Jane stared unseeingly out the window of the Range Rover as James drove them back to London - and, presumably, her flat, which was not at all ready for a child, let alone a magical child.

She'd have to move house, but to where? The only magical enclave in London proper was Diagon Alley, which she would not consider safe for Harry, not in the aftermath of his parents' deaths and with so many Death Eaters still alive and gunning for him.

And she had to assume Voldemort's followers would be after Harry; the Daily Prophet article made it clear that the Potters were particularly attacked, not casualties in some random attack nor warriors on the front line, not to mention Dumbledore specifically said as much - for whatever that might be worth.

For the first time, Jane regretted spending so much of her time in the mundane world. She had no idea who Lily's friends might have been, who she might be able to ask to tell her the truth about Voldemort and, more importantly, who she might trust to help with Harry's safety.

"Moneypenny."

Bond's tone brought her out of her reverie, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Harry napping in the car seat before turning to him. "007?"

He smiled gently, and she thought it might have been the most honest expression she'd ever seen him wear. "At least you responded to something," he said. "I'd already tried Jane, Violet, and Vi."

Jane's cheeks heated. She hated blushing - it clashed horribly with her strawberry blonde hair - but she kept her tone brisk as she said, "Sorry. Did you need something?"

"I wanted to remind you that you're not in this alone," James said. "I'll help you, however I can, and I'm sure there are others."

She blinked. "How did you-?"

"I know what I'd be thinking if I were in your position. There's much to do, and it appears overwhelming."

Hearing him say it aloud sent a wave of relief flooding through her. His acknowledgment didn't change the fact, of course, but knowing that someone recognized the challenges ahead of her brought a comfort she hadn't realized she needed.

"It does," she said. "And while beginning at the beginning and continuing until I come to the end is very good advice, finding the beginning at which to begin is…difficult."

"The trouble with you, Moneypenny," James said, his tone somehow teasing despite its severity, "is that I never know whether you want me to offer a suggestion or not."

Jane gave a startled chuckle. "In this case, I welcome any suggestions."

"Then first, have Harry checked over," he said. "We have no idea what treatment, if any, he's gotten since…that night, and that wound on his forehead doesn't seem to be healing very quickly for being as shallow as it is."

"A curse wound," Jane murmured, then shook her head. "I don't feel comfortable taking him anywhere in Britain, not after the rather sensationalist story the Prophet had."

"Your father was French, correct?" James offered. "Perhaps somewhere in France?"

She nodded slowly. "I can call Aunt Marine. If she doesn't know where I can take Harry, she'll know someone who does."

"Excellent," James said. "I'm happy to escort you and help with Harry."

"That's not necessary, James," Jane began, but he held up one hand.

"I insist. You yourself said that Harry may still be in danger."

"And no one will expect him to be in France," Jane said firmly. "Besides, my Uncle Antoine is a judge." She shook her head at James' blank look. "Sorry - an investigating judge, rather similar to our detective inspectors. We'll be quite safe."

James spared her a doubtful glance. "If you're sure."

"I can apparate directly to their home, and then apparate back to my flat," Jane assured him, and he nodded, though he still looked ready to accompany her. "While I'm there, it would be a great help if you'd visit the Daily Prophet."

James eyebrow shot up. "Why?"

"I'd like to know their sources for the story about James and Lily's deaths," Jane said. "They reported it as if they were certain of the events, and I want to know how or why they are."

"They're unlikely to reveal their sources."

Jane smiled grimly. "But the reaction to the question will be interesting."

That made James smile an equally grim smile. "It will, won't it?"

*BREAK*

James left Moneypenny at her flat only after she assured him that she'd spend at least two full days in France to get Harry checked over and to see her family, and that she'd call him before she returned to England.

Those two days would give him enough time to make sure that everything baby-related she might need was delivered and assembled, ready and waiting for her.

Everything on the mundane side, at least.

It was that thought that had him aiming the Range Rover back to the office - not to see M, though he certainly would, as much as to speak with his colleague in MI-13, Crispian Paddington.

It was past noon when James knocked on the open door to Paddington's office. Paddington, about James' age and height, looked up from his computer and smiled briefly. "Bond."

"Paddington." James stepped fully into the office and closed the door behind him, drawing a raised eyebrow from the other man. "I'll ask for your silence on what I'm about to tell you. M is aware, mostly, and I will fully brief her when I leave here."

Paddington sat back in his chair and waved James to one of his visitor chairs. "You've piqued my interest."

James sat, offering Paddington a wry grin as he did so. "That wasn't your agreement."

Paddington regarded him gravely. "I will treat this conversation as most secret. Will that suffice?"

"What do you know of the terrorist known as Lord Voldemort?" James asked.

"Besides that he's not a lord of anything, since the magical world doesn't use noble titles?" Paddington asked dryly. "And that he is no longer a threat?"

"Yes. Besides that."

"Not as much as we'd like," Paddington replied. "Even on the magical side, no one seems to know who he is or where he came from."

"I might be able to assist with that."

Paddington's eyebrows flew up. "I wasn't aware that MI-6 had any connections on that side."

"Officially, we don't," Bond answered. "Unofficially, however - I can give you his real name."

"That - would be most helpful," Paddington allowed, the slight hitch in his voice the only hint of his excitement. "How did you come by that information?"

James offered a prayer that Moneypenny would forgive him for speaking of her personal life without her leave. "Moneypenny is Lily Potter's sister."

"Bloody hell!"

James chuckled briefly, quietly, before extending Petunia's letter toward him. "This was left with Harry Potter."

Paddington took the letter, scanned it quickly. "Voldemort's real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle? No one told us." And they bloody well should have went unsaid.

"I need the letter back," James said. "And I need a favor."

