Chapter 14: More Private Investigations

After a wonderful dinner of lemongrass chicken, Ren and Xeno got ready to find Professor Roberts, hoping that he would speak with them. The original plan had been for Ren and Xeno to go by themselves; thinking that Ricky would not fuss too much when they tried to leave now that his big sister was home. But what they did not count on was that not only did Ricky fuss, but that Jenny also wanted to tag along. Ren balked at first, but then relented when Jenny pointed something out that the two wizards did not consider.

"In the picture you showed me, the Professor is holding a little girl about Ricky's age, dad," said Jenny. "Maybe if Ricky and me come along, he might be more willing to talk with you when he sees that you are dads, too? And I can watch Ricky while you talk to the Professor."

Ren silently checked Xeno's face. The English Wizard seemed to mull Jenny's idea over, and then nodded in agreement. "The Malfoys brought their son to the DWC. I suppose that having Jenny and Ricky come with us wouldn't hurt. But if the professor really is trying to hide from someone, and that someone finds him while we are there . . . ."

Jenny said, "I'm not afraid, Mr. Lovegood! You and dad will be there with your wands. And I am an Honorary Junior Auror, after all!"

"Maybe we should all go?" said Dori thoughtfully. "The presence of a mother and a baby would definitely help show the Professor that we are not there to harm him or his daughter." And an extra wand on hand wouldn't hurt, either; especially if there is trouble . . . .

"Our car will only carry five people safely, Dori," said Ren. "Xeno and I in the front seats, you and Jenny in the back, and Ricky in his car seat in the middle. There would be no seat for Luna."

"I could hold her," insisted Dori.

"And if we had to stop short, Luna would fly out of your arms like a Rogue Bludger," said Ren.

"Not if I cast a spell to keep her from leaving my arms," said Dori. "I use this spell all the time whenever I have to take Luna somewhere on my broom."

"I suppose you could, Luv," said Xeno. "But if the Professor is hiding from someone, too many people might seem overwhelming. For now, I think it best that it be only the four of us to pay a call on the Professor, at least for now."

Reluctantly, Dori agreed in the end, but insisted that Xeno take his mirror with him so they could stay in touch. Xeno commented that he had read about muggles trying to develop a 'mobile telephone' that could do something similar to an enchanted mirror, but Ren opined that he doubted it would happen anytime soon.

Then Jenny ran upstairs to get her coat and her Honorary Junior Auror badge, which she promptly pinned onto her shirt, and moments later, the foursome set out to find Professor Roberts.

The locator spell led them to a small motel at a truck stop off of Highway 270. Xeno stared in awe at the large number of eighteen wheeled, articulated lorries coming in and out of the large complex that included petrol pumps, shops, restaurants and a motel. Xeno could understand why the Professor chose this place to hide out. There were places to eat and buy other sundry items as well as large numbers of people coming and going to get lost among. And though the Professor could not know this, this place would be relatively safe from wizard pursuers; especially Purebloods, who would stand out like sore thumbs among so many muggles.

Then a disturbing thought crossed Xeno's mind. If the Pureblooded Wizards seeking contact with the Enchanted Realms would employ muggle scientists to achieve this end, then might they not also employ muggles for other "services?" The thought made Xeno frown as well as shiver. If so, then any wizards who might be looking for the Professor could cast a locator spell and then send their hired muggle thugs to abduct the Professor, or worse . . . .

Ren pulled the Stude into a parking space and killed the engine. "Jenny, I want you to hold hands with Ricky and the two of you to stay close to Mr. Lovegood and me. According to the locator spell, Professor Roberts is in Unit 1014, right over there. Ah, Xeno? How should we go about this? Do we just knock on his door or what . . . ?"

Xeno said, "We may not have to, Ren, look . . . ." Xeno tilted his head in the direction of the motel. An African-American man in his mid-thirties and a little girl about Ricky's age were coming up to the door. The man held the girl's hand and carried a grocery bag. "This may be our chance, Ren. Let us walk up to them slowly. It will take him a moment to get his key from his pocket with his hands full."

