New fic... I know. Damn the plot bunnies.
Just for fun... pretty dark and violent. You should find Harry is like a British version of Bourne... just without the history and mental problems/amnesia.
Wet work- Assassination, pure and simple.
Black- Does not exist, never happened, never will happen, was never authorised and not even in my department, if it does exist, which it doesn't, you get the idea. The great moniker of international diplomacy, nation-states trying their best to fuck each over without being caught. This ranges from taps and surveillance, to industrial sabotage and terrorism (state sponsored instead of political or religious, please note the difference).
Ship: Harry/Tonks (physical aka SEX), later on Harry/Ginny (love)
Anti-Ron, Anti-Hermione, Anti-Order of the Phoenix, Anti-Bumbles
Support Minerva McGonagall!
Rating: M Gore, violence, bad language, the usual stuff and a pink fluffy boa, don't worry, I'll find a way to fit the last one in.
A few things, this is in a way, a nod to the Bourne series, Bond movies, and to Burn Notice. I love that show, the dry cynicism is very funny, and the voice overs are even better, before I finish, how can you not love Fi?
And I think I've forgotten this. I OWN NOTHING! DAMN IT! I'm just borrowing it.
Harry looked into the mirror, forcing himself to morph into 'weak' Harry. He put the glasses, their clear plastic lenses complete the transformation. He sighed, thinking about what had happened since he won the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The first thing he found when he arrived in the small room was a letter from the SIS, in effect an offer of recruitment. He, foolishly, followed the instructions, and was forced through one month of physical and mental hell, including magical and physical torture. Instead of being taught everything the old fashioned way, the memories of everything he needed to know where forced into his head, which left him feeling weak for days. Following that included a harsh regime of exercise and potions, which undid most of the Dursley's kind treatment. The only benefit Harry saw from that part of the training process was the fact he no longer needed glasses.
I even died on my first mission for fucks sake Harry though, trudging down the stairs, hoping he wasn't over doing it.
'What is it Uncle?' Harry asked.
'Did you write that letter?' Uncle Vernon asked nervously.
'I did Uncle,' Harry replied.
'Are you feeling hungry?' Aunt Petunia asked.
'A little,' Harry lied. I ate at the Headquarters, while the Sim stayed in my room.
'Then you should have something,' Aunt Petunia said, slightly louder than normal. It was as if she knew someone was watching him.
Fat load of good that did when I was on that mission Harry thought, sitting at the table. Harry was sent to spy on the transfer of weapons from one freighter to another freighter. At first, everything seemed to be okay, except for the fact Harry had no idea why he should be watching the two freighters. The next moment, Kalashnikov fire poured into his little hide out, and he had to shoot his way out of there. The body count was something near about a dozen dead, and another ten wounded.
He'd barely gotten out of the town alive, staggering to the edge of the runway, before staggering into the waiting plane. He barely made it aboard, before the injuries caught up with him. In between the two gun shots and loss of blood he was lucky to still be around, as the doctors said once he woke up, he was dead for the best part of two minutes.
He shook his head slightly, as if something was up his nose, hiding the fact he had just been staring at his plate for the last few minutes. 'Yes Aunt?'
'Are you feeling okay?' Aunt Petunia asked.
'Yes, fine thank you,' Harry replied blandly.
'Okay, just remember, if you want anything, you just have to ask,' Aunt Petunia said, again, a little too loudly.
What I need is to get out of this little hellhole for the moment, even the deepest darkest pits in the Algerian gun markets would be better Harry thought, eating the dinner in front of him. In some ways, he hated the training, but he'd never felt so able. It seemed strange that he could off hand think of about five different ways to kill his so called Uncle, and leave no evidence at all. He finished the light dinner, before walking back to his room. He saw a pale yellow folder, red writing running down the front cover at an angle, Eyes Only.
Now out comes Blade Harry thought. He hated his code name. He'd seen the movie, and read some of the comics, and while it fitted what he did to a small degree, if you replaced vampirism with magic, but he was an assassin, nothing more or less, a blade in the night. He untied the red cord, sealing the folder. He looked at the page, seeing the name Dolores Jane Umbridge, with a photograph, wizarding, as well as some basic physical information. He flicked to the mission profile and sighed.
Break and enter, ward key has been provided. Target is to be eliminated in non-violent method, make it look self-inflicted.
Theft of jewellery recommended to assist in maintaining cover.
Harry scanned the rest of the briefing paper. He saw that another agent, Hex, would cover for him. He sighed, before pulling a large metal box out from underneath his bed. He placed the box on the bed, and opened the lid, a wide variety of weapons and tools in front of him. He quickly pulled out his re-chambered PPK, instead of the 9mm it was in the .45ACP cartridge. He found the suppressor, then his box of poisons. He flicked through the vials, eventually finding a small vial of white powder. Quickly adding a few other pieces of equipment, his special gloves, binoculars, and a forgery kit were placed onto a bag, which Harry threw over one shoulder.
Harry smiled for the first time in a month, relaxed and mentally prepared for a mission. He waited, mentally going over his plan for the mission. He knew Umbridge liked her sugar over her dessert, and he had a little powder which would replace it. He was distracted from his thoughts as another person arrived in his room. He drew the pistol pointing it at the middle of her... forehead. She was wearing a robe with a deep cowl, her face hidden.
'Hex?' Harry asked.
'Blade, nice to know you still recognise your friends,' Hex drawled. Harry dropped the pistol.
'You can never be too careful,' Harry said, half apologising.
'You're right, of course, I would have done the same thing,' Hex said. 'I need your hair, I have to keep up the appearances.'
'I know, I wish I could Sim... but I don't have the ability,' Harry replied. 'I'll buy you a dinner sometime to say thanks.'
