Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry
“That was awesome,” said Mulder. “Can we do it again?”
Scully hit him hard in his side to shut him up as a man with emerald green robes came to meet them.
“Good morning,” he said, extending his hand. “My name is Cornelius Fudge. I do hope you found the trip enjoyable.”
“We’re told you might be able to help us with a case we’re working on.”
“Ah yes. You think you have a case of Avada Kedavra,” Fudge said. “Well, it’s entirely possible, but I’m sure whoever did it was acting alone. There’s simply no way he was taking orders from Lord Voldemort. Voldemort is dead.”
“Who said anything about Voldemort?” asked Mulder.
A voice came from behind them. “What my uptight and short sighted colleague means to say,” he said, “is that he refuses to see any proof that Voldemort has, in fact, returned.”
“Now see here, Dumbledore,” said Fudge. But Dumbledore pointed his wand at Fudge and Fudge suddenly went quiet.
“It’s time to have an intelligent conversation,” said Dumbledore, “and I’m afraid you’re ill-equipped to handle that.”
Scully leaned in to Mulder. “You’d better be quiet too, dude,” she whispered.
Dumbledore gave an inviting smile. “Welcome friends, come in to my office with me.”
Dumbledore’s Office
“It seems to me,” said Dumbledore after Scully explained the situation,
“that you may need a few consultants who can help you. It just so happens
that I know of three students here who I’d like to get out of the country
for a few days. They can help you.”
“Why are you trying to get the out of the country?” Scully said.
Dumbledore leaned in as though there was someone else in his office that he did not want hearing. “Between you and me, they keep messing my plans up. I’d have killed Voldemort and put his head on a stick in front of my school for now, but these three keep insisting on taking matters into their own hands, and they end up gunking up the works, so to speak.”
Scully had a worried look on her face. “Can they really help us?” she asked.
Mulder rolled his eye. “Scully, who cares?” He then turned to Dumbledore. “As long as you understand we’re not babysitting a bunch of teens in New York, we’ll take them. Thank you.”
Five minutes later, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasly, all 17 years old and in their final year at Hogwarts, strolled into Dumbledore’s office.
“I apologize for taking you out of class, but there is an urgent matter in America that requires your attention,” said Dumbledore to the students.
“So we’ll get to miss class for a couple days?” said Ron.
“Yes, I think so,” Dumbledore said.
Harry and Ron high fived each other. Even Hermione looked happy. She’d surpassed all her teachers ages ago and was getting bored with her classes.
“What part of America are we going to?” Hermione asked.
“New York,” answered Scully.
Harry and Ron high fived each other again. “Yes!” they said. “Porn Heaven!”
Mulder smiled. “My kinda guys.”
Dumbledore stuck out his wand, pointed it at an old, beat up looking hat, and said, “Accio Sorting Hat.” The hat jumped off of its shelf and into Dumbledore’s lap.
“This
old thing,” explained Dumbledore, “has outlived its usefulness.
You can use it to get back to New York.”
Suddenly the hat opened up and started speaking. “Wait, Dumbledore, what are you doing?”
“You’re becoming a portkey,” said Dumbledore.
The hat began trembling. “No! Not a portkey! Anything but that!”
Dumbledore shook his head. “You’re getting old. I warned you what would happen if you mis-sorted another student.”
“Please, Dumbledore,” pleaded the Sorting Hat. “Be reasonable. Maybe I can’t sort kids anymore, but I can still have a singing career, right? You said it yourself, I have a better voice than Britney Spears.”
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the hat and it went quiet, much in the same way Fudge had. “Now,” he said, “everybody put your hand on it, and in a moment, you’ll be transported to New York.”
The Sorting Hat whimpered, but said nothing. Mulder, Scully, Hermione, Harry, and Ron each grabbed a small piece of its fabric and were suddenly transported back to New York.