As the foursome approached, Ren wondered how they would break the ice. But as it turned out, he did not have to wonder for long. When they were about four yards away, Ricky slipped away from his sister and toddled up to the girl, who turned in Ricky's direction and smiled. Ricky stopped in front of the girl, and the two toddlers looked each other over. Professor Roberts looked down at his daughter and the boy and smiled. Ricky looked up at the man, pointed to his daughter and said, "A girl!"

"Well, that's very good, young man," said the Professor with a chuckle. "My daughter Tammy is indeed, a girl!" He then looked up at the two other men and the school-aged girl, who stopped a few feet away. "So, which one of you two is the father of this Junior Lady's Man?"

"That would be me," said Ren, who then nodded to the older girl, and added, "Jenny's mine, also." Ren extended his hand for the Professor, who shook it, and said, "My name is Lawrence Jordan, but most people call me "Ren" for short."

"Ren?" said the Professor quizzically. "Why not "Larry?"

"Well, there are so many "Larry's" in my family that they shortened my name at the front instead of the back and started calling me "'Rence" to make things easier. By the time I was about my daughter's age, it got shortened again to "Ren." I kind of like it, actually." Ren then gestured to the other man, and said, "And this is Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood." The Professor took in Mr. Lovegood's appearance, and then extended his hand.

"A pleasure," said Xeno.

The Professor noted the man's accent, and then broke off the shake, giving Xeno a hard look. "You're from there, aren't you? You are one of them." Professor Roberts sighed, shook his head in resignation, and said, "Look, I'll go with you. I'll do whatever you want! But please let me call my mother to pick up Tammy. Please, she has nothing to do with this. She's just a little girl!"

"Professor Roberts," said Xeno softly. "We are not here to hurt anyone, least of all a child! I'll have you to know that I am also the father of a daughter. My daughter's name is Luna, and she is one-year old . . . ." Xeno reached slowly into his coat and removed a picture that he handed to the Professor. Professor Roberts looked at the picture of Xeno with a blonde woman holding a newborn infant before he handed it back. The Professor rubbed his eyes. He knew that he was sleep-deprived as of late. But he could have sworn that the people in the photograph were moving . . . .

Ren said, "Professor, when you said "over there;" were you talking about England? Are people from England trying to harm you?"

The Professor looked down at his daughter and Ren's son. Ren's daughter Jenny was kneeling next to her brother, saying, "Isn't she pretty?" The boy nodded. Jenny said, "Why don't you tell Tammy that she is pretty? Girls like that!"

Ricky looked at Tammy and said, "Pretty girl!" Tammy replied by giggling, with Ricky and Jenny joining in.

Again, the Professor sighed. "They spoke with English accents. But somehow I don't think that England is where they come from. Originally . . . ."

Ren said, "Professor Roberts, Mr. Lovegood is a journalist for an English paper. He has heard of your work in extra-dimensional exploration and he just wants to ask you a few questions."

"It won't take long, I promise," confirmed Xeno. The Professor nodded slowly, and Xeno continued, "First, where do you think the people you are trying to hide from are from, if not England?"

The Professor hesitated, looked down at the children, and said, "Over There. I think that you know what I mean." The Professor looked up, fixing Xeno with a firm stare. "Are you from Over There, too?"

Xeno solemnly said, "I am from the UK, from a town called Ottery St. Catchpole – you'll not have heard of it. That is where I was born. That is where my Luna was born as well."

Ren added, "And I was born in Nebraska, though I've lived in Maine since I was thirteen, in a town called Collinsport. That is where my children were born."

Xeno said, "There are those among us who believe that we have ancestors who originally came from . . . "Over There;" and I must confess that I accept this as a very distinct possibility, myself, though my driver and guide," Xeno nodded to Ren, "remains unconvinced at present.

"But even if this is true, our origins are long lost in antiquity. Our families are as much natives of this world – this dimension - as you and Tammy are. Please let me make it clear that as far as we are concerned, our ties - our loyalties, are to this world; the world that we were born into."

The Professor raised an eyebrow, and said, "And the people who are financing my research?"

"Ah," said Xeno. "Well, as to that . . . ."

