Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. And that's the truth. Pbbbbttttt.

WOW! I was so surprised by the responses I got to Chapter 32, the MI6 chapter. As I explained (confessed), much of that chapter was the direct result of a plot bunny that got away from me. Pretty much everything after Madam Bones said, "I need your help," was completely unplanned and unexpected.

I was afraid that because it ate up all the planned fluff, people wouldn't like it. But, to my pleasant surprise (and grateful relief) a lot of people really liked it.

At the same time though, several reviewers (correctly) reminded me that I'd wandered off topic and been distracted by my little flight of fancy.

So, since they WERE right, and since so many people enjoyed it anyway :-) I settled upon a compromise. I decided to finish out 009's story and post it here in these two chapters, then pick back up with Harry and Hermione in Chapter 41, which will be posted soon at the same time as 40, the third piece to this "interlude."

So, let me say that again. This chapter has absolutely nothing to do with Harry or Hermione. This is simply a chance for me to finish out 009's story arc. Writing this, I realized that I really needed a small break from Harry or Hermione, sort of my "therapy" for moving past JKR and Deathly Hallows. Not having our Hero and Heroine this time is what enabled me to KEEP me writing. I hope you understand. I've done my best to make these next three chapters enjoyable even without any servings of Pumpkin Pie. And on that note, there are some parts in here that are probably unnecessary, and I COULD have trimmed, but, like I said, it was all "therapy." I needed to write it to make it feel complete to me.

And, yes, my dad was a police officer, if you couldn't guess. :-)

Since they're absent from this chapter, for those who just can't wait for the next H/Hr edition of Their Way, I offer those of you with brave souls something different. I've been plagued by a few certain "frisky" plot bunnies recently... things that in no way conform to a PG-13 rating. So, I've decided to take a risk and write them down. For those of you who would like to join me on this little experiment, keep an eye out for the story, to be entitled, Caught Red-Handed.

Sorry, still going... long delays mean long author notes.

I always like things that help add a sense of realism to this work of fiction, whether they be the use of real places like King George's Park or Wandsworth Bridge, or even being able to "see" a scene thanks to the wonderful manips done by Evernight. So when I was watching my DVD of Hot Fuzz a few weeks ago, I was in the kitchen for a moment during a car chase. Hearing the distinctive sirens that I associate with Britain thanks to my countless Doctor Who and Torchwood viewings, I said to myself, "That's what my scene sounds like! You know, minus the gunshots." So if you want to "ride along" with them, you can click the link and hear the chase.

Disclaimer: 009's personality is based heavily on Christopher Eccleston's the Ninth Doctor, and Kara Thrace's is based in part (but not as much) on Katee Sackhoff's Kara "Starbuck" Thrace. If you're a fan of either of the shows, I'm sure you'll recognize them. Bringing those two together was quite fun!

One more confession. I made an error in Chapter 32. Since 009 was a completely new character added at the last second (kind of like Super!Ginny in HBP and Super!Ron in DH), I didn't properly think out a certain detail. I said he was notified of his brother's death on July 13, 1980. What I really had intended was October, 1981. I meant his brother died the same month that James & Lily did. There is no correlation between the two events. Rather, Voldemort's last month was, as Albus admits, "a very busy month." Doesn't change anything, I just hate making mistakes.

And finally, yes FINALLY, I owe two huge debts of gratitude this time. First, to my beta, MapleMountain, who dutifully trudged through the approximately 40,000 words of these two chapters, trying to catch the many typos and awkward phrasings and omitted words that invariably creep in. Thank You!

And second, a huge THANK YOU to Korval, who served as something of an unofficial technical adviser for these chapters. I'm not a 00, and my knowledge of them is limited to the movies, but I was hoping to make this as realistic as I possibly could. He made a casual comment back in Chapter 32 about what kind of person a 00 would NOT be. It was so simple, and yet it rang true so clearly that I asked him to preview this chapter as it developed, to endure I didn't get too carried away by the fanciful movies. With his help, I trust this is a much more realistic depiction of the life of a 00. I take my hat off to you, Korval. Thank you!

Chapter 38. You Only Have 009 Lives: Ships That Pass in the Night Sometimes Collide.

Friday, 16 August, 1996. 4:56PM.

MI6 Special Agent 009 smiled in grim satisfaction. "Sorry, Voldy, time's up," he said calmly, then turned his attention back to his weapon. He looked down the barrel and made sure the sights were lined up true: the soft, most vulnerable part of the Muggle-born Auror Kara Thrace's neck, behind which he knew was hidden Voldemort's head.

"I'm so sorry," he said to the beautiful witch one last time, and pulled the trigger.

Earlier that day....

Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in the Minister of Magic's office. While he waited for Amelia Bones to gather all of her notes before they headed to their lunch with "the PM, plus one," he used the few moments to gather his thoughts.

They say that history is replete with turning points. Well, today was certain to be one of those. They were at a potential turning point in the war, walking along the edge of a razor. The next step they took, made properly, wouldn't get them down to the end, but it would allow them to take another.

But if they fell, regardless of whether it was onto or off of the razor, all was surely lost.

Dumbledore struggled with how much he should tell the minister... both ministers.

The prophecy was quite clear: one must die at the hand of the other. Young Harry was the Chosen One. And in an interesting twist of irony, it was Voldemort who chose him.

One must die at the hand of the other. There was no other way. It had been prophesied. And prophecies had the annoying habit of being mutually exclusive. If there was one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, then there was only one who had that power. After all, it was called a prophecy, not an educated guess.

It had to be Harry. No one else could do it.

Dumbledore knew enough about prophecies in general to know then that if Harry wasn't there-and he just wasn't ready to be there yet-then despite all of their best efforts... no matter what they did today, Voldemort would survive. The one with the power would not be there... could not be there.

Dumbledore was forced to admit to himself therefore, that it was pointless to plan today's response with the sole intention of killing Voldemort.

But just because they couldn't kill Voldemort today, it didn't mean they should simply stand aside for him. After all, although a prophecy might prescribe the means for an outcome, thereby precluding all others, they were also notoriously cryptic and vague.

Harry Potter might have had a power the Dark Lord knew not, but Professor Trelawney's channeled words did not say what it was. For many reasons, Dumbledore believed that power to be love. But based strictly on the wording of the prophecy, it could have just as easily been Harry's skills as Seeker.

Dumbledore doubted there would be a Quidditch death match in anyone's future, but it proved the point. Harry alone had the power to defeat Voldemort, but the means to that end would never be known for certain, until of course it was said and done.

Most unsettling of all about the prophecy, and Harry, was that Dumbledore knew there was something larger going on. Harry was the Chosen One, but why was he The Boy Who Lived? The generally accepted answer, known only to those select few Dumbledore, Harry, or Tom had told, was that it was Lily's sacrifice that had saved Harry.

But why? Why had the Killing Curse-which since its invention had never once failed-failed to kill this time? What made Harry Potter special?

This was absolutely no way in disrespect to Lily Potter, but it was a little naïve to believe that she had been the only person in all of history to sacrifice herself to save the life of her child. It WAS her sacrifice that saved Harry. But why her, why him? That was the thought that would sometimes keep Dumbledore awake at night. Understanding that was surely the key to the prophecy.

And so, in the meantime, all they could do was continue to fight Voldemort every step of the way, thereby buying time until that moment came when Harry was ready to fulfill his destiny... at least as far as the prophecy was concerned.

Oh, they would try to kill Voldemort if they got the chance. But Dumbledore knew their efforts would be more productive if they altered their strategy. Besides, there was nothing in the prophecy that said they couldn't do all they could to limit the damage Tom and his associates did along the way.

"You're sure about his?" Amelia asked, rousing Albus from his thoughts. "Letting Voldemort escape, if it comes down to it?" She'd already made her impassioned speech to the PM two nights earlier. But the more she thought about it, the more doubt crept back into her mind. Why not throw everything they had Voldemort? Why not try to kill him, once and for all?

She remembered why. Hadn't they been doing that all along (since Fudge was kicked out)? Hadn't they been doing that fifteen years earlier, during his first rise to power? And what had it gotten them? Nothing but dead bodies... those who chose to fight, and so many more who were innocent.

Amelia Bones surprised even herself. Sometimes, the things Albus Dumbledore said to her made absolutely no sense. But as she repeated the words he'd said, it made sense again. She did not understand how Fudge could have ignored him.

"Yes, I'm sure," Dumbledore replied gently, merely reaffirming that which she already knew.

Albus Dumbledore was known for his affinity for Muggles. It was not uncommon for some of the most famous Muggles to be quoted within the wizarding world. With the Muggle population so much larger than that of the magical, they had that much more history to draw upon, that many more speechwriters.

Indeed, when Dumbledore had suggested the importance of continuing life as normal in spite of whatever threats came, she did recognize Franklin Roosevelt when he had reminded her what was the only thing to fear. She'd been a young witch during the Second World War, after all.

So while the likes of Winston Churchill and F.D.R. were not unheard of (especially amongst those of her own generation), sometimes Dumbledore found the most obscure references that virtually no one in the wizarding world would recognize.

Amelia was therefore not surprised when he quoted a great warrior, a Muggle she assumed, named... what was it... Kay-less?

"Destroying an Empire to win a war is no victory. And ending a battle to save an Empire is no defeat."

She'd never heard anything quite like it. Indeed, Dumbledore himself admitted he hadn't either heard anything else like it either, which was why he chose this it. And by means of that quote, he had done nothing but give her a different way of viewing the upcoming battle. And yet....

Amelia sighed as she stood up. Albus had once again made his point. It wasn't that she disliked him being right; she just disliked having been wrong in the first place. In fact, she liked that he was there keeping her honest with herself. She just hated being wrong. What's more, never once did he tell her she had to do this or had to do that. Rather, he would make suggestions or offer spot-on observations from his own unique standpoint, and leave it to her to make the final decision.

"Let's go," she said. "I trust you know the way to Number 10?" Dumbledore nodded.

"I must confess my curiosity at who will be our 'plus one' at the meeting," he admitted. Amelia smiled mysteriously as she thought about the impending meeting with the PM and the head of the MI6. She assumed Dumbledore knew of the 00s; there was little in this world he did not know... as far as she knew. But was he expecting this?

"Albus, my friend. I have the feeling you're going to like this next bit."

* * *

"This may very well represent the beginning of the end," C emphasized. "Whether it's our end or Voldemort's rests in your hands, as well as those of our magical compatriots."

"Good hunting!" he wished them all.

It was just after two o'clock when the briefing ended. Madam Bones and Shacklebolt still had to meet with their own teams. Because the Ministry personnel had more time in which to prepare (since they could travel from place to place instantly), their own briefing was going to be held immediately following this one. And besides, there was no point in factoring the 00s into their plans without knowing whether they would participate.

Just because they didn't need extra time to drive to their assignments, it didn't mean there was any to waste. Amelia and Kingsley purposefully walked over to Dumbledore. They turned their backs to the assembled 00s, and then he drew his wand and waved it in front of the two of them. The 00s could see him quietly ask them each a question (no one could hear what), and then they both shook their heads indicating no. The two of them then immediately Apparated back to the Ministry building from steel and concrete-reinforced bunker, five floors beneath Vauxhall Cross.

One leaving right after the other, and since the oval briefing room had favorable acoustics (by design), the staggered CRACKS! that accompanied their departure were amplified and literally rolled around the curved walls. They therefore left with what sounded like an impressive rumble of thunder, just like in bad horror movies.

The 00s, though, WERE very impressed. Without even intending it, Kingsley and the Minister had left the agents with yet another reminder of what exactly they were facing.

Albus Dumbledore, however, did not leave with the other two. There was one last thing he wished to do before he himself left. He stood back, out of the way in a corner (an impressive feat in a round room), and watched quietly as the twenty-five agents stood up and chatted with each other while they waited for their individual assignments.

