better of using it. The men might see them. So they just tried to keep the men’s light in sight as they followed. Mulder could tell they were approaching a clearing of some sort - the trees were getting thinner and there was a lot of light up ahead. As the two men emerged from the woods, the light suddenly vanished.

Bea gasped and she and Mulder hurried on. Bea was ahead of Mulder by a half dozen paces or so when she suddenly stopped. She turned around in her tracks and started to hurry back down the trail, pushing past Mulder without explanation. She ran haphazardly back down the trail, stumbling over tree roots in the dark.

Mulder chased her. He pulled the flashlight from his pocket - it was a good one - high powered and sturdy. If there was one thing he’d learned in investigating the X-Files it was to always carry a good flashlight. This one had a lot of miles on it, but it had never failed him. Mulder could move faster than Bea with light. He could hear Bea crashing around on the path ahead. Even with the light it took him several minutes to catch up to Bea. Lucky for him that she was stumbling in the dark; otherwise he might not have been able to catch up.

Mulder grabbed Bea’s shoulder and pulled her to a stop, shining the flashlight in her face. She was very pale and had a frantic look.

“Bea, where are you going? What’s going on?”

“I have to get back to London.” She tried to continue her journey down the path, but Mulder was holding her arm.

“What are you talking about?”

“I have an important story meeting. I don’t know how I could have forgotten. I have to go back.”

“Bea, what are you talking about? That’s crazy.”

“If I don’t get back I’ll lose my job. Let me go.” She wrenched herself out of his grasp and once again jogged down the path.

Mulder ran to catch up. He grabbed her again. “Look, Bea. Let’s sit down and talk about this. You didn’t tell me about any meeting before. We came up here to investigate, and that’s what we’re doing. I’m sure you don’t have an appointment.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me go.”

“I’m not going to do that, Bea. Let’s talk about this - you do not have a meeting scheduled now.” He said slowly and reasonably.

“Let go of me, you big, stupid git!” Bea looked like she was on the verge of tears. “Belt up! Shut your great gob. I don’t bloody well care what you think. I have to get back.” She tried to wrench herself from Mulder’s grip.

Mulder physically pulled her off the trail and into the woods. He sat her down on a stump. Tears were rolling down Bea’s face but she was silent. “Listen to me. Something’s happened to you. You don’t have a meeting. Remember what you told me about your assistant and her dentist appointment? The same thing is happening to you. This is important. You have to realize that.”

He continued, making his voice calm and reasonable. He still held onto her arm to prevent her from leaving. “We came here to find the truth. We’ve seen a lot of strange things. Remember? We’re going to stay here ‘til we find out what’s going on.” He knelt beside the stump and took Bea’s hands in his. “You found all this… It was you.” He wiped tears from Bea’s cheek with a finger. Bea was shaking her head like she couldn’t bear to hear any more - but at least she wasn’t struggling anymore.

“Here’s what I want you to do. Your brain says that you have an important meeting to get to. Something so important you have to leave here right now in the middle of everything. That’s OK. Go ahead and believe that. But with another part of your brain I want you to realize that what you believe about this isn’t really true. You can go on believing it, but resolve to yourself that you are going to ignore it and carry on.”

Bea’s sobs slowed down a little bit. Mulder thought he might be getting through to her. He took her hands in his and looked into her eyes.

“Think you can you do that?” Mulder asked her.

Bea was silent a couple minutes. Her tears had stopped and it looked like she was thinking. That look of panic hadn’t completely left her face, however. Finally she hesitantly said, “I think so.”

“Good, then let’s go,” said Mulder.

“Give me a few minutes. I’m shaking all over.” Bea sat on the stump for a while collecting herself. Her mind was racing. She knew - absolutely knew - that she had to get to a meeting, and that it would mean her job if she didn’t. And yet she now realized how strange and incongruous it all was and how it couldn’t possibly be true. Could she do it? Could she override one ‘truth’ with another? Maybe it was possible. That thought calmed her. She thought she could continue.

Bea dusted off her pants as she stood up. “Well, its just a job,” she sighed, gloomily. “Give me the torch.” She took the flashlight from Mulder.

“That’s the spirit!” Mulder clapped her on the shoulder.