Professor Roberts nodded and suggested that they all go inside the motel room to continue the conversation, out of the cold. The moment they were inside, Tammy broke into a run for the dining table in the kitchenette where there was an open package of Fig Newtons. She took two out of the package and ran back to Jenny and Ricky, offering them each a treat.

Jenny grinned broadly. "It looks like Ricky has a little girlfriend!" She knelt beside her brother, and added, "Thank Tammy for the snack, Ricky."

"Thank Ta – me!" said Ricky with a mouthful of Fig Newton, making Tammy laugh.

The Professor said, "Jenny, I want to talk with your father and Mr. Lovegood. Would you please watch Tammy and your brother while the grownups talk?" Jenny nodded, and the Professor motioned for them to come over to the table. The three men sat down, speaking in lowered voices. "First, how did you find me? How did you track me here?"

"Would you believe that I was on my High School Reunion Committee a few years back?" deadpanned Ren.

Xeno shot Ren a reproachful look, then turned to the Professor, and said, "How we found you is not important. What is more pertinent is that anybody that you are attempting to hide from has the same technique at their disposal. If you are trying to avoid anyone like us, then I am sorry to tell you that you will not be able to avoid them for long."

Ren said, "Professor Roberts, where exactly do you think we are from and what do you think we are? I can assure you that Xeno is a journalist and that I work in the lumber department at a local hardware store."

"A journalist, huh?" said the Professor. "And what publication do you work for?"

"I worked for a newspaper called "The Daily Prophet" from the time I was eighteen to just a few years ago. You'll not have heard of it. But I had grown disillusioned by their approach to reporting. Now, I publish my own newspaper called "The Quibbler." You'll not have heard of it, either; distribution is mainly within the UK.

"I am currently following a story about a certain . . . faction among us who is most anxious to locate a particular, shall we say, "place," that is not in our world. Normally, they have no use for conventional science. But they have become somewhat desperate as of late. So desperate, I'm afraid, that they will disdain nothing in their quest to find what they seek."

The Professor looked back to where his daughter Tammy was playing with Mr. Jordan's children. Jenny had taken off her shoes and was sitting cross-legged on the floor as she put on an impromptu puppet show for the two toddlers with Tammy's stuffed "Winnie the Pooh" toys, making funny voices for each different character. Her impression of Eeyore made Professor Roberts chuckle. Professor Roberts looked back to the two men, shook his head and said, "I don't know you two from Adam. And I have no idea of what you are; just a theory of what you might be. But whatever that is, whatever you are, you do not strike me as people who want to hurt us. But, if I am to cooperate with you, I will need to know more."

Xeno opened his mouth to speak, but Ren cut him off, "Ah, Xeno, maybe we should –"

But Xenophilius Lovegood held up his hand for silence. Ren was, after all, just Xeno's driver and local guide. But if Xeno was about to do what Ren thought he was . . . . Ren said, "Listen, Xeno, if you are planning to do what I think you are, maybe I should be the one to break-the-ice, here. I mean, I do have previous experience with my wife and her family."

Xeno said, "It might be best if I do most, if not all, of the talking here, Ren. I am not a US Citizen and I am a journalist. These two facts offer me somewhat more leeway than you might have in this situation." Ren sighed in resignation. He still thought that this was a Very Bad Idea. Better to report their findings to the FBS and let them take it from here. But in the end, Ren nodded in agreement, and Xeno continued. "Professor Roberts, before I say anything else, would you be as kind as to tell us who and what you think we are?"

The Professor lowered his voice, and said, "I think – are you from another universe? That is, are your people, your ancestors, originally from a parallel universe and somehow came to be in our own universe? And as for how you managed to find me; do you have some kind of meta-human abilities? Are you . . . are you mutants or mutates of some kind . . . ?"

Ren said, "Ah, no, we are not mutants or mutates. I mean, we would not be ashamed if we were, but our . . . abilities come from another source."

"And what 'source' would that be?" said the Professor.

Xeno said, "Well, Professor Roberts . . . ."