Without even looking, Dumbledore could feel glances cast in his direction. If he happened to be looking in the right direction at the moment, he would reply with a polite nod. He was heartened to know that there appeared to be no ill will towards him or the wizarding world.

There was amazement, guarded acceptance, and also justifiable fear of what was to come in those glances (even 00s got scared; it was how they handled it that made them 00s), but there was no distrust or malice towards him.

Dumbledore did get the distinct impression however that one person in the room was doing his best to avoid looking in his direction. Of course, it could have been that he was simply busy after his most impressive demonstration. Regardless though, it was, in Dumbledore's mind, the perfect invitation for a lovely chat.

He watched discreetly as 009 went back over to C to return the training weapon and reclaim his own. He observed with academic curiosity as the brother of a Muggle-born wizard reloaded his decidedly-Muggle weapon. Just as with the blanks, he again loaded a live round into the chamber, and then holstered the firearm. Dumbledore knew that, generally speaking, Muggles in the UK were prohibited from owning handguns. That said, he was quite certain that storing a live round in the chamber wasn't something taught in most firearms safety classes.

It was no secret that Dumbledore was quite fond of the Muggles. It was also no secret that he had been forced to take lives in battle over the decades. Considering the nature of his battles, he had, not surprisingly, never held or used a firearm.

In the hands of these professionals, the amazing contraption consisting of wood, metal, and a few simple chemicals could be just as much an extension of the wielder's body as a wand was for a wizard-and just as deadly. He had great respect for the men and women assembled before him.

As he reclaimed his weapon, 009 was well aware that Dumbledore had been watching him intently for a few moments. He got the distinct impression the older wizard wanted to speak to him. Once rearmed, the secret agent finally acknowledged him and went over to speak with the man while he waited for his assignment.

"Hello, sir," 009 greeted. "I figured it was best to give you a few moments alone to allow everyone else to get their surreptitious glances out of the way," he said with a grin as he indicated around the room with his eyes. None of the other 00s hid their curiosity.

"Ah, yes, well, that was to be expected," the headmaster chuckled. "Sometimes it is easier to just let them satisfy their curiosity, especially considering it is so understandable." The two men nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Which of course leads me to my own ulterior motive for lingering..." Dumbledore then added quickly with a smile and a completely innocent-sounding voice. "If you don't mind my asking, what was your brother's name? I didn't want to interrupt the briefing anymore than I already had by asking earlier."

"Oh, of course not, sir," 009 answered. "Smith, John Smith." Dumbledore smiled slightly and nodded. All too used to having to defend his family name, he quickly continued. "It is a common name."

009's identity, like everything else within MI6, was a state secret. On the rare occasion he did tell someone his name, when that person heard the most common of Western family names, people often seemed, well, unimpressed. It was never intentional, but it was often un-helpable: All that mystery and secrecy, and his name is 'Smith?'

"It is," Dumbledore agreed, "but everyone is just as unique, regardless of what is printed on a piece of paper." 009 smiled and nodded; he liked this wizard that much more now. Dumbledore resisted the urge to ask the name of the man in front of him. What good was a secret agent without his secret identity... his true identity?

"Did you know my brother?" 009 could not help but ask.

"Well, that would depend which John Smith he was. I have seen a number come through my doors."

"Of course," 009 chuckled. "He graduated in 1977."

The look of surprise on Dumbledore's face was hidden well, but not enough to fool a 00.

"Muggle-born Ravenclaw Auror, class of '77? Yes, actually. I did know him," he admitted. "He was a very strong wizard, very smart. Being Muggle-born, he possessed knowledge that few others did. He was quite the asset."

Heartened to hear someone who knew his brother to speak highly of him, 009 smiled lightly.

"May I ask you something, sir?" he inquired.

"Of course."

"This Voldemort... I remember hearing his name when they came... and told us about my brother. Do you know? Do you know if it was he who killed my brother? They said his team was sent out after him the day he was killed. It was the twelfth of October, 1981, sir."

Dumbledore became quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry. I do not know if it was Voldemort who killed your brother. The Killing Curse leaves no mark on its victims, so there is no way, almost no way, to determine the identity of the caster. There were no survivors from the team sent out that day. The only eye-witnesses therefore, as you can imagine, would be unlikely to assist in determining guilt."

"No, of course not," 009 agreed.

Dumbledore considered what he was about to say next. It had been some fifteen years. As long as he didn't reveal any current, sensitive information, there would be no harm.

"What I can tell you is that your brother was not merely an Auror. Because of his talents, intelligence, and knowledge of the Muggle world, he was invited to help take a more active role in the fight against Voldemort. I trust you, of all people, could appreciate what that might entail."

The way Dumbledore straightened his back slightly gave 009 the impression he was intentionally increasing the space between then, trying to subtly indicate the room they were in. Just like shooting and advanced driving techniques, psychology and reading body language were critical skills for a 00.

Perhaps his brother had done more than even 009 could have imagined? Perhaps like himself, his brother had been a member of some secret order? It merely made him that much prouder of his brother.

If it was true, then as a 00, he understood completely the need to keep secrets. Indeed, Dumbledore himself had not said anything of the kind. But, reading between the words....

"Do not dwell on who might have killed your brother, since it is an unknown. October, 1981 was something of the climax of Voldemort's first rise. Many good men and women died that month, unfortunately," Dumbledore added sadly. "Instead, remember how your brother lived his life, and how he faced its end. He died honorably, in the line of duty, fighting to save both your world and mine."

"Thank you, sir," 009 replied. "We never were told any of the details of that night, and for a few months back then, I had always been curious. But now they don't seem all that important any more." Dumbledore smiled and nodded in understanding.

Out of the corner of his eye, 009 saw C with the remaining agents on the other side of the room; there were only two left, not including himself. This enjoyable and enlightening conversation would soon need to come to an end. After casting a weighted glance toward his superior, he turned back to Dumbledore.

"Well, I'm afraid our time together must close. There's an evil wizard out there, after all."

"There is," Dumbledore agreed. "I have enjoyed talking with you, and should like to do so again some time in the future. Perhaps, if you're interested, I could show you a little of the world your brother helped to defend?"

For several reasons, 009 wasn't sure if he wanted to (or even could) do that, for both personal and professional reasons, but he wasn't ready to turn down the offer outright just yet.

"That might be nice," he said politely.

Dumbledore noticed C begin to approach them from the other side of the room.

"Well, it was nice to meet you...?" His voice betrayed him and trailed off in question. Dumbledore couldn't help himself. He was used to knowing, well, everything. To not know the name of the person standing in front of him was almost more than he could stand. The urge to at least ask was irresistible. He knew that if 009 declined to answer, he would accept it. He just had to ask.

"I'm sorry, do you mind terribly if I ask your name? Or, when they gave you a number, did they take away your name?"

009 smiled in spite of himself. That actually was the first time he heard that one; no one had the gall to try it before. He looked at the aged man in front of him and considered the request for a split second.

"I suppose I can trust you to keep a secret?" 009 asked teasingly.

"Ah, well, I do have some experience in that area," Dumbledore admitted gracefully.

"And I suppose you could just look up my brother's school records and find my name listed there as a family member?" 009 asked knowingly, in good humor, acknowledging the real reason for agreeing to divulge his name.

"I could..." Dumbledore admitted, his eyes twinkling.

009 extended his hand. "Brett, sir. Brett Smith."

* * *

2:10PM.

Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood at the front of a very crowded meeting room. Although it was the largest room in the Ministry, and although it magically resized itself to fit everyone comfortably, the sheer number of bodies still gave the distinct impression of feeling crowded. The briefing was started with a report on everyone's attempts to locate Voldemort prior to the deadline.

The report was very short.

No one really expected that they'd suddenly capture the Dark Lord at the very last moment. He had successfully hidden himself for a very long time, after all. It didn't stop anyone from trying though.

Taking the speaking podium, Kingsley tapped his wand to another one of those pieces of parchment permanently adhered to the top. As he did, hundreds of scraps of parchment appeared around the room, listing each person's assignment.

All around the room, Hit Wizard, Auror, and MLE officer alike all looked at their assignments, each wondering who would get Brockdale. None of them knew that no one present in the room was assigned to the primary target. But, in another undisclosed room somewhere within the deepest bowels of the Ministry, eight unique witches and wizards were observing remotely....

The distribution of available personnel was very deliberate. Those targets deemed to be at the greatest risk-the highest potential for casualties-were assigned teams of four Hit Wizards. It slowly worked its way down through the Aurors to the MLE officers. The smallest, most remote sites (of those of highest risk) only got four run-of-the-mill MLE officers.

"Oh, and just one more thing," Kingsley added before dismissing everyone. "Some of you will notice that your assignments are numbered. Those of you with numbers on the backside of your parchment, please remain behind for a moment. Everyone else, you may head out and scout your sites."

Nymphadora Tonks turned her sheet of parchment over; her breathing hitched a little. She had a number. She read it to herself to see if it meant anything to her.

Zero zero nine. She turned the parchment; it must have been upside down. Six hundred. "009" didn't make any sense as a proper number. Then again, six hundred didn't have any significance to her either. Regardless, she wanted to fight of course. But she didn't know whether this number was a good sign or not.

"Remember," Kingsley said as he looked at his watch, "the deadline is in... one hour forty-six minutes. We expect that he will attack soon after that, but nothing is known for sure. He threatened Brockdale, but it's just as likely to be a diversion and he'll attack somewhere else. Be ready. Be prepared."

"Good luck!" he said, dismissing the rest. Once they left, Kingsley and Amelia looked over the remaining ninety-six Hit Witches and Wizards, Aurors, and MLE officers. Enough exactly for the twenty-four sites getting 00s, excluding Brockdale of course.

"What I am about to tell you all," the Minister of Magic began, "is beyond classified in the Muggle world. You are to protect this information from both the magical and Muggle worlds with the same urgency we enforce the Statute of Secrecy."

Those assembled in the room looked around at everyone else in surprise for a moment. A Muggle secret to keep?

"You are all familiar with MI5 and MI6," Amelia began, to which everyone nodded silently. That certainly wasn't a secret; even the Muggles knew of Britain's intelligence agencies.

"Within MI6 is a small group that is at the same time both completely unheard of and extremely well known."

As the Minister continued her explanation, in an ironic twist of fate it was the Muggle-borns and the few witches and wizards well-versed in Muggle pop culture who had the hardest time accepting that 00-Agents really were real. The remaining assembled staff simply accepted them without question as an ultra-secret group dedicated to protecting Great Britain, as well as the rest of the world.

After explaining that the 00s would be joining them, Madam Bones and Shacklebolt then went over to an odd looking device that was appeared to be something of a cross between a Pensieve and an ordinary Muggle classroom overhead projector.

It was anything but ordinary however as it functioned pretty much the same way too. It allowed the replay of memories for an audience. Rather than a single person merely looking in or even jumping in to relive a memory first hand, this device simply projected a two-dimensional image of the memory onto a wall. It was just like going to the movies... for those who knew what movies were.

Amelia and Kingsley drew their wands. Placing them to their temples, they withdrew a few key memories of their meeting earlier, including one of being "shot" during the demonstration, each from their own point of view. Everyone in the room was very impressed with the demonstration.

All Aurors knew what firearms were (even if they sometimes called them firelegs). But since almost none of them had ever seen one used first hand, when "compared" to magic, they seemed like little more than crude, clumsy noise-makers. To see what a highly trained Muggle could do with one however, well... to employ a cliché, it seemed like magic.

Even the Muggle-borns were well impressed; it was an impressive display of reaction, coordination, and marksmanship.

There was, however, one question that was floating around the room unspoken. A number of people looked around, wondering who would be the first person to ask.

Muggle-born Auror Kara Thrace decided she wasn't going to wait for anyone else.

"Minister?" she asked after raising her hand and being acknowledged. "Why is it that everyone in the Pensieve has no face, except yourself and Auror Shacklebolt?"

Madam Bones appeared pleased that someone had finally asked.

