Disclaimer: Gripping tales from the files of . . . THE AGENCY

Agent O: The Omake File

Omake by Chris Hill

There were days that he wanted to celebrate his job, just like there were days he wanted to quit, wanted to kill his bosses, cursed to high heaven the various people he was surrounded with, etc.

At the moment, C was thinking that he would love to get his hands on his opposite number at THE AGENCY.

A plan of almost 40 years, shot to hell because the internal competition had a face boy. A damn teenager acting just like the movie version of 007.

Hell, they had created that identity for a reason, aside from public relations. The movies, books, licensing, etc were what really funded MI6, considering the damn politicians. It also sometimes worked for them, as the current 007 only lived through his last two missions because the people he went after laughed when he stated his name.

The smart ones just killed the agent, not try to set up a death trap to humor the idiot.

What was worse, was the exploits so far indicated that the boy, who he didn't even have a name for yet, was more competent than his best agent.

Damn, whoever this Mother Owl was, she was a handler of extreme professionalism. How she got permission to train a kid, probably from diapers, to handle these situations boggled the mind. Perhaps he could get permission to set up a similar program.

He picked up the phone, "Get me Bond. Now."

A few minutes later, a man answered C, "What is it?"

"Get down here, I have a mission for you to take out a few domestic terrorist."

There was a slight cough, "I'll be there as soon as I can...It will take a few days, however."

C slowly counted up to ten, and then said, equally slowly, "What. Do. You. Mean?"

"I'm currently in the Caribbean, a few hundred miles from anywhere. It will take a day or two to sail for port to catch a plane."

C pulled the phone slowly from his ear, then slammed it on the cradle and ground it in for a few moments. He had heard the giggling in the background. Damn the idiots who invented the cover. Because of that, the person who took over as 007, every two years or so, ended up bedding, or trying to bed, anything that wore a skirt.

Maybe he could hire Mother Owl and bring her agent with her. A new cover series for this particular agent, and good publicity for the agency.

C might just be able to buy a new fleet of vehicles for his agents as Parliament had cut their budget again last month.

Of course, C would have been even angrier to learn that it was because of THE AGENCY that the budget cuts were so harsh in the first place.

Ah well, he'd learn sooner or later.

Omake by Alexiaisk

"Prick," barked Hedwig, tensing her talons and preparing to leap into the air and viciously attack—

"Now now," said Harry sternly, "yes, he is, but that doesn't give you leave to attack him. He is my friend..."

"Prek. Prick."

"Yes, even if he is an idiot. You can't go around killing all the idiots in the world. There'd hardly be anyone left."


"No, Hedwig, that wouldn't be a good thing. Honestly, I know I let you become a top secret agent, but I think you are letting it go to your head. Besides, don't forget who introduced you to them."


"Yes, you may be a good fighter-" "Prick." "Fine, the best. But don't forget who taught you all of the dirty tricks of sneaking, escape, and emergency tactics—that, I note, you don't limit to using in emergency."

"Preck prick preck."

"You think you'll find my teacher? You don't want to find him."



"Preck prick?"

"Dudley. The prick."



"Preck prick?"

"He used to play this game called 'Harry Hunting.' I had to learn fast. Anyway I think you are developing a God complex."

"Prick preck!"

"Oh, come on. Not everyone can be as smart as Hermione. Honestly, it's as if you are in love."

"Preck prick prick preck!"

"Honestly, Hedwig, I don't say 'Honestly' every other sentence... this sentence not withstanding. And there is nothing between Hermione and I."

"Prick preck."

"Well, yes, he might also be attracted to Hermione, and yes, Hedwig, it does bother me slightly..."


"But that's no excuse to attack."


"Honestly, Hedwig, it's not like we're talking about Ron! It's just Neville. He's not so bad."

Omakey by ginnymylove

Death Eater walks into a pet shop, "Do you sell snakes here?"

"What? Oh yes of course...

"Do you carry Pythons?"

"Well its a pet shop aint it?"

"I'd like to buy a Reticulated Python Please"

"Oh right...not got any of those."

"But you just said you carry pythons."

"Right, but were fresh out of the Retic's."

Man sighs, "Fine...how about a Ball Python then?"

"Sorry, we had one, but we just ran out."

"You don't actually have any Pythons do you?"

"No... not really."

"I see...but you do carry snakes?"

"Of course we do, were a pet shop ain't we?"

"Fine...you wouldn't happen to have any Anaconda would you?" The man starts to reply, "No..no of course you haven't. What about king snakes?"

"We have king snakes!"

"Oh good...I'll take the largest one you have then."

"Ope...sorry bout that. Seems we just ran out."

The man represses the urge to sigh as he palms his face, "Just ran..."

"Out, yes sir."

"Rattle snakes?"

"Nasty buggers, we don't carry those."


"Sorry sold the last one just before you came in."

"What about garter snakes?"

"oh yes sir! We have those in spades!"

The man slaps his hand down on the counter in triumph. "Excellent! I shall take 3 of those then."

"Oh...oh dear..."

"Now what!"

"Seems we just sold the last of those to that gentleman."

"WHAT GENTLEMAN? I've been the only one here for 30 minutes!"

"All's the same, just sold the last one."


"You don't actually sell snakes do you?"

"Ahhhh no... no we don't."

"What do you sell then?"

"We have bunny rabbits sir!"

The dark lord would not be pleased but he dared not go back empty handed, "Fine...I'll take a white bunny rabbit then."

