StarDestroyer.Net BBS

I really probably shouldn't be started a fourth fanfic when I have three in-progress, but I posted this idea in the Fantasy forum, and then realized that I really would like to write it as a story. So, here we are. If you've read the other thread, you know where this is going. If not... spoilers.

This is my first Harry Potter story set in the film-verse. I much prefer the books overall, but the film-verse fits better for my purposes continuity-wise, and I treat writing in it as a challenge. I will be incorporating some ideas from the books, when they suite me and do not contradict film continuity.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, James Bond, or anything originating therein. This story is not for profit, and no money is being made off of it. No infringement of anyone's rights is intended.

Harry Potter and the Prime Minister's Plan.

July 15th., 2009.

10 Downing Street, London.

A swirl of green flames filled the fireplace, then subsided, and the new Minister for Magic, along with his portly and now somewhat shabby-looking predecessor, vanished into the flames.

The Prime Minister dropped down to sit on the edge of his desk, his shoulders sagging in a mix of relief and immense anxiety. Relief that his bizarre visitors had departed, and anxiety-no, panic might have been a better word-over what they had just informed him of.

The collapse of the Millennium Bridge had been playing on every news channel all day, wild speculation flying as to how many had died and what could have caused the disaster. Only he, at least in the non-magical world, now knew the truth, and part of him, a large part, rather wished he didn't: that the bridge had been destroyed, not be an accident or structural failure, but by an act of terrorism, by the followers of a dark wizard styling himself as Lord Voldemort. Moreover, his visitors had informed him, this dark wizard had apparently returned from the dead, and was perpetrating a wave of terror across the country that was responsible for a number of unsolved murders.

He'd know about magic, of course, ever since that man, Cornelius Fudge, had dropped in on his first night in office. His visits had become more frequent, and his news more disturbing, over the last few years, but this... he hadn't been prepared for this.

And the worst part of it was that their was nothing that he could do about it. No one else knew, and it wasn't as if he could bloody tell anyone, even if he wanted to. So what could he do? Sit here, go through the motions of an investigation, of comforting the victims and their families, pretending he didn't know what had happened, while he waited for the wizards to clean up their mess?

No.

He was surprised by the force of the thought, the palpable feeling of revulsion at the thought of simply sitting here and doing nothing. He had been elected to serve his country, for God's sake, and these atrocities were his responsibility, even if only he knew it.

This could not pass.

But what could he do? Go to Parliament? To the press? He'd be laughed out of office and into an asylum before the week was out. But to just sit here and do nothing, waiting for the Minister for Magic to come and tell him that everything was alright now, like he was a bloody child... Or worse, he thought with a sudden chill, for this... this terrorist Voldemort and his lunatic Death Eaters to come bursting into his office, or his home... it was intolerable. He paced back and forth, mind running in increasingly agitated circles... then stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him.

Yes. It would be dangerous, both to his political future and quite possibly to his physical safety, but at least she knew how to be discrete. It was in her job description, after all. Yes, he thought, calming down now that he had an idea of what to do. She would be able to advise him, if he could only convince her of the absurd truth.

A plan began to form, as he picked up his phone and dialled a number only a few people in the world knew.

If this is supposed to be Tony Blair it's a somewhat more flattering portrayal than I'd be inclined towards, but nevertheless you have my attention.

If the film's setting is current with it's release date then it'd be summer 2007. End of Blair/start Of Brown.

Not bad for an intro but we did already know the premise from the other thread. I'll be interested to see M/Bond's reactions when the PM does try to tell them what their mission is.

EtA: Of course if the PMs are the real ones. In the book it was John Major and Maggie Thatcher was the one who tried to throw Fudge out of a window.

That would be in character for her...

Zaune wrote:If this is supposed to be Tony Blair it's a somewhat more flattering portrayal than I'd be inclined towards, but nevertheless you have my attention.

From what I found through a quick search on Google while writing this chapter, Gordon Brown was PM from 2007 to 2010, and Half-Blood Prince was released in 2009. Although if you set the time period of the Potter films from when the first was released (2001), going forward one year for each film, it would take place in 2007, and it would be very early in Brown's tenure (he came in in June, and I set the story in July).

I kept it vague as to the identity of the PM, as in the book, and you could probably fudge the numbers a little given Harry Potter and James Bond are alternate universes, but by the historical timeline, Gordon Brown's your man.

