Unofficial Portkey Archive

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

A/N. PLEASE STOP! Important note. This is the second chapter of a delayed two-part update. If you have not already read Chapter 38, which was posted last Tuesday, please go back and read that first.

Again, special thanks go out to MapleMountain and Korval for their help with these two chapters.

Several people emailed me to say that they were unable to view the spoilers I sent out in advance of posting these two chapters. If that happened to you too, here is a link to them. As I mentioned, being a nerd, I was inspired to create these by all of the Deathly Hallows spoilers that leaked out early.

Chapter 38 Spoiler.

Chapter 39 Spoiler.

Like I said, just for fun....

Chapter 39. You Only Have 009 Lives: A Decision You May Not Live to Regret.

As 009, Kara, and Tonks carefully climbed down through the scraggly undergrowth, the sounds of the battle ahead slowly grew louder. But they could not move any faster; one false step and they'd take the fast way down. The number of jagged rocks and trees between here and the bottom promised such a journey would be hazardous to one's health.

The one saving grace was that, according to the two witches, the fighting sounded rather slow. Either there were only one or two of them left, or they had each other pinned down in crossfire. His inability to hear gunfire in it of itself was not worrisome to 009. The use of silencers was routine; it helped make locating the shooter more difficult.

On their slow and cautious journey down, he could not help but feel responsible for Kara and the weapon he'd given her. Technically, giving her the gun was in violation of MI6 policy. But that was like ticketing a person who leapt from a runaway car for not wearing his seatbelt.

Still, he did feel responsible, so he wanted to make sure she fully understood the use of deadly force. He knew that while prepared to kill if necessary, Aurors were all quite accustomed to using their 'weapons' to stun, or otherwise incapacitate.

"I want you to forget everything you've ever seen in the movies or on television... people waving their guns around like it's some sort of cross to ward off a vampire."

"As if that actually works," Kara quipped, to which Tonks laughed. He paused his lecture for a moment, remembering that vampires were indeed real.

"A gun is not a threat," he resumed. "A gun is a deadly weapon. Do not put your finger on the trigger until you are ready to fire. It's too easy to have an accident. Do not point it at someone unless you are prepared to kill them. Of course, you hope that you don't have to, but adding a gun to the mix can escalate a 'situation' much faster than if it had been left alone. You do not show deadly force unless you are prepared to use deadly force."

"Yes, Dad," Kara teased. She'd actually received a very similar lecture from her father not all that long ago as he prepared to teach her how to use the gun in self defense. In fact, the only reason she hadn't ever actually fired a handgun was because his supposed 'long term' illness had accelerated suddenly, and what with the treatments and all, he'd never gotten around to taking her out to the firing range before it was too late.

"Hey now," 009 mock-objected, "I'll have you know that I'm old enough to-"

"To be my slightly older man-toy?" Kara suggested.

"Well, I was going to say 'to have been a classmate at that school of yours.'" He made no attempt to correct her other suggestion, however.

"Oh, and speaking of manhandling... another thing," he added. "There's none of this 'trying to shoot the gun out of his hand' or shooting to wound. It's too easy to miss. And once inside the human body, a bullet can do unexpected things, especially if you hit a bone. What you intended to be a minor flesh wound can end up fatal.

"If you're going to use it, it's called 'deadly force' for a reason. Shoot to kill. You shoot them until they are dead.

"Now, if you're not sure if they're dead or not... fortunately, that's easy enough," he said calmly and matter-of-factly. "All you have to do is walk up to them and put a bullet between their eyes. Then you'll know."

Kara stopped for a moment and turned around to look at 009 as he walked by her. Listening to his voice behind her, hearing him say that so casually, she half-expected that he was setting her up for some kind of joke. But the only thing she could see on his face was focus as he watched where he walked. He was serious, and it didn't seem to be that big of a deal to him.

He didn't enjoy the killing; it was simply a non-issue. He was a 00. That was what he did.

Kara kept getting swept away by his flirting and big grins that it was so easy for her to forget that he was a 00-Agent. Now more than ever, she found him irresistibly fascinating. That he could kill so rationally was not the appeal; rather, it was the strange juxtaposition of the warm-hearted flirt and the cool and calm executioner. It appeared that he could be both; she wanted to know for sure.

But she knew that could never happen, so she let it go.

A few moments later, they had reached the bottom and were on solid ground. They crept up to the edge of the plant cover, peering out and taking in the scene. It was hard to see how many people there were out there, but off in the distance, directly beneath the bridge, it definitely appeared that the two sides had each other pinned down.

On one side, in amongst the trees on the other side of the road were, presumably, the Death Eaters. Opposing them, and surrounding protectively one of the large concrete bridge supports was group of witches and wizards. Both sides had built up barricades around them to help defend against the exchange of spells. Their fortifications appeared made up of not only conjured barriers and magical shields, but even summoned rocks and boulders. There even appeared to be a tree that had been Accio'd straight out of the ground.

Trying to determine the best path of approach, they all noticed something else: dead bodies on the ground.

"Suggestions?"/"Ideas?" Thrace and 009 asked each other simultaneously.

"Well... the classic: distraction," he suggested first while he simultaneously shed his leather jacket. He liked it very much, but in an intense fight, it would only be a hindrance. Kara and Tonks similarly removed their jackets. Distracted by her survey of the battlefield and so unaccustomed to carrying one, Kara had forgotten that she had a gun in her jacket pocket. Meanwhile, 009 had unpacked his rifle from the case and loaded it, so he didn't see that she hadn't taken it out of her pocket. He put two additional rifle magazines into his pockets before explaining his plan.

"They appear to have each other pinned down. You two run in, wands blazing, and try to draw their attention. Meanwhile, I'll come in behind you and..." he held the rifle up and made a show of looking through the scope, "pick off anyone I can."

Tonks and Thrace looked at each other. "Good enough," they agreed simultaneously, both-unplanned-mimicking the agent's earlier tone.

"Hold still," Tonks told him. She then tapped her wand to the top of his head. He shuddered as he felt the cold ooze down over him as if someone had cracked an egg on his head. When the sensation normalized, he looked down at his hands. He actually gasped out loud (quietly) when he found them and the rifle he was holding missing.

"You're Disillusioned," Tonks explained. "Not quite invisible, if you stand still or move slowly, you'll blend into the background unnoticed. But if you move too fast, people will notice... something... a distortion in the shape of your outline."

"Ah, like the Predator?" 009 asked, referring to the alien creature in the Muggle movie of the same name. Kara smirked; Tonks was confused.

"Never mind," he said.

Almost invisible and ready to join the fight, the three headed out in a sweeping arc towards the Death Eaters, trying to come in from their side.

Tonks and Thrace had planned on creating their diversion about thirty feet away from the Death Eaters. Still about thirty-five feet away, 009 felt an indescribable sensation as he passed through something. All he could think of was that he had... passed through... something.

"Ah, damn," Kara muttered quietly. The five Death Eaters nearest them turned and started firing blindly in their direction.

Their presence had been detected; the three of them split up out of necessity in the face of the flurry of wildly-aimed spells.

So go the best laid plans, 009 joked to himself, considering the plan was rather hastily devised. He ran towards the hillside beneath the bridge, trying to try to get behind the Death Eaters if possible. Hopefully there weren't any more tripwire jinxes or proximity charms... whatever it had been that gave them away.

With the addition of two new witches to the fight, two who were not trapped behind their own defenses, the fight immediately picked up in intensity.

Nearing the bridge, 009 noticed the dust he was kicking up as he ran. He remembered that he was mostly invisible; he started to drag his feet, intentionally stirring up even more dust and dirt. He then stopped suddenly and crouched down, staying still, blending perfectly into the background. The dust cloud he'd created continued to drift along his original heading.

Three of the five Death Eaters turned in his direction. One stood up to better see as he focused on the rolling dust cloud. 009 took aim with his rifle. It wasn't a true sniper rifle, but with its three power optical sights, it was good enough. At the exact same moment he pulled the trigger, he noticed something strange: telltale evidence of the Death Eater being struck by a high-powered bullet... an exit wound easily fifty times larger than the entrance, along with the accompanying gore and mess.

Except, this wound was on the side, not behind. 009 heard the report of another G36 rifle somewhere to his left, from behind the defending wizards' fortifications.

Nice to see one of us is still around out there, he mused to himself. Unsurprisingly, the wizard immediately collapsed, dead. 009 was close enough to see some of the faces of the Death Eaters, who by now had shed their masks in favor of unimpeded visibility. The looks of fury on their blood-spattered faces confirmed that their associate had been killed by Muggle bullets.

Of course, the fact that the Death Eater had been struck nearly simultaneously by two rifle rounds at a right-angle to each other also guaranteed that: there was little left of his head above the lower jaw.

Before the mostly-headless wizard had even hit the ground, 009 turned his sights onto the next Death Eater, this one still blocked from the other 00 by the assembled barrier. But it was too late.

One of the other Death Eaters who been also been tracking 009's dust cloud-the one who didn't lose his head, stand up in the middle of a battle, and lose his head-was looking in his general direction when 009 fired. He and his rifle might have been Disillusioned but the muzzle flash was not. The Death Eater either had phenomenal aim, or just plain got lucky; his Reducto struck the barrel.

009 felt his rifle be knocked out of his hands by a violent jolt; it fell out of his Disillusionment and became visible. The end of the barrel was shattered and bent.

Q's not going to be happy about that. The Quartermaster was very protective of his inventory.

Abandoning his destroyed weapon, 009 quickly scrambled to his feet and ran a few yards to the right to find a bit of cover, dumping the now useless spare magazines along the way. He needed a moment to scan the scene and plan his next trick. He didn't plan on his respite lasting very long, but it was even shorter than he expected.

"Pythos Aspirare!"

One of the Death Eaters trying to track him gave up on the usual spells and went with something a little less conventional.

Some forms of magic cast a "wider net" than others. Most spells, including the likes of the Killing Curse, Stupefy, Reducto, and Diffindo, required as much aim as a Muggle bullet. A few spells however, such as Expelliarmus or Finite, merely had to be directed in the general direction as the target.

Why trip a wizard in a fierce battle or magically de-feather an enemy's Post Owl mid-flight when you could hit them with a stunner or Avada Kedavra? Because you had to hit them for those spells to work. The obscure, outdated suffocation spell was yet another example of a curse that did not require perfect aim to work.

Ordinarily, the spell would cause the victim's robes to begin to strangle the wearer. Because the spell affected the outer-most layer of clothing, this time it was his weapons holsters and accompanying shoulder and chest straps that started to constrict around him. Each time he breathed out, they grew tighter, making it harder to take in a new breath. He had already exhaled twice before he was able to work out what was happening.

All he could do now was to hold his breath to prevent the straps from tightening any further (actually, an easy task considering he was finding it nearly impossible to inhale).

This particular curse was designed for use on wizards' robes, which were much stronger than modern Muggle clothing. 009 might have been able to simply tear off his shirt, if that had been what was suffocating him. But unfortunately, the straps were made from the same material as climbing gear, so he would not tear through that.

The straps were, however, vulnerable to a sharp blade. Before it was too late, he quickly reached down and grabbed his KA-BAR. Taking care not to perform unintentional surgery upon himself, he carefully slid the blade between the strap and his chest and then twisted it so the sharpened edge was out. He then pushed every last bit of air out of his lungs.

The straps tightened again; the tensioned material snapped like a rubber band when pressed against the razor's edge. He could not silence the loud, wheezing gasp he made as his lungs re-inflated.

Fortunately, none of the other Death Eaters were paying him any mind at this point. With five of the Death Eaters' attentions drawn away from the wizards guarding the bridge support, it created enough of a drop in the barrage of spell fire to allow the trapped defenders to break out and rush them.

