Geneticus

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: PLANS

Mulder worked hard to concentrate on the meeting around him, but it was difficult. He kept finding himself remembering odd instances through his life and trying to connect them to his apparent magical tendencies. He still wasn't convinced, though: shouldn't there have been some case where he accidentally did some blatant magic?

A scene floated through his mind, misty and warped by age. He was fighting with someone, a boy about his age, and something very odd happened to the boy...

A sharp jab to his ribs brought him out of the hazy memory and back to the present. Addie smiled, and said, "What would you suggest as a possible course of action, Mulder?"

The background conversation reran in his mind. They'd talked about what Harry Potter had done, what he could tell them about the situation. Where he'd been...

"Well, if this were an FBI investigation," Mulder began, figuring it was best to pull from his strengths, "we'd start by looking at the scene of the crime. Do you know where Harry was when all this happened?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Not exactly, but we do have some excellent landmarks. He was in the graveyard where Voldemort's father was buried. That would be in Little Hangleton, about two hundred or so miles away. Easy enough to find, in any case."

"But this isn't an, er, FBI investigation," Dash pointed out. "We don't have special badges we can carry around to let us poke into anything we wish. We're just a rag-tag group of wizards who are too damn headstrong to wait for the worst to happen." This description of their group was met with smiles and nodding.

Mulder held up a hand. "I understand that, Dash. And even if I were still a member of the FBI, I couldn't use that authority over here. But isn't there some sort of wizard version of a police force?" He remembered Hermione comparing it to Enforcers for Ron.

Artemisia raised her hand. "I'm a member of the Enforcer squad, a general policing body. We're part of the Ministry, however, which will create problems. In any case, Aurors are the best bet when dealing with Dark Arts." She turned to Dumbledore. "Will Mad-Eye be joining us at all?"

"Certainly not any time soon," the old wizard said sadly. "He has much to recover from. But the Aurors are under the Ministry's control as well, and so we should not expect help from them."

Mulder frowned. "So, your government can't help you at all?"

Arthur made a frustrated sound. "Oh, the Ministry is certainly *capable* of helping us, it's just that the Minister of Magic is a dolt who won't admit that this crisis has returned. We should not expect that position to be reversed anytime soon."

Mulder nodded, accepting this setback. "Well, what's the chance that some of the Muggle officers could help you? What about Scotland Yard?"

Atemisia shook her head. "There are only a few government Muggles who know about our world; if we were to announce ourselves without the Minister's permission, it very well could land us in Azkaban."

"Well, we certainly don't want that," Mulder conceded. "We'll just have to do the work ourselves, then. At least you already know who your, uh, bad guy is, so it's not like we need to fingerprint the place or anything."

"It would be nice," Sirius added, "if we could get some proof of who the Death Eaters are. It's all very well and good to have suspicions, but if we could just walk up to Fudge and say, 'Here, you daft git, deny this!'"

"Bring some cameras, Muggle ones, too, just so we can present them to Muggle authorities if we find we do need their assistance in the future. And any spells that can reveal facts about pieces of evidence would be quite helpful."

Artemisia nodded. "I'll compile a list of pertinent spells."

Snape spoke up next. "What good will any of this do us? As the American said, we *know* who we're fighting here. And proof won't help us if Fudge and his seconds are under the Imperius Curse or something equally heinous. What we really need is manpower. We need men on the inside, we need contacts in the Ministry, we need people everywhere."

"You are correct, of course, Severus," Dumbledore said, meeting Snape's eyes down the circle. "One of the first things I believe Voldemort will try to do is go international with his cause. He had just begun this crusade when he was taken down fifteen years ago, and I have no doubt that he will pick up from there almost immediately. We will need to dispatch ourselves to the Continent, to the Far East, to the States, to the Southern Hemisphere...we'll need to get similar groups prepared to wage this war in their countries."

Mulder felt a feeling of alarm grow inside his chest. Voldemort would be spreading his intolerance globally? While he sat here, inside a damn hill in England, Voldemort was beginning to gain support in the United States, tell people there to go after wizards who weren't of the purest blood...

And on top of that, aliens were colonizing.

What a day.

Not for the first time since leaving, Mulder felt a profound desire to be home again, to be with Scully and William and protect them at all costs. What was he doing here, where he had no way of knowing what was happening across the ocean? He should have listened to Sirius and gone home straight away after the Tournament. Why was he sticking around? These people didn't need his help, he was just a confused wizard who thought he was a Muggle. He was probably a danger to himself and everyone around him.

As though hearing these pained thoughts, Dumbledore once again turned his attention to Mulder. "Fox, of all of us here, you are the least involved thus far. Your limited knowledge of our plans do not make you a threat to us in the wrong hands; you know nothing we cannot defend against, at least. You have had just over a month to consider my offer. I'm afraid we've hit a wall -- your decision must come now: will you bring your son into my protection and into our world, or do you wish to go home and live a Muggle life?"

He'd almost forgotten that he still needed to make that decision.

So, what was it going to be? Run home and hide under the bed with Scully? Put his faith in Doggett and Reyes and hope that they might be able to defeat not one but *two* paranormal threats to humanity?

Should he cross his fingers and toes?

As these options flitted through his mind, he could feel laughter try to bubble up from his belly. Was there ever really a question about what his decision would be?

"How soon can I bring my family over here, sir? I want to know that they're safe while I help you defeat this threat."

* * *

Mulder wondered if he'd ever sleep on a proper schedule again; though it was just about dawn, he and the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were just finding their bunks deeper within the hill at Stonehenge, exhausted from a night of plan-making.

Once again he found himself rooming with Sirius, though the wizard was not as charismatic as he had been. Mulder couldn't be sure, but he suspected the revelation regarding his own magical status was leading, in part, to Sirius's change in demeanor.

They settled into their beds, both lying quietly. The only sound came from Archimedes, the small owl Sirius, Remus and Addie had purchased the other day, as he hooted to himself, settling in for a good day's rest.

There was a sense, however, of great impatience, as though each was expecting the other to say something.

Sirius broke first: "So, you're a wizard, eh Muggle?"

Mulder smiled, faintly pleased that he retained his nickname. "It would seem so. God knows no one's more surprised than I am, though."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sirius added in a low voice. He was quiet another moment, then asked, "Did you really have no idea you weren't a Muggle?"

"I know it sounds unlikely," Mulder admitted, "and in retrospect it's almost obvious. But until that hat belted out that I was a wizard, I assure you that I was most convinced of my Muggleness."

Once again, all was quiet. Then, "So, were your parents the sort who just don't believe in magic? Afraid of it?"

Mulder slowly explained, while still trying to believe it himself, that his mother had been a witch, but lived life as a Muggle once she'd met his father.

"I can't imagine what she saw in my father that would convince her to give up her way of life though -- he really wasn't that great, at least when I knew him." Bitter much? Mulder thought with a smirk.

"Let's not talk about my past, Sirius," he requested. "Now that I know what I am, I want to learn it. Interested in helping me learn to be a wizard?"

When Sirius next spoke, his voice was once again filled with a spark and joviality. "I think that can be arranged, Muggle. I think that can be arranged."

END CHAPTER FOURTEEN