Edit: As to throwing the Minister for Magic out a window, if that was Margaret Thatcher, it also means that Fudge mistook her for a man.

Well this is Fudge.

Didn't see the original idea thread.

Watched anyway.

drakensis wrote:Well this is Fudge.

Maybe some racist Wizard version of "all those people look alike", applied to Muggles?

Good start so far, it's a neat premise.

Iroscato wrote:Good start so far, it's a neat premise.

Thank you. I hope subsequent chapters live up to initial expectations.

One thing I'm looking forward to with this set-up is a chance to explore the points of view of some characters who were fairly peripheral in the Potter canon, and give them a bit more time in the spotlight. As well as, of course, the Wizarding World from the Muggle government/intelligence perspective.

If you like, I'm happy to serve as a beta reader the same as with your Death Squadron in ST story.

Eternal_Freedom wrote:If you like, I'm happy to serve as a beta reader the same as with your Death Squadron in ST story.

Thank you very much. Its much appreciated.

I'm hoping to have chapter two wrapped up today or tomorrow (barring unexpected crises or computer malfunction), and will send it on to you then.

Apologies for not having updated the ST vs SW story yet, by the way. I ended up losing my draft of the next chapter repeatedly due to computer problems, and it left me frustrated. And, strangely, I find trying to rewrite a chapter I've already half-done harder than writing a new one from scratch. But I'm still working on it.

Send it over when you're ready, I can beta it tomorrow easily. And yeah, I know exactly what you mean about re-writing chapters. It's a real bitch.

Here we go.

Much thanks to Eternal_Freedom, for his assistant with editing this chapter.


July 17th., 2009.

London Bridge.

Commander James Bond strode briskly along the sidewalk toward London bridge, his mind running over the phone call he had received ten minutes ago.

He stepped out of the shower, not bothering to wrap a towel around himself, as he crossed the room and picked up the phone, casting a discrete eye toward the bedroom where...what was her name? Ah, Dominique. Where Dominque was currently getting dressed.

"Bond."

"London Bridge, South Side, fifteen minutes. Don't be late."

That was all. There was an undercurrent of tension he had rarely heard in M's voice, however, which made him just a little more cautious than usual as he approached their meeting place.

He studied the opposite side of the street. A shop, a cafe, a rather pretty young woman with her child in tow, a young couple holding hands...

He shifted his gaze to the corner, then smirked as he saw a nondescript grey car slow at the crosswalk. He knew that beneath the mundane exterior, it was equipped with bulletproof glass and some of the best counter-surveillance measures that money could buy. He let his gaze drift over it without any visible sign of recognition, then crossed the street at a casual stroll and turned on the corner. The car slowed to a stop as it pulled up to the curve, and the back door opened. Bond stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and turned to the man sitting beside him.

He was seldom taken by surprise, but he paused for a moment as he took in the familiar features of the man sitting next to him. It was a conscious effort not to straighten his posture slightly as he extended a hand.

"Mr. Prime Minister."

"Mr. Bond."

Of course. M must have told him.

"I'm glad to see you were punctual, Mr. Bond."

"Ma'am." He nodded to the short, stern woman sitting on the opposite side of the Prime Minister. The lined face and short-cropped grey hair were the same, as was the immaculate suite, but he saw a flicker of uncertainty in her expression. M was worried. And that meant trouble.

It always did, when they needed him.

The car pulled away from the curve, and Bond took a moment to study the driver. He was a tall, dignified black man of middle age, bald and dressed as impeccably as M, but he carried himself with an alert readiness Bond recognized, eyes constantly sweeping back and forth over the streets around them. Bond didn't recognize him as one of M's usual lackeys, but he pegged the man as ex-military.

They drove through what Bond recognized as a shopping district a little outside of the busiest areas of London. He remained silent, studying the people and stores they drove past. The Prime Minister, after his initial introduction, said nothing.

M broke the silence as they passed a storefront on some street Bond didn't recognize.

"Tell me, Mr. Bond: What do you see?"

He looked more closely, but he saw only shoppers. Pedestrians. Cars. A Bobby on the corner.

"Nothing unusual," he admitted after a moment.

"Of course not," M replied, to his surprise. She turned to the driver. "Mr. Shacklebolt."

"There's a pub, right between those two buildings on your left."

"I don't see a-" Bond blinked. "Pub."