"Oh sorry sir, fresh out of the white on..."

"Yes of course you are...nevermind. Have a good day."

Addition by Sarah Proudfit

"We have bunny rabbits sir!"

The dark lord would not be pleased but he dared not go back empty handed, "Fine...I'll take a white bunny rabbit then."

"Oh, you don't want that rabbit, sir! Its got a vicious streak a mile wide!"

"What's it gonna do, nibble me bum?"

"It's got nasty big pointy teeth!"

"Just box it up for me! I have a meeting," the Death Eater stormed out with the pet carrier. "Manky Scottish Git."

Later that night, gore covered Death Eaters rushed down Diagon Alley screaming, "Run Away! Run Away!"

Omake by laros_deejay

Harry was busy once again with the interrogation of yet another ... what was the word again, Hedwig?


Oh yes. Thank you, dear. ...busy with the interrogation of yet another delinquent suspect of being involved in various misconducts. The sun was shining brightly through the windows and the birds outside were singing loudly and happily, after Hedwig had a quiet word with them about their previous lackluster performance.

While the prisoner watched wide-eyed and with no little panic as Harry handled the implements of his trade while also holding a conversation with that far too smart-looking owl of his, the door opened. Now, experienced readers of this fic will be aware that this event will happen at least once every interrogation and it, as well as the sight a the sight of the girl entering, her nose stuck in a book she is engrossed in, will raise their hopes,making them struggle and produce various noises in the attempt to raise her attention in the futile hope that she is someone who would be able to save the from a fate worse than a world without bacon.

A world without bacon? Is that really...


Alright, moving on. This hope previously described will of course be invariably crushed, making the further steps of the interrogation very easy indeed and incredibly frustrating for any hard-working owl trying to attempt to teach a young whippersnapper the finer points of information extraction.

This was the situation now. Hermione entered, engrossed in her reading, raised and then crushed hopes without even noticing. She quickly lifted her eyes off the book to look at Harry.

"Don't mind me," she said as she got down to her knees in front of him. For a moment she looked confused kneeling there, then she whipped out her wand and got the book to levitate in mid-air while she kept both her hand free to now pull down his zipper and reach into his trousers.

The sun now shone onto a different wall but the birds still sang as enthusiastically when Harry registered the dull broken eyes of his prisoner and the hoarse almost-mumble of spilled secrets Hedwig was raptly listening to.

But the major part of his mind was dedicated to watching Hermione drop her book onto the "already read" stack - he could now make out the title, "Blow Jobs, A History" - and picked the next one from the "to be read" box. With dread Harry noted that it was "Sodomy, A History".


A boy and his owl were sitting side-by-side.

They were amiably sharing a bag of pork scratchings. Three picks for the owl for every one pick for the boy. And it had better be a small one.


"No chance in hell! Do I look suicidal?"


"Gee, thanks!"

"Prek. Prek."

"No, I'll just tell her some auror came and took it. With order from the minister himself."


"Uh-huh! They've all been burned. Every single one of them. The only copy left is the one the minister has. And maybe one in Voldemort's library."


"Don't be stupid. Don't you remember what happened when she read 'Relationship and Romance, A history'?"


"I still got the scars to show! And we only got up to the chapter on hugging and holding hands! No way in hell am I going to take that chance, not with 'Leadership, A History'."

And now think, think very VERY hard why her getting her hands on this book would be a bad idea.

Last but not least, a semi-related Omake by me.

Hedwig Sets Things Right

"Here you go, girl." Harry handed his owl a large leather sack. "One hundred Galleons to buy as many owl treats or as much bacon or anything you want."

"Preck," Hedwig cheered.

"I still say it's stupid to give Galleons to an owl." Ron sulked, he could do a lot with that money.

"Well I say it's sweet," Hermione retorted.

"Preck," Hedwig called out as she left the owlery.



"What's that?" The disreputable looking man asked.

"Preck preck."

"A gun, what kind?"


"Yeah, I can get you one of those." The black marketeer agreed.


"Yep, just like Dirty Harry. Come back in a couple days."

"Preck preck?"

"Yeah, course I take Galleons. Be fifty for the pistol and another ten for a case of ammo."


"Pleasure doing business with you too."


Vernon stared nervously at the massive magnum cradled in the unstable avian's talons. "Look here," he stammered, "no one wants to get hurt, eh?"

"Prick," Hedwig barked. The muzzle of her pistol as unwavering as her stare. "Preck, preck, prick."

"What?" Vernon growled. "Listen here you sodding bird, I'll have you . . ."

The massive revolver roared and Vernon suddenly found himself with one less working knee then he'd had a moment before.

Hedwig hopped off her perch and glided down to silence the screaming walrus with a through pistol whipping.

"Vernon," Petunia gasped.

"Prek?" Hedwig enquired. The muzzle of her pistol swept over to cover the other two Dursleys. "Prek, prek?"

"Fine," Petunia agreed. "The boy doesn't have to work, but we're not going to give him a thousand pounds a week to . . ."

"Prek," Hedwig interrupted. She pointed the revolver at Vernon's good knee. "Preck."

"How about five hundred pounds and twenty pounds of bacon," Petunia suggested.

"Preck." Hedwig cocked the hammer. "Prek, preck, prek."

"Fine," Petunia agreed desperately, "you win."

"Prek," Hedwig agreed smugly. "Preck, prek, pricks." Who needed to buy bacon when you could buy a gun instead and use that to get all the bacon you could ask for, for free.