Flashes of green light tried to cut them down but the surge was so sudden and the response so disheveled that none hit their mark. Within seconds, the rushing wizards were close enough to the Death Eaters to cause them to abandon their defensive position and scatter.

What had been essentially a deadly stalemate of trench warfare was now a chaotic free-for-all.

Back where he had fallen, although he had just cut himself free, 009's harness was still attempting to kill him; the shoulder straps were pulling his shoulders together to compress his chest, and the now-cut chest straps were attempting to tie themselves into a knot to reestablish their strangle hold. Perversely impressed by the ingenuity of the magic, he abandoned the writhing garment, salvaging only his extra ammunition magazines.

009 turned to run and rejoin the fight when suddenly a stray curse hit the ground in front of him, exploding and showering him with dirt and rocks and knocking him onto his back. When he landed, he felt his magical cover wash away.

He was perfectly visible again.

A little dazed but otherwise uninjured, he jumped to his feet and ran back into the melee. He cut a small swath through the swarm, killing four more Death Eaters with the help of their own ignorance; they ignored the Muggle in favor of the wizards.

One of the Death Eaters had seen the Muggle with the fancy green shirt running through the crowd, killing four with his strange metal wand. The Muggle stopped behind a large tree and took cover for a moment while he took a small metal box out of his pocket and put it inside his wand. He saw as the man then partially emerged and took aim at another Death Eater whose back was to him. In a moment of overconfidence, the Death Eater decided to teach the Muggle a lesson.

009 couldn't hear the spell that was cast at him above the rest of the noise, but needless to say, he was startled when his gun, which he'd just conveniently reloaded, literally jumped out of his hand. The Death Eater who cast the Expelliarmus watched as the gun soared through the air in a high, graceful arc back toward him.

He aimed his wand up at the airborne weapon and cried, "REDUCTO!" The gun exploded in a shower of wood and metal.

Feeling rather proud of himself for destroying what he considered the Muggle's only way of hurting him, he looked back only to see the man's arm sling toward him as if he'd just thrown something.

With his weapon airborne, 009 was not eager to lose his second handgun so quickly should a repeat magic trick occur. So while the Death Eater was busy watching the PPK fly back to him, the MI6 agent was busy retrieving one of his five throwing knives from his ankle strap. The slight glimmer of sharpened metal flying at him was the last thing the Death Eater ever saw.

Meanwhile, another Death Eater a little further away witnessed 009 throw the knife. He too decided to have a little fun with the Muggle.

"Accio knife!"

It was hard to say what exactly the Death Eater had been thinking. He saw the large KA-BAR in its sheath on the Muggle's waist. Maybe he thought there would only be the one knife that he could catch, vanish, or banish. Or maybe he was focused solely upon depriving the Muggle of his weapon that he gave no forethought to what would happen when the knife came to him.

In any case, he was more than a bit surprised to see five knives flying at him, the KA-BAR and the remaining four throwing knives. He hesitated for a split second, unsure what to do. It was the last thing that Death Eater ever did.

"Thanks!" 009 said cheerfully to the dead man before going to his secondary weapon. Ordinarily, he would retrieve his knives, but there simply wasn't time in the middle of the still ongoing fight.

* * *

Within ten minutes of 009, Thrace, and Tonks' arrival, which broke the stalemate, the fighting was over. It was nearly 4:40.

When the thirty or so Death Eaters Apparated in at 4:11-one minute after the remaining Ministry forces found themselves trapped all across the country-all hell broke loose.

The eight Mages and two 00s assigned to Brockdale were the best in the country; they'd killed six of the Death Eaters within the first thirty seconds. Unfortunately, by a purely dumb luck happenstance of timing, coincidence, and which side was on the high ground when, the defenders soon found themselves needing to take a moment to fall back and regroup. Since the Death Eaters' goal was to destroy the bridge, they fell back to one of the support columns. There, they quickly found themselves pinned down.

The Death Eaters took advantage of the retreat and concentrated their attacks upon them. The Mages quickly conjured and summoned materials to construct an impressive fortification they could defend. Their primary objective above all else was to protect the bridge, thereby thwarting Voldemort's plans. If they killed or captured all of the Death Eaters in the process, that was perfectly fine, but the bridge took priority.

Once pinned down, the Death Eaters were able concentrate their attacks to keep the Mages from advancing. Immediately after the Death Eaters' arrival, both sides had thrown up Portkey and Apparition charms to keep any reinforcements from arriving. No one would be getting in or out. Neither side, however, was willing to use a self-contained ward, as that was a different type of magic that although temporary could not be canceled upon command.

The unexpected arrival of 0016 and his magical team about ten minutes into the fight did provide a brief distraction. Unfortunately, 0016's assignment was one of the lowest priority sites (of the twenty-five highest priority targets). MLE officers outnumbered Aurors, so he got three of them and only one Auror.

Against 0016's advice, the three relatively inexperienced wizards blundered into the middle of the crossfire, completely visible, and were killed immediately. 0016 and the Auror made a dash for the fortification, but not before the Auror was felled with a well-timed Killing Curse. Another Death Eater's Bone Breaker Curse grazed 0016's leg. Only feet away from cover, he fell. A Reducto to his back insured he would never get up.

The arrival of 009, Thrace, and Tonks had proved to be of much higher tactical value. Their surprise entrance created just enough of a distraction to allow the defenders to go on the offense again.

Once the battle was over, the survivors surveyed the carnage. All thirty Death Eaters were dead. But they were not the only casualties. 0016 was dead, along with the rest of his wizarding team. 0021 was missing. While the wizards began to clean up the area, 009 went over to 0013.

"Where's Mike?" he asked one of the few female 00s quietly. The last anyone had seen of 0021, he had been standing here, wrestling with a very large Death Eater. Quite successfully, evidently, for about ten feet away was that same Death Eater, dead.

"Albert Runcorn?" Thrace noted with mild interest as she walked by, pausing. She'd been heading over to help Tonks check for survivors.

"Familiar?" 009 asked.

Kara tilted her head in a way that wordlessly said, "Sort of."

"Rumors and speculation. Alleged Death Eater. Supposedly a rising star amongst their ranks. Not anymore," she noted with a smirk. "Big man... strong... scary. Not the kind of guy you want to find yourself..."

Kara paused as she finally realized something. She could see his face; his lifeless eyes were looking up at the sky. The only problem was that he was lying on his chest.

"Broken neck?" she asked hesitantly. She'd never seen that before (and would be happy never to again).

"Hand-to-hand combat," 009 confirmed dispassionately.

Thrace turned and headed for Tonks again. She shook her head to clear the images from her mind. Just because she didn't shed a tear for the Death Eater, it didn't mean she couldn't find the sight of his broken body unsettling.

009 and 0013 spread out to resume the search for their missing colleague. They'd seen him, right here, not ten minutes ago. What none of the Mages, Aurors, or other 00s had seen was two additional Death Eaters as they snuck up on 0021 as he tried to reset his shoulder. He had dislocated it in the process of killing the very large Death Eater.

Near a series of boulders, 009 noticed a large blast crater in the exposed mudstone bedrock of the river channel. He saw a damaged PPK several feet away behind it. He drew his weapon again, just to be safe. He hoped the battle was over; he'd just loaded his last spare magazine. Continuing to look in the same direction, he noticed a number of broken tree branches behind the large rocks.

He called for 0013, who quickly joined him. The two circled around the rocks warily. Horror spread across their faces as they found their comrade. 0013 looked like she was going to be sick; 009 couldn't blame her. The two Death Eaters who took the injured 0021 by surprise decided to make an example of him for so efficiently killing their comrade with his bare hands.

Both of 0021's legs had been turned to stone, permanently anchoring him to the mudstone beneath him. The Death Eaters must have then blasted him at his feet, as evidenced by the crater and the fact that his stone legs beneath the knees were missing. But that was not what had made 0021's friends sick.

Airborne and flying helplessly towards the trees behind him, the other Death Eater had hit him with an especially gruesome curse. This particular Death Eater had once been a nurse at St. Mungo's, and she had always been morbidly fascinated by a certain spell and what exactly it might do, or rather she'd wanted to witness what it did. She was very excited to have been finally able to use it.

She had been killed by one of the Mages less than a minute later however, so her elation was short lived.

From the scope of the injuries visible, there was no way 0021 could have survived, but 009 felt obliged to check anyway. From where he was standing, tree branches obscured his view of 0021's face. He could scarcely imagine how terrible a death this had to have been. As he leaned down to check for a pulse, he stopped himself.

He now knew how painful the death had been. The agony was frozen on his lifeless face; 0021 was dead. He paused in thought for a moment when he saw what was the actual cause of death: a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head.

009 stared at the gun in his friend's hand. The chamber was locked open; the last bullet fired had been the last bullet. If 0021 had followed his training, he would have known he had only one bullet. He probably used it wisely.

* * *

In fact, that opinion was shared officially as well. Later that evening in the St. Mungo's morgue (under heavy Auror guard), the Ministry and MI6 medical examiners performed the autopsy on 0021 and forwarded the results back to C. Every mission, successful or not, was painstakingly studied afterwards by all of the 00s. What caused one mission to succeed was just as important as knowing what caused another to fail.

Because there had been no witnesses, all that was known was what 009 and 0013 and the two medical examiners had reported. Considering the circumstances-physically isolated from the battle, missing his legs and unable to rejoin the fight, in extreme agony and hemorrhaging from the curse-everyone had agreed, sadly, that there was nothing else 0021 could have done.

Considering the severity of his injuries, ending his own suffering was the only thing he could do. His suicide, therefore, was ruled justified. Ordinarily, the only time a suicide would be considered justifiable was if it was to prevent capture.

And so, as was typical within the 00 department, the official cause of death was decided by committee, not by fact. Even though the medical records clearly showed a gunshot wound to the head, the official cause of death was listed as the Entrail-Expelling Curse on the Ministry's death certificate, and exsanguination due to severe gastrointestinal trauma on MI6's.

It wasn't the first time either side had falsified paperwork, but at least this time it was "for a good cause." Not that it really mattered though... no one but a few very highly ranking bureaucrats, magical and Muggle, would ever read it, as the paperwork-like 0021-didn't even officially exist.

* * *

The two 00s returned to the rest of the witches and wizards, who seemed to have finished gathering their fallen comrades together into one place, preparing to drop the Apparition and Portkey charms so they could head back to the Ministry. They were now starting to collect the Death Eaters' bodies.

009 saw that one of them being levitated had five knives sticking out of his head, neck, and chest. He was about to extract them when he noticed Thrace and Tonks standing about twenty feet away, next to the last of the fallen wizards who hadn't been retrieved yet. Knowing his cutlery could wait, he quickly told the Mages he would be back for his knives and then politely excused himself to go join the two witches.

"Are you two all right?" he asked. Tonks nodded, barely, but Kara merely shrugged noncommittally. Unconsciously, she shivered slightly but it was due to the weather, not her emotions. Mostly. Being in a river valley tended to concentrate the normal breeze, making it quite a bit stronger. It could get a little chilly, actually, especially when the person was already overheated to begin with. Just a few minutes ago, she'd gone back to their entry point and retrieved her jacket. Only now that she put it back on did she realize that she'd forgotten about the gun in her pocket; fortunately, she'd not had need to use it.

009 looked down at the dead wizard. He remembered mention of the Killing Curse in the briefing, and had seen it fly several times today. But he'd not seen its effects first hand. There was not a mark on this man; he looked as if he'd simply fallen dead. In fact, his face still wore the look of determination (not fear) he'd had as he ran to make it to the Mages' cover. 009 found it unsettling how the expression could appear so lifelike while the face itself was so obviously devoid of life.

Seeing the other two unable to move as they looked at the wizard, Tonks knelt down and closed the wizard's eyes out of respect.

