Beforehand, we'd just like to apologize for the formatting in the last chapter. Thank you, and enjoy this ultra-long section.

***

Scully found herself being dragged through the marketplace and back into the dingy bar in which this adventure had started. In a surprising moment of sobriety, she shoved the wand she had just procured into her pocket, and spent the rest of the trip giggling. She was dumped onto a barstool, and finally found out who it was, exactly, that had seized her. The red hair was almost overwhelming in her vision, and it wasn't the classy kind of red hair that Scully herself boasted. The man kneeled down beside her, and cracked a nervous grin. "I'll just ask you outright. Do you know anything about magic?"

There was a long pause, and Scully stared him down with glazed eyes. Then her face broke into a smile. "What's yer name, cutie?" She prodded him in the chest.

"I," he announced self-assuredly, "am more commonly known as Percy Weasley the Second." You could hear the capital letter on the numeral. Scully, had she been less intoxicated, would have scoffed at his proud manner. As it was, she just smiled at him unknowingly. "Now, I'll need to know your name."

"I," she said mock-proudly, giggling once again, "am more commonly known as Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, or," she paused for dramatic effect, "Mrs. Spooky." She leaned close enough for him to smell the deadly alcohol on her breath, and said confidentially, "that's with the F.B.I."

"What, Frenzied Blokes In bikinis?" Scully giggled at this, shaking her head emphatically. Her hair flew and tangled with itself, ruining her somewhat degraded (by now) professional effect. "Look, I'll have you know, Mrs..." he paused, a bit confused, "...Mrs. Spooky, that we with the Ministry of Magic do not take very kindly to Muggle invasions."

"That---that--someone said that to me before. What a silly word." She chuckled. "But I'm still not clear," she slurred, "on what, exactly, a 'Muggle' is."

"Non-magic," he sighed. "And, yes, you are one. Most definitely. I'm afraid Ministry procedure is very strict about this, Mrs. Spooky," he said gravely.

Scully, distracted, pointed out to him, in case he hadn't noticed, "Hee-hee, you're wearin' a dress."

Weasley pulled another one of those 'sticky-thingies' out of his 'dress,' pointed it at Scully, who automatically reached for her gun, and fumbled with it, as he said a nonsense word. Everything went black.

***

Sunflower seeds seemed to be appearing spontaneously on the right side of a car in a library parking lot. Popping another seed into his mouth and spitting it out the window, Mulder mulled over the case in hand. Elvis Malfoy was still the primary suspect--in fact, even though they had seemed to want to help, Potter and Weasley had really told him next to nothing. Elvis Malfoy, while primary suspect in the case, was virtually unknown to the investigator. No motive had yet been established as to why someone would want to kill a three-headed dog.

And the main reason why Mulder had dragged his partner to England, his curiosity into this supposed 'magic,' had yet to be fulfilled. Sure, he had seen some actual proof...but it wouldn't be enough to convince Scully.

"Hope you're havin' fun, wherever you are, Scully," he said aloud to his latest sunflower seed, before popping it into his mouth. "Whatever you're doing, I'm sure it's more fun than talking to a bunch of wrinkly old men." He paused. "Who am I talking to?" Another sunflower seed flew out of his window, and to Mulder's surprise, there was a yell from outside.

"Hey! Watch where you're spittin' those!" A female passerby cried, dodging the flying seed, which almost touched her long, greasy black hair. She stuck a tongue out at Mulder before continuing on her way. Mulder smiled, amused, before answering his ringing cell phone.

"There's been another murder," a voice came through the cell phone--the police chief's. "And it's more than just an animal this time."

"Who's been murdered?"

"One 'Dracko Malfoy,'" the chief replied, mispronouncing the name. "In a--"

"Trailer park, I know. I'll be right there."

***

"Yeah," Ron countered, "but how would we get the hippopotamuses into the nylons?"

There was a slight snore from the other chair.

"Harry." He prodded his friend.

"Huh? What?"

"I said-"

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Hold on!" Ron took about a half a minute to hoist himself out of his seat. "Who's there?!"

"I--" came a hesitant voice from the other side of the door, cutting itself off.

"Never mind!" Ron leaned heavily on his walker. "Just wait a few minutes! I'm comin' as fast as I can!" A few long minutes later, when Harry had fallen, once again, fast asleep in his chair, Ron pulled the door open. A young woman with long, wispy black hair (we're talkin' split ends here, folks) stood on the doorstep, looking pale, if not downright ashen. "Young lady," Ron started, "you look the spitting image of--"

"You don't know me," she cut him off. "But I've done something really horrible. Can I come in?" She pleaded him with her eyes to acknowledge her request.

"Right, then." He stood aside.

***

The bleary image of a toothless man swam into Scully's view. "Huh?" she queried tiredly. "Where--back in the bar?"

"Yes, miss. Do you remember anything?"

"I--" Scully sat up, then brought her hand quickly to her head as she felt the pains of a hangover strike her. She paused a few seconds, thinking. "No," she said, astonished.

"Yeah, well, that's common, after drinking as much as you did. I'll call you a cab, then, shall I?"

"Yes...uh, thank you." Scully watched him head into the other room, rubbing her temples. She looked down at her pumps, pondering. How did she manage to drink enough to black out? That wasn't like her. She looked up suddenly at a honk from outside, then clutched once again at her head. "Owwwwwwww..."

The cab dropped her off at her hotel, fifteen minutes later, and Scully found herself facing a bit of a problem checking in.

"Uh...sorry, we don't have you listed for a reservation."

"Are you sure you spelled the name right?" Scully groaned a bit. "M-U-L-"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Could you check again?"