"I wished to press my case to the 00s in person. Considering the highly sensitive nature of their organization, as well as their identities, a compromise was reached to allow us access to their facility. We agreed to have our memories modified to protect their anonymity, as well as the exact location of the room we were in."

An interested murmur went around the room. All Aurors were well versed in Obliviation, but the skill displayed here was truly incredible. Normal memory modification created something of a haze or fog-like appearance that obscured the information removed. But here, the precision was astonishing. Only the faces had been removed, and it had been done so precisely and cleanly that there was no haze. It literally looked as thought the individuals were born without facial features.

But more than that....

"How was that possible?" Thrace asked curiously. Self-Obliviation was highly risky in the first place, but doing it with such a high level of accuracy was impossible by definition. "Cherrypicking" a specific fact or detail with such precision and leaving everything else intact is extremely complicated.

To have that information disappear while trying to remove it invariably leads to a person "Lockharting" themselves. The brain "gets lost" and ends up erasing anything and everything else it stumbles across... such as who they are, or even how to perform magic.

Such risks would also rule out simultaneous Obliviations. Likewise, they couldn't do each other in turn. How would the second person know what to remove from the first? There would have to be a third person present. (By chance, Dumbledore hadn't been visible in any of the memories shown.)

"Albus Dumbledore performed our modifications, removing only what was necessary," Amelia explained.

"Why would Dumbledore do it?" someone else asked, taking them off topic. "Was he there too?"

"Would you trust anyone else to be so precise?" Amelia joked, trying to get them back on track. She also wanted to steer the conversation away from Dumbledore if possible. The inevitable conclusion, if someone followed the reasoning, was that Dumbledore alone was allowed to retain all knowledge of MI6 and the 00s.

If that knowledge had to be entrusted to just one person to allow its safe and secure removal from everyone else, then it was hard to find a better choice than Albus Dumbledore.

"And on that note," Kingsley said significantly, trying to take them even further away from speculation about Dumbledore, "after today's mission, during your debriefing, you will all submit to a memory modifications."

Seeing more than a few looks of alarm around the room, he hurried to elaborate.

"We argued that the experience you gained today interacting with the 00s could be invaluable for the future, so it was agreed that you would be allowed to remember everything... save the actual identity of the 00 assigned to you. You will be organized into groups of four, with one 00 per group."

Everyone seemed to settle down considerably upon learning that they would forget nothing more than the identity of the agent they met.

"The 00s will be arriving at their targets over the next hour or so, depending on how far they have to drive," the Minister then explained. "As soon as they arrive, introduce yourselves. Work with them to come up with the best strategy you can that time allows, depending on field conditions.

"Of course, we want to take every opportunity to not allow Voldemort to escape," she continued. Even to this day, many of the Aurors reacted to his name. "However, if you get to the point that you need to lower your Apparition and Portkey charms to allow our reinforcements in, do NOT hesitate to do so... even if it means risking letting their reinforcements in, or letting Voldemort escape.

"IF it comes down to it, it is more important that he lose than we win," Amelia stressed upon them. She'd already explained this to the Muggle Prime Minister and to the 00s; now she was explaining it to her own forces.

"And finally," Kingsley said as he took the podium one last time. "The 00s do not have the luxury of using magic to verify our identities. As such, they will employ the age-old use of secret code phrases. Tap your wand to the number on the back of your parchment, and speak your own personal password to reveal your team members and code phrases.

"Assemble your team and learn the codes like your life depended on it. Because it does. The 00s will kill you if you do not identify yourself properly. You are to stun anyone who fails to identify properly. Stun them, and then send them back here via Portkey for interrogation. Understood?"

Everyone in the room nodded. He was about to let the teams go with that, but then remembered something C had said that he had rather liked.

"Good hunting!"

Numerous casts of Muffliato could be heard around the room as everyone afforded themselves a moment of privacy as they spoke their passwords to their parchments.

Tonks cast her own, then tapped her wand to the "600" and spoke.

"Romulus." Only now that she looked at it again did she realize it was "009."

Tonks grinned as hidden ink began to appear. She'd fancied Remus for quite a while now. Only this past night, the first after the full moon, had the two of them finally taken their relationship to the next level. They'd slept together-just slept-but they certainly had found a rousing way to wake.

Whatever else might happen in a bed together, she knew that waking up entangled in the arms and legs of a person she truly cared for was an incredibly emotionally fulfilling experience. Tonks knew she was falling in love. She knew she had a head start on Remus... but she also knew he was finally allowing himself to catch up.

And so, although she knew, and Remus knew, few others did. Almost no one at work did, and she wanted to keep it that way for the moment.

Because of that, Tonks decided that a password of "Remus" or "Moony" might be a little obvious if she were to slip up and someone heard. So she settled for the name of the mythical Remus's twin brother: Romulus. It was close enough that it always evoked the desired happy memories in her, but obscure enough that only someone familiar with Muggle mythology might guess the significance. Fortunately, few wizards were.

When the ink stopped moving, Tonks glanced over the page. She recognized her own name (of course) as well as that of fellow Auror, Kara Thrace, who was to be their team leader. Also listed were two names she only vaguely recognized, a couple of low-level MLE officers. She frowned in curiosity upon seeing the location of her assignment.

She then read through the code phrase exchange. It was a little strange and cryptic, but then again, most code phrases usually were. But there was a certain logic to it that made it easy to memorize, and hence verify.

Re-pocketing her parchment, Tonks canceled her privacy spell and then went to find Thrace and the two MLE wizards. Once the four of them had confirmed they all had the same assignment and that they were all well-versed with the code phrase, they all disappeared, heading off to the specified landing site, pre-approved for Apparition privacy.

* * *

2:25PM

Having landed into a deserted alley between two buildings, the four-person team assigned to Wandsworth Bridge took a few minutes to look around and scout the area. Although this particular bridge was in the center of a busy urban area, it was only two lanes wide (three if the bus lane was included). Fewer lanes meant fewer cars... and fewer casualties. As such, its high visibility but low body count made it a medium-risk target; it was therefore assigned two Aurors and two MLE officers.

It had been unseasonably cool and foggy for just over two weeks now (since the attack upon Azkaban), but there had been no significant rainfall for the last couple months. So, as was typical for the middle of summer, the River Thames was several feet lower than during the winter.

What this meant for the Ministry personnel stationed there was that they now had more to worry about. Bridge supports that were normally in several-feet-deep of water were now within walking distance. Assuming that the goal was to cause a complete collapse, the most efficient way of causing the most casualties in the least amount of time would be to take out the supports. With them much more easily accessible by foot, it was decided that the four should split up. Beneath the bridge and out of sight, the two MLE officers Apparated over to the southern riverbank while the two Aurors remained on the north.

"So, any particular reason you were assigned here?" Tonks asked her teammate.

"I live down the road in Croydon," Thrace replied to the younger witch who she really only knew in passing. "I expect they thought that made me better equipped to spot something out of the ordinary here. What about you?"

"The same, I suppose. Kind of," Tonks answered, not looking entirely sure. "I've been out here in Wandsworth a few times in the last couple of weeks for my most recent assignment."

"Ah, yes. Babysitting," Kara said with a chuckle, using their favorite term for VIP detail. Word traveled quickly around the office whenever someone received such an assignment. No one liked having to tag along behind someone else. Although she had absolutely no idea who Tonks' charge was, Kara did suddenly make an association.

"If you've been out here before, then that means there's a witch or wizard living somewhere around here, right?" she asked. Since the question was vague enough, Tonks was able to confirm.

"This person wouldn't by chance happen to have a pair of snowy owls, now would they?" Kara queried. Tonks smiled; it was answer enough.

"You mind telling them to keep a closer eye on their owls?" she asked seriously, a bit annoyed. Risking the Statute of Secrecy by being careless with Post Owls was no laughing matter, after all.

Thinking back to what had happened at Ginny's birthday party, the surprise announcement of Hedwig and Metis's mating, Tonks could not help but start to grin. "Oh, don't worry about that. They will."

"They?" Kara asked. Understanding there was only one 'babysittee,' she'd said 'them' and 'their' simply because the English language had no other polite, gender-neutral terms for referring to a single person. The emphasis Tonks placed on the word suggested there actually was more than one person.

Tonks nodded. "Actually, my charge only had one owl. The other one belongs to a friend of theirs'." She stopped for a second to bite her lip for a moment. Thinking back, Harry's outburst was rather humorous. "Our owls had SEX!"

"And... it turned out that one of the owls was male," she said, rolling her head to one side for comedic effect, "and one was female," she continued, rolling it to the other, "and the two of them didn't know that... until they found a surprise waiting for them in the female's cage last week."

Kara laughed. "You put two of the same kind of owl together... you'd think they'd stop and check if they were boy and girl first?"

"Yes, well, teenagers these days. Their minds are always somewhere else," Tonks laughed, thinking back to her and Remus's suspicions that perhaps more was going on between Hermione and Harry than was generally known.

Kara chuckled again. It was particularly amusing considering that both she and Tonks were still in their twenties. It wasn't all that far from the kettle calling the pot black.

She stopped laughing though when something suddenly clicked in her mind. Kara was aware that Tonks had at least some sort of involvement with the Order of the Phoenix. Teenager... snowy owl... VIP detail?

"You've been guarding Harry Potter?!" Kara asked in a whisper, bewildered and awestruck.

Tonks groaned, realizing that she'd said too much when she slipped about the fact that they were teenagers. Kara Thrace was just too damned clever, she decided.

"No, I wasn't guarding Harry Potter," Tonks hissed, upset more at herself.

"I was going to say... because I thought he lived out in Surrey. So, what, does one of his friends live out here, then?" Kara continued, trying to make sense of it all.

From his publicity over the years, Thrace knew the names of only two of Harry Potter's friends: his "on again, off again" girlfriend, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley. Because of Arthur, she knew the Weasleys lived in Ottery St. Catchpole. She didn't know where Hermione lived, but because the specific nature of the Fidelius protecting Harry and the Grangers precluded her from thinking that he was staying with her, she therefore naturally assumed it was a friend she didn't know about.

Even if there hadn't been a charm forcing Tonks to keep the secret, after this royal slip up, she certainly wasn't going to say anything more. She sent Kara a warning-though not unfriendly-look.

Thrace knew Tonks couldn't talk about it, so she let the subject drop.

Mostly.

"Two snowy owls, and they didn't even think to check the genders," she said with a smirk. Tonks' grumpy visage slowly morphed into a smile.

"Idiots," Kara quipped humorously.

"Teenagers," Tonks confirmed with a smirk, raising her eyebrows in a "What do you expect?" sort of way.

* * *

2:25PM

Working his way through mid-afternoon traffic, 009 tried to keep his mind focused on the cars in front of him, and not on the mission ahead of him. With a smile, he knew that his brother wouldn't at all be impressed with him if he got himself killed in an automobile accident before the fighting even started.

Still, it was definitely the longest drive of his entire life, even though it was less than five miles. 009's assignment was Wandsworth Bridge. Although he did have some prior knowledge of the wizarding world, he had no more first hand experience with it than any of the other agents.

He also didn't have more experience than some of other agents. Agents 0013 and 0021 were currently the most senior agents. They were the best. They knew it. C knew it. 009 knew it. So they were assigned to Brockdale. Now was not the time for egos.

Now was not the time to worry about anything... except that bloody maniac who just cut him off and nearly ran over the motorcyclist in the lane next to him.

Speaking of egos... 009 thought to himself smugly as he noted the enormous SUV the man was driving, flashily decorated with gold (colored) accents. That vehicle, despite its size, probably wouldn't carry more than the driver, a passenger, and a couple of bags of groceries. The rough terrain it was designed to brave was probably the speed bumps in the car park of the local Heal's department store.

Compensating for something? he wondered of the other man and his SUV, very secure about what he himself was driving.

As he turned onto the service road that ran along the river towards the bridge, 009 hoped 0013 and 0021 would keep their lucky streak just one more time.

