Classified Document

Date of Events: REDACTED

Submitted Report: 007

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Beginning report

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Wiping blood from his lips, James Bond grunted as he stumbled into his little hide-away the agency had set up for him after his last mission had gone sour. Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry was as boring of a place as one could get after a brawl and a ride on top of a car speeding along the roads of London towards then into the river...

"And now bloody the power's out. As that American said, fucking luck." Bond uttered as he yawned as his shoes squeaked as the wet leather let out more water with each step. Up and down the street the lights that were supposed to on just like every other boring street in the area were all dark. Discreetly he made sure that his side arm had some ammo left.

Meow

Bond's hand twitch was the only sign of how tense his body was after a long day's work as a gray feline pattered down the street as an elderly man came out of the darkness. Something about the man gave Bond pause. Perhaps it was the strange night cap that looked like a wizard prop for Halloween or that the old man was walking without a light in the dark. Yet the old man made no movement that hinted any hostility so Bond nodded his head in greetings. Sometimes an old man was just an old man...

Looking up to the sky though the window of the safe house, he wasn't going to stay outside when he could get a hot shower and a meal after a mission, Bond's eyes narrowed in confusion. There across the street was the old man talking to a mature woman. Ducking and closing the window blinds Bond shook his head.

"These nerves of mine." He chuckled as he went upstairs. Yet as he got himself cleaned up from the latest mission Bond found himself thinking of this legacy. He was Double-O seven, one of the best agents in the service of her majesty the queen, yet the years were starting to add up. Soon James Bond would have to leave the limelight and a new James Bond would have to step up to the plate. He would serve the Isles to the best of his abilities and, Lord granted, for another decade or two before he was forced to take a desk job or retire.

Stepping out of the restroom, Bond made his way to the downstairs living room to enjoy a late night snack and some refreshments. However when he looked into the cabinets he frowned.

'Q.' He thought with a frown as he found only non-alcoholic drinks, including the blasted evil mud known as Tea. There was coffee, but he wanted something to knock him out, not keep him up. Muttering curses at Q who was likely doing another attempt to get him to drink tea as the somehow the man was both a genius and a fool at the same time, Bond just happened to look out the window and notice that the lights were back on outside. Glancing up at the clock he took note of the time. Five minutes after three.

"Looks like someone was in a hurry to fix the lights." Yawning, Bond reached out to close the curtains to block out the lights from outside as it was clear that the cheap blinds weren't going to cut it. But first Bond made sure to double check the locks everywhere one more. He was not about to go to sleep without being sure of his own protection. The only time he felt safe was when he was home and his housekeeper May. Reaching the front door Bond hoped that he could soon return to his flat off the King's Road in Chelsea. It would be nice to sleep in his own bed instead of a hotel, dirt, etc... Why was something moving on the front door of the house across the street?

His training kicked in and the man pressed himself against the side of the doorway before peeking through the window. There, across the way at Four Privet Drive was a basket with something moving inside of it. At first Bond thought it was some sort of animal that had gotten into the milk basket, as the movement was indeed in an old fashion basket for milk. Even so, the Englishman was on edge. Was his cover blown? Was this another attempt on his life that went to the wrong house instead of this one? Ticking filled his ears from his watch as the seconds went by, a dorp of sweat dripped from his forehead down his face mixed with the water from his shower.

Then a strange thing happened that changed his fate forever. A little hand appeared to reach out of the basket.

End of Report.

Continue Y/N?

I hope you all enjoyed the new prologue of the second version of Name's Potter, Harry Potter. Chapters will be longer than this in case some of you wanted to know. And for those interested, here is a sneak peak for Chapter 1 Friend or Rival

He narrowed his eyes at the bushy hair girl as she sat on his chest as she pressed his hands above his head to the blue mat. Both their martial arts uniforms were sweaty from their fighting. Then the master and his assistant pulled them apart.

"This isn't over!" Harry yelled at the girl as he struggled against the grip of the instructor while his father covered his face in either embarrassment or disbelief, perhaps a bit of both.

"It is too! You lost Potty!" The girl snapped as she tried to escape the hands of her mother who was sending a pleading look to the assistant to help her keep her daughter from fighting the boy.

"Beaver!"

"Four eyes!"

"Well those two are going to be friends for life." M looked over at Q who was snickering he watched the children below attempt to resume their fight. She was not amused at his comment.