They started to walk back to the trail. With a sudden thought Mulder stopped in his tracks. He grabbed Bea’s hand. She turned the flashlight upward, illuminating their faces. Mulder had a strange, almost fearful look. He looked Bea in the eyes and said with resolution, “If that happens to me - if I suddenly think I have to leave for some appointment or something - I want you to tell me the same thing. Stop me, grab me. Sit on me if you have to.”

Bea looked hesitant. She doubted whether she could physically stop Mulder if he decided to run from her.

Mulder continued, a sadness in his voice and eyes. “If it happens, talk to me. Tell me about the truth. Tell me that the truth is somewhere out here and I won’t find it if I leave. Tell me.” His eyes pleaded silently. Bea could feel their desperation into her very core.

Chapter 5 - Capture

Mulder and Bea walked again up the woodland trail. They had nearly reached the point where the strange men had disappeared. Suddenly there was a great cacophony of noise and voices. Cheering, shouts, whistles, and loud bangs came out of the darkness. Ahead of them, there was light - and the intensity of it was growing. A crowd was coming up the path. Mulder looked at Bea. He took her hand and they began to run.

They burst out of the woods back into the campground. Mulder knew there wasn’t much time before people emerged behind them. The small, canvas tent still stood nearby with it’s open flep. They ran for it and dove inside, panting.

They had made it with only a few moments to spare - crowds of people poured out of the woods. It was chaos. People were everywhere. There was a lot of cheering and singing. Someone was shooting off fireworks. The sky was more illuminated - it should be pitch black by now but it wasn’t. There were hundreds of people - probably thousands - and more were coming. A constant stream of people were coming from the trail near their tent.

Mulder and Bea watched from the tent flap.

Mulder leaned toward Bea to whisper in her ear, “Let’s wait here a few minutes and if we can slip out unnoticed, I think we can probably lose ourselves in the crowd. We don’t want to be here when the owners of this tent come back.” She nodded in agreement.

They waited several minutes until there seemed to be a slight lull in the people coming by. Mulder nodded at Bea and they exited the tent.

Suddenly a loud voice rang above the cacophony. “Hey! What’s going on? Who are you?” Mulder turned to see a boy - well, a young man, really - with bright red hair. He held a short, light-colored stick and pointed it at them.

Bea had turned as well. She weighed her options and after a moment smiled broadly at the boy. “Sorry about that. We must have gotten the wrong tent. We’ll just be on our way, then, shall we?” She took Mulder’s arm and they started to walk off.

“Hold it!” The young man waved the stick at them in what Mulder thought was a threatening manner. “What do you mean wrong tent? I know all the tents around here and I’ve never seen you before.” Mulder took Bea’s hand in a firm grip. If they made a break for it he didn’t want to lose her. Mulder was planning how to best knock the young man over - he was wary of that stick - when another voice boomed out through the crowd.

“Percy! What’s going on? Who are these people? Put that wand down.” An older man with the same color of red hair - what was left anyway - had arrived.

Along with the older man and Percy were six other redheads - two men, a set of teenage twins, and a younger boy and girl. A skinny boy with jet black hair and glasses and a girl with brown hair that could best be described as “bushy” were also watching intently. Mulder groaned inwardly. This was too many to handle.

“Dad,” Percy said, lowering his wand into a less threatening position, “These people were in our tent. I caught them coming out. I’ve never seen them before and when I asked them what they were doing they said they’d gotten the wrong tent. But they’ve been in there a while - I got back early and I was out here watching for Mr. Crouch. They had to have gone in before I got here.”

“Now, now Perce - can’t go jumping to conclusions. I suppose they could have gotten confused - its dark out and there’s so many people. Is that what happened?” Percy’s father asked them.

Bea nodded. Mulder could tell by her face that she was frightened, but she was holding up fairly well. For some reason he didn’t feel especially afraid - just curious.

“Well, OK then…”

“Just a minute, please, Mr. Weasley.” The man was interrupted by the bushy haired girl. She was looking at them with a curious expression on her face. The man’s name was Weasley, Mulder made a mental note. The girl looked at them suspiciously, “So… What did you think of the match?”

Bea thought fast. This was some kind of test. The girl suspected they were outsiders. “Well… It was great fun. Brilliant, really.” Bea hoped that was sufficiently vague not to give anything away but convincing enough to satisfy the girl. She had a sudden inspiration and pulled the crumpled rosette out of her pocket and waved it about a little. The tinny voice cried out it’s strange words again. Bea smiled in what she hoped was a casual, convincing manner.