Sure enough, their was a dingy little pub, with a sign above the door reading "The Leaky Cauldron."

Bond turned back to M, slightly embarrassed that he could have missed something so obvious.

M's expression was very serious and, he thought, more than a little annoyed.

"What you are witnessing, Mr. Bond, is one particular aspect of the single greatest lapse in British Intelligence history." Her tone was definitely disgruntled, but considering her words, he couldn't find much humour in her discomfiture.

"Quantum?" he asked, tensing as a flicker of cold rage ran through him. The mysterious global syndicate had been lying low since that day in the Bolivian desert, but he knew that he had probably only scratched the surface of their operations.

I wouldn't mind another crack at them.

But M shook her head shortly.

"Would that we were so lucky. This is nothing so... mundane, I'm afraid."

The PM broke in, his expression very serious.

"What if I were to tell you, Mr. Bond, that beneath the ordinary, every day London we know, their exists a secret world, populated by people not completely unlike you or I, except for the fact that they are possessed of abilities that most men might describe as...supernatural."

Bond let a grin slide onto his face. It died when he saw the deadly seriousness of M's expression.

"You're serious."

M gave him a very cold look, and the Prime Minister grimaced, his expression precisely as though he were sucking on a particularly sour lemon.

"Perhaps a demonstration, Mr. Shacklebolt," M said.

Bond turned his attention to the driver once more, tensing imperceptibly as the man reached into the jacket of his suite and withdrew a long, slender piece of wood. He held the stick-no, wand, Bond thought bemusedly-over his outstretched hand. He waved it, and Bond stared as a packet of papers appeared out of nothing, dropping neatly bundled into Mr. Shacklebolt's hand.

"That's a neat trick, Mr. Shacklebolt," Bond said. His evaluation of the threat Mr. Shacklebolt represented had just gone off the scale, however, and beneath his façade, he was rapidly reconsidering his options. Shacklebolt was in an awkward position, presuming he had to actually point the...wand at his target. If he was fast, he could reach over and disarm the man while putting him in a choke hold, or snapping his neck.

"That is a form of transfiguration, conjuring something out of nothing," Shacklebolt explained. "It is only one of many things magic can be used for."

"So when did Her Majesty's government start employing wizards?" Bond asked.

M and the Prime Minister traded glances.

"We don't," the Prime Minister said reluctantly. "Mr. Shacklebolt here was assigned to me by an organization describing itself as the 'Ministry of Magic," which considers itself the government of Britain's magical population."

Bond raised one eyebrow. That was unexpected. Experimental abilities, a product of advanced genetic manipulation or cybernetics, he might have accepted. An entire society though, living in secret within Britain-

"Understand, Mr. Bond, that the demonstration I just provided was, according to my peoples' laws, highly illegal," Mr. Shacklebolt said calmly. "If my superiors were to find out, I would, at the least, lose my position and face a rather hefty fine. You and M would have your memories erased."

Bond shifted uneasily in his seat. He hadn't thought anything would still unsettle him like this, but the idea that someone could just erase his memories... the professional in him was horrified at the security implications.

I wonder what it would be like to forget..., a small voice whispered. He ignored it. If he wanted to forget, he could get bloody drunk. Which sounded increasingly like a wonderful idea, once this conversation was finished.

"M and I," he inquired instead, focusing in on the obvious omission. "But not the Prime Minister?"

"No, Mr. Bond. Under the provisions of the International Statute of Secrecy, Muggle-excuse me, that's non-magical-heads of state or government may be made aware of events in the Wizarding World, for the purposes of maintaining secrecy and security, at the discretion of the local Wizarding government."

"Her Majesty" Bond asked at once, glancing at M.

"I believe that Her Majesty is aware of the broad outlines of the situation" M replied.

Bond frowned, considering the implications of that.

"You say the wizards normally handle their own affairs" he told the Prime Minister. "Am I to take it that that is no longer the case?"

The Prime Minister grimaced again.

"Two days ago, Mr. Bond, I was informed by my... counterpart in the "Ministry of Magic" that a group of Wizarding terrorists were again operating in Britain."

"Again?"

"Apparently, they were highly active during the Eighties and Nineties, but were believed to have disappeared following the death of their leader, a man styling himself as "Lord Voldemort." M's tone made it clear what she thought of that title. "Unfortunately, not only is this Lord Voldemort still alive, but he has renewed his campaign against the Wizarding and Muggle populations alike. Last week, he perpetrated an attack which resulted in the deaths of thirty one of Her Majesty's subjects."