As the adults spoke, Jenny lost all track of time as she played with Ricky and Tammy. Jenny loved her little brother dearly, though there were times when she wished that she had a little sister instead; someone she could play dress-up with and give sage older-sister advice to. She envied her friend Karen Minoru at times like that. True, Karen was an only child, but she did have her little cousin Nico to dote on just the same. And now that Karen was staying in Los Angeles with her Uncle Robert and Aunt Tina, she was practically a big sister in all but name.

But Jenny had about two years of real Big Sister experience under her belt, and if Tammy's attention span was anything like Ricky's, then she would need something different to keep their interest. Then Jenny noticed the videocassette recorder on top of the motel room's TV, with several, age-appropriate videos in a small stack alongside. But just as Jenny got up to go over to the TV and put one in, her father called over to her.

"Jenny, we have a little problem, here," said Ren evenly. "Tammy's father wants to show Mr. Lovegood and me something he has on videotape. We'll need the TV. But what he has to show us . . . I would rather you not see.

"The problem is that this is a single room, so for privacy I would like for you to make a "tent" by putting the bedspread over the dining table and stay under it until we are done. It won't take long. Probably less than five minutes. Do you think that you can keep your brother and Tammy occupied in the tent for that long?"

"Sure, dad," said Jenny as she went over to the bed to gather the top cover.

Ren said, "Ah, Jenny, that won't be necessary." He then he nodded to Xeno, turned to Professor Roberts, and said, "I hope that this is proof enough . . . ."

Jenny watched wide-eyed as Mr. Lovegood drew his wand, made an incantation, and the few items on the dining table teleported over to the kitchenette counter. Another swish and flick, and the four chairs around the table moved aside. Then Jenny's father brushed back his hair with his hand and the bedspread lifted from the bed and settled down over the table. Jenny glanced at the Professor, whose expression was unreadable. She then glanced at her brother and Tammy, who weren't even watching when her father and Mr. Lovegood performed magic in front of a muggle. Jenny started to say something, but her father held up his hand for silence. Though Jenny's mouth closed, her eyes stayed wide open.

Ren said, "What you just saw, Professor Roberts, was not a display of telekinesis and did not come from an "X-Gene," or exposure to gamma-rays, or any other kind of radiation or substance that mutated us. It is a gift, if you will. No different than your own ability to perform complex calculations in your head while I would need a pocket calculator just to balance my checkbook.

"You could give us a battery of medical tests; an MRI or a CAT Scan, and you will find nothing atypical about us. Xeno and I could walk between a long row of Trask Industries Sentinels, and we wouldn't attract their attention. In fact, we could even get twelve more wizards and witches and play a Quidditch game in front of them on our broomsticks and they wouldn't give us a second look."

"Broomsticks . . . ?" The Professor made a nervous laugh. "Really . . . ?"

"What we do is magic, Professor," said Ren. "It cannot be explained by muggle science. It just . . . it just is . . . ."

Xeno said, "I must emphasize, Professor, that Ren and I – Jenny and Ricky, too, for that matter, and my wife Pandora and our daughter, Luna - are as human as you and Tammy are. We are of this world, Professor, even if we may have had ancestors who came from the Enchanted Realms millennia ago. Our ties are to this world, this universe. And if what we told you about is, in fact, the beachhead of a hostile invasion from the Enchanted Realms or anywhere else, you may rest assured that we will be fighting alongside of our world's muggles to protect our world from any invaders."

Ren said, "Professor, my family has already lost our home to these invaders. The Federal Bureau of Sorcery that we told you about ordered an evacuation of all magic users from Maine to keep our existence secret from them. My family spent a little over a week in a Displaced Wizards' Center in Massachusetts. We only relocated to Missouri a few days ago with almost nothing but the clothes on our backs. Even though a fund has been established by the Addams Family – the wealthiest Wizarding Family in the country if not the whole world - to help families like mine pay our rent for a year, we will be in serious financial trouble if the "All Clear" is not sounded before then. In fact, we already are in serious trouble. I was supplementing my income from the lumber yard where I worked in Collinsport by making and servicing racing brooms. But here . . . ." Ren shook his head, his expression a mixture of desperation and resignation.