"He sat next to me," Kara said absently, not really talking to anyone in particular. "His desk was right next to mine."

Any person who worked in and around death had to have some sort of coping mechanism to deal with the things he or she saw. The unsuccessful ones used or abused drugs or alcohol, or 'relationships.' Because it was so much apart of his personality already, 009 used humor; most of the 00s used humor, as they all had similar personalities. It took a certain kind of person to be a 00, after all.

And so, with absolutely no insult intended to the deceased, he turned to Kara and joked about the first thing to pop into his mind.

"He wasn't your boyfriend, I hope?"

Glad for even a moment's distraction from the death before her, Kara chuckled slightly.

"No. I hardly knew him," she explained with a slight smile. "He just graduated from Auror training this summer. He only moved into that desk two weeks ago."

Kara Thrace wasn't a cold, heartless person. Having known the dead Auror for so short a time, the idea that he could have been her boyfriend seemed utterly absurd. And so, her mind trying to protect itself from the reality in front of her eyes, she found 009's comment funny, allowing her to laugh and smile. If she hadn't been staving off mental shock, she probably would have kicked his arse from here to next Tuesday for his comment. Then again, if his mind hadn't been doing the same thing, 009 wouldn't have spoken of the dead like that.

And besides, some small part of her was also a slightly please with what he'd said. It almost sounded like he was jealous there for a minute. But remembering the divergent paths their lives would take after today, she intentionally tried to pretend those last few thoughts hadn't happened.

Her mind returning to her work, Thrace looked around at the death and destruction surrounding her. She noticed Tonks frowning, but realized it was not because of the losses.

Kara immediately started to get a bad feeling about this.

"Where's Voldemort?" she asked, sounding more confused than anything else. "This was supposed to be his big moment, his grand attack to make a statement against the Ministry. But he's a no-show...."

Tonks and 009 nodded in agreement. Both had feelings in the backs of their minds that something about this was all wrong, but neither could put their fingers on it... until now.

After thinking for a moment, Tonks smiled.

"Maybe he's stuck in traffic," the purple-haired witch laughed.

The laughter of the 00 and two witches died in their throats as they looked at each other in realization. All three turned back towards the remaining Mages and 0013.

"STOP!" they shouted simultaneously.

But it was too late. One of the Mages had canceled the charms preventing the use of Portkeys and Apparition.

The instant the spell was canceled, there was a deafening explosion followed by a blinding flash of light. If not in the wrong order, it could have been a lightning strike. The fact that the order was reversed was what gave the distraction spell its name: Thunderball.

Not ten feet away appeared the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort. Four additional Death Eaters stood a few feet behind him. Everyone beneath that bridge there that day could see it: Voldemort was angry. Very angry.

Today was supposed to be a grand victory, the first of many (ignoring the Ministry and Azkaban fiascos). He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was going to send a message no one would soon forget... not the Muggles, not the Ministry, and most of all, not the wizarding world.

Killing those least able to defend themselves, Muggles, would send a very power message, indeed.

And so Voldemort sent his thirty best Death Eaters out to Brockdale to destroy the bridge, exactly as he had promised he would. Well, actually, he sent out thirty of the best Death Eaters he had left. His best Death Eaters were still locked away in Azkaban, having been captured in the Ministry fiasco only months earlier.

And Bella, faithful, reliable Bella, was busy elsewhere with more important tasks.

Yes, Lord Voldemort was very angry indeed. He'd made arrangements ahead of time to have a viewing crystal placed at the bridge site so that he may watch his glorious victory from the comfort of his current hideout. There was, after all, no point in him dirtying his hands for such a trivial exercise, for such a simple task. There was no point in him risking his neck....

It was sure to be an easy victory. Through much careful planning and what he considered a brilliant change in tactics, Voldemort had learned of the Ministry's plan of attack. In years past, he would pick a Ministry official, kidnap them, and then use everything from his most powerful Legilimency to the Cruciatus to various resistance-destroying (and life-destroying) venoms to extract whatever information he needed from them. If often took hours, if not days, and usually left the victim broken mentally and physically. He would then dispose of them, no longer needed.

But this time, upon learning from one of his few remaining Ministry "resources" that virtually every Auror and MLE officer would be involved in the response, he decided to be a little more snake-like in his methods. He had dozens of his Death Eaters kidnap nearly a hundred Ministry employees in the days leading up to the attack. No one was to use anything more powerful than Veritaserum, or more dangerous or painful than the Imperius to extract information.

Voldemort made it crystal clear to his followers that he wanted no mistakes. Every "victim" was to be missing for no longer than twenty minutes. Once it was all over, they were to be more worried that they'd dozed off at their desks when trying to account for their lost time than to have any reason to suspect that anything else had happened. He demonstrated that memories of torture by the Cruciatus were especially hard to Obliviate. This "volunteer" had been a rookie Death Eater who dared to wonder silently if the Dark Lord was being overly cautious because of two well-publicized failures in three months.

True, the entire operation was extremely complicated to orchestrate, but fear kept the Death Eaters from making any mistakes, for once. All of the effort was worth it, however. Piecing together all the different bits he got from various Aurors, MLE officers, and even the nosy maintenance staff (who often magically seemed to appear whenever someone suffered from a case of loose lips), he had a pretty good outline of the Ministry's intended response.

And the best part of all was that no one knew that he knew. After all, unlike in years past, no one had disappeared. Aside from a few late arrivals to meetings, no one was ever missed. And no had inexplicable pains from recently healed injuries or strange dreams caused by repressed memories of torture reemerging.

Learning of their plans, he'd even changed his own. Originally, he named his target in the hopes that he could lure the Ministry into a trap there while he simultaneously destroyed the iconic Tower Bridge in London. No one would soon forget that. But as highly visible a target as it was, it was still a small bridge. There couldn't be many cars on it; he wanted a high body count. (He'd only seen photographs of the bridge, and didn't know there were Muggle tourists inside the bridge structure.)

But now knowing that there would only be a few Aurors at Brockdale, he decided to attack it instead. It would be filled with cars. But even better than that, he realized (after making his decision) that an attack there would cause even more panic. Not only would there be many casualties, but his ability to name a target in advance and still be able to destroy it despite the Ministry's efforts was sure to be demoralizing.

But it had all gone wrong.

For starters, the Ministry had Mages... actual, real Mages. How was Tom supposed to plan for that?! They weren't even real! They were myth... legend... the kind of thing wizarding mystery authors with overactive imaginations wrote about. With the entire Ministry spread out across the country, he'd expected maybe a handful of Aurors. But not eight Mages.

Voldemort made a mental note to himself to "politely" ask Lucius, once he was out of Azkaban, why he had never learned of the Mages from former Minister Fudge.

And then there were the Muggles... four of them who fought along side the witches and wizards. But these were no ordinary Muggles. They were obviously aware of the magical world, but they possessed abilities that seemed impossible considering Voldemort's opinion of them. He watched as they used their metal wands, for lack of a better term, to kill his Death Eaters with disconcerting accuracy. He watched as they killed his Death Eaters with their bare hands.

Muggles were weak. They were defenseless. How could this happen? How could his plan have failed? It had been foolproof!

And so, yes, Voldemort was extremely angry. But he had to remember to temper his anger. He had to stay in control. He'd allowed his guard to drop during the attack on Azkaban. He felt his connection to the Potter brat reestablish. Ordinarily he would revel in torturing the child by placing visions into his mind.

But this time he felt the connection more of a liability than an asset. Anything that Potter might see in his mind, should Voldemort allow himself to become distracted, was likely to be of far greater value than anything he might gain in attempting to search or plant something within the boy's mind.

And so when the Mages dropped their anti-Apparition charm, he let loose his anger and hatred as best he could, while still maintaining control.

Before, the Ministry and MI6 staff had held their own quite handily against the thirty Death Eaters, managing to kill all of them. They were, after all, Mages and 00s. They were some of the best that the wizard and Muggle worlds had to offer, and they had lost five only by chance.

But with the arrival of Voldemort, the entire momentum of the battle shifted.

Before either 0013 or the Mages stunned by Voldemort's literally explosive arrival could react, the Dark Lord drew his wand in a great circle.

"Pyros Sorcorus!"

An immense ball of cursed, magical fire roared into existence and shot out into the disoriented group. It passed through four of the eight Mages, as well as 0013. Being hit by concentrated Fiendfyre at such close range-before it could expand and therefore "dilute"-instantly reduced the five unfortunate souls to humanoid-shaped statues of cinder and ash; the incinerated bones quickly crumbled under the statue's own weight.

Voldemort was rather ambivalent about his handy work. He wasn't pleased that he'd killed only half of them with the first shot, but he wasn't unhappy that he'd killed half of them either. He was, however, smart enough to not allow the flames grow out of control. Far too quickly, they would get to the point where even he would no longer be able to control them. He immediately canceled the spell.

The four remaining Mages recovered from the blast enough to regain their senses and scatter. Staying where they were would only make it easier to kill them. One of them had enough wits about her to immediately reestablish their Portkey and Apparition charms.

No other Death Eaters would be getting in. And Voldemort wouldn't be getting out.

Her timing was fortuitous, as at the exact moment she erected the charms, an eerily distant sounding scream echoed throughout the space beneath the bridge; it seemed to come from both everywhere and nowhere.

Two large piles of unidentifiable meat then landed with sickening splatters directly behind where 009, Thrace, and Tonks had been standing. Apparition accidents, such as Splinching, could range anywhere from minor to fatal depending on how they occurred.

Magic came in all different forms. If an Apparition ward was an ever-present field (like gravity, or radiation) that simply disallowed the magical teleportation, and an anti-Apparition jinx was like a set of manacles that bound the wizard to that location, then an anti-Apparition charm was a self-contained bubble that surrounded a specific area, not unlike a Muggle novelty snow-globe.

Just like with the snow-globe, once the charm was established, it was a hard shell that was virtually impenetrable to all but the most massive of assaults. Trying to Apparate through a ward or charm would merely cause the wizard to be bounced back harmlessly. (Granted, there was potential for injury if he or she "bounced into" a solid object.)

While a charm was initially forming however, it was more like a shimmering soap bubble than a hard, rigid shell. Just as how soap film scatters light to create a swirling rainbow effect, Apparating through that roiling, expanding magic would similarly randomize a wizard. In effect, they were literally turned inside out. It was truly a horrific way to die; it made the Entrail-Expelling Curse look like a minor liposuction scar.

Even worse, it took the reassembled Death Eaters over a minute to die.

While the four remaining Mages attempted to scatter and regroup, Voldemort permanently dropped two more with lazily-cast Killing Curses.

Mages might have been Mages, and 00s might have been 00s, but there was a reason Voldemort was the Dark Lord. He was arguably one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Although propagated and fanned unnecessarily, the fear he generated was not unwarranted.

Indeed, his power was even reflected in the way he fought; Voldemort wielded the Killing Curse with as much ease as the average witch or wizard might use a simple levitation charm. His Death Eaters had to use the Unforgivable sparingly; it took an enormous amount of magical energy, as well as intent, to cast successfully. Repeated use of the curse during a fight would quickly drain the average witch or wizard of their strength.

That was why most battles used "conventional" means of attempting to kill, such as Reductos, cutting curses, and bludgeoning hexes. The Killing Curse was generally only used at the very beginning or very end of fight, such as during the initial ambush or to finish off an opponent who had surrendered and was of no further use.

With Voldemort's arrival, 009, Thrace, and Tonks immediately took cover; they had been far enough away from the initial blast to avoid being stunned. The four Death Eaters who accompanied Voldemort started to pursue them while the Dark Lord himself went after the two remaining Mages; he was determined to make an example of them.

He would destroy this entire bridge by himself if he had to. And considering the luck he'd been having leaving his minions to do his dirty work for him, it looked like he just might have to do that.

