Re: Harry Potter and the Prime Minister's Plan.
Posted: 2017-06-20 04:04am
by The Romulan Republic
Normally I don't want to give away too many spoilers about my writing, but since you brought it up, I'll just give you all a heads-up right now:
This is not going to be an "evil Dumbledore" story. Truth be told, Dumbledore probably won't get a lot of screen-time one way or the other, since the focus is on Bond and Tonks' actions, but I don't subscribe to the evil Dumbledore interpretation of canon.
I think that Dumbledore was a basically well-intentioned man who made some extremely bad judgement calls while trying his best to handle a very difficult situation, and I find the bashing of him a lot of the fandom engages in rather irritating. Its taking one of the most complex, nuanced characters in the series and reducing him to a two-dimensional caricature. I'd rather not do that.
My take on Dumbledore, in brief, is that he was basically forced by circumstances into trying to do two largely irreconcilable jobs at once, and so ended up doing worse at both of them. He had the capacity to be an excellent school master (which I think is where his heart really was) or an excellent spy master (which circumstances forced him to be), but when he tried to do both at once, he ended up making questionable compromises, both to the welfare of his school and students, and to his campaign against Voldemort.
Besides, Dumbledore isn't really any more ethically compromised than Bond. I mean, one of my main POV characters for this story is a cop for a borderline-fascist government, and the other is, when get right down to it, a killer for hire.
Edit: Granted, I am going somewhat off of book characterization here for Dumbledore, but I think it applies somewhat to film Dumbledore too, at least in broad strokes.
Re: Harry Potter and the Prime Minister's Plan.
Posted: 2018-01-10 10:32pm
by The Romulan Republic
June 17th., 2009.
Night.
Bond gazed at the packet of papers strewn with restrained disorder across his sitting room coffee table, and the small stack of deceptively normal-looking books sitting on the floor beside them, as the rain drummed quietly against the window panes.
After a waiting for a few minutes in silent indecision, he picked up a piece of paper with the heading "Known and Suspected Death Eaters and Associates", and a series of captioned photographs. His mind, however, was still swirling in restless disorder, stray thoughts flitting dully in and out, to be grasped at vainly. He felt... drunk, or hung over, though he'd only had... three glasses of Scotch? Three glasses of Scotch since he'd gotten home. After trying vainly to focus on the information in front of him, he put the paper down and slouched back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
Wizards. He was working with wizards. An entire secret society of wizards, living in London, using dark magic to murder British subjects. His contact was a witch. A cute, perky female witch, and that was a nice bonus, but a witch nonetheless. He chuckled bitterly as he remembered his introduction to Diagon Alley.
He stepped cautiously out into the busy ally, eyes trying to take in and catalogue a thousand sights at once. Men and women in long robes, pointy hats, and clothes that looked like they came out of the 1920s, along with a few, mostly younger, shoppers in more modern dress. A stand containing jars of pickled... somethings, beneath a sign advertising frogs' legs and newt eyeballs. A window display full of bloody broomsticks. An ice cream parlor, by the sign, but the windows were boarded up. It took him only a moment to notice that something was wrong, besides the obvious, that is. The crowds were too quiet. People moved by too quickly, their faces downcast, or stood in little clumps, their furtive eyes darting nervously back and forth. They were afraid.
Somehow, that was reassuring. Perhaps it reminded him that these people were still... well, human.
Actually, the oddest thing about it all, thinking back, was how normal it had all looked. Mothers and fathers and little children, shoppers going about their business, stores selling merchandise, money changing hands. It could have been any street in London, if not for the constant little oddities that reminded you that it wasn't quite right. Which just made the whole thing seem more... unnatural.
He snorted. He was probably being prejudiced. People were people. Wizards probably weren't any worse than the rest of them. But he knew men's nature, knew it intimately, and when an ordinary man, or woman for that matter, went bad, they couldn't just wave a stick around and silence the sound of your screams, or wipe the memory of their crimes away.
He had followed Tonks down the alley, eyes watching everything, until they arrived at a grand stone building which Tonks informed him was a bank, Gringotts. It should have easily been visible from the London streets, towering over the surrounding shops, but he knew that he had never seen it before. Presumably hidden by the same magic that concealed the Leaky Cauldron from... Muggles. He'd found himself trying not to think too much about it, though he knew that it could be important. The main doors had been flanked by a pair of small, wrinkly creatures with long noses.
Tonks said they were goblins.
"They run the bank", she'd explained. "You can exchange Muggle for Wizard money inside. Just be respectful and they'll help you out."