"I guess things really are tough all over," said Professor Roberts dryly, but not unkindly. The Professor shook his head, and continued, "Magic . . . . Real, Fairytale Magic . . . . You must understand how hard it is for me, a man of science, to believe any of this without reservation . . . . But what we saw on the tape from our last probe attempt . . . ." The Professor went to the bed, and removed a videocassette from under the pillow. "We told our . . . financial backers . . . that the latest attempt was a failure. We told them that the probe went out but did not transmit anything back. That's what happened during our first three attempts, but not this time. This time, we did get a transmission; almost three minutes worth of data."

Ren nodded to Jenny, and said, "Jenny, please take your brother and the Professor's daughter under the tent and don't come out until we say it is alright. Consider it part of your Honorary Junior Auror duties." Jenny hesitated for only a moment, and then she got under the makeshift tent, called for the two toddlers to come to her, and to everyone's relief, they complied. Jenny brought Tammy's cassette tape recorder with her and moments later the three men heard Jenny leading her brother and Tammy in a round of "C is for Cookie."

The Professor's hands shook slightly as he turned on the TV, popped the tape into the recorder, and hit "play."

The screen came to life and on the screen a box-like object about the size of a washing machine and mounting cameras, antennae and various kind of sensor arrays was sitting on a platform as a voiceover was counting backwards from twenty. The voice was enthusiastic and it was hard to believe that it belonged to Professor Roberts.

The Professor said to the two wizards, "The probe was designed to go out and not come back. That way, we didn't need any decontamination facilities. And we had no plans to send people until we can get a proper quarantine chamber for any returning Multiversenauts we sent out. Now watch closely, we are about to teleport . . . now . . . ." The Professor's voice on the tape said, ". . . two . . . one . . . zero . . . Send!" And the probe disappeared from the platform in a flash of light amid cheers from the Professor and his team.

The camera then switched to a video screen on a control panel, filming over the shoulders of two technicians monitoring readouts and dials. The image on the screen showed what looked like a dirt road in the middle of a forest. Ruts in the road suggested that wheels (or at the very least, sledge runners,) were used by this universe's natives and that the hoof prints between the ruts pointed to the existence of draft animals as well. The technicians focused on these for a moment before elevating the camera to horizontal and slowly making a 360 degree sweep of the "landing site."

As the camera panned, the technicians shifted their attention between the screen and the instruments on the panel. Ren and Xeno could feel the excitement as the technicians called out readings between exclamations of success.

"Temperature at 74 degrees Fahrenheit! Humidity at sixty percent! Oh, man, this is fantastic! Barometric pressure at . . . ."

"Atmosphere comprised of seventy-six point five percent nitrogen. Twenty-two point one percent oxygen – guys, it's breathable! And I'm detecting no traces of industrial pollution or excessive radioactivity. Whoever lives here, they are definitely Pre-Industrial. Other gases include argon at point eight two percent, carbon dioxide at . . . ."

"Gravity is at point nine eight nine G's! Guys, I bet that even I could knock one out of the park over there . . . !"

"Commencing with on-site soil-sample analysis . . . data incoming . . . ."

"Never mind that, Steve, get the audio working!"

"None of the microphones are on line, Mitch. Must be a malfunction in the audio transmitter hardware . . . ."

"Too bad, man! We could have been the first people to actually hear sounds coming from another world!"

Then Professor Roberts' voice on the tape said, "Hold the camera! Now, move it back to the left, that's it, counter-clockwise . . . there. Stop. Now, what's that on that tree? Zoom in . . . ."

All other activity stopped as the camera zoomed in to what looked like a flyer posted on the trunk. When the camera focused, the room went silent. The camera had focused on what appeared to be a "Wanted Poster" printed on parchment. The poster showed a picture – drawing, actually, of a young, dark-haired woman in her mid-20's staring frankly out at the viewer. In perfectly readable, Roman script font were the words,

WANTED

For crimes against the Queen:

Murder,

Treason,

Treachery

The silence was broken by one of the technicians. "They're humanoid . . . ! And they use our alphabet . . . . How can this be?"

"I don't know about the writing, but they are humanoid, alright. Look . . . !"