“Yes, it was.” The girl still looked suspicious. “I’m disappointed, though,” she said, “because I missed a bit - the last bit really. Can you tell me what happened at the end of the match?”

“Hermione, what in the world are you talking about - Oof!” The youngest red-haired boy was now massaging his ribs where Hermione had elbowed him while hissing, “Be quiet, Ron!”

Hermione looked expectantly at Bea. Bea couldn’t think fast enough. She was sure that the girl knew. Hermione? Bea never heard of anyone with that name before.

“Mr. Weasley,” the girl announced in an imperial tone, “These people are Muggles!”

A gasp came from the others gathered around. More sticks - or ‘wands’ were pulled out. The twins were whispering excitedly to each other, looking at Bea with curious expressions. Percy said, “Muggles? How would Muggles get here? Impossible! The Ministry has worked out all the security. The preparations took ages.” The twins were sniggering at this.

“I think they’re Muggles, Mr. Weasly. They don’t know anything about the match. And look at how they’re dressed.” Hermione said. “That’s the best Muggle impersonation I’ve seen here if they aren’t. And I just can tell somehow.”

“Must be because your parents are Muggles,” Ron said, dodging another elbow from the bushy-haired girl.

“Right. Well… Well…” Mr. Weasley stammered a bit, his face looked like he was thinking furiously. “OK. Percy, you go and get someone from the Department of -” He lowered his voice, to a whisper for the next few words, although Mulder and Bea could still hear him, “Magical Games and Sports. They have people out trying to keep the crowd under control. Get Ludo Bagman if you can find him.” He turned to two redheaded men, “Bill, you and Charlie to have a look about - see if you can find any more Muggles about. Ask around to see if anybody’s spotted anything odd.”

“Fred and George - no jokes - and I mean it. This is no time to be messing about.” This was directed at the twin boys, who looked insulted, although Bea thought one of them stuffed something into his pocket very quickly.

“Er, Mr. Weasley? We seem to be attracting some attention.” This was from the black-haired boy.

“Right you are, Harry,” Mr. Weasley looked around. “Why don’t we just go inside the tent now. Wouldn’t want to cause a panic.” A few of the passers-by had noticed that something was going on and trying to crowd around for a closer look. Luckily, most were ignoring them completely, caught up in their own celebrations. Loud bangs and sparks were still going off around them. The effect was surreal, Bea thought.

Percy left, muttering to himself. “Impossible… Security all arranged…” Bea supposed he was off to find this Ludo Bagman person to deal with them. The other two men - Bill and Charlie - went off as well.

Mulder didn’t want to go into the tent - it would be easier to escape outside. He hesitated.

Mr. Weasley pulled a wand and pointed it at them with a sad expression on his face. “Please.”

Mulder thought about making a break for it. There were a lot of people involved, however, and he didn’t think both he and Bea would make it. Plus he didn’t know exactly what that stick could do. One like it was used on Mr. Roberts. Recalling this made Mulder decide trying to escape at this moment was not the best of ideas.

Bea and Mulder looked at each other and went inside the tent. The rest of the people - Mulder guessed all the redheaded people were all Weasleys, came inside as well. Mr. Weasley nodded, “Well, why don’t you sit down. No sense standing about, is there?” He pointed at a settee and Mulder and Bea sat down on it. It was covered with doilies and dust. A strong smell of cats wafted out of it when Bea and Mulder sat down.

“So, who are you?” The girl, Hermione, asked. She looked apologetically at Mr. Weasley. He nodded at her, indicating she could proceed.

Bea looked at Mulder, who shrugged. They had their identification on them. Any lies would probably be found out quickly.

“My name is Bea - Beatrice Brown.” Bea said.

Hermione gasped. It was obvious she recognized Bea’s name. “Oh no. Oh no.” She turned. “Mr. Weasley, she’s an investigative reporter for a big Muggle newspaper in London!”

“Now, now, Hermione. No need to panic. Nothing a good memory charm shouldn’t set right.” Bea decided she quite liked Mr. Weasley, though she didn’t like the sound of whatever a memory charm was.

“And you?” Hermione looked at Mulder.

“Fox Mulder.” There was no immediate response to this. Mulder didn’t know if he should be glad or disappointed in the lack of recognition. He wasn’t famous, after all.