He'd followed her inside, on her advice, and found himself in a long, elegant hall filled with goblins and customers. He'd exchanged most of the two hundred pounds he currently had on him for "galleons" and "sickles", and been dismayed to find out that goblin bankers had never heard of electronic banking or credit cards- or if they had, they gave no sign of it. He'd cut the conversation short when the teller started to get irate. No point drawing attention to themselves, or antagonizing these creatures. They didn't look like much, but who knew what they could do? He hadn't read many fairy tales since he was a child, but "goblin" was seldom a positive term.
"Not a lot of electronics in the Wizarding World", Tonks explained as they left. "Us wizards tend to be an old-fashioned lot, I'm afraid, and they won't even work in some of the more high-magic areas, like Hogwarts."
Damn. That could hamper communications, and surveilance. He'd need to know weather a given area would negatively affect electronics. And on that subject...
"You have a phone, don't you?"
"My parents have one", Tonks replied. "My dad is a Muggle-born."
"Muggle-born?", Bond asked, though he could guess the answer.
"Witch or Wizard with non-magical parents", Tonks filled in, confirming his assumption.
"Land line?" He was afraid he knew the answer, and grimaced slightly when Tonks confirmed it.
"Get a cell phone before our next meeting. Prepaid. Keep it fully charged at all times. Be aware that Muggle authorities can monitor and trace cell phone communications, so try not to say anything too... compromising." He smirked slightly at her, aware of the multiple meanings that word could have, but if Tonks noticed the double entendre, she gave no sign of it. "I'll see if I can get Q branch to assign you an encrypted phone."
He'd left Tonks at the door of the Leaky Cauldron, then doubled back. To his relief, he was still able to see the bloody place, though he had to ask the landlord, who's name was Tom, to let him through to the ally, on the pretext of having left his wallet behind. He went straight to what appeared to be a bookshop, and turned out to be correct- Flourish and Blotts was not a large store, but it was the only one of its kind he'd seen in the ally that day. He spent the next twenty minutes perusing titles and skimming books, and purchased a half-dozen volumes, as well as the last two issues of the Daily Prophet. He was only barely surprised when he saw that the photos were moving.
Just have to keep them out of sight when I have company over, he thought wryly.
It hadn't really hit him, until he was home in his apartment, that he had actually spent the day exploring a world that shouldn't exist. He could almost have believed that it was all a dream, or some vivid hallucination brought on by one too many drinks. But there were the books and papers, and his dossier from Shacklebolt, sitting on the floor and mocking him, his whole... reality, with their proof of something that should have been impossible. So he'd gone to the kitchen, poured himself a stiff drink, thought better of it, and sat down to drink straight from the bottle.
It hadn't helped much.
It wasn't that it surprised him that there were things beyond what could be explained by science. He wasn't certain what it was, but something about the whole affair unsettled him, besides the obvious. He wasn't given to introspection, but something about the... malleability of reality where magic was concerned unsettled him on a level that ordinary violence hadn't in a very long time.
Set in my ways, I suppose. He chuckled bitterly. A man in his line of work operated within certain parameters, certain expectations, and his survival depended upon being prepared, on knowing what to expect. Magic... magic changed all that.
***
He woke suddenly, his eyes snapping open. He was still in his chair, and it was dark outside the windows.
The phone was ringing.
***
Tonks closed the door of her mother's house and leaned against it with a sigh, closing her eyes and letting the water drip from her limp hair to the floor.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
What she was doing... as far as she knew, it had never been done before. If it got out, she could-no, scratch that, would definitely-lose her job. She might even end up in Azkaban. And Bond would have his memory wiped. That bothered her a little, even though she'd wiped Muggles' memories herself before. It was one of the parts of her job that she didn't particularly like, but it was part of the job.
But its right, isn't it? The Muggles have a right to protect themselves, just like we do? And without help, Bond would either get nowhere, or get himself killed. That was what Shacklebolt had said, what had convinced her to join this mad plan.
"Their minds are made up, Tonks. They're going to do this, with or without us. At least with our help, they have a chance of accomplishing some good."
"Tonks?" Her mother's voice, calling from the next room. "Is that you?"
"Hi, Mum", she said tiredly, plastering a very forced smile onto her face as she stepped 'round the corner and greeted Mum with a hug. Her mother stepped back after a moment and looked up at her, brow wrinkling.
"Tonks, are you alright? You seem... off. You're not pining after Mr. Lupin too much, are you?"