Bond checked his mental timeline and put the pieces together.

"The Millennium Bridge."

"Yes. Unfortunately, it would be inadvisable to expose the existence of magic to the general populace, even were it practical to do so" M replied. Bond snorted faintly. "Inadvisable" was certainly an understatement. Suddenly reveal something that called everyone's beliefs into question, especially in this sort of situation, and people would panic.

Then they would get angry.

"So you want me to deal with it."

"Discretely" M replied.

"Let me be frank with you", the Prime Minister said. "You seem like a man who will appreciate it." Bond met his gaze levelly, revealing nothing. "While M recommend you for this assignment, I have some very serious misgivings." M shot a glance at the Prime Minister, but said nothing. "You have a reputation for reckless actions, Mr. Bond. The embassy incident was a serious embarrassment for the government, not to mention your involvement in the deaths of government agents."

"Agents who were involved in treason and espionage against the United Kingdom", M noted sharply.

The Prime Minister acknowledged the point with a nod.

"M assures me that you are the most capable man for this job. Nonetheless, I would be remiss if I did not emphasize that preserving the Statute of Secrecy, and concealing the involvement of the British government in this matter, is of the utmost importance."

"Beyond that" M interjected, "You have carte blanch to accomplish your objective by whatever means you deem necessary. I want this dealt with Bond, quickly and cleanly. I want you to find this Lord Voldemort, and put him in the bloody ground. Deal with the others as you see fit."

"I've arranged for you to meet your contact on the Wizarding side in the Leaky Cauldron in..."-Shacklebolt glanced at his watch-"four minutes. Do you have any further questions that can't wait until then?"

Bond had about a thousand, but none of them were terribly pertinent to the assignment.

"That will suffice, Mr. Shacklebolt." He nodded to the others sitting in the backseat. "Mr. Prime Minister." He opened the door and stepped out, adjusting his suite and tie as the car rolled away from the curb.

"Well then. Let's get started."

Nice one.

Soo, Bond can now see the leaky cauldron.. why? Spellwork by Shack? Or did you change it to a fidelius-like protection?

Well your PM sounds kind of generic, but I don't know how you could go about making him sound more like Blair or Brown. Bond's reactions to the reveal of magic are low key but of course that's Craig!Bond's thing and you've implied there's a bigger turmoil he's just not showing.

Interesting use of Shacklebolt, it's ambiguous at the moment if he's helping on behalf of the Minsitry or the Order. The 'that was technically illegal' bit sort makes me think the latter. But if he's not actually being picked up by the ministry for doing it he may have support there.

LaCroix wrote:Nice one.

Thanks.

Soo, Bond can now see the leaky cauldron.. why? Spellwork by Shack? Or did you change it to a fidelius-like protection?

The exact mechanism by which the Cauldron was concealed is, to the best of my knowledge, not explained in book or film. We do know that there are multiple varieties of concealment charm (some specialized to alter the perceptions of Muggles), though a fidelius is so restrictive that I don't think it would be useable for a place of business.

We do know that Muggles can be shown these things in some way- Hermione's parents visit Diagon Ally (presumably through the Cauldron) in book two, and for film, we have have Newt's Muggle friend in Fantastic Beasts walking around inside the MACUSA headquarters, though it might have a different form of concealment.

What I would assume is that a wizard would generally have to reveal it to them, though by what mechanism is open to debate. So in that respect I suppose its like a very heavily-watered-down fidelius- one that conceals only from non-magical people (unless it is specifically revealed to them) rather than from anyone who doesn't know the secret.

Crazedwraith wrote:Well your PM sounds kind of generic, but I don't know how you could go about making him sound more like Blair or Brown. Bond's reactions to the reveal of magic are low key but of course that's Craig!Bond's thing and you've implied there's a bigger turmoil he's just not showing.

Well, if matching it to the actual historical time line, it'd be Brown. I'll try to work on the PM's characterization, to give him a bit more of a distinct personality, but the next few chapters will likely be more from Bond's perspective.

And yes, Bond is... uncomfortable about some aspects of magic, but outwardly playing it cool because making a scene (especially in front of M/the Prime Minister) isn't his style.