“Can I see your identification?” That girl didn’t miss a trick, Mulder thought. He pulled his wallet out and before he could flip through for his ID the girl grabbed it and looked through it. Her gasp was audible.

“Oh, this is really bad.” She said. The youngest redheaded boy was looking over her shoulder with a curious expression.

Harry, standing next to Hermione, looked at the ID and let out a surprised, “Wow!”

Hermione took the wallet over to Mr. Weasley and showed him Mulder’s FBI identification card.

“He’s an American, Mr. Weasley. With the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Mr. Weasley’s expression showed he didn’t understand. Hermione explained, “That’s a Muggle agency that investigates crimes and things - but very important ones - not just regular police-type stuff. This is bad.”

Mr. Weasley looked excited. “An American? Secret Agent or something? Special pleaseman? Sounds exciting.” He looked questioningly at Mulder. “Do you have any of those eckeltonic devices on you?”

One of the twins groaned, rolling his eyes. “Dad!”

“So, what does the word ‘Muggle’ mean, anyway?” Mulder asked politely.

Nobody answered him, but they all looked at him curiously. He continued, feeling a little like a zoo exhibit. “We don’t mean you any harm. We just want to know about you - about what’s been going on around here.” He leaned forward, about to ask them if they were from this planet when he was interrupted.

“What’s all this then, Arthur.” In the flap clambered a pudgy man in a pinstripe suit. Percy Weasley came in behind him.

“Mr. Crouch?” One of the twins exclaimed.

“Hello Barty,” Mr. Weasley said. “We’re just waiting for Ludo Bagman - Percy, you did get Ludo didn’t you?”

Percy stammered a bit, looking guilty. “Well, Dad. I’m sure Ludo is nowhere to be found.” It sounded like he muttered something under his breath that sounded like “unreliable.” He continued, “I thought that this would be best handled by Mr. Crouch. I’m sure he would have the minister’s confidence on this matter as well.”

One of the twins coughed loudly, the cough coming out sounding like “Prat!”

“Barty, these people are Muggles. Hermione spotted them right off - bright girl, isn’t she?” Mr. Weasley said proudly. “Don’t know what breakdown in security let them get this far, but no matter, its nothing that can’t be handled. I would have done a memory charm myself, but I thought Ludo might want to question them first to see what they know and who they’ve told. After all, his department is in charge of security for the World Cup.”

“Nonsense, Arthur.” Mr. Crouch declared. “I’ll get this nipped in the bud right now.” He pulled out a wand and pointed it at Mulder.

Mulder jumped up, holding out his hands. “There’s no need for violence. We’re friendly.”

Just then Bill and Charlie came back. Mulder wasn’t sure which one was Bill and which was Charlie. The taller one said, “Dad, nobody’s seen any Muggles anywhere. We did find a car a bit down the main road. Its probably theirs.”

“Right.” Said Mr. Crouch, pulling himself up to his full height pompously. “We’re wasting time. I’ll do it.”

With that, the wand pointed at Mulder, Crouch cried, “Obliviate!”

Bea watched in horror as Mulder’s face took on a blank, dreamy expression.

Chapter 5 - Escape

Crouch next turned toward Bea, pointing his wand at her. She backed away from him fearfully. She had seen Mulder’s expression and it frightened her.

“No need to be frightened - it’ll all be over in a moment. It isn’t painful.” Just one chance to escape, Bea thought. She ran directly at the man, knocking into him and bowling him over. The tent was suddenly in chaos. The many people inside the tent were tripping over each other and the prone Mr. Crouch. Bea dove for the door and in a second was outside, feeling the fresh, clean air on her face. She could hear shouts behind her - words she didn’t understand - and flashes of light. She raced immediately into the heart of the campground - it was either that or the woods, she thought, and perhaps with all the people milling about she could slip away. She could hear voices behind her and knew they were giving chase.

There were fires in front of most of the tents that gave a haunting illumination to the campground. People were everywhere, cheering, singing, and running about. She was almost immediately disoriented. She ran at random - right and then left - trying to lose her chasers. She blundered headlong into a man who seemed very drunk and was shooting off fireworks. The odd thing was the fireworks were coming out of one of those sticks - wands - Bea reminded herself.