* * *

2:30PM

Parked on the service alley, well out of sight from the main flow of traffic and rummaging about the boot of his car, 009 quickly prepared himself. Stripping off his shirt temporarily, he first donned a Kevlar vest over his white undershirt. The large black man, Shacklebolt, had explained in the meeting that bulletproof vests were useless against most spells.

However, 'most' was not 'all,' and since the specialty armor 00s wore was not all that encumbering, it was decided to wear they would wear it anyway. Next, two shoulder straps that connected and wrapped around his chest: his primary weapon, optional silencer, and two extra ammunition magazines under his left arm. The same, his backup, went under his right arm.

He then lifted his left foot up onto the back bumper, rolling up his trousers. He secured around his leg above the ankle a nylon holder containing a lovely set of throwing knives. He then attached another holster, securing a third and final gun above his right ankle. And finally, he made sure all three weapons had live rounds preloaded in their chambers, and that the safeties were engaged. Safeties weren't foolproof, but it was more foolish to have three loaded weapons strapped to his body with them off.

He also often carried with him a KA-BAR knife, but he decided to skip it for now. With everything else he was carrying, he really didn't have anywhere else he could comfortably, or more importantly usefully, conceal it.

* * *

Q-Branch had a large assortment of "goodies" available for their agents in the field. Their high-tech nature however meant that almost all of them had some electronic component to them. Considering they were likely to be in the middle of a magical firefight, it had been decided therefore that it was better to not rely on anything electronic, and instead stick to the basics. The only exception, of course, was their communication equipment, which they had to use, and would until it stopped working... at which point, they were on their own. (Unless of course they were close enough for smoke signals... which could actually work.)

The Quartermaster was understandably disappointed that virtually nothing from his beloved-but predictably named-department would be used for this mission. Not that he knew what it was... which in it of itself was unusual, but not unheard of. His mood changed quickly however when a follow up set of orders arrived soon after the agents left.

Develop non-electronic or electromagnetically shielded versions of all hardware, if possible.

Q found this to be quite an interesting challenge. Forty years ago, everything his department developed was non-electronic. But the current Quartermaster had been in the position for only ten years, and he'd gotten quite used to the silicon life. Who needed springs, gears, and levers when simple timing circuits and micro servos performed more reliably than their practically Stone Aged predecessors?

MI6 hardware, when subjected to the "wear and tear" of field conditions, naturally had a very short life expectancy. That, combined with the blind eagerness decades earlier to adopt the "latest and greatest" electronic technologies, meant that virtually nothing from forty years earlier still existed, aside from a few MI6 museum pieces. Plans for the old hardware still existed of course, but it simply wasn't possible to rebuild their entire supply cupboard to non-electronic in one day.

However, with electronic warfare only just beginning to emerge from its infancy, the need for such non-electrical devices-primarily as backups-was only now beginning to be understood. For many years, the concept of waging war against an enemy's electronic systems was confined primarily to military think tanks and recently-released James Bond movies.

The few discussions that had occurred behind locked doors were focused exclusively on protecting large hard targets: corporate, financial, and government computer networks, military command centers, satellites, and even smaller hard targets such as naval vessels, aircraft, and vehicles.

But so early in its real world evolution, no one had really yet taken it on a practical basis down to the human level. What about their mobile phones? What about the transmitters for the newly-launched GPS system? What about the radio controllers they used to detonate explosives from a safe distance?

Protecting the Internet was perfectly fine, but what was the point if there was no one to connect to it because every laptop and desktop computer had been fried?

And so, with the discussion about how magic affected electronics, one unexpected surprise to come out of the after-lunch meeting between the three magical visitors and C was the idea of hardening electronic components against magical interference.

With first hand knowledge, unfortunately, of electromagnetic pulses and how to defend against them being used as weapons, C casually wondered aloud if magic was anything like EMP. It seemed to cause the same problems at least, so he wondered if the interference could be dampened similarly.

It was an untested theory, but one that none of the witches and wizards in the room had thought of, not even Dumbledore. They might not be able to design a mobile phone that was immune to being stuck by a curse, but perhaps they could make an electronic surveillance "bug" that actually worked in a high-magical environment, such as Hogwarts.

Rita Skeeter would be very pleased.

* * *

Satisfied that he was as ready as he would ever be, 009 closed the boot and started to head down the walkway that led to the river bed. Without a glance back, he pulled out his key fob and pointed it over his shoulder towards his car, pressing one of the buttons.

The chirp his car made indicated it was now secure. It probably went without saying, but a burglar alarm was not the only thing that had armed itself within the car.

Looking around, 009 decided it was actually a rather pleasant day... gloomy, ever-present fog notwithstanding. He started whistling as he strolled down the walk toward the river. His tune might have suggested relax and distraction, but he was anything but. With every step he took, he constantly scanned his surroundings.

As his walkway turned out onto the riverbank, the first things 009 noticed were two individuals milling around idly on the other side of the river. While they didn't appear to be doing anything warranting investigation, the fact that they were out on the riverbank... here, today, was enough to justify suspicion.

Looking down the riverbank, he saw two more people standing beneath the bridge on his own side. He had been told there would be four people with whom he was to meet. And indeed there were four people here. But were these the correct four? Pulling a very small pair of binoculars out of his leather jacket pocket, he gave them all a quick first look, checking for any obvious signs of danger.

It didn't appear that he'd been spotted yet, so he stepped back into the service walkway and looked around again as he put away the binoculars. Certain no one could see him here, he drew the gun from beneath his right arm and tucked it into his waistband, behind his back. He opted to leave off the silencer in favor of a faster, smoother draw.

Then, he put on a big grin and clasped his hands behind his back (giving himself something of a strutting appearance), and started to walk aimlessly out onto the riverbank, towards the two persons on his side. To any normal observer, he appeared as though he was out on a casual stroll (albeit in a strange place) without a care in the world.

As he neared, 009 took in every detail he could about the two 'persons of interest' in front of him, while still frequently looking around and checking on the two on the other side. His initial observations were, of course, correct: the two he was approaching were women. From what little he could make out of them at this distance, one appeared blonde and one had pink or purple hair. In the middle of a big city like London and its surrounding boroughs, purple hair in it of itself was not all that strange.

When he was about twenty feet away, the crunch of the gravel beneath his feet alerted the others to his presence. His less-than-stealthy approach was intentional. They had been chatting with each other; they turned and looked at him.

He cast a quick glance back at the two on the other side of the river. They still appeared to minding their own business, but with these two aware of his presence, he didn't assume that of the others. He made sure his leather jacket, behind his back, was out of the way of his weapon.

Still looking exactly as if he was out on a stroll, he walked straight up to the two women. He glanced at the two and nodded a polite hello to each, his gaze lingering on the blonde a little longer than the other.

"Hello," he said casually. "Lovely day out for a walk?" he asked, setting his hand against the handle of his weapon, taking hold of it. His move was so practiced that neither of the two in front of him could see that he'd done anything.

But he did notice that they were obviously aware that his hands were behind his back and hence out of sight.

Not bad, he thought to himself of their observations. He also noticed that they had been standing around chatting with each other as he'd approached, looking quite relaxed and calm with their hands in their pockets. Their hands were still there, and through the material of their trousers he could clearly make out the outline of what anyone else might have thought a pen or pencil.

The purple-haired woman smiled at him and nodded. "It is a nice day," she confirmed. "But rumor has it we're in for a change in weather."

"That's probably just because I've shown up," 009 replied, turning his head to look at the blonde woman.

"I doubt that," she objected. "So, mister stranger, who are you when you're at home?"

"Me? Oh, they call me The Oncoming Storm," he answered, grinning, looking at both of them. Both women smiled, though he allowed his attention to gravitate towards the blonde... again.

"Let's hope the weather worsens, then," she said.

"Let's," 009 agreed. He then grinned even wider and let go of his weapon. He dropped his hands back to his sides where they could see they were empty. He then let out a laugh.

"Whew!" he said exaggeratedly. "I'm glad we got that out of the way!"

"Why's that?" the purple-haired witch (now that he was certain she was a witch) asked, bemused.

"Because now I don't have to kill the two fantastic specimens of womanhood standing in front of me!"

"Whoa!" the blonde laughed. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?"

"Well, maybe," 009 grinned. "Doesn't mean it isn't true."

"What isn't?" the purple-haired woman asked, smiling.

"That you're both quite attractive, and that I'd've killed you," he said seriously. The silence hung about them for a moment; there only sounds were from the Thames and the surrounding city.

"But," he said suddenly, cheerfully, punctuating the sobriety, "that didn't happen, and here we all are!" He stuck out his hand towards the blonde.

"MI6 Special Agent 009, at your service!" he introduced himself.

"Ministry of Magic Auror Kara Thrace."

"Ministry of Magic Auror Kara Thrace," he repeated as he took her hand and shook it. But instead of letting go, he leaned down and kissed it like one might kiss the hand of nobility.

Thrace blushed. "You can call me Kara," she said, flustered, after 009 let go of her hand.

"I hope to," he said playfully. "And you are?" he asked as he turned to the other and made to take her hand.

"Ministry of Magic Auror Nymphadora Tonks. You can call me Tonks," she said pointedly, but in a way that indicated displeasure with nothing but her name.

009 shook her hand cordially, but did not kiss it. Both witches noticed this; neither complained.

"And those two across the river, they with you?" he asked, making absolutely no movement of indication towards the men behind him. If they weren't with these two, it would have been rather foolish of him to do something so blatant as to point and wave at them unabashedly.

"Yeah," Tonks confirmed. "Unfortunately with the river low, there's more structure exposed, so we decided to cover both sides. Plus, we didn't know which side you'd arrive on."

"Makes sense," 009 agreed.

"So, those two are Magical Law Enforcement officers Smith and Jones."

"Smith, eh?" 009 asked, seemingly amused.

"It's a common enough name," Tonks replied.

"So I've heard." He then turned to look back at the officers on the other side of the river. When he saw them looking back at him, he pointed and waved at them unabashedly.

Meanwhile, his back was to Tonks and Thrace; the two witches noticed the handle of the weapon sticking out the back of his trousers. Now they understood how he supposedly was going to kill them should they fail their identification.

Having finished waving, 009 then turned around so quickly that he saw both witches staring down at his... well, where his weapon had been when he was facing the other way. Both quickly looked up, embarrassed. Definitely someone of a playful nature, more so in the presence of such attractive women, he decided to save any smart comment for a more opportune moment.

Facing the witches, he reached behind him and drew out his weapon and reholstered it beneath his arm. The speed at which he did so surprised the two Aurors, despite what they'd seen in Madam Bones' and Shacklebolt's projected memories. They still had no idea this was the same 00 they'd watched earlier... not that it really mattered though.

"Have the four of you had a chance to scout the area yet?"

"We looked around as soon as arrived," Tonks explained, "but we wanted to wait for you to arrive before we made any plans."

009 nodded vaguely then looked around. "Right. Won't be a minute then." He then strode off in one direction, towards where the exposed section of gravel ended. Since the River Thames ran through the middle of London, its edges were less actual riverbeds as they were more concrete sea walls with occasional bits of exposed land here and there.

As he studied the area, he took special care to note any changes. He'd been out here yesterday, scouting the site for several hours. The locations where the 00s would be assigned had been determined the day before, so there was time to send them out for reconnaissance. Of course, none of them knew at the time what their mission would be, nor did they know that all of them were out scouting.

After walking back and forth several times, and a very thorough inspection of the surrounding area, 009 decided that everything was as it had been the day before, and that nothing had changed.

As he walked back to where they were standing, he allowed his mind to wander back to the two witches beneath the bridge. They really were quite attractive. That purple hair had a certain exciting appeal, but it really was the blonde one who caught his eye.