Interesting use of Shacklebolt, it's ambiguous at the moment if he's helping on behalf of the Minsitry or the Order. The 'that was technically illegal' bit sort makes me think the latter. But if he's not actually being picked up by the ministry for doing it he may have support there.

I won't say much here, because spoilers, but I will simply say that I have put a lot of thought into why Shacklebolt is doing what he is doing, and what the potential consequences will be, and you will likely get a scene from Shacklebolt's point of view later to explain his motivations.

I'm very interested in where you go from here.

Thanks. I'm looking forward to seeing how it plays out myself, particularly once we get to a bit more action.

Thanks again to Eternal_Freedom for his assistance with this chapter.


This chapter is dedicated to the memory of Sir Roger Moore.



Tonks sat at a small corner table in the Leaky Cauldron, watching the door which marked the boundary between Wizarding Britain's main shopping district, and Muggle London. Normally, she found it rather interesting- two worlds, living side-by-side and mostly unaware of each other, but so often spilling over the thin, invisible boundary that divided them. A boundary that would be broken today. But her mind was elsewhere at the moment. Half her attention was on door, and the man who, she had been told, was supposed to meet her here at 11:00. The rest of her was determinedly sulking.

She wasn't sure when she had begun to have feelings for Remus Lupin, much less why- he was nearly twice her age for Merlin's sake. Maybe, she thought, it was always that way- it just happened, and you didn't understand until it was already too late to change your mind. All she knew was that she felt a growing attraction to the man-she wasn't yet ready to call it more than that-and that he seemed resolutely unaware of it. He was always polite to her, but somehow... distant. It was so frustrating.

And then, of course, there was the war. Last week's attack on the Millennium bridge had barely been noticed in the Wizarding World, but her father had heard about it from the few contacts he had left in Muggle society, and she was an Auror. She was thankful that she hadn't been part of the clean-up crew, at least- the Obliviators and Aurors tasked with questioning and memory-wiping the hundreds of Muggle witnesses while the injured, and the dead, were still being pulled out of the river.

Merlin, she just hoped they hadn't missed any of the cameras. Those bloody Muggle cameras that had sprouted up on every street corner, it seemed, had become the bane of the Obliviator Office in recent years- she had overheard more than one colleague complaining loudly about it at the Ministry. And that wasn't even counting cell phones. She wondered what would happen if Voldemort continued to attack, while more and more Muggles were recording everything around them. She shifted uneasily. The idea of a world where the Statute of Secrecy didn't exist was almost unimaginable.

And now Ollivander was gone too, taken from his shop almost simultaneously with the bridge attack. Few actually knew him well, it seemed, but almost everyone in magical Britain knew of him, and most witches and wizards had bought every wand they'd ever had from him. He was the best, and almost the only, in his field. She wondered how well they could manage without him, if he were even still alive.

Her head snapped up as she caught motion in the door way. A man walked in, dressed in a sharp Muggle suit. His features were rough, angular, and hard beneath his short blond hair, his green eyes like glass taking in the room in a glance. But it was the way he moved, more than anything, that caught her eye. He stalked, confidently, with an undercurrent of controlled aggression and just a hint of swagger. His gaze fell on her, eyes meeting hers' as he noticed her watching him. Then he strode over to her and, without a word, pulled out a chair and sat, propping his chin on his elbows and regarding her appraisingly from across the table.

"Can I help you, Mr...?", she asked.

"Bond. James Bond."

***

Bond felt an unease greater than any he had experienced in years going to a simple briefing as he approached the door of the Leaky Cauldron, slipping the dossier and coverstory Shacklebolt had conjured for him inside his jacket. But then, this wasn't a simple briefing, was it? This was crossing the boundary into another world, a world he hadn't even known existed an hour ago. The weight of the holster carrying his familiar Walther PPK was a reassuring presence beneath his jacket as he stepped through the door and into a small, dingy, dimly-lit room. As the gateway to a secret society it looked remarkably unimpressive, Bond noted approvingly. Inconspicuous. He would have dressed a bit more casually if he'd know was coming here, though - his suit stuck out like a bloody sore thumb amid the few customers huddled at corner tables and furtively conversing or watching the doors, most of whom were dressed in shabby black robes or rags, and the rest of whom were wearing clothes at least four decades out of date. All, that is, except for one.