Bea was getting tired. With everything going on around her she couldn’t tell if she was being chased. Perhaps she had lost them. Bea crouched low beside an overstuffed fuchsia easy chair that was one of a pair sitting strangely in front of a tent. She looked around carefully, trying to keep her breathing under control. She waited there, clutching the stitch in her side. She didn’t see any of the Weasleys or Mr. Crouch.

Suddenly she saw a large group of people, dressed in black cloaks with hoods. Lights were flashing from the ends of the wands that they held. The figures were lit up in an eerie glow. Something was happening. There was more light around her in the campground. Some tents looked like they were on fire. People started screaming and running. Hovering above the heads of the hooded figures was - something - Bea couldn’t quite make it out.

As the group got nearer, Bea could soon see with horror that above the group of cloaked figures were people - hanging suspended somehow. The cloaked figures were laughing and shouting. Bea could tell one of the suspended figures was Mr. Roberts. He was spinning like an acrobat. There was a flash of light and Bea could see the man’s face contorted with fear and panic. He was struggling. These people were doing something to him. Something bad. She could make out three other figures similarly suspended over the crowd. A woman and two children.

Bea knew she could do nothing to help Mr. Roberts at this moment. All she could do was bear witness and try not to be captured. She shivered when she saw that the cloaked figures were wearing masks as well as hoods. The scene was extremely ominous. Bea felt very afraid.

As a reporter, Bea was used to playing the observer. It hadn’t always been a comfortable position for her, but she had grown used to it. Now she desperately wished she could take action - do something to help Mr. Roberts and his family. There were just too many hooded figures, and they all had those wands.

Bea caught her breath as she saw Mr. Weasley and Crouch emerge from behind a row of tents - they were still after her! They must have seen the group of masked figures as well. They started toward them, wands outstretched.

“You there. Stop that! Put those Muggles down!” Mr. Crouch’s imperial-sounding voice rang out. A number of people were converging on the group. Some looked like they were joining it, others like they were trying to stop it. Flashes of light erupted and people were falling down. There was a lot of yelling and screaming now and more tents were on fire. The three suspended figures had stopped their acrobatics and were hovering in the air.

“Barty, I’m going to run back to the tent and send the kids into the forest. Look, they’re burning tents. It’ll be safer.” Mr. Weasley said and he raced off.

Mr. Crouch was yelling at the parading cloaked figures. Flashes of light were erupting all around. More tents were exploding into flame. The group was moving, knocking people and tents out of their way. They were cheering and laughing. Crouch’s voice boomed through the air, suddenly magnified as if he was speaking through a megaphone. “You there. Put those people down. I demand that you all disperse at once.” He ducked as a bright orange light streaked at him, missing his head by inches.

Bea watched for some time from her position behind the easy chair. She had a clear view for some distance. The group marched ominously across the campground, cutting a wide swath of panic and destruction.

Suddenly a greenish glow erupted from the woods. It was a little like a firework, light exploding in the air and glittering. That was where the similarity ended. It was like no firework she’d ever seen. The flickering lights created a huge clear shape - and it was hovering in the air. The shape was of a giant skull with a serpent for a tongue. The lights didn’t dim or fade away, but hung in the sky like a bright green constellation. Panic erupted from the crowd - from the hooded figures and the others. Everyone looked at the sky. More people were screaming. The hooded figures dispersed quickly in all directions. The suspended figures plummeted to the earth. Bea cried out in shock and was certain they would smash into the ground, but suddenly they slowed and touched down gently. She saw Mr. Weasley racing to the figures, his wand outstretched. Bea knew that Mr. Weasley had saved the family from certain injury.

Strangely, she could hear his voice over the panic of the crowd. “Obliviate! Obliviate!” He yelled. “Mr. Roberts, you’d better get your family home and back to bed now. Everything is fine - there was a minor ruckus but its cleared up now. Go back home and have a nice rest.”

Mr. Roberts and his wife and children looked dreamy. Mr. Roberts took his wife’s hand. “Yes, to home, everyone, and to bed. Everything’s all right now.” They walked off calmly toward their home, ignoring the chaos around them.

“Bill!” Mr. Weasley shouted at the redheaded man with him. “Make sure they get back to their house all right. Do another memory charm if you have to. Poor people…Can’t believe it! Not only do we have unauthorized Muggles about but a bunch of Death Eaters as well! The Dark Mark! And the kids are in the forest - Ron and Harry and Hermione. Got to make sure they’re safe. Meet me back at the tents.”

Mr. Weasley ran off toward the forest. Crouch followed him.