Running, 009 and the two witches saw curses fly past them, the four Death Eaters on their tails. Each of the three of them headed off in his or her own direction. If they could split up their pursuers, it would make them easier to fight.

Fresh into the fight, these four Death Eaters were still neatly dressed in their robes, masks still on their faces. All appearing nearly identical, there was virtually no way to distinguish them, other than merely labeling them based on who they chased: the first and second followed 009; the third, Thrace, and the fourth, Tonks.

As he ran down the riverbank away from the bridge, 009 saw a nice sturdy tree ahead of him; even better, it appeared to be a birch, known for its smooth bark. Running past it, he threw his left arm out suddenly, grabbing the tree. He whipped around easily in slingshot, surprising the Death Eaters. He managed to kill the first one, but only grazed the other's arm before his momentum carried him all the way back around again.

Bleeding and in tremendous pain, the second wounded Death Eater continued his chase, albeit more slowly. Ahead, there was a large boulder 009 could use as cover to stop, turn around, and take the fight back to his attacker. He was just about to reach it when he suddenly felt as though his feet had been tied to each other. He'd been hit with a school-yard Tripping Jinx.

Thanks to his strenuous training, he threw out his arms to help break his fall... without breaking any other part of him. Regrettably, impact with the ground knocked his weapon out of his hand; it landed somewhere about fifteen feet ahead of him. Lost in the tall grass, it was all but invisible. Knowing there wasn't time to look for it, he made to reach for his third and final PPK when there was a labored but cruel laugh behind him.

"Don't move, Muggle!" the wounded Death Eater shouted.

Sprawled out on his stomach, 009 debated how quickly he could grab his gun from his ankle and then turn around versus how fast the Death Eater could fire a spell from an already drawn wand.

"Incendio!" The warning shot to his left, which caused the green grass to burst into flames, convinced him he wouldn't win this quick-draw contest. Sometimes, the most important aspect of a 00's training was in learning when not to fight.

"Turn over. SLOWLY. Don't make any sudden moves."

He did as he was told. When unarmed, out of hand-fighting range, and at gunpoint (or, in this case, wandpoint), sometimes it was best to comply. Initially, at least. After all, the longer you were alive, the more time there was for another solution to present itself, especially if there were friendlies still around.

Now on his back and sitting up, 009 could look at his attacker. The Death Eater took off his mask, sneering in triumph, his wand pointed directly at his victim's chest. At this very moment, more than anything, he was feeling rather embarrassed and irritated. He might be killed after tripping? That was only supposed to happen to busty, scantily-clad coeds in low-budget horror movies!

The Death Eater felt this Muggle deserved to die in a way he could understand... not out of honor or respect, but so that he could know what was happening to him, that it might make it that much more real and terrifying.

"I want to enjoy watching you die... but not too quickly."

Okay, now, was the time not to comply, 009 knew. He lunged for the weapon on his ankle.

"Sagitta!" cried the Death Eater at the same time. A single arrow shot out of his wand and hit 009 in the chest before he was able reach his weapon. The arrow was much bigger and heavier than a bullet; the force of the impact knocked him onto his back. The Death Eater smiled in satisfaction at the groan that emanated from the Muggle's mouth upon the arrow's impact, as well as the sight of it sticking out of his chest as he lie motionless.

* * *

About thirty yards away, Thrace was still trying to shake loose the Death Eater that had been following her. All she needed was to put enough distance between them so that she could stop, turn around, and fire off a clean shot. They'd been casting spells at each other haphazardly, neither one's aim very accurate from running hard.

Off in the distance, she heard a scream; it was Tonks. The additional surge of adrenaline generated by the fear from hearing her coworker and new friend scream gave her an extra burst of speed. Luckily, it came at exactly the right moment. There was a low hanging branch just ahead.

If she ran under it, the Death Eater was sure to follow. Regardless of whether he blasted it out of his way or leaned down to duck under it as well, he would have to take either his attention or his eyes off of her for just a moment.

The Death Eater saw the Auror duck and run beneath the tree branch just ahead. One of the smarter ones of the group, he knew better than to just run blindly under it. As she ran at top speed, her arms (and wand) were swinging wildly in synch with her stride. She could have easily hexed that branch without him noticing. But if he went around it, he would fall that much further behind.

His own wand already out, he slowed just enough to aim carefully and let loose two spells in rapid succession. Fortunately, it was a lot easier to hit a target that wasn't moving.

"Diffindo! Evanesco!" The overhanging limb neatly separated from the rest of the tree and then promptly vanished. As it transitioned into nothingness, his view was immediately replaced with the sight of the blonde Auror pointing her wand directly at him.

At that very moment, the only thing to go through his mind was how he wished she didn't have that wand. That probably subconsciously affected the first spell that popped into his mind.

"Expelliarmus!"

Unfortunately for the Death Eater, Kara Thrace had fired her stunner first. He collapsed unconscious before he could do anything else.

Unfortunately for the Kara Thrace, the Death Eater had fired his disarming spell, and it traveled faster than a stunner. Despite her best attempt to keep hold of it, her wand jumped out of her hand. Since he was now unconscious, instead of it neatly sailing back to him, it flew off randomly in one direction.

She was about to reach down for her backup wand so she could summon back her first wand (no point in just leaving it lost out there somewhere), when she heard a shout that caused her hot blood to freeze.

"Don't move, Muggle!"

Forgetting about wands, Kara immediately ran for the voice; it didn't sound too far away. She arrived just in time to see 009 sitting on the ground and lunge forward towards his ankle.

"Sagitta!"

Kara could not help herself and screamed out as she saw him fall backwards, an arrow sticking out of his chest.

"NO!!"

In a moment of pure rage, she started to raise her arm to use the Killing Curse for the very first time in her life. (With all the magical ways of incapacitating or detaining someone, prior to today she'd yet had reason to take a life.) Except, there was just one problem. She didn't have her wand. The wounded Death Eater heard her scream and sluggishly turned his head to look at her.

In moments of extreme danger or panic, the human brain kicks into "fight or flight" mode, enabling itself to process information at a dramatically higher rate. Being able to examine a scene faster and in much more detail increases the chances for survival. It also gives the effect of witnessing the moment in slow motion.

It was in slow motion, therefore, that Kara saw as the smile faded from the Death Eater's face. She knew he would now kill her. She also knew she didn't have her wand, and that there wasn't time to bend down to grab her backup.

As she watched the Death Eater's shoulders begin to turn, she suddenly felt something very heavy in her jacket pocket.

"Do you know how to use this?" she heard 009's Northern accent echo in her mind. Without even thinking, she reached into her jacket pocket. When her hand came into contact with the gun handle, all she could see in her mind was the grin on his face when he greeted them for the first time... with his hands behind his back. She felt the metal and plastic in her hand; she knew he must have been feeling the same exact thing.

"Good enough," he replied in her mind as she withdrew the weapon.

"A gun is only as useful as it is ready to be used," he explained as she raised it. Now she understood, first hand, why both 009 and her father carried their weapons with live rounds pre-chambered, going against "traditional" gun safety rules.

"Do not put your finger on the trigger until you are ready to fire." Her arm still rising, her thumb automatically moved on its own to disengage the safety, and her index finger slid up oh so easily against the trigger.

"A gun is not a threat. A gun is a deadly weapon. Do not point it at someone unless you are prepared to kill them." She saw 009 smiling down at her before she leaned up and kissed him, just as the firearm came into line with the Death Eater, who had almost completely turned by now. Unfortunately for him, since he was right handed and Kara was on his left, he had to turn completely around before he could aim properly.

"Shoot to kill. You shoot them until they are dead." Kara knew that even 009 would have blushed if he heard the foul name she thought of the Death Eater.

"If things were different between us, I'd take you up on that."

I know, Kara thought as a smile for the fallen agent appeared on her face; she pulled the trigger.

Everything still played out in slow motion. She pulled the trigger again and again, so many times that she lost count. She fired so rapidly that she her aim suffered. Sometimes it was too high from the recoil; sometimes it was too low from trying to compensate for the kickback. Some of the bullets hit her target; some did not.

Those that did, Kara watched numbly as they struck the Death Eater with predicable results. Only the fact that he was wearing heavy black robes prevented the scene from being too gory.

"There's never just one of them," 009's voice reminded her again. She stopped firing when she saw the Death Eater's wand slip from his now lifeless fingers. Unlike in the movies, a bullet impact did not have enough mass or energy to cause a person to be thrown backwards. Pain, shock, unconsciousness, or death caused a person to fall.

In slow motion, he was dead but still standing. Only now that life left his body this very instant did gravity finally win. When the Death Eater's body hit the ground with a loud, deep, slow impact, Kara's brain was thrown back into the normal flow of time.

"Always keep track of how many shots you fired, so that you know how many you have left." She'd forgotten to count. Kara looked at the gun in her hand, the barrel still smoking. She knew from television and the movies that the gun would lock open after the last bullet had been fired. It hadn't, so she still had at least one shot left.

But how many times had she fired? Four, five, six times? She remembered seeing four impacts: two in his chest, one into the dirt kicking up dust, and one wild, post-recoil shot into his left hand. (That was a bit gross.)

"The real world is not a training session." It was not over until she was dead... or until they were dead. Tonks was still out there somewhere. She needed help, by the sounds of things earlier. Voldemort was still out there; he just plain needed to be killed.

But right now, there was something more important she had to do first.

She was about to run over to where 009 had fallen when she felt the effects of yet another Expelliarmus.

She'd forgotten about the Death Eater she'd stunned earlier. Like herself, he was "juiced up" with every stimulant the human body could produce during stress. So naturally, the stunner she'd hit him with did not last very long.

The disarming Death Eater easily caught the gun by the barrel as it flew back to him. (He'd been a Seeker back in his day.) He was about to kill the Auror when he felt the warmth of the recently fired weapon slowly begin to seep into his hand. His curiosity got the better of him. With a quick flick of his wand, he bound Thrace in ropes. Satisfied she was secure, he took a closer look at his new prize (the gun).

Like most in the wizarding world, and Voldemort's followers doubly so, this particular Death Eater knew little about the Muggle world, to say nothing of their weapons. Ordinarily he would treat the device with disinterest or contempt, but he'd seen the Muggle and the Auror use this... thing to kill his associates.

Examining it more closely, he noticed the smell of something burning. He's seen and heard explosions when it was used, but that didn't make sense. Unless... maybe it was like one of those old fashioned cannons? But he hadn't seen any cannon balls. Perhaps they were invisible? That was intriguing. How could a Muggle make something invisible?

Double-checking that the blonde Auror was still secure, he started to look at the gun from different angles. Albeit from a distance, he'd witnessed its operation. The Muggle held it like a wand. The Auror held it like a wand. The Death Eater's only basis for comparison for this weapon was a wand. He therefore assumed it "activated" like a wand. In other words, he would have to intentionally and deliberately say or think "the magic word" to make it fire.

It was human nature for a person's attention to be drawn to the "business end" of any working machine. If there was some hole that something came out of, then naturally that was the first place to look at when trying to figure out how the device worked. Everything else, such as the little curved piece of metal inside of another loop of metal, was secondary.

Quickly triple-checking that the Auror was secure, the Death Eater held the barrel of the gun up to his nose to smell the curious odor of burnt gunpowder. He then held it up in front of him so that he could look down the barrel with one eye but still watch the Auror with the other. It was an awkward angle to hold the "wand" out in front of him, so he held it backwards from normal: his fingertips on the back of the handle and his thumb sliding into that metal loop. He didn't know what the trigger guard was, but it certainly seemed an ideal place to put a finger while holding the wand.

Making absolute sure he didn't think of any possible "magic words" that might trigger the weapon, he allowed his vision to refocus from the helpless Auror twenty feet in front of his right eye, to the muzzle one foot in front of his left.