His eyes were drawn to one table near the back of the room. There was one person sitting there, watching him. She was fairly young, no more than thirty, with a pale but pretty face framed by short, straight,, mud-brown hair. She was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt, which clung to her in a manner that revealed hints of appealing curves without being revealing, or tight enough to restrict movement. She didn't look like much- certainly not a spy. But then, the best spies didn't, and she probably wouldn't be relying on physical strength in a fight.

It would take some getting used to, he realized. He was already having to reevaluate his usual threat assessments. He would have liked to get here first, stake out the location before making contact, but Shacklebolt had planned things too neatly for that. But he fell back on one of the first lessons he had learned in this profession- never let them see that you're nervous. He strode confidently over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat, fixing a confident smirk to his face, with just a hint of subtle appreciation for his companion's feminine charms.

"Can I help you, Mr...?" she asked, eyeing him cooly.

He held out a hand.

"Bond. James Bond."

"Tonks. Just Tonks" she replied, taking his hand after a moment and shaking it. She had a stronger grip than her appearance would suggest.

"Well, Just Tonks" he replied, smirking. "Shall we get straight to business, or would you like a drink first?"

"We must keep up appearances, Mr. Bond" she replied, then turned to a bald, toothless old man behind the bar.

"Two Firewhiskeys, Tom." Bond wondered what a Fire Whiskey was, and weather it would help him make some sense of the last half-hour.

"Coming right up, Miss Tonks" the barman replied. Bond turned back to Tonks.

"So, what brings a pretty girl like you to a place like this?"

"Well you meet the most interesting people here" she replied with a slight smile. "Nearly everyone in this country comes through the Leaky Cauldron sooner or later."

He wondered if Tonks realized just how much useful information she had given away. Almost certainly she did, if she had any experience at all in this game. She had just informed him that he could find almost anyone he might need to locate here, and that this was a place where an unusual person (even by Wizarding standards) would be unlikely to stand out too much, as well as that the... magical world was small enough that a dingy little pub could be a major social scene for the entire nation. It made sense, though, if they were able to live so effectively below the radar.

Shacklebolt chose this place well.

"And what brings you here, Mr. Bond?" Tonks asked in return.

"Well, the view is certainly pleasant, Miss Tonks." He gave her a smirk that was almost a leer, but she gave no sign that she had noticed.

The barkeep, Tom, arrived a moment later with their drinks: two tall glasses of clear liquid, with smoke rising off the top. Bond eyed them speculatively, waiting for Tonks to drink first before he took a sip. It burned his throat going down, but it was far from the strangest thing he'd ever drunk, and he thought that it would have a good kick to it if he drank enough of it. He was still on duty, though, so he paced himself. When he'd finished half the drink, Tonks put hers' down and nodded toward the back of the pub.

"Shall we continue this conversation in private, Mr. Bond?"

He smirked again.

"Certainly, Miss Tonks."

Given no sign that she noticed his flirting, she rose and lead him across the common room and into a narrow, dingy hallway at the back of the pub.

The room she lead him to was small and dimly-lit, with a single lamp, table and two chairs, but not much else. As soon as the door closed behind him, Tonks turned, drawing another wand from the pocket of her jeans and pointing it at him. He froze, and nearly moved to disarm her before he realized that she was, in fact, pointing it at the door.

"If you'll step aside, please," she said, eyeing him with a faintly irritated expression. He did so, watching closely as she waved her wand at the door and muttered "Colloportus." That was interesting. Shacklebolt hadn't spoken aloud when he cast his spell. It was disconcerting, being surrounded by something with unfamiliar limits. He knew what a gun, or a car, or a human body could do. Magic was an unknown quantity, and he would have to fill in the gaps in his knowledge as quickly as possible.

Tonks added a couple more spells: "Muffliato" and another he couldn't make out. Bond watched, taking notes without showing any outward sign that her actions were strange or unfamiliar to him, but she explained anyway.

"I locked the door, and I added a charm to cancel sound, and an alarm if someone tries to open the door. We should be fairly secure now." Well, that was certainly useful. He also noted that the... spells all seemed to require that the wand be pointed roughly in the direction of the target, and that the vocabulary seemed to be based on a form of bastardized Latin. How quaint. They sat, facing one another. Tonks spoke first.

"Well, I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Mr. Bond."

"Several. The most important of which is: how can I trust you?"

"Its my understanding that your superiors arranged for us to have this meeting" she replied.

