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Goldeneye

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Summary: Willow Rosenberg, an undercover CIA analyst and a famous wizard going under the name James Bond must stop an old friend from activated a space weapon and destroying all of London. W/HP

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Movies > James Bond
Harry Potter > Willow-Centered > Pairing: Harry Potter
(Recent Donor)DrakePendragonFR18522,4370125,30729 Dec 1229 Dec 12Yes

Prologue – An Anonymous Star on a Memorial Wall

Prologue – An Anonymous Star on a Memorial Wall

Prologue of Goldeneye
a Story by DrakePendragon

Disclaimer: I do not own James Bond, that is owned by Ian Flemming and the Broccoli family. I do not own Harry Potter, that is owned by J.K. Rowling. I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that is owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Author's Note: Stick with me folks. I'm posting it all at once to offset the fact that Willow (and Xander) don't come in until Chapter 2. This is going to feel like a crazy James Bond/Harry Potter fanfic until that point. Then'll just be crazy. Here we go.

Special thanks to my announced hit-and-run beta alynambred. I was wrong, I do care enough about the story to make the fixes you pointed out.

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Chemical Weapons Facility
Arkhangelsk Oblast, Russian Federation
November 17th, 2003
12:07 AM

The Arkhangelsk Chemical Weapons Facility had top of the line security, both technological and geographical. There was only one tunnel through the mountain side that led to the facility and that only led to the top of the dam. The facility was at the base, hidden through a network of tunnels. Every vehicle and person that passed through the tunnel was subject to many armed security checkpoints. The facility held a garrison of a half battalion of trained Russian Federation soldiers under the command of Colonel Arkady Ourumov, a former KGB operative in charge of the Second Directorate, the counter-domestic terrorism and political suppression division, before the fall of the Soviet Republic fourteen years prior. They had a good reason to feel secure as they had anticipated every form of infiltration save one: magical.

A small pop came a short ways up the mountain above the tunnel. Out of thin air appeared a twenty-three year-old man with a head of messy black hair that will never be tamed. At one point, before several obscuring spells were put in place, a lightning bolt shaped scar could be seen beneath the raven strands. He slid down the muddy hillside in the pouring rain as silently as he could in his blackout gear, specially designed by Q branch to withstand the elements, fire, and normal wear and tear. Just if they would add bullet proof and any truth to the previous statements he’d be happy. His cell phone buzzed silently against his hip and he tapped the corresponding wireless earpiece to establish the connection.

“MI-6 to 007,” said the cross sounding female voice. M always sounded cross with him.

“007 here; I’m in,” he said softly in his British accent.

“We have you on satellite surveillance, despite you’re unorthodox entry,” she said.

“Prepare for more, I left the descent equipment behind. It was too cumbersome,” he replied.

“Damnit, 007. Can you follow a mission plan at least once?” she said testily.

“It appears not. Are there any changes to the mission objectives?” he asked. He made his way down the mountainside to the overhanging edge of the tunnel where the headlights of an oncoming truck were just visible on the wet road. He quickly pulled out a large bolt of fabric that resembled more of a puddle of shimmering silver.

“No. Infiltrate the facility, rendezvous with 006, destroy the chemical weapons cache and escape,” M said.

“Understood,” 007 replied.

“Good. MI-6 out,” she said, cutting the connection.

MI-6 wasn't going to be happy with his next move, but it was the easiest way to get the job done. He wrapped the shimmering silver fabric around him and turned completely invisible, even to satellite imaging. The truck passed underneath him and he jumped gracefully onto the top of it, landing on the wireframe and canvas back. He waited patiently with his silenced Walther PPK in his hand in case anything got out of hand. The trunk passed through each successive checkpoint without issue bouncing back and forth on the poorly maintained road. He waited until it traveled across dam itself. He slinked off the truck and hit the pavement in a roll, gathering up the invisibility cloak in the process and stashing it away.

007 stepped to the edge of the dam and took a deep, steadying breath. A two-hundred thirty meter drop wasn't something he did every day. He took a few steps back to get a running start. He dove with his arms outspread, swan-like, off the edge of the dam and watched the water at the bottom of the basin come up fast. When he passed the halfway point he closed his eyes in fierce concentration and with a crack he disappeared only to end up splashing down into the run-off a split second later. He pulled himself out of the icy water and onto the maintenance platform right next to him.