Sometimes, in the line of duty, it was necessary to seduce a woman. Seduction, like any other skill such as hand-to-hand combat, prevarication, or sexual performance, required practice to keep it honed. While he doubted with a silent laugh that there would be a chance to practice the latter today, there was an opportunity to practice his charm.

A little flirting was definitely in order. It was harmless... he knew there was no risk to him, emotional risk, since nothing could come of it. But considering how attractive he found her-lust at first sight, definitely-this little exercise would prove to be fun.

Very fun! 009 mused as, with the immediate business addressed, he indulged in a little pleasure and finally allowed himself to notice the blonde's physique.

* * *

As 009 continued to wander around, examining carefully the surroundings as well as all of the exposed bridge supports he could see, Thrace pulled Tonks back out of the way.

"He's a bit handsome," Kara observed.

Tonks shook her head and rolled her eyes in amusement. "Merlin's beard, Thrace!"

"What?" Kara objected. "I'm just saying he's handsome. I just met him, after all. It's not like I'm making plans, or anything. We won't even remember who he is afterwards. And besides..." she said, sounding more like she was trying to convince herself, "I'm an Auror, and he's a Muggle... a 00, no less. It isn't like there's a future in that!

"But honestly, you can't tell me that a handsome man comes in and starts sweet talking you like that... that you don't find it even the tiniest bit exciting?"

"Well..." Tonks found it hard to object. The sweet talking Remus did this morning while they were lying in bed together was quite... exciting.

"Look at me, Tonks! I'm twenty-seven years old. Half the guys in the Ministry are afraid to even look at me because I'm an Auror, and the other half are either married or I wouldn't want looking at me. I don't drink and can't stand being around drunks, so that pretty much rules out meeting guys in pubs.

"I have to take care of my mum so I live in Croydon, but I'm a witch so that makes dating Muggles awkward. The dating scene isn't exactly wide open for me. At least you have your little secret thing with Lupin going on."

Tonks' eyes widened and her mouth started gaping like a fish out of water. Even her purple hair blushed. She'd been experimenting with hair length and color lately... just to try something new. Today by chance, she'd selected purple, shoulder length hair.

That definitely got a favorable reaction out of Remus this morning... very favorable.

When she prodded him to ask what he liked so much about it, he confessed that he was always a bit conscious of the age difference between them-she already suspected as much. Her usual short bubble-gum pink, he admitted, sometimes had an almost childish quality to it... childish, as in under seventeen... rather than "ridiculous."

But this... the longer, darker, more muted purple... it had, he felt, a more mature look about it. And that was something Remus could definitely appreciate. And purple was close enough to pink that it was still "classic Tonks." And for her part, Tonks was quite amenable to the change. After years of pink, she'd been ready for a change anyway (hence the experimenting). That it removed the last hesitation for him to do more than just hold her hand was completely irrelevant.

Yeah, right.

"I'm twenty-seven and I'm single," Kara complained. "I notice when people are making eyes at each other. Don't worry... I don't think anyone else knows." She glanced at Tonks again and smiled.

"How old are you again?"

"Twenty-three," Tonks replied hesitantly.

"And how old is Lupin?"

"Thirty-seven," Tonks replied even more hesitantly. Her hair began to blush again. Kara smirked, but let the subject drop.

She then ran a hand through her short blonde hair. "Look, I'm not going to ask him out or anything like that," she said, nodding towards 009. "But he seems pretty... outgoing... and a little... playful banter might be fun. You know, to get the blood pumping... to feel alive!"

Tonks glanced down at her watch: it was 2:45. She began to smile.

"You've got an hour left. Knock yourself out!" Tonks encouraged; Kara smiled. "After we've worked out our plans."

Thrace rolled her eyes. "Of course, business before pleasure."

Fortunately for Kara Thrace, determining a strategy didn't take all that long. Considering the layout of bridge supports and what exposed shore there was, it was decided that the four witches and wizards would wait Disillusioned. Tonks would be stationed on top of the bridge on the north side, Thrace beneath. Similarly, Smith and Jones would wait on the south side. And since it was more accessible by foot than the south, 009 would be on this side under the bridge as well, hiding up amongst the girders. With their plans decided, he headed back to his car for "one last thing."

As an MI6 Special Agent, 009 was required to be proficient in all sorts of weapons, ranging from throwing knives to anti-tank weapons. The sheer breadth of selection within the MI6 armory would make even the most stoic of military commanders as giddy as a kid in a candy store.

Out in the field, in addition to any specialized weaponry deemed necessary, all 00s were outfitted with a standard armament kit. As far as firearms went, agents always carried in their vehicles three models.

The Walther PPK was their handgun of choice; it was tradition. Its magazine and caliber weren't as large as other modern models, but for their normal uses-close range fighting, assassinating someone who was asleep-it was perfectly adequate.

On the other end of the scale was the Accuracy International L96A1 sniper rifle. Straight from the factory, its accuracy was impressive, even as sniper rifles went; once Q-Branch had done their tinkering, it was almost magical. In his hands, 009 could engage a target well over a kilometer away with pinpoint precision.

He smiled with justifiable pride as he recalled an assassination mission where he had hit the target at a range that had even other 00s incredulous. The particular model of L96 MI6 employed had a specified maximum range of 1500 meters. Fortunately, spec writers tended to be a bit conservative, at least on paper.

Forced by the terrain to take the shot at a distance of about 1700 meters (over one mile), even 009 had his doubts. But fortune appeared to be on his side that day: the weather was favorable; windage was favorable; terrain and elevation were favorable. All of that added up to one phenomenal shot... and one dead bad guy.

009 spared a brief sigh for his trusty L96A1-it was simply the wrong weapon for this mission. Its bolt action and high-powered scope made it perfect against a single target (normally 1000-1200 meters away), but those same features made it cumbersome and slow when facing multiple targets at close range. It, unfortunately, would sit out this mission in its olive green, well-padded case. An assault weapon was simply the better weapon for this mission.

And of course, 009 had one of those in his car too. He turned his attention to another well-padded case in the boot of his car, this one black. Inside was the Heckler & Koch G36 KV Assault Rifle, the most recent "official" revision to the 00 standard field armament kit. Even if one were to ignore the long list of militaries and law enforcement agencies using it, including the venerable Special Air Service (just like with the L96A1), the G36 was still an impressive weapon.

With it he could engage a single target at medium to long range (up to 800 meters) or multiple targets at close to medium range. Its cyclic firing rate of 750 rounds per minute made it a deadly anti-personnel weapon, though that rate, a foolish operator would burn through the standard thirty-round magazine in less than three seconds (or the 100-round magazine in eight). But fortunately, it also had semi-automatic single shot and two-round burst modes, both of which would allow a 00 and his five standard magazines to easily last almost any engagement they encountered.

While the three weapons 00s routinely carried were impressive, some might wonder why they weren't even more heavily armed than that by default. The answer was quite simple, really. MI6 00s were not one-man armies ordered in to single-handedly wipe out an entire regiment. They were surgical tools dispatched to precisely excise a cancer; chop off the head and the body will die. That said, the three weapons did have some teeth to them, should the headless body still have a little fight left to it.

009 grabbed his assault rifle case, locked his car, and hurried back to the blonde... erm, the two Aurors.

* * *

For the next twenty minutes or so, the three occupants on the north side made small talk as they passed the time. Waiting was always the hard part. From his vantage point, it looked to 009 that the other two wizards on the opposite side of the river were keeping themselves busy playing cards... though he didn't know why there were occasional puffs of smoke. Fortunately, sitting directly under the bridge kept them hidden from the Muggles above.

Occasionally, a boat or rowing team went by; one of the two witches muttered a quiet spell he could never catch. Tonks explained it as a Notice-Me-Not charm. It didn't make them invisible, but it compelled Muggles to look elsewhere-even just a few feet to either side-and therefore not notice them.

* * *

"So, where are you from, exactly?" Kara asked.

"Can't tell you. State secret," 009 teased.

"Well, you sound like you're from the North."

"Lots of people are from the North!" 009 defended.

"And you won't tell me your name?" she asked for the third time.

"Nope!" he replied rather gleefully, for the third time.

"Hmph! What good are you to me then?" she pouted.

"Oh, lots of things, I'm sure," 009 replied, a lazy but confident look in his eyes.

Tonks, for her part, did her best to stay out of the way. The two in front of her seemed to be doing quite well by themselves without her interrupting. Yes, the hormones seemed to be flowing quite adequately, despite the fact that Thrace was twenty-seven and 009 appeared in his early-thirties.

She tuned them out occasionally as she filed away some promising, suggestive line that one of the two of them said. She tried to imagine how it might play out if she used it on Remus. She then drifted back into the conversation later, having missed half of it.

"Look. All I'm saying is that I think you lot are too reliant on your magic. I'm not saying magic's a bad thing, just that you're too dependent on it."

One thing that Tonks had noticed about 009 was that he had an ever-present personality. There was no escaping it. On the plus side, he seemed quite exuberant, to the point that he was constantly smiling and flashing big grins.

But, his confidence, his unfaltering sense of self-assuredness tended to give him an air of arrogance. He didn't think less of a person for being wrong (as far as he was concerned), but he did make sure to correct them and give them the "opportunity" to see things as he did.

So it did sometimes come across as arrogance.

"I mean, for example, what do you do if you lose your wand in a battle? What then? You're stuck!" he pointed out.

"Well, if we lose our primary wand, we draw our backup," Kara explained reasonably.

009 looked for a moment as if he hadn't considered that possibility, and seemed impressed. As far as wands went, prior to today, what he "knew" of them came more from children's stories than from a real witch or wizard, related or otherwise. They seemed so special, so... magic... that he simply assumed a witch or wizard would ever only have one.

He looked Kara over quickly, appraisingly. She'd had her wand out only moments earlier, showing it to him and explaining a little (a very little) about the "magical science" behind the physical nature of a wand... wood types, core materials, etc. He was now trying to figure out where another one might be.

"And just where does one keep a backup wand?" he asked heavily. Oh, that could have been taken several different ways.

"Somewhere the average wizard will never see," Kara replied suggestively, picking the response that she knew would best suit him.

Tonks bit her lip to keep from laughing. They were at it again.

"Really?" 009 drawled, somehow managing to sound both impressed and unimpressed at the same time.

Thrace smirked. She pulled up her trousers leg, and-showing quite a bit of toned and muscular (but still feminine) lower leg in the process-revealed her backup wand in its holder above her ankle.

"Very nice."

"My wand, or my leg?" Thrace teased.

"Both." After another one of his larger-than-life grins, 009 returned to his original argument. "So what if you lose all of your wands. Then what do you do?"

"That's where Auror training comes in. We've got a few kids out there who can cast Stunners with the best of us. We don't spend three years in training just learning jinxes and hexes. It's about learning how to fight, both with spellwork and without."

"They teach you hand-to-hand combat?" he asked skeptically. Thrace nodded. "Really?" he asked, sounding genuinely impressed.

"Really," Kara drawled in return, almost in the form of a dare.

A small mischievous smile came across 009's face.

"All right. Prove it!" He put his hands on his hips and stood perfectly still. "One free shot. Show me what you've got, then." He was grinning again.

"All right," Kara mimicked back to him. She had meant her earlier response as some kind of dare, but she hadn't intended this. But she couldn't resist. Their 'playful banter' back and forth had become quite intoxicating; she didn't want it to stop.

The teasing had gotten quite suggestive at times, even to the point of innuendo, but never did it ever cross over into anything that might be out of line or offensive. Right at this very moment, Thrace wanted nothing more than to hit him as hard as she could. Not so that she could hurt him, but so that he might be impressed with her... that he might see she was more than just a cartoon witch waving a star-tipped wand over a bubbling cauldron.

Thrace quickly glanced the secret agent over. The ground beneath his feet was not level... he appeared to be favoring his left leg over his right because of it. She made her move.

When Kara Thrace made her lunge at him, 009 was not disappointed. She had seen that he was standing on uneven ground and should therefore be weaker in one leg over the other. At least, he hoped she had and that it wasn't just a lucky guess. But it didn't matter; he knew he was on uneven ground so he had compensated in his posture.