"Lemme try a different search." The concierge studied the screen curiously. "That's odd."

"What?"

"I have your reservations listed for--fifty years ago," she said, astonished. "Hmm. Must be a computer glitch."

Sighing, Scully said, "do you have anything available?"

"We're pretty packed right now, but...there is a--"

***

Police lights were flashing through the dusk at the Shady Acres Trailer Park as Mulder made his way over to the crime scene. Residents of nearby trailers were being interviewed--Mulder heard them saying things like "I never liked that guy anyway." Pushing his way through the cluster of people, he made his way to the police chief.

"How was he killed?"

"We don't know. It wasn't natural, though, I can tell ya that."

"May I see the crime scene?"

"Sure, why not? Won't hurt anyone."

The old man was sprawled on the floor of the dingy old trailer. Mulder bent down to examine his face--the late Malfoy looked incredibly shocked at something.

"What do you think, Mr. Mulder?"

"I think that I need my partner's opinion on this. She's a medical doctor--can you hold the body for her, so she can perform the autopsy herself?"

"How long will we need to hold it?"

"Just until tomorrow. I'm sure Scully will be up to it by then."

***

"I cannot believe I have to share a one-bed hotel room with Mulder," Scully said flatly to the empty room, dropping her luggage on the floor. She next to threw herself on the bed, sinking gratefully into the four pillows. "Oh, yeah," she said, "he's sleeping on the floor." Snuggling into the pillow, she felt her headache abate the tiniest bit, and sighed deeply in relief. Baby steps to recovery. This was really--

BOOM!

"Boy, Scully, am I glad to see you," Mulder announced loudly to his partner, who shrank into herself on the bed. "Hey, they said at the desk we have to share a room. Tryin' to get closer to me, Scully?"

"There was a computer glitch," she mumbled into her pillow. "Get me aspirin? Please?"

He looked concernedly at her. "You okay? You look like you just put back a few dozen shots of tequila."

"Something like that. Please?"

He dug through his bag. "Sure. I knew I'd need some--I knew you'd be yelling at me the whole trip."

Scully groaned into her pillow.

"Here you go. Enjoy." He swung himself into the room's only chair as Scully hauled herself off the bed to get some water. "You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I saw today, Scully. It was amazing."

"Did you find anything out about the case?"

"Not really. One of the guys I interviewed died the same way as Fluffy--er, the three-headed dog." Scully plodded out of the bathroom and sank onto the bed. She tossed back her aspirin, then set the glass down heavily, putting her hand to her head once again. "There was that same look of surprise on his face. And he probably had lots of adrenaline in him, too...you're doing the autopsy tomorrow, by the way." Scully groaned again, shifting on the bed. "But I saw the most amazing thing today, Scully. I know you're not gonna believe it, but it was--"

"What's this?" Scully had reached into her pocket, and now examined the object she had pulled out closely before looking back up at Mulder. "How did this get in my pocket without me knowing about it?"

"I know my conversation is stimulating, but try not to be too overwhelmed by it, Scully," said Mulder wryly, before realizing what she was holding. "Hey, that's what Potter and Weasley showed me today...where'd you get that?"

"I just told you, I don't know," she said, annoyed. "I've blanked out most of my time in London...and I don't believe it was just because I got really, to put it the British way, 'pissed.'"

"You got drunk?" He stood up and walked over to her as he spoke, removing the wand from her hands. "You got drunk?"

"Yeah--I found this really nasty little place. I figured it was something you would like, so I went in and had a couple. Why is this such a big surprise? What, you think I don't have a few drinks every once in awhile?"

"No, no, I think you have your own life, Scully, and it's really--none of my business," Mulder was distracted, looking closely at the wand.

"Hmmph." She rubbed the side of her head. "I thought you would be interested in this place. It was called something like 'The Mended Cauldron' or something."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Mulder exclaimed suddenly, waving the wand wildly at the opposite wall. The lights flickered.

"Oh, no, now the lights are going. What else could go wrong?"

"Wow. I made that happen."

"What are you talking about, Mulder? It was just a defective lightbulb."

"Look." He pointed behind her. She turned painfully, and spotted the scorchmark on the wall. She turned back to him. "You're paying for that."

"Oops," he said sheepishly. His cell phone rang, and he set the wand down cautiously before answering it. Meanwhile, Scully began to look a little green around the gills. "Mulder."

"Yes, may I speak to Miss Scully?"

At that moment, Scully stood up very quickly and bolted for the bathroom. Sounds of retching were heard.

"She's a bit preoccupied at the moment. Can I take a message?"

"Yes, it's about the autopsy on the dog. These forms--are you sure I can't to her?"

A particularly loud retching sound was heard. "Very sure."

"She's filled the wrong date on these forms."

"Guess she lost track of time." Mulder looked into the crack between the bathroom door and wall. He really wanted to go in there, maybe ask her if she was okay, just to test his theory that no matter what the circumstance, she would always be 'fine.'

"She lost track of fifty years?"

"Fifty...can I call you back?"

"Yes, of course. The sooner the better, though, please." Mulder closed his phone and went into the bathroom. Scully was not looking well, to put it mildly. He lifted her hair out of her face, and, just because he couldn't resist,

"You okay?"

"I'm--"

***

Another chapter. I have to tell you, though, that Hannah felt that one line in particular was so amusing she couldn't stop mentioning it. It's--ah--quite memorable. You know which I'm talkin' about. Anyway, we appreciate feedback, and, trust us, we have some very amusing plans for this story. Disturbingly amusing. Reviews make us write faster. Feed me, Seymour!

:D