How do you work? he silently asked his new trinket. His fingers and thumb grasped the weapon a little more firmly to keep it from shaking due to the awkward position.

BANG!

Kara Thrace stood dumbfounded as she watched the Death Eater shoot himself in the head. The ropes binding her immediately vanished. If James Bond were there, he might think of something witty to say like, "Curiosity killed the cat."

But instead, Kara spared only a single word for the dead Death Eater.

"Idiot!" she spoke aloud before turning and running back to where 009 had fallen. What she saw when she ran over to him shocked her so much, she tried to stop suddenly; her feet slipped out from under her in the loose gravel.

MI6 Special Agent 009 was starting to sit up, rubbing the back of his head painfully.

"OOWW!" he complained, genuinely but humorously, looking back to the ground. He'd hit his head on a large rock when he fell back, knocking himself unconscious for a few moments. Looking back up from the rock, Kara could only stare wide-eyed at the arrow in his chest.

"But... you're dead! He killed you!"

"What, this?" 009 asked bemused, grabbing hold of the arrow. "Nah... just knocked me down!" he joked, hiding his own amazement and relief. He tried to pull it out of his chest; it didn't budge.

"Give me a hand with this, would you?" he asked politely. Kara approached him, almost in fear. When she was standing directly in front of him, she looked more closely at where the arrow was protruding. He was trying to pull the arrow out of his green shirt.

An ordinary bulletproof vest is designed to stop bullets. In the simplest explanation, it is little more than a super-strong, super-fine net that catches "large" blunt objects, such as ordinary bullets. A football kicked into a goal net would illustrate the analogy well.

Such a vest, however, is largely useless against knives or other piercing attacks, as the sharpened point is often able to actually penetrate between the fibers of the fabric mesh, pushing them apart. It was exactly the same as how that same football goal net is unable to catch a golf ball.

Stab vests, on the other hand, are made from ballistic fabric woven with much thinner threads. The finer weave prevents penetration by a sharpened point propelled by hand; the lighter material however often does not have the strength to resist the impact of a bullet.

It would come as little surprise then that organizations such as MI6, as well as countless military and law enforcement agencies, would be very interested in body armor that was both bullet- and stab-resistant. (Nothing could be 100% anything-proof). Such multi-threat armor was available, however at this point in its development, generally speaking it was too expensive or bulky to be used widely in any form other than in heavy duty military flak jackets.

But as with all manufactured products that evolve through a design process, with enough development and money, anything that "wasn't quite ready" for widespread use could be made immediately on an extremely small scale.

If there was anything MI6 had in abundance, it was R&D staff (Q-Branch) and money. And by mass-production standards, outfitting twenty-five was a very small order. It was from this, therefore, that MI6 was able to equip its twenty-five 00-Agents, today, with real, concealable, wearable body armor that protected against both ballistic and stab attacks. It would be years before even the military saw anything like it.

Kara added her hands and the two of them pulled as hard as they could. After a few seconds, the arrow broke loose with a sudden metallic snap, accompanied by the sound of tearing fabric. As expected, the sharpened arrow point easily penetrated the bulletproof layers of the vest. The inner stab-layers would have stopped it if it was a handheld knife, but the much heavier arrow was traveling fast enough to punch through.

Penetrating through between two- and four-dozen layers of Kevlar (the exact number was classified) did however disperse enough energy to slow the magically fired, but otherwise ordinary arrow. When it finally struck the steel armor plate in the inner pocket directly over his heart, the arrow finally, thankfully, stopped.

Thrace and 009 had a hard time removing the arrow because it had actually fused to the metal plate. When two pieces of metal hit each other at very high speed, if all of that energy is concentrated at a small enough point, such as a bullet or arrow tip, it can cause enough heat at that localized point to actually create a miniature weld.

They had to break that weld and tear the arrow head back out through the penetrated layers of Kevlar. All 009 could do at this point was to continue to use humor to keep his mind focused on what was to come, and not what had just happened. He held the arrow with its now completely flattened head out to Kara.

"I think I got the point." When she finally took it, she still appeared stunned. She looked him over head to toe, as if to verify he really was standing in front of her.

"You're... really... alive!"

009's first instinct was to crack another joke, but he decided against it. He took her free hand and placed it on his chest so that her fingers landed directly over the hole in his vest.

"Yes, I'm alive," he said gently. She poked her finger into the hole and felt the damaged steel plate. He could see her eyes begin to glisten slightly.

"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered under her breath, almost as if she was saying it more to herself than to him. He could see that she was just about to jump on him and snog the living daylights out of him.

009 would have liked nothing more than for her to do that, but he knew now was not the time to do that. Not only were Voldemort and an unknown number of Death Eaters still out there, but he knew they would still lose each other again. Even if they both survived, they would still go their separate ways afterwards. They would never see each other again.

He wished this was one of those times he could never say never again.

It was, up to this point, the hardest decision 009 ever had to make in his life, but right now, it was the most important. He held onto Kara's hand and arm firmly, preventing her from moving any closer. If he let her kiss him... If he kissed her....

This was why 00s could not fall in love. He would have to live and let die these growing feelings.

"We need to go," he said bravely, as much for his own benefit as for hers. Kara could see the look in his eyes. She knew he'd held her away intentionally and she knew why he did it. She also knew he disliked it as much as she did. It was at least of some comfort to her... not much, but some.

009 let go of Kara's hand and quickly reached down to grab his final backup weapon from his ankle. Seven shots left. He then quickly checked on the Death Eater Kara had shot, just to make sure he wouldn't be getting back up again any time soon. Her aim hadn't been all that great, and she might not have had a license to kill, but she got the job done.

He then ran over to the other Death Eater.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" he asked when he saw the dead wizard, the PPK he'd given Kara only inches from his hand; he'd been shot in his left eye. She relayed the scene to him, as well as her final thought of "Idiot!"

Even the death of a person trying to kill you can have an impact on a person, so as 009 knelt down to take back Kara's gun, his mind worked overtime. He came back up with a small grin, his defense mechanism ready.

"Definitely what I'd call a view to a kill."

Kara just rolled her eyes and shook her head; she was smiling, however.

"What?" he asked defensively, in good humor, though he knew full well why she was shaking her head.

Knowing it was time to get back to business, she then turned and bent over to retrieve her backup wand. Instinct-male instinct-asserted itself and 009 took a quick step to the side to better enjoy the view.

Kara's stance was not entirely accidental, and after verifying out of the corner of her eye where he was looking, she responded, head still down, with a cheeky, "For your eyes only."

She stood back up and turned around, facing him with an exaggerated, mock look of disappointment. He at least had the decency to look embarrassed of having been caught in so blatant a trap.

Knowing it was time to get back to business, the two of them then took off running in the direction Thrace had heard Tonks scream not one minute earlier. As they ran, 009 checked the magazine in Kara's weapon; it was empty. There was only the one round remaining in the chamber. He offered the gun back to her; she told him to keep it, saying he could make better use of it than she.

He agreed with her... not out of ego but strictly fact. And besides, he suspected there would be little point arguing with her about it. With his shoulder straps gone, he secured it in his ankle holster. Not convenient, but better than accidentally dropping it.

The two of them found Tonks only a minute later, hidden in amongst some shrubs. She was sprawled out on her stomach. They found a gruesome sight... not a bad as 0021, but not pretty, nonetheless. Her right arm had literally been tied into a knot.

And if the swelling was any indication, her bones had been broken to do it; her brachial artery punctured. Her arm was starting to swell and turn black... the ultimate bruise. She could very well bleed to death without immediate medical attention.

Now that they could see her properly, 009 noticed something odd. It appeared she had been intentionally dragged back here. But why would her attacker do that?

009 grabbed Thrace and threw the both of them to the ground....

"Avada Kedavra!"

Just in time as a streak of green death sailed right through where the two of them had been standing. 009 could feel as the spell passed above him... a great rushing sound as though some invisible immense thing had just flown over him.

"MOVE!" he grunted to Kara as he rolled off her and scrambled to his feet. He saw a swirl of black robes about twenty feet ahead of him. He fired at the wizard, but the bullet only punched through the trailing fabric of his robes harmlessly.

Six left, 009 reminded himself importantly. Well, seven, including Kara's gun.

Now stalking his prey, he moved cautiously... slowly... deliberately. He saw movement ahead of him; he took careful aim. Thrace had headed off to his left to try to cut around and come in from the other way, so he knew this couldn't be her.

But he couldn't see anything. He remembered that the wizards could Disillusion themselves. He decided to stop looking for a wizard who was hiding, and start looking for a wizard who was practically invisible.

Not an impossible task, actually.

And the best place to start was where he thought he saw movement amongst the tree branches. He stood still and quieted his already nearly-silent breathing, and just looked. As he scanned, he allowed his eyes to occasionally shift out of focus. Sometimes it was easier to detect subtle motion when not looking directly at the source.

He thought he saw something a few feet to the left. Zeroing in, he still didn't see anything. Except... There was a small branch that appeared to be bent upwards unnaturally. It was worth a shot... one shot.

Most spells could be cast non-verbally, but they were always less effective than if the wizard had spoke the incantation. It was a good thing then that the Killing Curse was one of the few spells that could not be cast silently. Even Voldemort had to say the words. Not only did it require a powerful bit of magic behind it, it also required great intent... a want to kill (whether murder or self-defense). Indeed, a roomful of students waving their wands and just saying the words probably wouldn't so much as give the instructor a bloody nose. (Probably.)

Just as he was about to fire, 009 saw a streak shoot out at him from that exact spot. Prepared for something from that direction, he twisted out of the way. Mostly. The cutting beam, intended for his throat, grazed his right shoulder instead, slicing open a neat gash. It was only a minor injury however, so he was able to return fire. He shot once, but nothing was there anymore; he heard footsteps to his right.

Tracking the sound of the footsteps along with the faint distorted outline, he was able to get a bead on the Death Eater. He fired twice more. The first of the two missed, but the second shot hit: a minor, survivable, flesh wound to the upper thigh.

Still running, the Death Eater let out a blood-curdling scream of agony as his Disillusionment failed. It would be unfair to say that any person, even a 00, was truly prepared to feel what it was like to be shot for the first time. It was, after all, more than just a slight burning sensation. That said though, it was clear that this Death Eater hadn't even imagined what a .380 caliber bullet could do when it hit the human body.

The pain in his leg too much to bear, the wizard stumbled as he ran, falling and rolling several times. 009 was about to ensure no loose ends when he heard someone come running up behind him. He quickly dropped to one knee and then rolled over, jumping back up facing the opposite direction.

His finger had already started to pull the trigger-but only as far as he knew he safely could without actually firing-when his eyes widened.

"Kara!" he exclaimed, surprised. "I could have shot you!"

"I knew you wouldn't," she replied confidently with a smile. "And besides, if you'd killed me, I'd never forgi- AHHH!" Kara screamed as she was hit with a bludgeoning curse from the wounded Death Eater. She flew back about ten feet. Fighting every urge in his body to run to her, 009 quickly snapped his head back to her attacker.

It was unwise to blindly commit oneself to any particular course of action (attack or retreat) without knowing what was in store for him either way. Sometimes it was better to stay and fight. And sometimes, it was better to run.

009 saw the wizard pointing his wand at him.

Exactly like it was designed to do, 009's years of training kicked in to save his life. After a quick tactical analysis (that lasted about a millisecond), he knew that with only about fifteen feet between them, he wouldn't be able to dodge any spells cast at him, nor could he run faster than the wizard could shoot them. All he could do was try to kill the Death Eater.

But, since he was still standing in exactly the opposite direction, could he whip his arm around to fire faster than the wizard could cast his own spell?

It was now 009's turn to watch in slow motion as the scene played out in front of him (or, rather behind him, since he was still standing the other way, looking back over his shoulder).