"What favor might that be?" Paddington's wand appeared in his hand and he cast a Duplication Charm before sliding the letter back toward Bond.

"Number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey," James said. "That's where the wards referenced in that letter were placed. Since Harry is no longer there, but it might still be a target for Riddle's forces, new wards need to be set up. That's certainly not my area of expertise."

"Nor mine," Paddington replied. "But I know where to find someone who can - discreetly, of course."

"Of course," James agreed. "If you can assess the wards that were already set, according to that letter, I'd appreciate a copy of the report. And, of course, anything else you find of interest."

"Of course," Paddington said. "Dumbledore has a point, however - that Riddle's followers might be coming after Harry. He'll need protection, too."

"Yes, but that's Moneypenny's decision. You're welcome to discuss it with her at her convenience. She'll be available after Thursday, I believe."

*BREAK*

"Violetta!"

Startled by her uncle's voice, Jane looked around the International Arrivals lounge at the Ministre de l'État Magique until she found him - tall, straight, and graying, with eyes too kind to have seen the things he surely had as an investigator - and waved as she threaded her way through the half-full lounge.

He met her halfway, bending to buss each of her cheeks. "Bon jour et bienvenue. I did not expect to see you before Christmas."

"If it weren't an emergency," she replied, "you wouldn't have. Tata Marine?"

"Has a class until three, but will meet us at home." Tonton Antoine made a point of looking at Harry, though she'd bundled him against the chilly air and very little of Harry himself could actually be seen. "And who is this?"

"My nephew," Jane answered, warning him with a glance not to say anything else.

He took her meaning - or, perhaps, was simply being his usual reticent self. "Come, we'll get home and see that he's fed. As young as he is, apparation has certainly made him hungry."

"I fed him before we left England," Jane murmured. "And gave him a mild sleeping draught, though I think he would've slept on his own."

"Then perhaps we wait until he wakes," Tonton said. "In the meantime, we can Floo to Aix and get you settled in while he sleeps."

"Flooing to Aix sounds wonderful." Jane couldn't help smiling at the memories the name brought to mind, but it faded quickly. "Unfortunately, I need to take him to a healer before we settle in."

"Why are you traveling with a sick child?" Tonton demanded, though he kept his voice low, presumably to keep from waking Harry.

"Not sick," Jane corrected. "Injured. Please - no questions until we're at the healer's office?"

He glared at her briefly and without real heat before gesturing to his right. "There's a semi-retired healer in Aix. Domestic Floo is this way."

*BREAK*

Two hours later, Jane had a new appreciation for medical practitioners of all kinds and had added half a dozen new curses - in both the magical sense and the swearing sense - to her repertoire.

Then again, Dr. John Watson had seen active service in several conflicts, so perhaps his proficiency was only to be expected.

What she hadn't expected, and what Tonton Antoine clearly found horrifying, was the nature of the wound on Harry's forehead.

Well, to be fair, Jane found it horrifying, too, but she wasn't the one who had the contacts at the International Confederation of Wizards and would take this straight to them.

"Horcrux," she repeated, testing out the unfamiliar word. True, MI-6 had occasionally dealt with magical issues, but she'd never come across a Horcrux before, not even a mention in the daily briefings. "You said it's a part of someone's soul?"

Dr. Watson visibly calmed himself. "Yes, created through a very dark, black, evil ritual a long-ago pharaoh devised when she believed traditional mummification would not be enough to ensure her immortality."

Jane frowned. "Her? But I thought pharaohs were male."

Watson smiled grimly. "There's a reason they tried to obliterate all references to Hatshepsut."

"While I find history as fascinating as the next person," Tonton put in, "at the moment I'm most interested in whether or not the Horcrux can be removed."

"Certainly," Watson answered immediately.

"Without hurting Harry?" Jane put in.

"I am both a doctor and a healer," Watson retorted. "My oaths in both instances include first to do no harm."

"My apologies," Jane murmured. "It's just - rather distressing news."

"Yes, quite." Watson's smile told her all was forgiven. "Now, I can't remove it by myself. I'll need a team of curse-breakers."

"Done," Tonton and Jane said at the same time, and Watson chuckled briefly.

"With all respect to your colleagues," Tonton said, "I think it's best if the ICW was involved. Had the British Ministry involved them sooner, by which I mean at all, in their recent domestic dispute, it's entirely possible James and Lily Potter would still be alive."

Jane felt the blood drain from her face. She'd forgotten. In her anger and concern over Harry, she'd momentarily forgotten why she had Harry in the first place. She offered a silent apology to James and Lily's spirits, and offered a resolute nod.

"Of course, Uncle Antoine," she said. "Though I would appreciate it if someone from Britain was involved, as well. Certain factions of the Wizengamot can be quite…parochial. Having one of their own assist can only be beneficial should any questions arise."

Watson frowned. "You think questions might arise?"

Jane blew out a breath and focused her gaze on Harry, who slept peacefully, thanks to a renewed sleeping charm, on the bed that served as Watson's exam table. Tonton wasn't the only one who could ask the difficult questions, it seemed.

"I think," she said slowly, deliberately, "that someone left Harry on my sister's doorstep, and clearly someone didn't bother taking him to a healer, or," she added, correcting herself, "didn't follow that healer's recommendations. Someone had reasons for leaving that abomination in Harry's scar, and may not be best pleased when it's removed. Who knows what someone will do then?"

"I, ah, take your point," Watson murmured. Jane didn't think he did, but she was in no mood to enlighten him.

Tonton, though…Uncle Antoine looked ready to kill. Or at least raise holy hell at the ICW, which could amount to the same thing. But that was for later. For now…

"Right," Jane said briskly. "I suggest Rhiannon Jones from Britain. Who else?"