He twisted his upper body upon his "weaker" leg and dodged her punch easily.

"Not bad. Not good... but not bad," 009 commented, sounding bored. It was a calculated tone.

Thrace scrutinized the man in front of her.

"You're sure you want to do this?"

"ABSOLUTELY!" 009 replied excitedly.

"My father insisted that I learn self defense when I was growing up. I'd been doing it for several years before I got my Hogwarts letter. I kept up with it during holidays and after I graduated."

009 nodded.

"What the Aurors teach is different from what I learned, but since no one's ever beaten me, they exempted me from learning theirs."

009 nodded again.

"No one has ever beaten me in a strictly hand-to-hand combat training session," Thrace emphasized.

"The real world is not a training session," 009 replied in a challenging voice, hoping he could provoke her. He really wanted to see what she could do.

"And besides, I've lost loads of times in our training sessions. Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he grinned.

Thrace smirked. "Okay," she replied with her own grin.

009 clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully. "Fantastic!"

The clothing the Aurors and MLE officers were wearing was perfectly Muggle in appearance, but the material was thick and sturdy; it was combat worthy, able to stand up to the wear and tear involved in a hostile environment. Trousers that ripped the first time a person jumped over an obstacle became a trip hazard, after all. But in a controlled training environment, the heavy fabric simply led to unnecessary overheating.

Thrace took off her jacket and then handed it and her wand to Tonks. "Hold that for me, please?" She then quickly stripped off her shirt and handed that to the purple-haired witch too.

009 could not help but be caught unprepared for Thrace's action. He stood there dumbly for a split second, taking in the sight before him. She had been wearing a Muggle sports bra beneath her shirt, and while still adequately covered for decency's sake, he could not help but admit to himself... WOW!

Kara Thrace was not a wispy, petite witch. Not overly large by any measure either, she did however have a very powerful frame. There was definitely meat on her bones, and by the looks of her exposed midriff, it was decidedly muscle... but not all, for she still had soft curves in all the right places. The highly supportive fabric of her undergarment certainly kept everything restrained and in place, but left enough titillating cleavage to remind him that he liked what he saw.

Yes, Kara Thrace definitely had the physical appearance of a woman who could easily kick 009's arse from here to next Tuesday. If he let her. And he was seriously considering letting her do exactly that. The fact that he considered this alluring yet powerful figure the absolute ideal of female perfection was completely irrelevant. Then again, maybe it had everything to do with him wanting to let her "take him down."

It only lasted for a second, but Kara watched as 009 looked her over with obvious appreciation. She felt a knot of excitement begin to build in her stomach. It had been a long time since a man had looked at her like that... at least, one she wanted to look at her like that.

Just like everywhere else in the world, the Ministry had its own share of lecherous old men, leering at her and every other young witch from behind the shells of their stale marriages which had long since passed their "Best if Used By" dates.

And then there were the fresh-out-of-Hogwarts interns... silly little boys who had no idea how to treat, let alone handle a woman other than what they gawked at in their much-shared and much-pawed-over Playwizards.

"Well?" Kara asked expectantly. She'd adjusted her posture, clearly now in a much better stance to make something happen. She was calm, but her body tensed, ready for action.

009 nodded. He took off his black leather jacket and looked politely at Tonks. "Would you be a dear and hold this for me?" Tonks rolled her eyes in good humor, but took the jacket. He then reached behind his back. Thrace watched as the strap around his chest loosened and the two underarm holsters carrying his weapons, silencers, and ammunition swung free.

She fought the urge to laugh. It just looked too much like he was taking off a bra.

After quickly shucking his trendy forest-green shirt, and with the loud tear of disengaging Velcro, he then removed his Kevlar vest, leaving him back down to his white A-shirt. He then carefully handed all of it over to Tonks, placing his weapons on top of everything else in her arms.

"Careful with all of that, Tonksie," he said politely but seriously. Tonks glared for a moment, then used his jacket to bundle it all up and set it down on the concrete ledge that was part of the bridge support. Pocketing Kara's wand and setting her jacket and shirt down also, she then stepped back out of the way.

Looking around and seeing no one else, she cast a Patronus. A brilliant, perfectly formed wolf appeared, and she directed it up and along the underside of the bridge where none could see it, to tell the MLE officers that the fighting they were sure to see would be intentional.

Over on the other side, the two MLE officers, knowing they couldn't leave their posts, pulled out pairs of Omnioculars from their trousers' pockets and waited eagerly for the show.

And quite a show it was. For the next thirty seconds, it was nothing but a blur of arms and legs as Kara attacked 009. Blow after blow tried to find a mark, but each time, 009 deftly blocked each fist, elbow, knee, and foot. Tonks had to cast a silencing charm around the two within moments. Thrace was under full steam now, and each strike was accompanied by a shout from her exertion.

The entire time, 009 did nothing but block her attacks, grinning as if this was the happiest day of his life. It was clear that what Kara Thrace had studied growing up was merely "ordinary" karate. But there was nothing 'mere' about it, as her skills demonstrated that she was clearly a black belt. Any novice would-be attacker would easily be lying on the ground by now in major world of hurt.

Finally, after about another fifteen seconds, Thrace threw yet another punch that 009 could easily block. Instead of throwing it off however, this time he caught it and maintained his grip on her fist. Partially trapped, she tried to land an elbow into his ribs with her other arm; he caught that easily too. He then stepped forward, pinning her legs with his knees, preventing her from kicking him. She leaned forward, as close as she could get to him.

"Give up yet?" she asked, clearly out of breath; sweat was already starting to pour down her face. 009 leaned forward to match her posture, but made sure to keep his face far back enough should she decide to try to head butt him.

"Are you kidding? This is the most fun I've had in months!"

Kara blinked. She didn't know how he meant that. She had to admit to herself, she was rather enjoying this. Her heart was pounding; the blood and adrenaline were flowing. Combine that with the fact that her skin was getting hot from the exertion as well as the natural, latent attraction she'd felt towards this man from the moment she laid eyes upon him, it was causing a myriad of interesting sensations... everywhere.

Was he feeling the same thing she was? Or, considering how easily he'd been defending himself against her, was this merely a joke to him? He hadn't even broken a sweat! Was he not taking this... not taking her seriously? She was stunned at how much that thought hurt.

Channeling all of her strength at once, she wrenched her body and broke free of his grip. In a foolish, uncontrolled move, she pulled her arm back and swung wide, trying to land one last punch with every ounce of strength she had left.

009 saw her fatal move; such a wide swing left her open. He ducked slightly and then kicked her knee out from under her with only as much strength as was necessary. (He could have shattered her knee if he'd wanted to.) As he expected, Thrace spun out of control, carried by the momentum of her wild punch. He deftly caught her and turned his body around with hers, allowing her to fall safely, but not hit the ground.

Tonks and the two MLE officers unknowingly held their breaths as they watched. The entire motion had a graceful quality to it that gave it the appearance of a ballroom dancer dipping his partner deeply.

009 looked down at Thrace as he held her easily in one arm. Her short blonde hair was matted down with sweat; her face was flushed, and she was breathing hard. He'd seen that look before, many times on the faces of many women. (And even one man... the intel certainly was wrong that time about whether it was the grown son or daughter having second thoughts about their father's plans and secretly feeding MI6 information... but such were the risks incurred by a 00)

But alas, all of those times, it had always been business. Pleasurable, sure, but it had never been personal. He was surprised how much that thought hurt... now that he let himself think about it. Sex could be a weapon, and sometime bedding a woman was necessary. (He preferred that term as it helped keep the encounter professional and impersonal.) He never allowed himself the luxury of wondering if it could ever be personal.

It never could... that was the life of a 00.

Unable to read the strange look on 009's face, Kara took a second to regain her thoughts. She'd lost, obviously. Or had she? The real world is not a training session. It was not over until she was dead... in the real world. She only needed a second's worth of distraction.

"Are you all right?" 009 asked quietly.

Kara shook her head no; he appeared concerned. Since he was down on one knee and leaning over her looking down, there wasn't much distance between them. She quickly leaned up and kissed him. She could tell he was surprised when he felt her tongue trying to gain access to the inner reaches of his mouth.

She never got in, however, as she knew he was surprised again when he felt her backup wand being pressed to his throat. She'd used the momentary distraction of the kiss to grab her other wand from her ankle. She was sitting on her leg awkwardly after having it kicked out from beneath her.

009 was very pleased with how this had turned out... the kiss was just a bonus. Only because this was a training session that he had won did he allow himself to consider it "over." If this had been real, he would have killed her a long time ago, plain and simple. Or if nothing else, he could have when she fell and was at his mercy.

He was very impressed with her determination and resourcefulness. With time and training, she might have made a good 00. And that was the highest compliment he could think to give to give her. He began to smile, even though he still had a wand at his throat. Thrace returned his smile.

"I win," she said, managing a smile as she continued to struggle to catch her breath.

009 grinned even wider in admiration of this witch in his arm.

"How about we call it a tie?" he suggested tenderly, his voice almost sounding sensual as if he were speaking to a lover.

Kara was about to ask what he meant when her whole body jumped in shock. She felt cold metal pressing against the exposed hot skin of her back. His eyebrows rose as if to say, "That's why," when she heard the unmistakable Click! as he cocked the hammer of his second backup weapon. There was a second, fainter click as he disengaged the safety.

They might have been "playing," but Thrace still had a deadly weapon pressed against 009's throat. He returned the favor.

Tonks hadn't noticed when it happened, but somehow 009 had reached down while he was holding onto Thrace and drawn another weapon from a holster around his ankle.

The Walther PPK had a double-action trigger, meaning that it could be fired by simply pulling the trigger; the hammer didn't need to be pulled back first. However, the fact that it had an exposed hammer meant that it could be cocked. While this could have some actual benefit, in practice it tended to be used much more for its powerful psychological impact.

"A tie?" Kara asked, dazed. Her head was spinning a bit... from the adrenaline, from the shortness of breath, from the kiss....

"A tie, a draw, a stalemate, mutually-assured destruction," 009 explained. "Though, I think I rather like 'mutual satisfaction' better."

"I think I do too," Kara agreed absently. "A tie, then," she agreed, and pulled her wand away from his neck. She heard the much more reassuring clicks as he put the hammer back up and reengaged the safety, before he returned the weapon to his ankle.

009 helped Kara to stand up on her feet, taking hold of her arm as he did so. He held on for longer than he needed to.

"Are you all right?" he asked again. Thrace nodded meekly, her head moving quickly, but no more than half an inch up or down.

Satisfied she was okay, 009 felt the need to get away from her for just a minute. This was rapidly becoming more than just flirting. He reminded himself that that was all it could be... But in another time and place... in another life....

Well, that was neither here nor there. Ships that pass in the night....

"Well, right then, I'll, uh, just be over there for a moment," he mumbled, pointing at where his jacket and weapons had been set. After retrieving her own shirt and jacket, Kara went over to Tonks to collect her wand. She saw the inquisitive look on her fellow Auror's face. Kara began to blush.

"WOW!" she mouthed silently to Tonks, grinning, looking both embarrassed and a little dazzled. She then walked several feet away to put her shirt and jacket back on and recompose herself. Only one application of a cooling and refreshing charm just wasn't going to cut it this time.

* * *

In the remaining time before the four o'clock deadline, the three on the north side of the river shared some of their most memorable moments from their previous missions... with as much or as little detail as was permissible by law.

Tonks and Thrace were amazed at some of the things the 00s had faced. The wizarding world as a whole was still terrified by Voldemort. But if they only knew some of the things those handfuls of evil Muggles were capable of....

Voldemort was evil to his very core, and was driven singly by his desire to purge the world of those he did not consider pure. But compared to actual body counts... compared to potential body counts... he was, to be blunt, a small fish.