'If the Office approves, and you don't want to be able Simulacrum... the headaches are truly awful,' Hex said, dropping the strand of hair she was given into the vial she pulled from her robe sleave.
'Glad to know some of us aren't completely cursed,' Harry said, before disappearing from his room.
'I hate Portallers,' Hex muttered, drinking the potion.
Agent Hex, aka Nymphadora Tonks, looked at her new form, finally working out who the new agent in the SIS Wet Black section was.
Harry James Potter! You arrogant, insolent, dirty prick... Hex's thought started. At least he offered me dinner... God I hate having to Simulacrum
'So Harry... you have changed,' Tonks muttered.
Miles away Harry arrived in the kitchen of the home of Umbridge. He pulled n the gloves he was issued with, specially made to remove any trace of his presence, physical and magical. He switched the sugar for the drugs and looked around, knowing he had little more than five minutes to leave. He left, reappearing about three hundred feet from the house. He pulled the binoculars out of the bag, studying the toad like woman from his vantage point. It took her near enough an hour to get to the dessert, a thick slab of some type of cake before she poured the drugs over the cake.
I hope you don't get high Harry thought.
She looked at the cake, before holding her head tightly, pressing her thumbs into her temples, before she started to pound her head on the table, then foam appeared in her mouth. She struggled for a few more minutes, then just stopped, the slightly bloody froth at the corner of her mouth dropping off the table. Harry reappeared in the kitchen, confirming the hit. He felt for the artery in her throat, then at the wrists, feeling nothing. He found her spoon, holding it over her mouth, again, no sign of life.
Harry ran towards the main bedroom, he looked through the other rooms, trying to find anything of value. The first room he searched the study. He pulled the draws out, throwing them all over the room, before finding a secret draw hidden in the top most draw. He broke through the thin wood, finding three pieces of parchment. He read the first two, telling him nothing he hadn't got from the briefing.
The final one actually scared him it was a signed Death Warrant, and what was worse, it was his name on it. It was due to be activated in two days, so he had about one day to deal with it. He looked around the room, sighing loudly. He walked into the bedroom, ransacking it, a locket with an 'S' in emeralds on it grabbing his attention. He looked around again, finding nothing else of value. He disappeared silently.
When Harry reappeared he was in the Workshop, deep inside the Office, he walked over to the cabinet, unlocking it, pulling out seemingly random items, finishing it with a box of quarter inch steel ball bearings. He quickly put on a pair of safety glasses, then started to mix the chemicals he pulled out, stopping after a few minutes, a thick greyish paste in the bottom of the large beaker. He smiled slightly, wondering briefly how to proceed.
He found a scroll case, one used for secure communications between high level Ministry of Magic staff, and smiled.
The only problem is the detonator Harry thought. Something simple, just a simple pull and boom.
Harry looked around, walking to the locked cupboard with held the various types of detonators.
Pressure, altitude... rip cord Harry said mentally, finding the right detonator. He walked back to the table he was at, pouring the ball bearings into the explosive, before pouring it into the scroll case. Quickly using a cooling charm on the scroll case, he watched the as the plastique hardened, stopping about three inches below the rim. He inserted the detonator cap gently, before setting up the wire to set it off, sealing the scroll case quickly Harry smiled.
Now for delivery Harry thought, placing the scroll case in the fast delivery box, the one headed for the Ministry of Magic. He Portalled to his room, just in time to see Hex leave, sitting down he started to write the after action report, enclosing it with the locket in the magic envelop he watched that disappear in a flash, leaving a note.
Report received, maintain cover.
Harry smiled, he hoped Fudge-a-lot liked his morning mail.
Cornelius Fudge was a happy man, he didn't think people could so quickly turn against Harry Potter or Albus Dumbledore. His approval rating had never been so high as well. It was just too bad they wouldn't follow the Ministry's lead in this matter. He hoped at least the Potter boy would come round, but he felt that was unlikely at best.
It's good to be me Cornelius thought. What is this about?
He looked at the scroll case, reaching for it. He saw it was from Dolores, his favourite Undersecretary. He pulled the bottom of the case off, and knew no more.
Percy Weasley was an early riser, and more importantly, a punctual man. When he arrived at the Minister's office exactly on time he was surprised to see the doors had been blown off their hinges.
'Minister?' Percy called, wondering what had happened.
He walked into the office, looking around, not seeing the Minister at all, till he reached the desk. Percy covered his mouth, and ran out of the office, throwing up into the nearest bin. He called the aurors, then conjured a glass and some water to wash the vile taste of bile from his mouth. He looked at the Minister's remains, wondering if he should try to work things out with his family.
Tonks woke up, her wand shaking madly underneath er pillow. She grabbed it, summoning the clothes she wore last night over to her, before dressing quickly.
What happened? Tonks thought. This means the Ministry was attacked...
She arrived at the Ministry, following Kingsley towards the Minister's office. She entered the office and stopped, completely stunned. She saw part of the Minister's body still remained seated, while the rest of it was scattered over the office, also tiny holes appeared in most of the portraits.
Blade? What have you done? Tonks thought.
'Tonks, are you okay?' Kingsley asked.
'No, I'm fine, this is pretty nasty,' Tonks said, her skin slowly shifting towards white. 'Someone had a serious bone to pick.'
'We'll catch em,' Kingsley promised.
'No, we won't, this is a Muggle mail bomb, or pipe bomb, we'll never trace who made this,' Tonks replied. She shuddered as the rest of Fudge fell out of the seat. 'Whoever did this is very very angry.'
'What do you think we should do?' Kingsley asked.
'I'll ask my Dad, he might have an idea,' Tonks replied. She shuddered again.
Blade really needs a holiday Tonks thought.