The Death Eater he'd shot in the leg made a slashing motion with his wand. Even through the long, slow, drawn-out perception of dilated time, he heard perfectly the words the wizard shouted with all of his might.

"Corpus Necrosum!"

That can't be good! he remembered the smart-aleck in him commenting.

A brilliant, nearly blinding jet of purple fire roiled out of the wizard's wand and shot right for him. He had enough time to joke to himself that it if he didn't know better, it looked like the bloke had a flamethrower.

As the column of violet fire approached rapidly (even in slow motion), he realized that he wouldn't be able complete his turn and fire off a shot before he was hit. Like with a flamethrower, the flames did however appear to be tightly contained enough that he might actually be able to duck out of the way... assuming they traveled in a straight line and didn't follow him.

He had to take that chance. Abandoning his effort to swing his arm around, 009 now pulled his own leg out from under him. Straight down was often the fastest means of escape.

His decision to drop prevented him from being hit head-on by the Death Eater's spell. But his hand was not so lucky. Because his torso was still twisting from his original attempt to turn around, it swung his arm and hand out wide. The purple flames flew straight through his gun and nicked the very tip of his index finger, still on the trigger. It was the slightest of grazes, but it was a curse, and it was enough.

On Her Majesty's Secret Service, 009 had endured quite a lot in his two-year career as a 00. He been stabbed, shot, had his foot run over, and even "lightly" tortured.

But none of compared even remotely to what he felt now. The pain was so intense, it was paralyzing; all of his years of training were useless now. Now sitting on the ground from his fall, all he could was stare at his hand. And the Death Eater just stood and watched too, admiring his handiwork.

If forced to describe what he felt, 009 might suggest-assuming he could even think straight at the moment-that it was like putting his hand into a blender with filled with volcanic lava and dull, rusty razor blades, and then hitting "puree." Oh, and then pouring some salt on it.

And unfortunately, that wasn't all that far from what was happening to him. The mysterious purple flame curse the Death Eater had struck 009 with was Corpus Necrosum, the Flesh-Eating Curse.

The ancient origins of the Killing Curse could be traced back to an attempt to devise the "ultimate" conveyor of death. Magic so powerful that it was unsurvivable (well, except once), its only flaw from the point of view of someone wanting to use it was that it killed instantly, painlessly.

But where was the fun in that? Magicks such as Corpus Necrosum and even the Entrail-Expelling Curse derived directly from the desire to make the deaths of "undesirables" as cruel as possible. It was yet another inventive way that wizards at war had devised to kill one another.

And the Flesh-Eating Curse it did exactly what the name suggested.

So out of his mind in agony, 009 could only watch as the tip of his finger literally began to wither and rot before his very eyes. Once... finally... in a state resembling something that might be found in an Egyptian museum, what remained of his flesh crumbled away from his bones like large flakes of ash from a burning newspaper.

Even worse, the consumption was not limited to his fingertip. It spread down his index finger to his palm, and then out to his remaining fingers. And finally, it started to spread up his arm.

He watched all of this happen still in his trace-like state.

In the span of just three seconds, his entire hand was completely gone. With the curse consuming every bit of flesh, muscle, and connective tissue, the twenty-seven bones of his fingers, hand, and wrist fell off one by one when there was nothing left to hold them to the rest of his body.

And now that the magic had begun to consume his much meatier forearm, the pain only got worse. If he'd been capable of rational thought (and if he'd still had his gun; he dropped it when his fingers fell off), he might have considered invoking the unspoken reason for always knowing when there was one bullet left.

If this spell were left unchecked, it would consume his entire body completely within twenty or thirty seconds. The only reason it took "that long" was because it started in an extremity. If it struck in the chest as intended, he would have destroyed that much faster.

And then, as if he'd clicked his fingers... on his other hand... the pain went away. For a brief moment, he wondered if he was dead. Seeing the purple glow still creeping up his arm like the amber smoldering of a lit cigarette, he knew he had to still be alive. Whatever happened to him after he died, wherever he went, he was certain it should have been either much better or much worse than this.

And then he noticed something very strange indeed. His forearm, good flesh and bad, was falling away from the rest of his arm from just below the elbow. He'd seen, but was only now remembering, a thin, wide beam of white light streak through his arm at the exact moment with the pain stopped. With the pain gone, he could think again; the first thing that popped into his mind was that, based on how it had appeared, he'd just received the ultimate paper cut.

But what hit him was not a sheet of A4. He hadn't seen as Kara struggled to her feet with a cracked rib after being blasted by the Death Eater. He hadn't seen the look on her face when she witnessed him struck by the curse. He hadn't seen her blast the Death Eater with a Reducto so powerful that it caused him to fly back at least thirty feet back. If the foot-wide crater in his ribcage wasn't proof of his death, then the sickening sound of his head striking a tree surely did. (It sounded a little too much like a watermelon being crushed.)

And he certainly hadn't seen as she calmed herself just enough to remember how to combat this curse. The Flesh-Eating Curse was so powerful that even if performed non-verbally-therefore far less effective-it still could do quite enough damage to be going on with. But even at full, horrifying strength, it was not foolproof. It was survivable... but by one means only... depending on where the person had been hit.

"Amputara Constringo: post-elbow right!"

Now, the spell did not require the anatomical qualifier, but in a pinch, it did eliminate the risk of a person's aim being too high or too low. It would not do to accidentally amputate a head because of a shaky arm.

009 watched as his severed arm fell to the ground. When it landed with a dull thud, he found himself in real time again. It only took another half second or so before there was nothing left but perfectly clean bone surrounded by 'ash.' There wasn't even a drop of blood.

And speaking of blood...

Able to think clearly again, he could not help but look at the stump of his arm below the elbow. The pain was gone, but the memory of it was so intense that it caused him to shudder violently. There appeared to be what he could only describe as plastic skin stretched over and around the wound. Whatever it was or did, it certainly stopped the pain, and appeared to be keeping him from bleeding to death.

Like any kid with a bandage, he was tempted to poke at it with his other hand.

"Don't touch it!" Kara warned as she came running up to him. "It's just a battlefield patch. It'll only last about five or ten minutes, but that usually is enough time to get you help. Poking it won't make it last longer." She looked around frantically for a few moments, occasionally getting a vacant look upon her face as though her mind was headed off for another destination with extreme determination and deliberation.

"I still can't get out of here. Someone still has a charm up. We need... we need to get you to St. Mungo's."

"No," 009 said quietly. "Not until the mission is completed. Voldemort's still out here. If we're trapped here, he is too."

Kara looked at him pleadingly. "But... five minutes... you'll..."

"No buts," he replied in the same tender voice as when he'd suggested the tie after their fight earlier. He started to reach out with his right arm to stroke the side of her face when he remembered he no longer had a hand on it. It effectively killed the moment. Both were clearly disappointed.

"Let's go," he said, getting them back to business. Remembering that he'd dropped his gun when the bones of his fingers fell off, 009 started to look around on the ground for it. He found it quickly enough; it was slightly disturbing to see a number of his own finger bones scattered around it.

But that couldn't be helped now. He started to reach down for his weapon with his good hand when he noticed something strange: the gun was glowing purple... the same exact shade as the flame that had hit him.

"Umm?" he started to ask, perplexed.

"Finite!" Kara said, trying to cancel the spell, having since retrieved both of her wands. It didn't work. "There must be something about the steel that's holding onto the magic... maybe it's the carbon?" she mused, momentarily distracted. "I wouldn't touch it," she advised.

"I won't touch it, then," 009 quipped, trying to be funny to maintain his focus. He retrieved his last weapon from his ankle holster; this was the weapon Kara had had earlier... one shot left. After double-checking the bullet count one more time, he gave her one last meaningful glance.

"Let's finish this!" The two then started to head back to where the fighting had begun, back to where they'd last seen Voldemort. It was a bit of a run, since in their attempts to shake off the Death Eaters, they'd run downstream probably a hundred yards or so.

As they approached the bridge, they started to hear muffled screams of agony, along with a raised, amused voice.

"Crucio!"

They say that diamonds are forever, but Lord Voldemort's tolerance for failure was not. Everything had gone wrong today so far, and he wanted someone to pay for that. While his four Death Eaters took care of the Muggle and two other two Aurors, he had finished off three of the four Mages, and was now enjoying the last few minutes of his final victim's life. It was the last of the Mages, the one who was maintaining the Portkey and Apparition charms.

Kara and 009 were still about fifty yards away. They had to get closer.

"I'll go in first and try to draw his attention. You've got one shot left. Make it count," she said encouragingly.

"I always do."

Thrace and 009 just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other. Both of them felt an overwhelming urge to embrace the other and kiss them goodbye, as though they each knew it might be the last time they ever saw the other again.

His jaw clenched resolutely, 009 knew he couldn't. A 00-Agent couldn't....

He took a moment to tuck his gun into his pocket. He reached up with his left hand and cradled the side of her face. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes as his thumb caressed her cheek. She found him staring intensely into her eyes as she opened them.

He smiled bravely, the courage as much for himself as for her.

"Go," he whispered.

With a nod, Kara pulled away from his hand. She turned, Disillusioned herself, charmed her feet, and then started to run toward the others. Sparing nothing more than a sigh, 009 retrieve his gun from his pocket and headed off in a different direction.

Nearing Voldemort and his victim, Kara saw a potential diversion. She was on Voldemort's left; a tree about ten feet to his right exploded. Being pelted by sharp, foot-long splinters of wood drew his attention away from the Mage. Seeing no one in that direction, he quickly spun around in the opposite direction, just in time to see a series of spells streaking toward him.

Kara Thrace knew she would only get one shot at the Dark Lord, if even that. He actually appeared surprised when he turned around and saw her. At this distance, she knew her aim of an unstoppable Killing Curse couldn't be perfect so she'd fired off a volley of spells toward the evil wizard: a stunner, a bone-breaker, and a Reducto, hoping that one or all might hit by chance. If any did, it would give her a chance to get closer, stop, aim properly, and then fire something that would finally rid the world of his menace (but which still required perfect aim).

By chance, surprising even her, all three of Thrace's spells did hit Voldemort, actually. But she was dismayed as they all bounced harmlessly off a shield she knew she hadn't seen him cast; he must have had it up already. Even worse, his shield was so strong that all of her spells rebounded straight back at her. Using her martial arts training, she was able to drop and roll through the fall, ducking the first two, simultaneously erecting a shield just in case.

Her aim mid-stride on the Reducto had been downwards slightly, so angle of reflection and all, its return was downward too; it struck her full on while she was still crouched down. The shield absorbed the energy and protected her, but the impact still knocked her onto her back. She tried to jump back up to her feet, but found herself unable to move.

For one terrifying instant, she thought that maybe she'd injured her neck somehow, but then she heard something that terrified her even more: Voldemort was laughing.

Looking in the direction of the sound of his laughter, she waited for him to come into her field of view, unable to move anything other than her eyes.

* * *

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" Voldemort chuckled as he approached the prostrate Auror. Many of his Death Eaters, seeing an attractive witch spread-eagled and unable to offer resistance, would find such a sight tempting, but the Dark Lord was so warped, he was beyond such "delights."

With a casual flick of his wand, the witch floated up and began rotate, as if dangling on a hook. He saw the wand in her hand.

"Tsk, tsk," he clucked in displeasure, exactly how a parent might at catching a child with her hand in the cookie jar... although that certainly was not his frame of reference here.

"Careful now, someone could get hurt," he lectured. A lazy twitch of his wand sent hers soaring out of her hand; another caused it burst into flames before it landed.

"Is that all?" he wondered aloud, amused. A non-verbal Accio summoned her second wand. He destroyed it mid-flight too.