It could take him months, if not years to purge nearly six billion Muggles. With enough money, determination, and access to a few very special materials, a Muggle could do the same thing... in one day.

But that certainly did not leave Voldemort off the hook. He was still dangerous. If given enough time and left unchecked, his knowledge of magic would pose a genuine threat to ever living being on the planet. The Muggle population as a whole was, after all, defenseless against magic. And the wizarding world-save a one-year-old boy-had thus far been unable to do much to stop him.

009, for his part, listened as Tonks and Thrace told stories of their own dealings with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. These accounts were much more detailed than what he'd heard back in the briefing. Also, they were more personal, which made them that much more powerful.

He was curious about one thing, however. At several different points in the various stories, there was a passing reference to someone... a person completely absent from the "official story" given earlier. The name was mentioned repeatedly, but no stories were told about him specifically. As four o'clock neared, 009 debated whether or not to ask about the name he'd heard three times now: a mere boy named Harry Potter.

But before he could, Tonks looked down at her watch. It was almost four o'clock. As much as she didn't want to break up this lovely time they'd been having, duty did call. She did have to admit, however, she was finding it rather amusing watching Kara and 009. For the first few minutes after their fight, the two of them did their best to avoid the other as they tried to put their heads back on straight.

But once the three of them sat down on the smooth river rock of the shoreline and started sharing, it was clear there was something starting to form between the two of them. The constant, furtive glances at each other... the embarrassed smiles catching the other looking. 009 had even seemed to turn down his brilliant grins and suggestive looks. It was like he wasn't trying to make an impression anymore.

Tonks was under the distinct impression that these two had moved past the innocent flirting stage. She felt a niggling pull in the pit of stomach as she remembered that nothing could come of it. Assuming they all survived, once this was over, 009 would go back to MI6 and Kara was headed back to the Ministry.

And then they would have their memories modified. To protect his identity, they would forget who he was. Oh, they would remember him, that much was certain. He truly was unforgettable. But they wouldn't remember who he was. Perhaps that was the cruelest part of all. They could pass him on the street and not even know it.

But, Tonks wouldn't worry about that. They both knew the risks. They both knew that their jobs dictated that they would never see each other again.

Right now, there was only one thing to worry about. Tonks cleared her throat.

"It's time." The smiles on Kara and 009's faces faded away. The two shared a longing look.

"It's time," 009 finally said after a moment.

"It's time," Kara agreed, last.

Tonks tapped her wand to her wristwatch, sending a friendly reminder over to the MLE officers that it was time. She resisted the urge to smile when she saw one of them shake his wrist painfully, and then waved his hand at her in an unfriendly thank you.

After checking her watch again, just to be sure it really was almost four o'clock, Tonks nodded to Thrace. The younger witch Disillusioned herself, and then Thrace levitated her up to the top of the bridge; the nearest foot access was about fifty feet away, back where 009 originally came in. Fortunately there was a large concrete overhang above, part of where the bridge connected to the land. She could stand upon it, out of the way of vehicle and pedestrian traffic.

With Tonks in position, Kara gave 009 one last smile before she too disappeared from sight. He jumped when he felt an invisible hand goose him; he followed the sound of her bodiless laughter, tracking her to her position.

"Wicked witch," he breathed fondly under his breath as he climbed up into the bridge structure, out of sight.

In his perch, he quietly opened the carrying case he'd retrieved earlier, pulling out his specially modified, collapsible G36 assault rifle. After loading one thirty-round magazine, he set the four remaining extras on the bridge support in front of him within easy reach, before setting the case behind him, out of the way. His PPKs stayed in his holsters, ready for any possible final showdown. And then with weapons locked and loaded and the four witches and wizards Disillusioned, the five of them waited.

Four o'clock came and went, and nothing happened.

Yet, they all thought. Four was the deadline for the Ministry to meet Voldemort's demands. Whatever would happen, would happen shortly thereafter. Everyone was on pins and needles from that point on.

The wait ended at 4:10. It seemed illogical, but everyone was relieved. A crack of Apparition shattered the calm of the river channel. The location of the intruder was easy to determine, as it was immediately followed by a large splash.

The hapless wizard had Apparated into the middle of the river. 009 kept the wizard's head within his sights.

"Wait," he heard Kara whisper from about two feet to his left; he nearly fell from his ledge in surprise. She'd managed to climb up to the girder right next to him without him detecting her.

"There's just one of them." The spluttering and floundering of the man in the river easily covered the sound of her voice.

"There's never just one of them," 009 reminded her quietly. Unless... this is a one-way mission, he added to himself darkly at the last second. Then there might be only one of them.

"Exactly. So let's wait a minute."

"Agreed."

"See how easy that was?" Kara whispered; he could hear her grin.

"What?"

"Admitting that I was right. Don't worry. You'll get used to it."

He hesitated for a moment. "If things were different between us, I'd take you up on that," he whispered back. There was an invisible sigh.

"I know.

"Here we go," she said a few seconds later, this time her voice all business. Their careless arrival was swimming towards them. As soon as his feet could touch bottom, he began to climb out onto the shore.

As soon as he was out of the river, the wizard immediately reached into his soaking wet robes. 009 noticed that his man looked to be driven by a singular mission; he didn't stop to look around or even to push his hair out of his eyes, which surely was half-blinding him.

"On my mark..." Kara whispered.

009's attention was drawn immediately to a glowing blue orb the man had pulled out of one of his inner pockets. The unladylike curse Kara swore told him this was not good. But why? They'd discussed many things... green Killing Curses and red stunners and Death Eater masks and typical team-shielding strategies. But there'd been no mention of blue orbs.

"STUN HIM!" Thrace shouted. Immediately, four bright jets of red light shot towards the man who was just simply standing there: two from the opposite side of the river, one from just beside him, and one from the overhanging ledge above.

But it was too late; the unknown wizard had already thrown the orb onto the ground.

Not understanding the significance of the blue orb and not knowing what else to do, 009 could only trust that Kara and the other Aurors knew what was best in this situation. He kept his sights trained on the now unconscious wizard, just in case he did something more provocative than just lie there, unconscious.

When the orb hit the ground, it shattered like crystal; it sounded like crystal. The glowing blue light contained within exploded out in all directions. 009 could feel as it blasted across him. But whatever it was, it didn't seem to have caused any ill effects.

He must have been wrong.

"Damn it to bloody hell!" Kara swore as she became visible again, jumping down to the riverbank. She then started looking around, wand drawn, securing the area. 009 got the impression that the immediately urgency was over. Still carrying his rifle, he jumped down and went down to join her.

Looking at Thrace, he smiled, bemused.

"Do you kiss your mum with that mouth?" he teased of her language.

"I kissed you," she replied, sounding as if it was a rather unpleasant experience; both knew otherwise as a smile slipped through. Both also knew now was not the time for such interplay, and they let it go with that.

Immediately to his right there was a large "splash" of gravel from a nearly invisible source; Thrace and 009 both immediately spun and took aim. Tonks had jumped down from the top of the bridge. As she too reappeared, he lowered his rifle. He looked at her, slightly perplexed.

"How'd you do that?" he asked. "You should have broken both of your legs."

"Cushioning charm on my legs," Tonks explained easily. 009 looked back to Kara; the look on her face indicated she was not happy.

"What was that blue orb?" he asked.

"A self-contained Portkey and Apparition ward. It'll last for about forty-five minutes and has a radius of about a mile. We can't cancel it, and now no one can get in or out of here by magical means."

Sure enough, within moments, numerous reports came in through 009's radio that similar occurrences had occurred at virtually all of the sites where 00s were stationed. Thrace would later explain that wards were different from charms, which was why the radios still worked.

Tonks confirmed that the same thing had happened at all of the other sites where there weren't 00s. Within a minute of the unconscious wizard's arrival, all stations had checked in via radio or magic... except one: Brockdale Bridge. With most of the Ministry scattered out across the country unable to leave where they were, and no one able to get in, it was safe to assume that the attack would not be here... or at any of the other sites "locked down."

And then, as if that thought summoned it, the radio squawked with an urgent voice.

"Brockdale confirmed! Repeat: Brockdale conf-"

The radio squelched as the signal was cut off. 009 had been in combat enough times to recognize the sound of a radio being destroyed mid-transmission. If Death Eaters were attacking, it was a safe bet that the radio had been fried from a fierce magical firefight. The four solitary stunners cast had obviously not created a high enough magical concentration to damage his radio.

The terminated transmission was followed a few moments later by another unidentified voice, one 009 recognized as belonging to C.

"All units, return to base. Repeat, all units, RTB."

"Damn it!" Kara shouted in frustration as she kicked the gravel. It had been a calculated risk, spreading their forces out across the country, instead of pooling them all at Brockdale. It obviously was the wrong choice. Now, everyone was trapped where they were.

But, then again, the fact that they were trapped suggested that their response was either known, or at least planned for. If they had put everyone at Brockdale, it was just as likely they'd all be trapped there, with the attack occurring somewhere else. At least this way there was someone at Brockdale.

Not two seconds after Thrace screamed out in frustration, it was 009's turn to shout.

"Well?! COME ON! What are we standing around for?!" he lectured them from his earlier perch. While Tonks and Thrace were standing around being upset about the situation, he had run back and was now stowing his collapsible rifle back into its case.

Tonks and Thrace just looked at him, confused.

"Brockdale! Let's go!"

"But we can't!" Tonks argued.

"Remember? We can't Apparate or Portkey!"

"You lot and your magic!" 009 muttered under his breath. "How do you think I got here?! We drive there!" He did feel slightly vindicated seeing that they looked extremely embarrassed for having forgotten about that.

Thrace sent her own Patronus-a viper-across the river to tell the two MLE officers to stay with the unconscious wizard; they were to take him back to the Ministry when the ward dissipated. Being a Ravenclaw made Kara's discovery of her potentially polarizing Patronus form during seventh-year N.E.W.T. studies much easier. Considering those-who-wore-blue were the ones those-who-wore-green best got along with (not that that was saying much), Ravenclaw was the only house truly able to appreciate that not everything that slithered was Slytherin.

009 and the two Aurors then took off in a run back toward his car.

"Will we get there in time?" Kara asked worriedly.

"No idea. But it's better than just standing around," he replied. It took less than a minute to get back to where he had parked his car. As they ran up to it, he pulled out his remote again and disarmed the car. The electronic chirp told the witches which car was his: a Cosmos Black 1995 BMW M3 coupe.

Well, that, and the fact that there were no other vehicles on the service road.

"Very smart!" Thrace admired as she ran up to it.

"Is it yours?" Tonks asked, equally impressed. She didn't know much about cars, but having learned how to drive the Ministry limousine and having been out on Muggle roads, she was able to appreciate a fine looking automobile.

"No, it's the Queen's! Now get in!" he complained as he opened his door and popped his seat forward so Tonks could climb into the back. Knowing Kara was Muggle-born, he trusted she could let herself in through the passenger-side door.

Although she knew her way around the Ministry vehicles she'd driven, the coupe was a two-door model and Tonks had never had to climb into a back seat before. She therefore was taking longer to get in than 009 would have preferred. He gave her a pat on the bottom to help push her in.

"Let's go!" he complained hurriedly.

"If Remus saw you do that..." Tonks muttered darkly under her breath. But as she sat down, she thought of something else with a smile. It might give him an idea.

Already in her seat, Kara took a moment to look around the interior of the vehicle as she fastened her seat belt. From the outside, the car looked exactly like any other BMW with privacy glass. Once on the inside, she knew it was anything but.

Her first clue came when she opened the door; it felt about three times as heavy as any other car door she'd ever opened. Looking in, the tinted windows appeared perfectly ordinary. But looking out, she could tell the glass was at least half an inch thick... bullet-resistant, more than likely. And the door itself was probably lined with steel armor plates, considering its weight.

The front windscreen too was a good half-inch thick and there was something mounted up against the glass near the top, the entire way across.