"Well a second opinion never hurt. I prefer to draw my own conclusions."

She frowned.

"I suppose I will just have to earn your trust, then. I'm a friend of Mr. Shacklebolt's, if that helps." That at least went some way toward confirming that she was who she was supposed to be, since he hadn't mentioned the other wizard by name. Or would Tonks be called a witch? It hardly seemed polite to ask, but a simple mistake could compromise his cover. And a simpler question might help break the ice.

"So what do I call you? A wizard, or a witch?"

She raised one eyebrow, perhaps surprised by such a simple question, but answered him in a neutral tone.

"Witch is the usual term for a woman who can use magic. Wizard is the male version."

Alright, time for a bigger question.

"What, in your opinion, is Lord Voldemort's likeliest target?"

She frowned, apparently considering the question.

"His ultimate goal is to seize control of the Wizarding government and to kill or enslave all those who do not have "pure" wizarding blood" she replied. "Meaning," she quickly elaborated, "those who are not witches or wizards with two magical parents."

Wonderful. We're dealing with the magical Ku Klux Klan. Well, it certainly explained his choice of target, beyond simply causing the maximum in fear and chaos.

"We also believe that he is seeking immortality" Tonks continued, then paused before adding: "and that he will seek to kill a boy named Harry Potter, who is currently enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

A magical school? Interesting, but hardly the most pertinent fact.

"Immortality?" he asked sharply. "Is that possible?"

"Normally, no" Tonks replied. "However, reliable testimony confirms that Lord Voldemort spent most of the last fifteen years as a disembodied spirit, capable of communication and possession of living beings but otherwise mostly powerless, before using a dark ritual to regain his old body a year ago last May."

Silence fell. It was a moment before Bond realized that he was actually speechless. He swallowed, trying to pass off his... well, there was no word other than shock... as simple contemplation. Ignoring his instinctive rejection of Tonk's statement as absurd-he'd have to work on that-and presuming that it was accurate, how the bloody hell was he supposed to deal with an enemy that couldn't die? Had M known? She'd mentioned Voldemort's followers disbanding after his "death" but he'd assumed that it had simply been a case of faulty intelligence.

Another reminder of how many assumptions he'd have to re-learn.

"Any idea how to put him down for good?" he finally asked.

She gave him a flat look.

"If I knew that, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

He rubbed his forehead and took a deep breath.

"Alright, so we go after his support network. I'll go over my dossier and draw up a list of targets. This boy, Harry Potter?" he continued, remembering her earlier words. "What interest does a magical terrorist have in a particular child?"

"Harry Potter is the only known person to ever survive the Killing Curse, when Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby. Since then, he has repeatedly faced Voldemort, and survived."

Bond raised an eyebrow. He didn't know how a child could do those things, besides being very, very lucky, but it was hardly the strangest thing he'd heard in the last hour, or the last five minutes.

"Why do I get the feeling that your Lord Voldemort doesn't like loose ends?"

She shook her head.

"No. And he won't tolerate being bested."

An egotist. That could be useful to know. Egotistical men were easy to manipulate, once you knew how to push their buttons.

"So. Non-magical targets with large numbers of civilian targets, your "Ministry," and Hogwarts. Mr. Potter's residence?" He looked at Tonks questioningly.

"Its location is secret" she replied immediately.

He let that go, for now. Rival organizations, even allied ones, always had their own secrets. Felix was just the same.

"Final question" he said. "What are the best ways to magically defend against bullets?"

Her eyes widened slightly, and she darted a nervous glance at the door. Finally, she took a deep breath and replied.

"Its... never really occurred to me." Well, that was encouraging, if it was a common blind spot among wizards. "It... might be possible to shield against them, and of course a transfiguration master could conjure a barrier, or animate an object to take the shots. Or, there are any number of ways that a wizard could disable or disarm you before you could fire. Especially if they were disillusioned, or under an invisibility cloak." He didn't know what "disillusioned" was, but from the context it sounded like some form of personal stealth. Impressive.

"So, I just have to shoot them first" he quipped. Tonks gave him a nervous look, but said nothing. She seemed to have a rather weak stomach for someone in this line of work, if talk of shooting people bothered her that much. Or maybe it was just that she wasn't used to people using guns.

"Is that all, Mr. Bond?" she asked after a moment.

"For now" he replied. "I trust you'll be able to contact me if necessary."