Apparition, the act of magical teleporting, isn't guaranteed to be one-hundred percent safe because various objects or even parts of the person may be left behind. This explains 007’s behavior of physically checking all of his equipment and every inch of himself before proceeding. It was bad enough to leave fingerprints behind and even more so to leave the entire finger in a bad splinch. He quietly slipped inside the dam’s inspection facility, the only legal part of this facility under the Geneva Protocol of 1925, and found a decent enough ventilation duct. He always preferred them to corridors and it was highly improbable that he should run into anyone in the ducts.

Judging by the smell he discovered, he deduced he was heading straight for the bathroom. He pulled a folded up piece of paper form his pocket and pushed it against the metal wall. Normally, what he was about to do required the use of the standard tool of his kind: the wand. He forwent his as if he was captured, being caught with such a thing generally made matters worse or so he figured. In this case, however, he prepped the canvas ahead of time to react once he simply ran a finger from one corner to the other.

The paper appeared to catch fire but in reality only burned a complete layout of the facility with small moving dots labeled with names. Just down a few floors and into a chemical store house showed 006’s dot traveling back and forth as if uneasy. He folded it up again and stashed the map after wiping the ash. He continued through the ducts until he found a grate that would let him drop down. Unfortunately, the stall was already occupied.

The man was sitting and attending to his own personal business while reading the local Arkhangelsk newspaper. He never noticed that 007 had lowered down, hidden in his invisibility cloak, until he was hanging upside down right in front of him. The cloak fell off into 007’s hand, revealing his presence. The unfortunate soldier was quite started and dropped his paper to the ground.

“Beg your pardon, forgot to knock,” he said with a smirk. He struck out with his fist, clocking the soldier in the temple before grabbing the head with both hands and slamming it into the wall of the stall. The soldier dropped unconscious and 007 apparated out of the stall to the bathroom proper with only a small pop. Perhaps the beating of the soldier senseless was unnecessary; however, he couldn't risk anyone overhearing the small sound of his magical transportation. He drew his silenced pistol and made his way down into the facility to the rendezvous point with 006.

It was simply down the stairs on his right but that could become very complicated if he were spotted. As much as he wished to continue using the Cloak, he knew that relying on such an object could lead to some disastrously avoidable mistakes. It was much better to be overly cautious than cocky. He creaked open the storeroom door and slipped into near total blackness. 007 moved carefully but could not find 006 anywhere. That is until a silenced Browning DA pistol was shoved into his face.

“Кто вы? Что вы здесь делаете?!” 006 demanded in a believable Russian accent. 007 raised his hands in surrender, letting the pistol in his right hand go slack.

“I’m alone,” he said. The gun under his chin came down and the smirking face of his childhood friend came into the low-light. Seamus Finnigan was one of the only wizards Harry Potter truly trusted with his life since the Second Wizarding War. Seamus had whole-heartily agreed to Harry taking on the name James Bond when they joined MI-6, citing how new beginnings are always helpful.

“Aren't we all?” he asked in an Irish brogue with a smirk. “You’re late, James.”

“I had to stop in the bathroom,” he replied. 006 chuckled to himself.

“Ready to save the world again?” he asked.

“After you, Seamus,” Harry replied.

Seamus removed a wand from his sleeve and pointed it at the ventilation grate on the ground. The grate lifted up and carefully came to ground next to the duct. Harry was, of course, not surprised by the wand or the magic as they had grown up together and went to the same magical school together under very different lives. The two spies crouched down next to the hole and gave each either a look.

“For England, James?” 006 asked.

“For England, Seamus,” 007 replied.

They dropped down into the vents and headed quickly toward their next destination: the labs. They moved like efficient clockwork, clearing rooms and avoiding surveillance equipment. One scientist spotted them but Seamus placed a single bullet in his heart before he could raise the alarm. Harry took out his phone and extended a small wire from it to the electronic lock barring the passage to the chemical storage. The red lights turned green and they hurried through.

Harry quickly scanned the large storage room for hostiles but couldn't find any. There were easily six hundred soldiers at this facility and they hadn't met any resistance. This made his survival instincts burn bright in his mind.

“It was too easy,” he muttered under his breath. Seamus turned away from him and hooked up his phone to the lock to seal it behind them.

“Half of everything is luck, James,” he said.

“And the other half?” Harry asked in return. The alarms almost immediately started blaring around them.

“Fate,” Seamus replied ominously. The pair hurried down the catwalk stairs to the storeroom floor. “Set timers for six minutes.”

“Six minutes, check,” Harry replied. He quickly moved behind the large pressurized tanks and started applying timed C4 explosives. The soldiers started to trickle in from the opposite entrance to the storeroom and Seamus dropped behind cover to return fire. As soon as the enemies were dead he apparated to the open door and sealed it with his wand. He scooped up a pair of their AK-47’s and apparated back to his partner.