Other than that however, the rest of the interior looked perfectly normal. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the gear shifter. Goldfinger was the best Bond movie of all time, in her opinion. Unable to resist herself, and not thinking about any possible consequences, she grabbed the handle and tried to pop the top off, as if there was a secret button hidden beneath, even though there was no visible seam to indicate it.

It did, and there was.

Realizing that she was way out of line for doing that, Kara could still not help but stare at it. There was no way on earth she was going to touch it, but the sight of it... the downright novelty of a big red button, hidden in the gear shifter, irresistibly drew her hand toward it.

Her finger hovered longingly over it, aching to push it... but there was no way she would actually do it.

After handing Tonks the rifle case, 009 put his seat back down and climbed in the car.

"Don't touch that!" he warned urgently upon seeing Kara's finger near the button.

"I wasn't going to!" she promised. "I was just looking at it," she admitted, embarrassed that she'd been so impertinent as to open up what was obviously a secret compartment in a vehicle owned by the government. Actually, a super-secret organization within that government that could undoubtedly make people "disappear" for a very long time for doing exactly what she just did.

"Good. You would've fired your ejection seat," he replied seriously as he fastened his seat belt and put the key in the ignition.

Thrace's eyes widened and she just stared. "You're joking!" she replied in shock.

For a moment, he just stared at her, emotionless, while he started the car and revved the engine. He then cocked his head as his face lit up with another one of his huge grins.

"Yes, I am."

Kara rolled her eyes, but could not help but smile.

"Everyone strapped in?" he asked back to Tonks, having already seen that Thrace already was; Tonks replied in the affirmative.

Kara turned back to 009 and gave him a worried look. "Brockdale's more than five miles from here. It'll take us probably forty-five minutes to get through Friday afternoon traffic."

He gave her a small, reassuring smile, and then grinned broadly, once again.

"Not the way I drive. Everybody hang on!" He then 'put the pedal to the metal' and tore down the service road. The standard factory model M3 could reach sixty miles per hour in less than six seconds. The MI6 version did it in four and a half. But at that speed, they quickly ran out of service road, and he slammed on the brakes as he turned out onto the main road and into traffic.

And right in the middle of Friday afternoon traffic they found themselves.

"Damn," Kara muttered.

"Push the red button," 009 told her as he tried to maneuver the car to the center of the roadway.

"What?" she asked, alarmed.

"Push the red button," he repeated, shooting her a smile as he took his eyes off the road for only a second.

She did as she was told, and pushed the red button. She was startled, but relived, when the panel that housed the air conditioning controls popped open and slid out of the way. It revealed a new control panel containing about a dozen buttons of different colors and knobs, all of which were labeled with three- and four-letter abbreviations that didn't mean anything to her.

"Got to have a little flash," he smirked. He then reached for the only blue button, one labeled 'STRB,' which was next to a knob. Thrace tried to remember... she'd seen a knob exactly like that somewhere, sometime before. But where? There was writing around the knob at various 'settings.' OFF, she could figure out, but WAIL, YELP, and PA... they seemed vaguely familiar. But why?

"Everyone hang on. Here we go," he warned. He pushed the blue button and turned the knob.

Tonks and Thrace both jumped in their seats as a siren somewhere under the bonnet began to wail. They started to chuckle. The device mounted against the windshield Kara had noticed earlier was in fact blue emergency strobe lights. 009 then pulled out into the opposing lanes and started to drive around the stopped traffic.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Blue lights and a siren. Not exactly 'James Bond,' is it?" he joked. "But it sure makes getting through traffic a lot easier." And indeed, the few cars that were driving towards them were ever so conveniently moving out of their way.

As they approached the next clogged intersection, Kara surprised 009 by reaching down to the control knob and switching the siren from its slow "wail" setting to the fast "yelp." He was about to do the same thing. He quickly glanced at her; she appeared to be smiling.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he teased.

"Oh yeah! It's just like on TV... except it's REAL!"

"You seem to know your way around a police car," he commented, but not looking away from the road. "They teach you that at the Ministry too?"

"No, my father, actually," Kara explained. "Metropolitan Police for twenty-two years before he retired last year for medical reasons. He got special permission to take me out with him on his last day." She smiled. "The Chief Inspector asked my dad if he thought I could handle it... while I was standing there. Dad said, 'Sir, my daughter can kick my arse.' Of course, he left out the part about me being a witch, and an Auror."

Kara chuckled again. "I guess you could say I became an Auror to follow in his footsteps as best I could... being a Muggle-born witch and all." She then switched the siren back to the slower wail (which was no where near as grating) now they were now clear of the intersection. Glancing over at her, 009 saw her looking ahead, dutifully providing an extra set of eyes on the traffic.

"He was a good man," she said proudly, fondly; the timbre of her voice indicated it was the end of this conversation.

* * *

It was Friday afternoon, and traffic was as expected: horrible. For the regular commuters, the roughly five-mile drive from Wandsworth Bridge to Brockdale Bridge probably would have taken about forty-five minutes. Utilizing his siren (now Kara's), numerous alleyways, a few sidewalks, and even the occasional one-way street (the wrong way), 009 made it in twelve minutes.

"Didn't the guy on the radio say to return to base?" Kara asked at one point.

"Yes. But the 'RTB' afterwards was the counter-signal, overriding the previous command and ordering us to converge on the target. Secret codes," he explained, sparing her a quick glance and grin, "just in case there were unfriendly ears listening."

About a quarter mile from the bridge, 009 killed the siren and they drove the remaining way silently. Approaching the bridge, they realized it was as they feared: eight lanes of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Four lanes of city workers were fleeing home to the suburbs; four lanes of city dwellers were returning from their jobs in the suburbs. At any one moment, there were easily eighty or ninety cars on the overpass.

Even worse... if the attack on the bridge was successful, the Death Eaters could even come up from below, onto the motorway. Stuck between a destroyed bridge and more stopped traffic, hundreds more Muggles would be sitting ducks.

Looking out her window, Tonks could see curious stares the other motorists were giving them... a fancy black BMW with tinted windows and blue strobe lights, creeping up the hard shoulder around them. Maybe someone might think they were the police going to investigate a collision up ahead. If only that were the case....

Within a minute, they had arrived. 009 felt his level of tension climb one notch. Parked on the side of the road were two additional, identical black BMWs. One was in a small maintenance turnout, sitting there neatly as if parked in no hurry. This would have been the vehicle 0013 and 0021 arrived in. And then there was another one, parked much more haphazardly; its emergency lights were still flashing.

009 looked at the car's number plate; he had them all memorized: this was 0016, his sworn archenemy... well, at least as far as football rivalries went. Did he bring his magical team too? It appeared that no one else had gotten here yet.

Climbing out from their side of the car, Thrace and Tonks immediately ran over to the side of the ravine that dropped down on the riverbed below. The entire hillside was thick with trees and undergrowth, but the sections of channel way visible from the road appeared clear.

There were however small pops and booms and crackles echoing up from beneath the bridge itself. It was loud enough for the three standing on the shoulder to hear, but quiet enough that anyone inside a vehicle with its engine running would not. It was the sound of the clash of spell against spell.

Thrace and Tonks were about to run down the hill when they noticed 009 was not with them; he was heading to the back of the car, carrying with him the rifle case he'd retrieved from the back seat.

"What're you doing?!" Thrace called back to him, confused.

"Extra insurance," he replied.

A phrase like that just before a battle was always welcome, so the two witches ran back to join him. They watched as he put the car key into the lock and turned it. But instead of the boot popping open, he immediately reached over to the BMW emblem. They were confused when he started to press the four blue and white quadrants of the logo in a certain order.

"Secret combination," he explained to them without them having to ask. "Extra security feature. Enter the wrong code in and you get a lovely 50,000-volt how-do-you-do. Short enough not to kill you, but enough to knock you out until one of us can come along to collect you for... questioning." He grinned nastily.

"What if you forget that you need to enter a code?" Kara asked as she heard a latch disengage after the last blue panel was pressed. As the boot opened, he looked at her and grinned, seeming quite amused with the pending answer.

"BOOM!" he said, using his fingers to pantomime an explosion. Somehow, both witches knew he wasn't joking this time.

He turned back to the car; Kara looked in too. Inside she saw numerous small carrying cases, most prominent though a metal briefcase and a long, olive green case. 009 opened the metal one. Inside were two more PPKs with ammunition magazines and silencers. There were empty cutouts in the foam where the three weapons he was carrying had obviously been.

"You can never be too prepared," he said. He then turned and looked at them. "And don't be too reliant on your magic." He held one of the unloaded weapons out towards Thrace. Fortunately the two witches were standing side by side, so they blocked the view from the barely moving motorists.

"Do you know how to use this?"

Kara nodded. "Kind of," she replied. "Dad was always a bit of a hotshot, so he signed up for SO19. He got permission to have a gun at home, so he made damned sure Mum and I knew how to safely handle it, since it was in the house. But I've never actually fired one before...." she added, almost apologetically.

"Good enough," he replied. But considering her lack of hands-on experience, he loaded the magazine and pre-chambered a round for her. He then engaged the safety and held it out to her; she just stared at it.

"It's loaded," Kara said, confused. If there was one thing her father had stressed in his safety lectures, it was that a weapon should never be carried with a live round in the chamber.

009 looked at her, only slightly irritated (because of the need to hurry this up).

"Yes, yes, gun safety is fine and dandy for the weekend huntsman. But out here, a gun is only as useful as it is ready to be used, okay?"

Now that she thought about it, she did recall her father always clearing a live round from the chamber anytime he started to take it apart for routine cleaning. Obviously, there was a difference between what the trained professionals did in real life versus what they taught others for safety. She nodded.

"Here's the safety," he then pointed out. "You should never rely on the safety. It won't save your life from your own stupidity if you are careless, but it will prevent most accidents."

Remembering a similar lecture from her father, Kara nodded again and then took the weapon and put it in her jacket pocket.

What she didn't know was that one of the motorists behind her was more interested in staring at the backsides of the two young women next to the BMW than he was in watching the traffic that was barely moving. When she took the gun and put it into her jacket pocket, for a split second, it was plainly visible for the man to see. As attractive as these women were (as far as he could tell from the back), they didn't at all look like police. So naturally, he whipped out his mobile and dialed 999.

009 pulled out another unloaded weapon.

"Tonks?"

"I'm sorry. Other than the brief overview they gave us in Auror training, I just don't know anything about them. I'd worry that I might...." she trailed off.

"Good enough," 009 replied, in exactly the same tone as before. But this time, he put the weapon back into the case. "A weapon is only as safe as its operator," he said, sounding almost pleased that Tonks knew her limitations well enough to decline to take one.

Quickly, he checked his arms and ankles, making sure he had his weapons. Satisfied, he was about to close the boot when he remembered that he wanted his KA-BAR. He opened yet another small case and withdrew it and its sheath, attaching them to his belt. It was plainly visible; there was not point in worrying about appearances now.

Speaking of appearances... he also grabbed a small, soft duffle bag before he finally closed the boot, activated the alarm, and picked up the assault rifle case. The entire detour to the back of the car had only taken about thirty seconds. Potentially, a worthwhile investment if it brought extra firepower to the fight.

"What was in that big green case?" Kara asked.

"Sniper rifle."

"Don't you want that?"

"Nah," 009 replied casually. "Too big, too slow. This little lovely will do just fine!" he said, sounding almost affectionate of the weapon contained within in the case. "Might not be the biggest gun in the world, but I assure you I know how to use it."

The three of them then took off into a dash back towards the ravine.

"You're just going to leave them on?" Kara asked of the two cars' blue lights, which were still flashing.

"Trust me, at this point, I think we'd all welcome a little extra attention... of the official kind," 009 pointed out; the other two could not object. The three of them began to descend the hillside towards the battle below.

A/N: SO19 is the branch of the Metropolitan Police Service that provides armed support for the remainder of the service, which is, by tradition, unarmed. Now known as CO19.