Something – or rather, someone had come between the probe's camera and the poster on the tree. The technician refocused the camera, and saw the face of a man between thirty and forty, though he was so weather-beaten that it was hard to tell. The man was dressed in medieval peasant's work clothes and carried a basket full of what looked like carrots or parsnips. The man had been cautiously examining the probe, and then abruptly turned his attention away from the alien machine as he looked down the road.

Something was clearly approaching, but without a functioning microphone, it was hard to determine what it could be. The man looked around, as though trying to decide if he should stay or leave. But the decision was made for him as several men on horseback suddenly appeared in the camera's field of view. The men wore black armor; they were knights of some kind, and directly behind the knights, Ren and Xeno saw a magnificent, black carriage come to a stop.

The knights reared their horses and the peasant fell to his knees, but then the knights dismounted, seized the peasant, and frog-marched him toward the carriage. Then the door to the carriage opened and a woman stepped out. Instinctively, Lawrence Jordan and Xenophilius Lovegood knew that she was a witch. And she did not look amused.

The Professor quickly glanced over to Ren and Xeno, whose attention was riveted on the woman on the screen; the scientist in him was interested in their reaction in spite of himself. He was a Theoretical Physicist, not an Anthropologist. But it would take several more months of research with his new colleagues before the Professor could fully understand why the witch stepping out of the carriage had these two wizards so captivated . . . .

One of the effects of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was that the separation of wizards from muggles made the former group coalesce into a society and culture of their own to the point that "Wizard" was not just a talent and a skillset; it had become a virtual ethnicity as well. And like all ethnicities, Wizarding Society had developed its own sense of aesthetics regarding physical attractiveness.

While magazines aimed at muggle men featured young women in their late teens and early twenties modeling lingerie and two-piece swimsuits (often without the tops,) that put generous swaths of legs, midriffs and breasts on display, Wizarding magazines took a somewhat different approach.

The witches who modeled clothes in Wizarding magazines tended to be ten to twenty years older than their muggle model counterparts. They tended to favor dark hair set in elaborate coifs instead of long, cascading blonde hair. Instead of G-strings and bikinis, these witches modeled outfits that would not look out of place during the Middle Ages or the Renaissance, with lots of brocade and lace trim, and ample décolletage on display.

Also, while Wizards liked cute birthmarks as much as muggle men did, an odd feature of Wizarding Culture was the appreciation of scars; especially those earned honorably. Ren reflected that this was some cause of puzzlement for Aggie when she saw Jenny and Karen playing dress-up a few years ago and using a wax pencil to (over) decorate themselves with scars on their cheeks and arms.

Because of this, both Lawrence Jordan and Xenophilius Lovegood could not help but keep their attention riveted on the regal-looking witch who stepped out of the carriage. By Wizarding standards of female beauty, she was hitting all the high points. She looked to be in her mid-thirties with her dark hair set in an elaborate style, and she wore a fancy dress of black and burgundy that was accessorized with tasteful jewelry. Adding to her physical attractiveness was a small scar on her upper lip. But unlike the witches modeling clothes in magazines aimed at Wizards, her face was set in a scowl instead of a pleasant, come-hither look.

"Uh, Xeno?"

"Yes, Ren?"

"I am a happily married man."

"I am, too, Ren."

"I feel dirty, Xeno . . . ."

"Why, Ren? We aren't doing anything inappropriate here. I mean, Dori likes to look at pictures of this sod named Gildroy who has been making news, lately. All the witches do. We're just . . . just looking at her with . . . with appreciation. Uh, Ren . . . ?"

"Yeah, Xeno?"

"I hope that Luna never decides to dress like that in a magazine . . . ."

Ren nodded, "Or Jenny . . . ."

"Though I would not mind it if Dori wore something like that from time to time; perhaps enchanting her hair to be darker before she had it set up and styled . . . ."

"I could never convince Aggie to wear something like that, Xeno," replied Ren shaking his head. Ren was certain that Aggie's "D's" would set off the outfit's plunging neckline better than the witch caught by the probe's camera, who was a "B" at best. "I-I tried, but Aggie said that it seemed like a lot of work to go through if I was only going to take it off of her a few minutes later . . . . Uh, Xeno . . . ?"