She shrugged, and forced herself to keep smiling.
"Just a long day. I'll feel better in the morning."
She remembered what it was like, not having to lie to the people you loved. She wondered how long it would be before she forgot.
***
"Evening Mum", Bond nodded to the familiar figure of M, standing just inside an alley across the street from his front door. In answer, she turned and began to walk down the street, her black umbrella keeping her dry while Bond was left to stand in the rain. He caught up to her in half a block, not running, his longer strides overtaking her's. M never glanced at him.
"Walk with me Bond."
He fell in beside her, and they walked in silence for perhaps a block, Bond watching for any hint that they were being followed.
M spoke first, to his surprise.
"Your breath smells of drink."
"I'm off-duty."
"Well consider yourself on-duty for the next ten minutes, if you can keep your head clear enough to make a report."
"Met the contact. Girl, perky, name is Tonks. Just Tonks." He grinned.
M eyed him irately.
"Oh for Heaven's sake, Bond. Another one? You might try remaining professional, on occasion."
Bond wisely said nothing.
"What did you make of her, Bond? Besides "perky"."
He thought for a moment.
"Sensible. A bit plain. Knows her business well enough, but I don't think she's seen much real violence."
"Did she hold much back?"
"No more than you'd expect."
"A professional. Good."
They walked in silence a little further.
"Did you know that this Voldemort is supposed to be immortal", Bond asked. M glanced at him sharply. "Only immortality rather defeats the purpose of sending a Double O."
"Mr. Shacklebolt mentioned it. I'd prefer to verify that fact for ourselves."
"I have access to a range of sources in the, ah, Wizarding community."
"You have a plan of action?"
"Start at the bottom, work my way up. See if we can draw our black wizard into an ambush. Any more detailed plans will require further intelligence."
M was silent for a moment. When she spoke, she sounded uneasy, almost frightened.
"I trust you understand the importance of this assignment, Bond." He voice was quiet, and he could barely hear it above the patter of the falling rain. "We've stumbled over something, something big. Quite possibly the most important operation in the history of MI6. I need to know that you have your head in the game."
He met her eyes, just for a moment.
"I'll handle it."
"Good night, Mr. Bond."
And then M was gone, and he was left standing in the rain. With a sigh, Bond turned and began trudging back toward his flat. He had files to review, sources to read, and plans to devise. When he was done, he could drink the memory of today away, at least for a little while.
***
June 24th., 2009.
The Leaky Cauldron.
Tonks pointed her wand at the door of the little back room of the pub, quickly casting her usual protective spells. Then she turned to find Bond, already seated across the dirty little table in the corner, regarding her with something that was not quite a leer. She avoided the look as she took the seat opposite him, resting her wand on her leg beneath the table.
"Good afternoon, Tonks. I trust there were no further developments during the last week?"
She shrugged.
"Nothing big. Voldemort seems to be lying low."
He studied her for a moment, then nodded.
"So, Mr. Bond, have you come up with a plan of action?"
"Well I thought we should compare notes, make sure I'm not missing anything." He placed the list of known and suspected Death Eaters in the centre of the table. A familiar face, eyes wide and mad, starred up at her. Tonks shifted uncomfortably. The last time she'd seen that face had been in the Department of Mysteries, just after Sirius's body fell through the Veil.
"Bellatrix Lestrange", Bond was saying. "Suspected to be Voldemort's chief lieutenant and the leader of the attack on the Millennium Bridge, as well as another attack the same day in Diagon Alley, which resulted in the abduction of the famous wandmaker Garrick Olivander."
She looked up from the picture to see Bond watching her intently. She returned the gaze warily, her instincts sensing a still-undefined trap.
"Bellatrix Lestrange would be a... difficult target", she said carefully. "She's insane, but she's also a highly capable witch, and she's most likely currently living at Malfoy Manor."
"You know the location of this manor? Could you get me inside, or get me a clear shot at one of the windows? A kilometer should be close enough."
She starred, and it took her a moment to realize what he was talking about. Muggle guns can shoot that far? She really had fallen out of touch with the Muggle world. It was a frightening thought- both of them.
"The Manor is too well-defended, and an attack there would draw the attention of the Wizarding authorities. It is also the most likely location of Voldemort's current base of operations."
"She's also the terrorist most immediately responsible for the mass murder of British citizens", Bond countered.
"I'm not saying that we shouldn't try to... eliminate her, Mr. Bond", she said carefully.. "But we can't attack Malfoy Manor."
"That is your tactical assessment?"
