I don't own Harry Potter or James Bond. They belong to Joanne Rowling and Ian Fleming respectively.
If you are interested in Harry Potter / Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossovers, please seek out The XO-Files: Buffy Edition and look for the chapters: The Unspeakables and Mummy's Here. All HP/BtVS Crossovers will be located there, now and in the future.
Prongs, James Prongs
When James Potter is approached by MI-6, shortly after his graduation from Hogwart's, he is offered the opportunity to become the legendary 007… James Bond.
Skyfall ~ Potter Family Estate, Scottish Highlands
June 21st, 1978
Empty. That was the word that best described Skyfall after the death of James parents. The echoing mansion had harboured the Potter family for over a millennium now. It had existed since Scotland had. And now it was a mausoleum. James took a pull of expensive fire-whiskey, not caring whether it was the good stuff that had been laid down by his great grandfather or a bottle of the virtual lighter-fluid you could get at the Hog's Head. Frankly, all James cared about at the moment was getting royally blitzed.
A firm rap at the door shook James from his growing buzz. He attempted to make his mind work, trying to grasp who might be calling on him. It wouldn't be Moony or Padfoot. The day before had been the full moon and Remus Lupin would be sleeping it off. Sirius had volunteered to hang out with Remus, reasoning that James wasn't feeling up to it. That meant that Sirius would be sleeping too. Peter was unlikely. The poor sod was much too busy caring for his ailing mother to drop everything for James. Lily was possible, but unlikely. As much as Lily might have preferred to skip out to hang out with him, she couldn't very well miss her own sister's wedding. Frankly, James had intended to accompany her before his family tree had been so brutally pruned by a Death Eater raid.
The rap at the door sounded again, jarring James from his thoughts. Perhaps he should answer the door? Bollocks to that. "Kinky!"
A crack occurred and a grumpy-looking house elf leveled an impressive glare at his master. "Master James is being knowing that Kincade's name is Kincade. He mustn't be called Kinky!"
James cracked a faint smile at the irritable old elf. They had been having that argument for more than a decade and his elf wasn't about to give up on making his beloved, most of the time, master, remember his proper name. "Of course, Kinky. Could you please get the door?"
The elf huffed indignantly, torn between the bond that required him to get to work and his irritation at again being called by that infernal nickname. "Master needs to grow a new sense of humour. Kincade is thinking that this one has gone stale." With that parting shot, the elf popped away to see to the door.
James felt his good humour fade as quickly as his servant had. Life just wasn't as funny as it once had been. He rolled his liquor around in its crystal goblet, watching it enrapt. Why couldn't his parents have just fled Diagon Alley like all of the cowards had? No… His parents just had to stand up to the bad guys. He wanted more than anything to hate them for that. Unfortunately, there was too much of him that respected them for that. No. It was much easier and safer to hate the cowards who had fled, leaving his parents as just two against a dozen.
A crack heralded the return of Kincade to the sitting room. "A Miss Moneypenny is here to see you, Master." The elf waved grandly at the older woman who was walking through the portal.
James stood up, shrugging off his faint buzz with the ease of long practice. Apparently those illicit drinking games on the day before an exam had been good for something after all. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss Moneypenny. Do I know your family, perhaps?"
The woman smiled sympathetically. "My deepest condolences on the loss of your family, Mr. Potter. I understand that they were both quite impressive in their heyday."
James swallowed a lump in his throat at that. Harold and Mary Potter had been over eighty when they died. The muggles would have doubtless boggled at a sixty-five-year-old new mother, but with a witch's expanded lifespan it was a rarity, but not unheard of. James' parents had indeed been impressive spell-casters all the way into their seventies. The eighties had, unfortunately, begun to take a toll upon their speed and flexibility. James shook himself from the thought. "I'll ask again, Miss Moneypenny. Do I know your family?" There was a faint hint of threat in his voice that time. James was growing tired of people who talked around him. Dumbledore did enough of that for everyone.
The woman frowned slightly. Apparently she thought he was being rude. "No, Mr. Potter, you would not know me, or my family. I am here at the behest of my employer to invite you in for a job interview."
James shook his head. "I don't know what you've heard, but it's my intention to join the aurors. They need everyone they can get, these days, and I intend to help them." The young wizard straightened up. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters need to get what's coming to them."
Moneypenny nodded agreeably. "He does indeed. Still, there are many young wizards going that route. My employer offers a different path… a path that will involve you working to cut off his international support."
Potter placed his goblet on the sideboard and stared at the woman for a long moment. "You're with the ministry?"
Eve Moneypenny's smirk was radiant. "In a manner of speaking… Though probably not in the manner you are speaking of…"
James pinched his nose in irritation. This was going to be a long conversation. He could tell.