But Lord Voldemort was not finished yet. One of the most important jobs of being a leader, ruthless or not, was recognizing when someone might be of use. Satisfied the witch was no longer a threat to him, he decided to see if she could be of any use to him, voluntarily or not, before he disposed of her. It certainly had not escaped his attention that he had suffered greater losses today than the Aurors had.

Turning her would be far more efficient than trying to train one of his incompetent Death Eaters up to her Auror's standard. Now, by no means was he going to hold his breath expecting that she would agree.

Then again... nothing ventured, nothing gained. The sad truth was that human beings were capable of anything when threatened with imminent death. Voldemort knew this well. A person could even abandon his best friends when tempted by the thought of a hot meal and warm bed. Regrettably though (for him), even the world is not enough for most people to betray everyone and everything.

But, it didn't hurt to ask. He could always kill her if she said no. His words were calculated; whatever truth might or might not lie within them was merely part of the means.

"You and your friends fought well today, Auror," Voldemort sneered, half truthful and half sarcastic. "But alas, it was all for naught." The sound of regret within his voice was obviously fake, but then that was the point.

"All of this death and destruction," he 'lamented' as he indicated around him. "For what? The results are always the same. So many die. A few may live, only to die another day.

"Why persist in this destructive course?" he pleaded. "A hundred years from now, history will look back and judge fools all those who prolonged this conflict longer than was necessary. But you could help change that...."

It was always helpful to stroke the ego when attempting to make a person betray his or her own side. Few people could be persuaded to become cannon fodder, or just another faceless minion. But to be the one to make the difference? That certainly was a more appealing sell.

"So many lies have been spread about me," he said, sounding saddened. "I do not wish for all of this!" he insisted, indicating the tortured Mage and the piles of ash that used to be four other Mages and 0013. "I am a merciful Lord. I have no desire to harm those who do not oppose me," he lied.

"I do, however, reward loyalty." If by reward, he meant that he would not torture his loyal followers to death, then that was true. Sometimes... if the death would not benefit or amuse him.

Voldemort then began to probe around the Auror's mind, looking for something that might help entice her. Some people desired money. Some desired pleasures of the flesh. Others needed only to be guaranteed that their loved ones would be spared. (If he didn't need to kill them, then perhaps letting a family member or spouse live might benefit him more.)

Regardless though, whatever this Auror's weakness was, he needed only to initially convince her to agree. The Dark Mark would help keep her loyal thereafter.

Voldemort could feel the Auror resisting him. He knew they were all trained in Occlumency. But it didn't matter; it never did. He always got in. In fact, he only knew of one person in the world-Albus Dumbledore-who could block him completely.

(Perhaps that was why Severus Snape was still alive. Not only could he block the Dark Lord completely, but he also routinely allowed Voldemort to 'break into' his mind, showing him what he, Snape, wanted him to see. Mentally complaining about Voldemort when he WAS being unreasonable was dangerous, but it cemented the Dark Lord's belief that Snape was not immune to his 'eavesdropping.')

Voldemort could sense the Auror was attempting to protect something. What was it she did not want him to know?

A few more moments of pressure-if she was not frozen, she surely would be screaming by now-and he felt her resistance collapse. He always got in.

There we are! Voldemort cheered to himself. What are you hid-?

His eyes went red in anger. To think, he was actually trying to sway... this... to his side?!

"You will die, Mudblood!" Voldemort hissed loudly in fury. He raised his wand and pointed it directly between her eyes, releasing her from the Body Bind. She was still restrained by the hovering charm, but at least now she was able to move. Now, she could scream. And he wanted to hear her scream.

Kara Thrace saw out of the corner of her eyes moment to her right. It was a reflex; she looked. Unfortunately, Voldemort noticed the movement too. Without taking his snake-like eyes off her, Voldemort turned his wand and aimed it in 009's direction.

"Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

009 watched as Kara Thrace disappeared from view. Amused, he followed her shoe impressions as they appeared then disappeared in the dirt as she ran. She'd obviously done something to her feet to make them silent as she ran, as well as prevent them from kicking up dust or leaving footprints.

A certain part of him wanted to suggest that he go with her. (And, no, it wasn't the part between his legs. [Well....]) But he knew he couldn't do that. It had to be this way. She could fire as many times as she wanted to, creating a distraction or a diversion. He only had one shot. He had to get closer.

009 did his best to travel along the riverbank tree line where he had a better change to remain unnoticed. He kept his attention on his advance, as trying to keep an eye on the Disillusioned Kara would have been pointless. He had covered about half the distance when he heard a grunt of pain.

He looked out and saw a now visible Kara floating helpless only feet away from Voldemort, his wand pointed at her. 009 drew his weapon and aimed. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to pull the trigger, but his training stayed his hand. He was still about twenty-five yards away.

All of the training in the world could not counter the inherent design limitations of a handgun. An ordinary bullet at this range was still lethal, but its ability to hit the intended target was greatly diminished as compared to a rifle. The smaller amount of gunpowder, the shorter barrel of the weapon, even the shape of the bullet itself robbed the shooter of accuracy at distance.

A millimeter of inaccuracy here could translate to feet out there. Even the wind could make a difference over this distance. And being in this river valley, it was breezy. If he had his rifle, he could make the shot. If he had a fully loaded magazine, he could trust that at least one of his shots would kill. But he didn't have either. He had one shot, and he had to get closer.

009 forcibly repressed the debilitating emotion he was feeling-panic (for her, not for himself)-and hurried his pace, even at the expense of his stealth. Fortunately Voldemort seemed distracted toying with his captive.

Ten yards away. Still too far away to guarantee a kill with one shot. He had to get closer.

About fifteen feet away, 009 felt confident about the range, but he realized he was out of time.

"You will die, Mudblood!"

He needed another second or two; it was his turn to draw attention to himself. He made a leaping lunge, intent on rolling through the fall and firing from a crouched position. This would have the benefit of not only drawing Voldemort's attention toward him, but more importantly, by the time the wizard could react, 009 would already be several feet away from where he had been seen originally.

As he leapt, both captor and captive saw; Voldemort quickly turned his wand and fired.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The one good thing that happened was that because he had leapt, 009 was now rolling across the ground just as the Killing Curse flew right through where he had been standing only a moment earlier.

The bad thing was that after everything he'd witnessed these pernicious Muggles do today, Voldemort did not stand around waiting to see if his Unforgivable had done its job.

As 009 finished his roll and got himself in stable crouching stance from which to fire, Voldemort immediately grabbed his floating captive and spun both of them, placing her between himself and the attack. The Dark Lord knew that magical shields were great for protecting against most spells, but they were largely ineffective against a physical attack, whether it be a bullet, a magically propelled (but real) arrow, or even a well-aimed rock.

In the split second it took 009 to raise and aim his weapon, Voldemort had placed his wand to the side of Thrace's head. His human shield was now a hostage.

* * *

009 took in the scene. Now was probably a pretty good time for a quick sitrep. There were just the four of them left: himself, Kara, Voldemort, and the dying Mage. He was down to his last gun... his last bullet... his last hand. The purple-haired Nymphadora Tonks was lying hidden beneath a shrub, somewhere out there. Her right arm had literally been tied into a knot. Unconscious and bleeding to death internally, she might never wake up, but considering her injuries, thank God she was unconscious.

And there, standing not six feet in front of him was the evil bastard himself: Voldemort. And in typical coward fashion, he gone and gotten himself a hostage: the stunningly beautiful Muggle-born Auror Kara Thrace (well, 009 thought so, at least).

Thrace couldn't move because she had a wand to her head. Voldemort couldn't go anywhere; moving more than a few inches in any direction would certainly leave some critical part of him exposed. And 009 couldn't fire, because there was nothing to shoot. Not with only one bullet, anyway.

And so, the three of them were at a stalemate.

Or so Voldemort thought.

The problem was that 009 wasn't a hostage negotiator. He wasn't a police officer. He was an MI6 00-Agent. And in the kinds of missions 00s were sent out on, sometimes it was necessary to sacrifice a hostage, if it was for the greater good.

"The greater good." Too often that phrase had been used to justify horrible things. But the world in which the 00s lived was different from the normal world. Considering the types of evils they faced-Muggles who could and would kill millions in minutes-as long as there was a net gain, the ends did justify the means.

009 didn't want to sacrifice Kara Thrace. Despite his best efforts, he'd taken quite a fancy to the blonde Auror. 00s didn't fall in love. They couldn't.

They... couldn't....

"If things were different between us, I'd take you up on that," he remembered himself saying honestly.

"I know."

He only had one bullet left. If he'd had two or three, he could shoot Voldemort in the arm or leg in the hope that it would cause him to move enough to expose something more vital. But with only one bullet, his first shot was his last, and it had to be fatal. If he'd had one of his knives back... hell, if he'd even had a roll of duct tape he could probably work out another option.

But all he had was the one bullet. And he had less than a minute, by the sounds of things. He recognized the fallen witch only a few feet away from them; it was the one who had cast the containment charms earlier.

He did not know what Voldemort had done to her, but the coughing and gurgling noises she was making suggested that she drowning in her own blood. Thanks to their strategizing back under Wandsworth Bridge, he knew that when the witch did die, all of the charms trapping Voldemort here would collapse and he would be free to escape.

And in all likelihood, he would kill Thrace as a distraction in order to do so.

He couldn't risk only wounding Voldemort; he had to kill him. He could see that Kara didn't have her wand anymore. If she did, he could have considered merely wounding him and hope Kara could finish the job. But that wasn't an option now.

The Dark Lord and the 00 stared each other down, waiting for the other to back down. Of course, neither would.

009 knew he had to do it. There was no other option (that he could think of within the last five seconds).

If Kara had to die, then 009 felt obliged to make damned sure he was the one to do it. If nothing else, it would be far quicker than anything Voldemort might plan. Based on the way He-Who-Was-Hiding was hiding behind Thrace, his head would be directly behind her neck... her soft, silken neck.

With his training and at this range, even left handed, 009 could easily shoot through her to hit Voldemort. It would kill them both, but Voldemort would be dead.

009 knew that doing so would also likely mean his death as well. If he sacrificed Thrace, the battlefield patch she'd cast upon him earlier-keeping him from bleeding to death-would surely fail. But even if her death didn't cause the patch to fail, time would. She'd said five to ten minutes. It could fail at any moment. But he knew his death would be a small price to pay, not only for eliminating Voldemort, but for extinguishing the life of someone so beautiful.

If he did nothing else, 009 felt he at least owed her the truth.

And so he started talking... partially to apologize for what he was about to do, and also in the infinitesimally small hope that Voldemort might slip up and do something foolish, giving him the chance to end this differently. If even an inch of Voldemort's head became exposed, he could end this differently, now.

Knowing Kara was Muggle-born from their flirting earlier, he knew how to tell her in code what was going to happen. And if he was really lucky, she might even be able to make use of it to their advantage.

"Kara," 009 said conversationally. "Are you a fan of Keanu Reeves?"

Thrace dare not move her head for fear of causing Voldemort to act rashly (as if that even made sense), but she did look at 009 with interest. What was this about?

"I wouldn't say that I was a fan of him per se, but I have seen most of his movies."

"Silence!" Voldemort hissed. He had no clue what the blasted Muggle and the abominable Muggle-born witch were talking about. All he cared about was to stay hidden behind his hostage long enough to wait for the Mage to die, thereby causing the Portkey and Apparition charms to collapse.

He would then be able to Apparate away, taking his hostage with him. Once in safety, he could then kill the witch at his pleasure. And after the way today had gone, his pleasure would make it a long, slow, and agonizing death.

"I take it you've seen Speed, then?"

"BE QUIET!" Voldemort warned. Thrace could tell he was becoming uneasy from this seemingly random conversation. And while she wasn't entirely sure where this was headed, it did give her a chance to focus all of her attention onto the Muggle in front of her.