The chaos around the campsite was starting to wear off. People were in their tents, Bea suspected, hiding in fear of the glittering, green skull. She’d better get out of here soon. She made her way up the campsite road, trying to stay in the ditch to keep out of sight. Hopefully the events of the evening were proving an adequate distraction, Bea thought. Death eaters? Whatever they were - it sounded horrid.

She made it to her car without trouble and was relieved to find it sitting where she had left it. Pulling the keys from her pocket, she wondered what she should do. Should she go back for Mulder? She didn’t know where he was anymore. He was in the Weasley tent when she last saw him - and his memory was gone. Bea doubted she could find him without getting caught herself, and what good would that do?

Best thing then was to head for home and safety. She would regroup and decide what action to take to find Mulder. She doubted the strange people would hurt him. The memory charm thing didn’t seem to cause physical pain, and it was already too late to save him from that. Her experience of Mr. Weasley first in the tent and then later with the Roberts family led her to believe he wouldn’t allow any harm to come to Mulder.

Bea drove back to London. The long drive gave her a chance to reflect on her experience. She and Mulder had stumbled across some kind of a gathering of people who live separately from normal people. They carry wands that enable them to start fires, make light, blow up tents, take people’s memory away, and God only knows what else. Was it some kind of technology? She’d heard the word magic several times tonight. Magic like Harry Houdini or rabbits in top hats? She didn’t think so. As the word magic went around her head, Bea wondered about it. These people, for all their oddities did seem like people - humans, that is. She didn’t completely discount the alien idea, but somehow it didn’t seem right to her - they seemed like human beings, however strange. Were these people magic? Using a wand, with a single word they could manipulate someone’s memory. That was incredible! Bea didn’t know what to think.

How would she write all this up? Who would believe it? She hadn’t gotten any evidence. She suddenly remembered and pulled from her pocket the small rosette. It’s tinny voice piped up immediately. Was this enough? Would there be evidence at the campgrounds in the coming days to find? If she could get anyone to believe her enough to go look, that is.

If only Mulder was with her. He’d know what to do. This was, as the saying went, ‘right up his street.’ She wondered what he thought about all this - and then sadly remembered the blank look on his face after the “Obliviate” thing. She couldn’t count on Mulder remembering anything about their experience.

She had her career to think about. Distinguished crime reporter suddenly spouting strange conspiracy theories? Aliens? Magic people? It didn’t matter what they were - without convincing evidence she’d just look like a fool. Would a bunch of newspaper clippings and a talking ribbon rosette be enough to convince anyone? She thought again of Mulder. She had been following his career - since they had reconciled their friendship anyway. She had friends at the Yard who knew people in the American FBI.

“Good agent once,” they had said. “Then he went nutters about aliens and conspiracies.” And, “His profiles and his investigative work used to crack the biggest cases in America. Now he just prattles on and on about crazy things. Lost all the respect he once had. Such a shame.”

It made Bea feel sad. She didn’t want her career to go the way of Mulder’s. If she lost her credibility no newspaper in the country would have her on staff. She’d be forced to do tabloid work - if she could get it. When she started this investigation she had thought there would be a big story in it someplace - but not, well, not this. Something she could investigate and substantiate and put in print - and this definitely was not something like that.

She arrived back in London at her flat. She sat in her living room, thinking. She had to find Mulder. No matter what happened she needed to make sure he was all right. She started to make a plan.

Chapter 6 - Finding and losing

A rude buzzing noise filled Bea’s ears, jerking her out of a deep sleep. She awoke groggily. As her senses returned and her brain started working again, Bea realized she had fallen asleep on the sofa. Looking at her watch she stumbled toward the source of the buzzing noise - the intercom for her flat. Before she could answer it, the buzzing stopped abruptly. She pressed the Intercom button. “Hello?” There was no response.

Bea looked at her watch - she’d slept for over 14 hours! Her head was pounding - probably from too much sleep and a lack of caffeine. Muted sunlight was coming in through her West-facing windows - it must be close to sunset - she had slept through the whole day. Damn! She’d fallen asleep and was no closer to finding Mulder. There was a knock at her door. Strange - maybe it was the person who was buzzing on the intercom. How had they gotten through the locked entrance door?

Bea was immediately wary - those people from last night knew who she was. It wouldn’t be hard for them to find her. She walked to the door and looked through the peep hole. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She opened the door and into her flat walked Fox Mulder.