Ren pointed at the screen. The probe operator had panned back and Ren and Xeno saw two of the knights manhandle the peasant, bringing him before the witch, forcing him to kneel before her. She was obviously asking questions and the man was apparently trying to answer, but his answers did not seem to satisfy her. The witch pointed angrily in the direction of the probe, then turned her attention back to the peasant, who assumed a pleading posture, shaking his head vigorously in denial. He knew nothing of the strange object that had just appeared out of nowhere.

But the witch was still not satisfied. She barked out a command and then the knights hauled the poor man to his feet. Her right hand shot for the man's chest with the speed of a striking cobra, and both Ren and Xeno watched slack-jawed as they realized that her hand had actually penetrated the man's chest. Then the witch pulled her hand out, clutching what looked like the man's heart, which was glowing with enchantment. Before the two wizards could process what they had just seen, the witch crushed the heart into dust as the man slumped over, dead.

The knights then dragged the dead body to the side of the road, dumping it in a ditch. The witch stepped closer to the probe, and then she conjured a fireball out of the air, tossing it directly at the probe. The image on the screen was replaced by a blue field and the words "probe signal lost."

Professor Roberts ejected the tape, and said, "My assistants and I discussed what we should do next. Based on what we saw, we decided that what we discovered was too dangerous to become public knowledge, much less to report to our financial backers." The Professor chuckled bitterly, and said, "You know, when I was about Jenny's age, I would dream of how wonderful it would be to actually make contact with people from another world; either from another planet in our universe, or from a world in another dimension. I grew up with TV shows like "Lost in Space" and "Galaxy Quest" and movies like "Star Wars" that made it seem so exciting and glamorous. But now I realize that in reality it would be opening a big can of worms – no, a gargantuan can of venomous vipers . . . .

"So, my assistants and I spent the next three hours carefully destroying most of our notes and critical pieces of hardware. And what we did not destroy, we altered so that nobody who tried to continue our work would be pointed in the right direction. Then, for good measure, we set the laboratory on fire before going our separate ways."

Xeno nodded, and said, "Did your 'financial backers' attempt to contact you afterwards?"

"Oh, yes," said the Professor. "We told them that the experiment was a failure and that our laboratory burned down due to an equipment malfunction. I think that they could sense our nervousness; that something was wrong. But I was able to cover that by launching into a speech about how close we were to a breakthrough, and to please not cut our funding, yet. They seemed to have bought my song and dance. At least, for now . . . ."

Xeno said, "Professor, you should know that your financial backers are members of some of the most ancient wizarding families in the world. Their personal agenda is Pureblooded Wizarding Supremacy, and they hope to enlist the aid of Mages from the Enchanted Realms to accomplish this end. That is why they were backing your research.

"Though it is tempting to believe that your work with inter-dimensional travel has been rendered moot because of the Maine Incursion, I do not believe that this will be the case for very long. The American Federal Bureau of Sorcery as well as muggle agencies like S.H.I.E.L.D. have the perimeter of the Incursion under very close scrutiny. And I believe that should the Pureblood Supremacist decide that the cordon is impenetrable, then they will redouble their efforts to use muggle science. You and your assistants will still be in danger. And as I said earlier, your financial backers have the same methods – the same spells at their disposal that Ren and I used to locate you. Because of this, you and your daughter and your assistants will need the protection of the American Magical Authorities."

Ren gestured to the telephone on the nightstand, and added, "If you want, we can call the FBS now and they can have an Auror or a Whitelighter here within seconds to keep you and Tammy safe."

Professor Roberts considered what the two wizards said and nodded. "You realize that I will need to discuss everything that has happened here tonight with my colleagues. This involves them, too."

"Of course, Professor," said Xeno. "But when will you know? It should be as soon as possible. For one thing, Ren and I have only 12 hours to alert the FBS of our breech of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy to stay out of trouble, ourselves. The Ministry of Magic in the UK will need to be notified as well, since I am the primary cause of the breech."

The Professor checked his watch. "Can you give me at least until tomorrow morning? Say around nine-thirty? That will give me time to see Tammy off with my mom and contact my assistants."