"I will" she confirmed. "Same time next Saturday?"

He shook his head.

"Evening" he counted. "Best to avoid a predictable routine. Besides, it'll make our little couple routine seem more convincing." He smirked.

"Very well, Mr. Bond. Shall we say Eight?"

"Eight it is, Miss Tonks."

"Great." She gave him a small, strained smile. "Oh, there is one more thing I have to show you."

"Oh?" He cocked one eyebrow with a rakish grin.

"If you'll follow me, Mr. Bond." She drew her wand, pointed it at the door, and muttered "Finite Incantatum."

Latin again. "End Incantation"?

Tonks lead him through the common room, ignoring the knowing look the bartender gave the "couple", and into a small, walled-off yard behind the building. Then she tapped her wand against one of the bricks, and Bond's mouth dropped open slightly as the wall seemed to... peel away, revealing an opening into a wide, crowded alley filled with the strangest collection of shops that he had ever seen..

Tonks turned to him with, he thought, just a little smugness in her expression.

"Welcome", she said, "to Diagon Alley."

Ah, the achilles heel of every magical asshat in Potterverse that ever takes on a mundane that knows what they're doing. Draw-acquire-fire-next is a hell of a lot faster than [insert butchered latin here].

Also, Tonks for the newest notch in Bonds' bedpost Bond Girl?

Highlord Laan wrote:Ah, the achilles heel of every magical asshat in Potterverse that ever takes on a mundane that knows what they're doing. Draw-acquire-fire-next is a hell of a lot faster than [insert butchered latin here].

Though possibly not as fast as someone who knows non-verbal magic if they've already got their wand out.

Don't worry, I don't intend to make it too one-sided (that would, after all, be boring).

But I do think its good to get that initial overview of the tactics of wizard vs. muggle gun man down now.

Also, Tonks for the newest notch in Bonds' bedpost Bond Girl?

Well, the Craig Bond films played with the usual "Bond girl" tropes quite a lot (and rightly so- a well-written female character is more than just the conquest of the week, even if the Craig films had mixed success at it). The biggest example being perhaps Camille from Quantum of Solace, who never even sleeps with Bond at all (and who is, incidentally, probably my personal favourite).

Suffice to say that I don't intend to reduce Tonks to merely one more Bond girl. As to weather she and Bond will be... intimate...

Well, I try to write all of my characters in-character. Bond is certainly interested, because he's Bond. Anything more on where that will lead would be either something I haven't worked out myself yet, or a major spoiler.

Also, I am ashamed to admit that I misspelled Sir Roger Moore's name in the dedication (it's spelled with an e, correct?). It was a last minute addition, so my proof-reader is entirely blameless. Its too late to edit now, but if a moderator sees this and could be so kind as to fix it, I would be deeply grateful.
FIXED! -- Lady T

Can't Bond just go all sniper on the wizards? In a certain black powder fantasy I like reading (Powder mage), the Powder mages had an advantage over standard mages once they had a gun in their hands, because they could snipe from out the mage's range.

Liked it.

Given the type of mission, Bond will most likely snipe 100% of his intended targets. That's how you do this kind of work. The question was in preparation for the times when he stumbles across resistance while finding out who the targets are. These things happen all the time.

Thanks for fixing my little blunder, LadyTevar.

mr friendly guy wrote:Can't Bond just go all sniper on the wizards? In a certain black powder fantasy I like reading (Powder mage), the Powder mages had an advantage over standard mages once they had a gun in their hands, because they could snipe from out the mage's range.

Yes, if he knows where they're going to be and can lie in ambush for them. Its definitely an option he will be exploring (I don't think this is much of a spoiler).

But he doesn't know the identity of every supporter of Voldemort, or where Voldemort himself is, and if he comes under attack, his options aren't nearly so good.

There are also magical means that could be used to hide from, and locate, a sniper, so that trick won't work indefinitely.

Finally, Voldemort has at least one asset that is immune to most conventional means of destruction: Dementors.

LaCroix wrote:Liked it.

Given the type of mission, Bond will most likely snipe 100% of his intended targets. That's how you do this kind of work. The question was in preparation for the times when he stumbles across resistance while finding out who the targets are. These things happen all the time.

Pretty much.

Bond in particular has been party to enough close-quarters fights against multiple opponents to know the importance of being prepared for them.