Bea threw her arms around him. He hugged her back. They embraced for a long moment and then released. Mulder looked Bea closely in the eyes. “So, you got away last night?”

Bea nodded.

“What a night. Can you make heads or tails out of any of it? Who were those people?”

“You remember last night?” Bea asked him. “But that ‘Obliviate’ thing…”

Mulder chuckled, made his face go blank and glassy for a moment, and then laughed and said, “So you bought it too? It didn’t have much of an effect on me. I think I remember everything. There was a few things that I forgot but they came back to me after only a little while. Either it missed me or I must be immune to whatever it was.”

They discussed the night’s events and Bea was surprised to see that Mulder did indeed remember everything that she did. He filled her in on his escape. There had been a great disturbance of some sort. Mr. Weasley had come back to tell the young children to go and hide in the woods. They had taken most of the older boys and rushed back out. Mulder had been left alone with Percy Weasley, who was inattentive due to his belief Mulder’s memory had been erased. Mulder had managed to get the jump on the young man and escape. He saw Bea’s car was missing and hoped she had escaped. A passing motorist gave him a ride to a nearby town where he was later able to get a bus ticket.

Mulder and Bea were discussing what to do next - Mulder wanted to bring his partner over from Washington DC and start a formal X-File investigation. Bea had just offered use of her telephone and computer when the door of her flat burst open. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Crouch walked in. They were dressed very strangely - in robes. The men carried wands which were pointed right at Bea and Mulder.

“Right. Don’t panic. And I suggest you don’t try anything funny. We have Ministry Wizards outside the door and on the street below.” Crouch sounded very imperious.

“Wizards?”

“Barty, watch what you’re saying, won’t you? We’re already in enough hot water as it is.” This was from Mr. Weasley.

“It won’t matter anyway, Arthur, after we’re through.”

Mulder started forward, “What do you intend to do with us? Kill us?”

“Oh, heavens no. Of course not.” Arthur Weasley looked shocked.

Crouch jumped in, “Quiet, Arthur. No, we won’t be killing you - unless you give us a reason to. We’ve been in contact with the Department of Magical Affairs in America and we’ve learned something very interesting, Agent Mulder. Realized that our memory charms hadn’t worked on you…”

“Nice bluff, though.” Arthur Weasley commented quietly.

“You see, when one is subjected to repeated memory charms, the charm’s effectiveness may diminish over time. Your Vice President of Magic said you’ve been quite the thorn in their paw over in America. They’ve had to do memory charms on you for years - you were always stumbling across their activities in your investigations.”

Mulder was stunned - he had no memory of this - of course, if what they were saying was true why would he?

“After a few years they found that their memory charms weren’t working too well anymore, so they developed a special spell for you. Something that worked with your experiences and the memories that couldn’t be removed. It doesn’t make the person forget; rather it forces the mind to develop an alternative interpretation of the events. That interpretation depends on the individual - his or her own beliefs and proclivities. The mind will struggle to make the events make sense. The truth is not available to the mind, so it latches onto the next closest alternative it can create and moulds it’s memories and perceptions to fit. Its remarkable, actually.”

“Quite remarkable,” Mr. Weasley said. “Those American wizards are bloody ingenious. I wonder if we should try to set up some kind of cultural exchange. Would be very interesting…”

Crouch interrupted him. “The best part is that in the case of this particular spell, it’s repeated use shows no sign of degrading in effectiveness. Indeed, the more the spell is used, the more firmly the subject believes in the alternate interpretation. Every time it is used, it adds evidence to the mind’s chosen interpretation. An interesting twist to this is that since this interpretation is not actually true - despite what the mind believes - it can obviously never be proven.”

Bea was listening to all this intently. She didn’t really understand, but she kept hearing the words ‘magic’ and ‘spells.’ It fitted with her earlier hypothesis that these people were magic somehow. Strange though it was, it was the only thing that made sense now.

Crouch continued on. “Don’t know why I’m telling you all this. It won’t matter in a few minutes anyway. You won’t remember this. Well, I should say you won’t remember this exactly as it happened, and you’ll come up with some other interpretation of the events. Indeed - if our American friends are correct, you’ll probably remember this all as some experience with extra terrestrials.”

Bea gasped.