MI-6 Headquarters
June 21st, 1978
Dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, which Moneypenny had provided for him, James stepped into the office of his perspective employer. "You're M, I take it?"
The elderly gentleman before him smiled faintly at him. "I am indeed, Mr. Potter. I'm glad you chose to take my invitation."
James shifted uncomfortably at that. "I haven't, precisely. I just decided to offer you the opportunity to convince me not to join the aurors."
M snorted eloquently. "I'll put it to you in simple terms, Mr. Potter. The aurors are a fine concept, but they are hampered by corrupt bureaucrats on every level. Between the Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot, any auror who isn't corrupt themselves is basically hamstringed. Worse still, many aurors who try to do their jobs regardless find themselves up on charges when they harass 'upstanding citizens'." James could literally hear the quotation marks in M's voice. I will not pretend that Her Majesty's government is perfect or without corruption. Every government has it to some small extent, but at least we are honest enough that you would be able to do your job without having to break the law."
The young wizard looked at the older man for a long moment, considering him. "And what do you see as my job?"
M smirked. "If you mean your job as an auror, that's not for me to say. If you mean your job working for Her Majesty's Secret Service, well then… I'll have your oath that you will keep everything you see and hear quiet. No one may know the details of your work. You may reveal to your wife whom it is you work for, but nothing beyond that."
"I'm not married."
"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Potter. My point stands. Only your wife, when and if you have one, may know who you work for. Do we have a binding agreement?"
James licked his lips nervously and considered. These muggles seemed to really want to clean up the trash. It seemed like this would probably violate the Statute of Secrecy in a whole bunch of ways… And yet… And yet this seemed to be exactly what he really wanted to do. "You have my oath, Mr. M."
"Just M, thank you. Well then, Mr. Potter. Welcome to MI-6."
MI-6
Over Time
James quickly discovered why he had been picked above so many. It was because he was a pureblood who was familiar with the ins and outs of wizarding society. He had assumed that a muggleborn would be a better choice, like Lily, so as to be able to function well in the muggle world, but M had made his point eloquently clear. "We can easily train you to function in the muggle world, Mr. Potter, MI-6 has been doing that since we were MI-6. Teaching you to function in that world is another matter entirely.
Q was a truly fascinating fellow. He had done something to James' eyes with lasers which was reputedly still years from being viable for civilians. He called it LASIK. James called it a miracle when he was able to see properly for the very first time without his glasses. He still had a pair of glasses to wear when he was himself, of course, but his MI-6 persona was going to be far easier to detect without distinctive-looking glasses frames spoiling the game.
Potter thanked Merlin every day that he was ridiculously active for a wizard. His long quidditch career, full moon romps as a stag and his constant fleeing from Filch had all combined with his restless personality to provide him with a core of athleticism that MI-6 was able to build upon with training in close-quarters combat and distance running, among other things. Spell accuracy training had also helped him with marksmanship, though using a gun was taking some getting used to. The only unfortunate thing was that his animagus form was not all that useful for hiding from a pursuer. Outside of the wilderness, Prongs was even more conspicuous than James was on his worst day. Ah well. Nothing was perfect.
Vladivostok Soviet Union
April 13th, 1979
James crept into a public restroom, straightening the tie of his tailored suit. He had been working towards this moment for the better part of a year. He had actually used a stolen time turner to speed things along somewhat. M had been impressed at his initiative. Lily, now his wife, was worried about the sheer frantic drive that had possessed her new husband. Today was the day. Today he became a 00 agent… licensed to kill.
He glared at his target with fiery intent. Sergei Karkaroff was washing his hands in the restroom, calmly washing away the blood that was there. James sneered faintly. Karkaroff and his elder brother Igor were both marked Death Eaters, recruiting in their native Soviet Union. Sergei apparently had a real thing for torture. Now James had permission to take out the trash.
"You vould like to kill me, eh Comrade?" The Death Eater smirked darkly in the mirror at him. "Yes. I see you there." James said nothing. He had been seen, but his mission was still a go. "Vell then. Take your best shot."
The fight between them was fast and fierce. James managed to close the distance quickly, taking their wands out of the equation and shifting the battle into a fistfight. In a duel the older Karkaroff had a sizable advantage over him. In a fistfight, James' youth, stamina and combat training made him the favourite. It was not long before Karkaroff was lying on the floor, bleeding, staring down the barrel of James' new Walther PPK. "Who are you?"
James smirked coldly. "My name is Bond, James Bond…"
Oh dear… And here is my last August entry for 2015. I hope it was worth the wait.
If you are interested in writing this plot, drop me a line via the reviews.
Jasper