Xeno considered the Professor's request. It was a little after ten. If they came back the next morning and contacted the FBS around nine-thirty, that would be enough time, though it would be cutting it very close. But Xeno knew that matters like these were delicate. "Alright, Professor, we'll come back tomorrow morning around nine-thirty."

"One more thing," said the Professor. "What that . . . woman did to that man. Can you two do that, too?"

Ren shook his head vigorously. "Professor Roberts, I have never seen nor heard of magic being used like that. Yes, there is magic that can harm and even kill. But what that witch did to that poor man was like nothing that I've ever heard about."

"Nor have I," added Xeno solemnly. "As far as I can tell, she did not use a gesture, much less a wand or even so much as an incantation to kill that man. She just reached out and took that poor sod's heart like she was scrumping an apple." Xeno shook his head. "I'd not want to fight her or anyone like her in a wizard's duel – not against reaction time like that! She'd have my heart out before I could wave my wand and say, "protego."

"But you can kill someone with magic?" persisted the Professor.

Ren said, "I would never do that, Professor. That would be an abuse of my gift. Besides, here in the US, the American Wizengamot imposes the death penalty on wizards and witches who use magic to kill muggles."

"Barbaric," said Xeno softly.

"Because throwing convicted felons into a room full of dementors is the epitome of enlightenment," said Ren dryly.

Xeno started to reply to Ren's snide remark, but decided against it. They were both quite shaken by what they had seen. Xeno said, "Professor, I must reiterate that Ren and I and ninety-nine percent of all magic users in our world are good people! And we would never, ever, side with invaders from the Enchanted Realms or anywhere else against our own world!"

The Professor considered this for a moment, and then nodded, apparently satisfied. "Okay."

Ren called for Jenny to come out from the tent, telling her to get her shoes and coat back on and to get Ricky into his coat for the ride home. But the little boy was having fun with his new friend, and did not want to leave. It took a bit, but Ren assured his son that he would see Tammy again, soon.

"Say goodbye to Tammy, Ricky," said Jenny.

"Bye, Ta-mee," said Ricky through a mouthful of another Fig Newton that Tammy had gave him for the road."

"Bye Ricky," said Tammy as she waved goodbye to the young wizard.

"We'll see you tomorrow, Professor," said Xeno. They said goodbye, and moments later, Professor Roberts and his daughter were alone in their motel room.

Tammy said, "Ricky come back?"

Professor Roberts shook his head and sighed. "No, Tammy. We won't be here tomorrow. Grandma is coming in a few hours to pick you up and take you to safety. And even if she wasn't, I don't want you to play with that wizard and his witch sister ever again." The Professor shook his head, relieved that Tammy did not try to kiss Ricky Jordan goodbye; she was an affectionate girl. Oh, Jenny and Ricky seemed like good children. But they could do magic. And little ones grow up to be big ones . . . .

Professor Roberts got his daughter ready for bed, and then put on her favorite tape, Raffi's "Baby Beluga," to help her fall asleep. To the Professor's relief, she was out before "All I Really Need," was over. Then the Professor called the number that he had been given by the people who contacted him the day before, telling them about the visit that he just had with two wizards and what he was able to learn. The person at the other end from the anti-magic organization known as The Home Office assured him that he would pick him up shortly after his daughter went with his mother.

After hanging up the phone, Professor Roberts checked again to make certain that his daughter was asleep. He then set up the video camera, and began recording himself. "Dear Tamara. If you are watching this, then I am most likely dead. In the course of my studies, I have discovered the single, greatest threat to our world. It is not mutants or extra-terrestrials. It is the unholy power of those who use magic . . . ."

Author's Note: First, let me apologize, not only for the delay in getting this chapter posted, but for the length of this chapter, as well. I am still new to this hobby, after all.

Poor Ricky Jordan can't seem to catch a break. So far, he has met two kids his age and played well with them. But ten years from now, one will hate him because he is a wizard, and one will hate him for not being wizard enough . . . .

Finally, how about enabling your Private Messaging function, Horace? I'd like to correspond with you.