“Don’t worry, dearie,” Crouch looked at her. “Shouldn’t be any problem to do a regular old memory charm on you.” He sniffed disdainfully, “Much nicer, in my opinion, anyway.”

Mulder was looking stunned at this. “Do you mean that this has happened to me before? That I’ve met people like you and had my memory manipulated?”

“Of course. You’ve been quite a bother. The American magical government have witches and wizards assigned to you around the clock. They would have followed you here but your sudden departure put them a bit out of sorts and they lost you. When they found out you had come here they contacted our Minister of Magic and informed him. But with the World Cup going on the memo didn’t get sent out. Our security wasn’t aware to watch for you. Rather a bad showing on our part, really.”

“But…” Mulder was thinking fast. He couldn’t believe this, and yet he couldn’t not believe it. He didn’t know what to think. “So, you’re saying that all those experiences I’ve had with extra terrestrials…”

“Never happened.” Crouch said bluntly. “Its all in your head.” Crouch looked almost cheerful at this.

“Barty, don’t upset the poor man.” Mr. Weasley said.

“Nonsense, Arthur. He’s all right. Mr. Mulder, you are right. Your mind has interpreted your contacts with the magical world as aliens and conspiracies. Its your own fault - its your own mind that determines the spin put on your experiences.”

Crouch glanced at Mr. Weasley, “Don’t think it works out that well for us, either, mind you. Your experiences with ‘aliens’ just makes you more determined to investigate, which means you’re more likely to run across us again, which only gives you another experience to fuel your fire. Vicious circle, if you ask me.”

“Poor man.” Mr. Weasley commented. Bea agreed. Mulder was driven to find the truth and it was all a huge lie. A lie that Mulder believed with such devotion that it ruled his life. Bea felt like crying for him. Apparently there was no truth to find - or rather no truth that he would accept or believe.

“I can’t believe this. I know what I’ve seen.” Mulder looked nervous - fear was evident on his face. He felt a great despair building inside him. He didn’t really believe what these crazy people were telling him, did he? “This can’t be the truth. I know. I’ve been searching for the truth for years. The things I’ve seen…” He shook his head. “It can’t be.” Somehow it made a strange sort of sense but he didn’t want to believe it. If it was true then everything was a lie. The truth he had been seeking did not exist. The truth was something completely different. Mulder felt suddenly tired.

“Sorry old man. Nothing for it. Best get it over with quickly.” Crouch pointed his wand at Mulder and loudly said, “Fictonis Experiencium!” Mulder’s face contorted briefly. Crouch raised his voice again and said, “Stupify!” Mulder crashed to the floor, unmoving.

Bea screamed in horror.

“He’s perfectly all right, Ms. Brown, just stunned,” Arthur Weasley said gently. “We just have to get him out of here quietly and protect his memory you see. The spell only works on past experiences. If he saw us afterwards, we’d have to do the spell again, you see?” Arthur Weasley said gently. “We’ll take him someplace where he can wake up alone and gently. Then he’ll be free to go back to his life. He’ll probably go right off home to America. We’ll see if we can’t hurry that along a bit with a suggestion charm or two while he’s out. Don’t you worry. He’ll be right as rain.”

Crouch had found the file with the newspaper clippings and Bea’s notes. “I’ll just take these, Ms. Brown. I’m so sorry about this.” Mr. Weasley was inspecting Bea’s computer with a fascinated expression. “Leave it, Arthur.” Crouch commanded.

Crouch raised his wand at Bea. Before she could react, she heard his voice saying, “Obliviate.”

Chapter 7 - Epilogue

Bea woke from her sleep feeling very refreshed. It had been a hard day yesterday, researching that serial killer story. She was very angry that she had lost her notes and had nothing to show for all that work. She’s just have to begin again, that was all there was to it. Lucky it wasn’t for a deadline.

Getting up from her bed, Bea decided she’d better have a shower and change into something more comfortable - and cleaner - she couldn’t imagine how she had gotten so dirty. Why she’d fallen asleep in her clothes was a mystery to her. She hadn’t done that since cramming for exams at school. Must have been a very late night.

She took off her jeans. Before throwing them into the clothes bin she automatically turned out the pockets to make sure there was nothing to go through the wash. She pulled out a strange bit of crumpled ribbon. It was green and shaped like a rosette. She almost dropped it when a tinny voice screeched, “Troy! Mullet! Moran!” at her.