"Harry Potter and the Casino Royale"
By Loki Palmer
Author's Note: I'm making no money off of this work of fanfiction. Harry Potter and all related characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. Casino Royale is the property of Ian Fleming and Columbia Pictures.
Chapter 1
Augustus Rookwood was a balding man in his sixties, working as a Ministry connection to Prague. He sighed as he came up the elevator one evening, thinking to himself, "It's high time I consider retiring. I'm becoming so tired." He entered his office, sat down in his chair and started to relax. His relaxation was cut short when he heard a voice say, "Good evening, Rookwood."
That voice … it sounded so familiar … but who could it possibly be? Then realization hit him like a Bludger in his gut as soon as he saw a mop of unruly black hair and eyes that were Avada-Kedavra-green. "Potter," he growled, "whatever might bring you here?"
"Did you miss me that much?" asked Harry with a smile – the smile of a cat looking at a delicious mouse, ready to strike. "It turns out, Rookwood, that the Ministry thinks of you as a liability. M doesn't have a problem with making money, but not selling our secrets."
"You are a young rookie yourself, Potter. Surely there would have been a 00 agent after me, if they wanted the job done right, and you need at least – "
"Two kills. Yes, I know," said Harry in a cold voice.
Rookwood noticed the coldness, and realized his time was running short. "It seems you've made one kill already. How did he die?"
"Your snivelling rat-faced contact? He's a bloody spot on a bathroom floor." This statement was the truth – Harry met up with Peter Pettigrew in a bathroom. Peter, in an act of desperation, tried running out in his rat Animagus form, and Harry smashed him underfoot. End of rat. Period.
"As for the second kill, it will be – AAAAAAAAH!" said Rookwood, being cut off by a Banishing Charm sending him out a window to his death.
"Yes," said Harry, "it's much easier than I'd think."