Well, I'm still alive, and no doubt a good number of my readers are pissed at me, if in fact I have any left at all. However! My excuses are thus: School has been extremely demanding of late, three semesters of non-stop studying,ontop of working full time and coaching two swim teams does not leave one a whole lot of time to be creative and put it down on paper (save for a 10 page historical research paper on the disappearance of the U.S.S. Cyclops during WWI). That being said, my updates are still being worked on,bit by bit, but I won't release anything until I have an update for all of my active stories, including my Naruto x WoW crossover.

With that, this particular piece is designed as a simple one-shot, though if enough interest is found in it, I may upgrade it to a full story. As for the content, well, let's just say it's a mix of the world of Harry Potter, and another familiar Universe involving an Englishman.

Privet Drive seemed unusually quiet this particular night, even for a normally sleepy area of the suburbs. The area itself was completely normal, almost painfully so. Each house followed a "cookie cutter" design, looking exactly the same as its neighbor. The lawns were all perfectly trimmed, even as they began to brown for the coming winter season. Even the cars in the lots were depressingly similar, little variation in the either black or silver paint colors, and consisted of either a BMW, or a Range Rover.

However, unknown to the residents of Privet Drive, there were in fact two things that were irregular in their little world. The first was perhaps the more shocking of the two. On the front step of Number 4 was a small wicker basket, within which was a small boy, wrapped in a warm blanket, a letter tucked in its folds. Cherubic face topped by a mop of unruly black hair, there was little else interesting about him,save for his almost ethereal green eyes and an angry red scar above his right brow in the shape of a lightning bolt.

If one were sane, they would question the sanity of leaving a small child in the cool October air, even if they were wrapped as snugly as this young man was, but that is for another time.

The second irregular happening along Privet Drive was that of a man. Normally, this would cause no great fuss, as oftentimes residents enjoyed taking nightly strolls. What made this man special was that he was running, not in the I'm-running-to-stay-in-shape fashion, but rather in the I'm-running-to-escape-some-awfully-bad-people fashion, and he was doing a smashing job of it too.

The man was tall, well-built, and even when running seemed to carry himself with a confident grace, as if he was in complete control of whatever situation he found himself in. His blond hair was cropped short, his eyes a glacial blue.

Dressed in a light blue polo and khaki slacks, he looked more as if he belonged at a country club rather than running through a quiet little suburb, but tonight was an unusual night in many ways.

As the man continued his run through along the street, faint voices could be heard behind him, sounding slightly out of breath, but still coming through strong. The language was rapid-fire, carrying with it a strong intonation. An educated individual would recognize the language as Korean.

Thankfully, the man was educated, in a number of ways, and knew he had to find cover soon. If he could find a proper distraction,perhaps he could even turn the tide of this hunt.

It was at that moment that he spied the little bundle on the porch of Number 4. It wasn't as wonderful a distraction as a squad of Royal Marines, but it would do nicely. A small smirk formed on his lips.

The two Korean men came to a stop, their chests heaving from their extended run,both of them more than a little frustrated at the moment.

They had been chasing their quarry for nearly 20 minutes now,and for the first time he seemed to have eluded them. The one on the right, tall, even by European standards, cursed quietly. They quickly fanned out, trying to see if their prey was hiding somewhere.

A quick exclamation from his partner drew the larger one's attention. Looking back, he saw that the other man had found something on a porch. Making his way over, he kept a steady eye out for any trouble. Their prey had a reputation as being as slippery as an eel and nearly impossible to catch, while at the same time quite merciless in his dealings.

As the larger man neared his partner, he saw what had drawn the attention of his partner, an infant, swaddled in a blanket,with a letter written on some strange paper tucked inside. He smirked, the bastard English could state they were civilized and cultured, but they were the ones who left infants on doorsteps.

He snapped his eyes towards the hedge at the right. He reached inside his jacket, he thought he had heard something...

A dark blur erupted from the hedge, latching onto the wrist that was just starting to emerge from the jacket. With a quick twist, the man was disarmed, his pistol clattering to the concrete with more noise than the Englishman had hoped for. Continuing the twisting motion, he brought his forearm down on the elbow joint, snapping it. Just as the Korean opened his mouth to cry out in pain, the Englishman lashed out with his fist, knuckles extended, striking the Korean in the throat and collapsing his windpipe. The man went down instantly.

The Englishman turned,only to catch a punch across the jaw from the smaller man,but it barely fazed him. Moving forward, he blocked a snap kick aimed at his groin, catching the offending limb and twisting it. The move threw the small man to the ground, where his head hit the porch step in a spray of blood, knocking him out cold.

Quickly, the Englishman took the Korean's shoes off and removed the laces, tying the Korean's hands behind his back, then systematically breaking all of his fingers. A quick search of his person found a pistol in a shoulder holster,with two spare magazines, a small knife hidden at the small of his back, and a pill disguised as a tooth.

His search complete, the Englishman pulled a cellphone from his pocket and quickly dialed a number he had long since memorized. A single ring went through before he spoke.

"It's me." His voice was a solid baritone. "I had a few guests join me." He paused for a minute, before speaking again.

"Understood. One is terminated, the other is alive." A small cry drew his attention back to the distraction he had used. The boy stared at him, a few drops of the Korean's blood on his face.

In the future, the Englishman would claim that he had no idea why he opened the letter that was in the basket, but he did it anyways. A quick scan of its contents, and his eyes widened fractionally.

"Put Mum on the phone." The term for his superior was disrespectful at the least, and insubordinate, but he was the only one who could get away with it. Possibly because he was the best she had. A female voice in his speaker brought his attention back to his phone.

"Ma'am, there's been a bit of a situation."

15 minutes later, two black Range Rovers pulled up, as well as a non-descript van. The doors of the SUV's were opening even before they came to a complete stop,disgorging a number of men and women, all clutching MP5's. They circled around the area, sharp eyes scanning for any trouble, before one of them, a black man dressed impeccably in a pinstriped suit, spoke softly into his wrist.

A middle-aged woman stepped from the second Range Rover, flanked by two of the guards who had stayed behind. The back of the van opened as well, and two men in clean suits hopped out, carting a gurney between them.

As the men with the gurney made their way to the Koreans, the woman went straight for the Englishman. "You're beginning to slip, 007; you actually left one alive this time." Her voice was lilting, with an underlying strength behind it.

"Apologies ma'am, I won't let it happen again." The Englishman's cheek earned him a glare,but the woman had far too much on her plate for her to address it now. "Show me what you've found."

The Englishman handed over the letter that had come with the boy. The woman took much more time with the document than he had, as if to glean every bit of information she could out of it, before handing it to one of her guards. "Take the boy. If his situation is truly as the letter states, then perhaps we can get some use out of him."

The Englishman nodded, and picked the boy up, basket and all. As he slid into the back seat of one of the Range Rovers, his eyes caught those of the young boy. Emerald eyes stared unblinking into his, not a single speck of fear or trauma in them. 007's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile.

As the convoy left the area, not a single trace of its existence remaining, 007, also known as James Bond, stated softly to the boy, "Welcome Harry Potter, to MI-6."