She nodded, still wary.
"And your reticence has nothing to do with the fact that Madame Lestrange, and the Malfoys, are your blood relatives."
She froze. For a moment, the room was silent. Then she met Bond's gaze, struggling to keep her expression blank and her voice level, though she could feel hot anger leaking through into her words.
"I see you've done your research, Bond. In which case, you should know that Bellatrix Lestrange is no family of mine. You should also know that she murdered my cousin in front of me less than two months ago."
"And the Malfoys?"
She hesitated. She didn't feel much for Narcissa one way or the other, but Lucius was the enemy. Draco, though... he was still just a kid. Probably not a very good one, growing up in that house, but she wasn't sure she'd be comfortable with simply... murdering him in cold blood. No, scratch that- she was pretty bloody sure she wouldn't be. For the first time, she really felt what they were talking about, what they were planning to do. Murder. Not arrests, or skirmishes where someone might die, or they might not, but targeted assassinations, where the goal was the death of another human being.
Was it really any different than using the Killing Curse?
She looked up and saw Bond watching her intently.
"I..." She swallowed. "If it comes to that... I'll do what I have to." At least it would probably be Bond pulling the trigger. Right?
Bond's expression didn't shift.
"This isn't a game darling." Part of her bristled at his condescension, but mostly she was too busy thinking about what it was that they were here to do. "It isn't police work, either. No arrests, no reports. We find them, we kill them, we dump the bodies and pretend that it never happened. Understand?"
She swallowed again. Bond's expression was hard, and there was something dark behind his eyes, something she had seen once or twice in Mad Eye Moody when he talked about the First War.. Her throat felt very dry. Bond was watching her intently. She wondered, momentarily, what would happen if she said "no".
She nodded.
"I understand."
"Good." Bond's tone became crisp, business-like, and Tonks had the sudden realization that she had passed some kind of test. "Your objections to targeting Ms. Lestrange are noted and valid. However, its only a matter of time before Voldemort figures out what we're doing. We need to make our first shots count for as much as possible."
He slid a piece of paper across the table to her. "Our first target."
Looking down, she saw a familiar photograph starring up at her.
Re: Harry Potter and the Prime Minister's Plan.
Posted: 2018-01-14 01:05am
by Stewart M
The Romulan Republic wrote: ↑2018-01-11 10:01pm
If he knew of the meeting in advance, and could get close enough to fire a rocket in or plant explosives... yeah, probably. Bond, especially Craig Bond, doesn't really believe in fighting fair, and arguably doesn't have much of an issue with collateral damage, either. This is a man who has literally demolished buildings during a gun fight on multiple occasions.
If Bond uses a rifle or rocket, he'd attack with impunity once or twice. The wizarding awareness of firearms probably stopped at dueling flintlocks, so the Death Eaters would have no tactical response. But if enough survive that one ambush, there's a modest chance they get wise, and nasty countermeasures are surely available in magical lore to threaten Bond's second or third encounter (magical guard dogs or land mines, etc.). That's assuming magical forts don't already have charms against mundane projectile, wind, and flame damage (i.e., bullets or explosives)*.
The point? My hazy impression is the British have an above-average willingness to use "dirty" tools of war. E.g., Churchill was ready to use mustard gas if the Germans invaded. James Bond may even be a source of this stereotype, as a prolific assassin in a program of prolific assassins (the 00 agents). M already believes the danger of the Death Eater threat (great dialogue for the pair, btw - well-written conversation), and if Bond finds a stationary target like a house, she could authorize more exotic payloads.
Imagine, Tonks sends an owl to suspected Death Eaters. The anonymous letter is trivial, perhaps some municipal notice, but the envelope also contains anthrax or ebola or smallpox. Or she mails a bottle of wine, but the sealed bottle also holds VX gas. Or she targets the site with a drone strike. Not Bond's style, but he's a pragmatist. If the odds of a wizard effectively reacting to a man with a modern rifle is low, the odds of that wizard comprehending a nerve agent must be vanishing. How would they retaliate?
*I recall some interview with JKR saying that wizards have a natural resilience to Muggle injuries (nb: Neville's uncle dropping him out a window and Neville safely bouncing). Of course, the degree of this is up for debate, and she never focused on these sorts of hostilities. Though if memory serves, at the climax of Fantastic Beasts, the American wizard authorities seem comfortable warding off a line of policemen armed with Tommy guns. Yet my memory of the film is patchy, and American wizards are American and thus 170% more familiar with firearms. That's science.