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

Prologue - 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, florescent light glared down from above, the old chrome on the desk reflecting it dully. There was no window - no natural light in the room. 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. 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; he sought the truth hard and with everything he had. He knew it was out there somewhere, waiting to be found - 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.