Quite handsome, really, Thrace thought to herself not for the first time, even if he has a gun pointed in my face.

"Sandra Bullock fan," she replied, doing her best to remain perfectly still. "Loved While You Were Sleeping."

009 chose his next words carefully. His normally effervescent personality wanted to grin right now, to tell her everything would be all right. But he knew it wouldn't. He had to tell her the truth, though. Hopefully, she would forgive him.

"Pop quiz, hotshot," he emphasized, hoping she would recognize the line. "Evil wizard with one very beautiful hostage. He's using her for cover and about to escape. You're six feet away and you have only one shot left. What do you do?"

Kara heard 009's voice in her head again. "You do not point it at someone unless you are prepared to kill them."

He felt an intense stab of guilt wash across him as he saw Thrace's eyes widen in recognition. She knew. He felt as though her eyes were piercing right into him. For the briefest of moments, he allowed his emotional guard to drop, and let her in.

It was only for a second, but Thrace could see the conflict within him. He didn't want to do it, but he knew he had to. And, being honest with herself, she knew he had to also. If he had only one shot, then she knew it would not be a merely a flesh wound for her. She could try to break free and take a chance that Voldemort wouldn't curse her in the back. She could hope that maybe he would try to make a run for it instead.

But that would make Voldemort a moving target. She had no doubts the MI6 agent was a good shot, but a stationary target was easier to hit than a moving one. If he only had one shot left, then their-the rest of the world's-best hope was that he be able to deliver on the Muggle saying, "One shot, one kill."

If she stood still, Voldemort would stand still. She would die, and 009 most likely would as well. And Tonks would too, if help didn't arrive soon enough after all the charms collapsed.

But if they took Voldemort with them, it would be worth it.

009 could see in her eyes as she began to relax. She couldn't move, but the calmness she now wore indicated she knew what was coming and had accepted it. Sometimes, a warrior in the good fight had to sacrifice their life in the line of duty. And sometimes, a 00 had to be the one to take it.

Hopefully, today would be a good day to die.

By now, Voldemort was starting to worry. He didn't know what these were talking about, but it was clear to him they were speaking in some sort of code. Granted, it wasn't all that complicated to guess who had been meant by 'evil wizard.' But the fact that they were communicating was unnerving.

"I'm so sorry," 009 said to Kara, his voice laden with regret. She knew she was going to die... and she found an eerie calm accompany that knowledge. She smiled a brave smile, accepting his apology and silently forgiving him.

It was a good thing he was going to die, 009 thought to himself. Since having met "Ministry of Magic Auror Kara Thrace," he was beginning to have doubts about everything he did. Not whether it was right or wrong, but whether he could continue to be effective at his job.

A 00-Agent couldn't have doubts... he couldn't hesitate. He never had... until now. He'd only known her for a few hours, but something about this witch got to him in a way that no person ever had before. He felt like he had been waiting to meet her all of his life. It was cliché... it was sheer dumb luck. It was fate... it was magic.

Looking back, he knew he'd been affected by her from the get-go. The MI6 psychologist (whom the 00s often called 'Dr. No Answers-Just Questions') might ask him which head he'd been thinking with when he challenged Kara to that fight.

The truth was that it was neither, but rather something that lay in between, pun intended... and not intended. That was the stupidest and most dangerous thing he'd ever done in his entire career. If Wandsworth Bridge had been the target, there would have been every possibility that the Death Eaters would have arrived before the deadline, not after. How could he have gone and shed himself of his body armor and weapons?!

All of this introspection passed within the blink of an eye. It was clear in hindsight that it had been the wrong decision, strategically and tactically. And yet nothing in his life had ever felt so right.

And now, to save her-and the world-he had to kill her. And consequently, himself.

Before today, before her, he would have done so already. But this time, he waited... he hesitated... hoping that another option might present itself, hoping against hope he wouldn't have to do this.

"What are you sorry about?!" Voldemort demanded, immediately after 009's apology.

"The answer to his question," Thrace replied defiantly. She could feel Voldemort press his wand against her temple a little harder. But she didn't care anymore. Knowing what was to come, knowing her calmness was lulling him into his own death, she actually found his action amusing. It was macabre and morbid, but such was often the humor when facing the end.

"And that is?" Voldemort asked urgently.

Thrace smiled back at 009.

"Shoot the hostage."

For one of the few times in his miserable, cursed life, Tom Riddle was scared. Surely the man in front of him wasn't going to do that? He knew Muggles were primitive and unsophisticated, and generally unworthy to even exist, but he hadn't expected that.

Voldemort was beginning to panic. Hidden pitifully behind his hostage, he couldn't see the Muggle to judge his expression, nor could he make eye contact to try to break into his mind. He couldn't move, and he couldn't flee. All he could do was to try to bluff his way out.

"You don't seriously expect me to believe that you're going to kill her yourself? What kind of hero are you?!"

009 grinned broadly, flashing his pearly whites. He winked flirtatiously at Thrace. (In retrospect, Voldemort would have probably been glad he couldn't see this exchange.)

"Who ever said I was a hero?" he asked triumphantly. "A Hero swoops in at the last second and performs some self-sacrificing act, kills the bad guy, survives miraculously, and then they all live happily ever after. I think you've been reading too many fairy tales."

009 hoped that his taunts might agitate Voldemort enough to make a move that would leave him exposed. It didn't work. He couldn't know that Voldemort was too unsettled by him to risk doing anything.

Voldemort liked heroes; heroes were predictable. This Muggle seemed just a little bit crazy and was far too unpredictable for his tastes.

Though his insults were not working, 009 continued the effort. Anything to delay having to pull the trigger and sacrifice Kara.

"I, on the other hand, am nothing but a devilishly handsome assassin," he said, waggling his eyebrows at Kara, "sent here to kill you... for Queen and Country... and for the whole world now that I think about it," he added as an amusing afterthought.

"A hero would sacrifice himself to save the hostage. An assassin would sacrifice the hostage to kill his target."

"But you'll die too!" Voldemort reminded him, trying to sound condescending, but also at the same time sounding almost panicked. "I saw the spell on your arm. You kill her, and you'll be killing yourself."

"Ah, well... perhaps then I'm not a cold-hearted, self-preserving assassin either. She'll be dead. I'll be dead. And you'll be dead. Worth dying for, if you ask me."

"Damn straight!" Thrace snapped in agreement.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU!" Voldemort yelled. Anyone who had ever met the Dark Lord would be shocked to see him so agitated; it seemed so out of character for him. And yet, deep down, it wasn't. Everything about Voldemort was the direct result of his fear of death.

He couldn't move; he couldn't fight; he couldn't escape. He didn't know what this Muggle was going to do. And that scared him. He truly was panicked.

And then all three of them heard that unforgettable sound... the sounds of a person in the midst of a tortured death taking their final few gasps. The Auror maintaining the charms that kept Voldemort from escaping was about to die.

Additionally, off in the distance, 009 could hear a chorus of sirens approaching from both directions on the roadway above. It would have been music to his ears, if it had come a few minutes earlier.

Sorry guys, time's up, he thought to his approaching friends.

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 Thrace's neck, behind which he knew was hidden Voldemort's head. He aimed slightly off-center to avoid her vertebrae; hitting bone greatly increased the risk of his bullet being deflected in an unpredictable direction. He wanted it to pass straight through her... and into Voldemort's head.

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

Sometimes in a catastrophic moment, the brain will speed up, causing a scene to appear in slow motion. But sometimes it blocks things out, making the fragmented memory seem like "it all happened so fast."

After he pulled the trigger, all 009 could remember was seeing the look in Kara's eyes as the bullet that he had fired struck her. He dared not look anywhere else but into her eyes. The strange thing was, though, that she appeared much closer to him in his memory than he thought he remembered her.

Oh well, it was probably a trick of his mind from having focused so intently upon her eyes. And then he let out a shout as the pain in his amputated right arm unexpectedly flared into life again.

Kara's battlefield patch had failed.

As pain racked his body, he was only vaguely aware of the sounds of hundreds of cracks of Apparition... first one, and then nearly two hundred more. To the Muggles above, it must have sounded like automatic machine gun fire.

It was instinct to grab at an injury, so 009 could not help but clutch his with his other arm. Somewhere within him, his medical training was able to reassert itself, but he could not, with one bare hand, stop the flow of blood out of his perfectly severed limb.

And then, turning his attention away from the splatter of his own blood on the rocks around his knees, he saw lying in front of him the crumpled body of Kara Thrace. Everything else in the universe faded out when he saw her lying there. And he saw her blood, lots of it.

009 began to feel light-headed as blood that went into his right arm did not return to the rest of him. Quickly losing strength and already crouching, he knew he would not be able to stand back up again. Looking at the witch before him, he thought he saw her move, but that was probably just a trick of his eyes. His vision had begun to waver as his eyes naturally watered from the intense pain of losing a limb, to say nothing of the shock beginning to set into his body.

Oh, he was so tired.

He knew that if he closed his eyes, he would never reopen them; the drowsiness was irresistible though. He could feel as his life literally bled away. The more blood he lost, the faster his heart pumped it out of him, futilely trying to compensate for the decreased blood flow to his brain.

He fell face first into the rocks and dirt. Right at this moment, it felt more comfortable than any bed he'd ever slept in. A little nap was all he needed.

But first, he wanted to see Kara's face one last time. He looked up and found to his pleasure that he'd fallen only feet away from her. Her arms had splayed out as she fell; it almost looked as though she was trying to reach for him. The fact that she wasn't moving told him otherwise. Summoning his last bit of strength, he stretched his good arm out toward her, hoping to be able to hold her hand in these last moments.

He couldn't reach her.

Her hand was so close to his that as his fingers tried to reach hers, the gravel he disturbed caused her fingers to move too. There was only an inch between them, and yet with his strength leaving as fast as his heart could pump it out of him, it might have well have been a mile.

Fluttering on the edge of consciousness, 009 thought back to when he'd been shot with the arrow, and when they separated only a minute ago. He'd held Kara back, preventing her from kissing him... preventing himself from kissing her. Both times, he felt it had been necessary. But now, it would be the one thing that would haunt him into whatever lay beyond this life.

Facing his own death, 009 thought back to that decision. A 00 couldn't fall in love. That was why he refused to let her kiss him again. And now, with the benefit of hindsight, he knew it had been the worst decision he'd ever made. He would give anything... anything, to be able to touch her one last time.

His eyes were streaming by now from the severity of his injury, but he wasn't crying as far as "intent" went. But now, knowing he would soon take his last breath, seeing her fingers just out of reach, he decided he would allow one of those tears to be for her... for what might have been between them.

Ships that pass in the night sometimes collide. And Kara Thrace had certainly impacted him. He tried to fight it, making a conscious decision to listen to his training instead of his heart. He was a 00; that was his life.

Was.

And now? Well, he knew he didn't need to worry about it anymore. That was a decision he would not live to regret.

I'm sorry, 009 thought one last time, apologizing to both himself and Kara for being an inch too far away. His fingers stopped trying to reach her as darkness consumed him.

Next time, two more chapters: the final chapter of 009's life, as well as the final few days of Harry and Hermione's lives alone. The end is almost here.

Not an omake... consider it a "behind the scenes" production blooper. :-) I had every intention of having this chapter posted within two days of Chapter 38. But predictably, the day I posted 38, my co-worker's father got sick, so she had to leave to visit him in the hospital for the rest of the week. That led to many a late night for me at work, and even later nights trying to finish this. (I don't blame them, of course)

I quite literally fell asleep at my desk almost every night last week, trying to get this finished. I would wake up some time in the middle of the night, quickly hit "Save" and then go to bed. One time, here is what I found the next day when I resumed editing. You can see the exact moment as I zonked out. I hadn't noticed it the night before, so I laughed pretty hard when I found it the next day.