Harry caught his out of the air and threw the strap around his shoulder. Beside the door that Seamus just sealed was a window, a large one meant for overseeing operations. This time it was Colonel Arkady Ourumov with a half dozen of his men overlooking the room. The two spies took cover behind the tanks again and Harry got back to work placing the explosives. Seamus clutched his rifle to his chest and double checked the magazine.

“Fire!” Ourumov ordered. The men opened fire on the bullet-proof glass and the torrent of bullets managed to fracture it enough that it could be bashed out with the stocks of their rifles.

“Closing time, Harry! Last call!” Seamus yelled.

“Buy me a pint!” he called back.

Harry was busy programming another bomb but the wry grin crossed his face none-the-less. An old joke from when they were teenagers in the war. War heroes before they could legally get that promised drink. When they weren't 00 Agents at the top of their game and a pile of bodies in their wake.

As soon as the first wave was through the glass, Seamus opened fire and cut them all down. But as there were six hundred soldiers stationed here, there was a lot more where those came from. He held down the fort while Harry ran deeper into the tanks to place the last of the explosives.

“This is Colonel Ourumov! Come out with your hands above your heads!” he ordered. Harry chuckled to himself and placed the final bomb.

“How original,” he mused. A fiery explosion blew the sealed door off the wall letting more soldiers pour in. “Shut the door, Seamus! There’s a draft!”

Nothing but silence and the sound of wood clinking on metal met Harry’s ears. He crouched down and saw a familiar piece of golden wood with a black wrapped grip sliding to him: Seamus' wand. Harry stretched out his hand and willed it to him. The wand skidded towards him and popped up into his waiting palm. That wasn't a good sign. “Seamus?” James called out. There was still no response. He glanced around a tank with the AK-47 pressed against his chest. Out on the floor was a squad of soldiers with their guns pointed at him. Seamus was down on his knees with his head bowed and Ourumov pointing a Makarov pistol at his head.

“Come out, throw down your weapon and walk towards me,” Ourumov said.

Seamus’ head snapped up and turned to his partner. “Finish the job, James! Blow them all to hell!” he yelled.

“You have ten seconds,” Ourumov said, beginning the countdown. Harry hurried back to the last bomb he placed and shortened the timer from six minutes to three. He turned Seamus' wand around in his hand and tried to formulate some kind of plan. He headed out but made sure a stack of barrels was between him and the guns.

“For England, James!” Seamus yelled. Ourumov’s gun barked once and he flopped to the ground. Harry used the wand to fire off an unlocking charm to blow off the locks holding the barrel storage causing them to rain down on the soldiers. He apparated out of building and onto the adjacent airfield stumbling into a breakneck sprint. There was a single plane, a small dual propeller aircraft, already taxiing to take off. Harry apparated again to the inside but landed beside the soldier flying it.

They struggled through fists and feet, knocking them both out the side door. They hit the frosty tarmac hard. Harry got the upper hand and slashed diagonally with the wand, igniting the soldier in purple flames. The man let out a silent scream as he died. Harry sprinted back towards the plane as it headed straight for the end of the runway and the refueling tanks. He needed that plane to get out of there as he couldn’t keep apparating all the way back to England. Finally he managed to concentrate hard enough to disapparate with a loud crack and land in the pilot seat.

Harry pulled up hard on the yoke and managed to just graze the fuel tanks with the landing gear, sparking a small fire. Gunfire filled the air around the plane from the soldiers on the ground but he pulled it around and took off into the night sky just as the C4 turned it bright as day. He flew off with a very empty co-pilot chair. He had known Seamus since they were eleven years old. Twelve years of friendship. Yes, they had their severe ups and downs but that was in the past. It was all in the past. Seamus was his partner in the Auror department for the Ministry of Magic before the two joined MI-6 and the 00 Division. MI-6 would still call this a win but Harry would say it came at far too high a price. Seamus Finnigan deserved to be more than just an anonymous star on the 00 wall.

The phone buzzed again. “MI-6 to 007,” a male voice said this time. Last time it was M, Harry’s boss. This time it was Tanner, M’s lapdog.

“Bond here,” he said.

“Satellite readings show a massive explosion at the Arkhangelsk facility. Objectives met?”

“Mission completed. 006 is dead,” he replied emotionlessly.

“I’m… I’m sorry, James,” Tanner replied.

“Orders?” Harry asked bluntly.

“Report back,” he said.

“Bond out,” Harry replied.

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End of Prologue
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