Sorry about the confusion regarding chapter 150 of the Famiglia Drabbles! I'm planning to start a new one and didn't realize I posted that to the wrong series until after the fact, so I removed it. As an apology, I give you a James Bond/HP cross!

James was a tired man. Six years ago, he was told rather bluntly that his days as an agent were over and that he was being permanently delegated to trainer until he caved and retired. It was demeaning, and if it wasn't for the fact he refused to retire without a damn good replacement to take his place as 007, he would have quit on the spot.

The problem was that anyone they brought to him as a replacement lacked a certain something. Something that had made him the most infamous and dangerous agent in MI6.

Considering every single one of the idiots sent his way eventually crashed and burned, M felt his decision was justified and gave him the rare ability to pick his own apprentice and present them as an MI6 agent.

So long as they could prove they had what it took, the future 007 would be hired almost on the spot once they passed the mandatory physical and psyche evaluation. There was no way James would ever send them a potential agent he hadn't trained himself to be competent.

He had just about given up hope when one of the unused safe houses sent him a ping. It meant that it had become potentially active, and the alert was only sent to a select list of agents. Whoever was closest would get it first, and respond in case there was an agent that needed help.

To his knowledge, there were no active missions or agents out that would be in the area. Besides that particular safe house was somewhat outdated and there were others nearby with better stock.

James scanned the security cameras...someone was definitely in there. From the heat signature, it seemed there was only one person...not an adult either.

It seemed like a case of a teenager somehow managing to break in.

James hit the code that would flood the safe house with knock out gas. He would deal with this personally.

An hour later...

It was strange. From what he could tell, there were no signs of the door being hacked or the entrances being broken into. It would have sent more than a simple general alert if that was the case.

It took him fifteen minutes to find any sign of the intruder...he had the doors automatically lock to keep them in so he could interrogate them, that is if they were even awake. The gas used was guaranteed to knock out a civilian for at least three hours.

Some might think that his age was the reason it took him so long to find the intruder. While that was partially true, it seemed they had grasped that something was wrong and had taken special care to hide themselves.

There was a small smear of blood on one of the handles of the cabinets. It was just ajar enough to keep it from locking, but closed enough to allow one to mistake it for locked at a glance...if they weren't trained that is.

James undid the safety on his gun.

He pulled the door open quickly...and it was only his instincts that allowed him to catch the body that tumbled out.

She was young...barely fifteen or sixteen at that. Her skin was pale, and close inspection revealed possible scarring. And she was light. Too light for someone her age. Her clothing was worn, but just barely acceptable.

It was obvious she had a rough life, but that was no excuse for breaking in. Which really begged the question of how she broke in.

James secured her in one of the rooms, with a key only he could access. While she was still out cold, he didn't live this long as a spy by taking chances.

He located the computer and pulled up the logs.

It was there he found something that would change everything.

"Twice?" he said baffled.

According to the logs, he had entered the safe house twice. Which made no sense, because the first time coincided with the alert he received on his phone.

Apparently the computer had detected a potential anomaly, hence why it still sent the alert to his phone.

James pondered at this oddity. According to the logs, no one unauthorized had accessed the safe house. And the computer claimed he had entered the place twice.

There was one possibility, one that would explain why the computer allowed the girl to access the safe house and cause what appeared to be a glitch. Though she was too young to be her, she was about the right age to be that woman's daughter, depending on how old she was.

He took a fresh sample of the girl's blood, then put it into the computer. While it was old, it still had the technology required to do what he needed.

It was mostly so they could find out if an agent had something in their bloodstream, but it had other functions as well.

"Now scanning blood sample...partial match found."

James held his breath...then hit the keys to see the results in full.

There, on the monitor plain as day, was an agent's ID he knew very well.

He wanted to sit down, or at least get a drink. He didn't give a damn what the doctor's said about the damage years of alcohol had done to his body.

One thing was for sure...he needed answers.

The last thing Iris remembered was crawling into the small cupboard, and passing out from whatever that weird gas was.

So waking up in a rather luxurious bed that the Dursleys couldn't hope to afford, well it sent up a lot of warning bells in her mind.

It didn't help that she found clothes that were considerably more expensive than anything she owned, and that her surroundings felt high class.

She carefully got up off the bed...she still felt a tad lethargic from the gas.

Some internal instinct told her where to go. That and the fact that the only room with a light was down the hall. Years of old habits had her avoiding most of the floorboards that she knew would make sounds. She easily evaded the decorations in the hall, most of which reinforced the 'rich, high class' image she was getting.

Just as she entered the room, she felt something cold and unmistakably metal press against the back of her head.

"Impressive. Very impressive for a supposed civilian."

She stayed absolutely still. Years of having to deal with deadly threats told her that whoever was behind her meant business and would not hesitate to shoot. Just because she had never dealt with a gun before didn't mean she was clueless to how dangerous they were.

"Who are you?" the man asked...and there was no mistaking it was a man.

"Iris Potter," she replied calmly.

"You're rather calm, for someone with a gun to your head."

"I've honestly faced scarier. At this point you'd be upsetting a lot of people who I could care less about and giving me a chance to be with my parents," she said bluntly.

"You're an orphan."

She stayed calm.

"Your parents. What were their names?"

"James Potter and Lily Evans," she replied.

There was a sound of metal against metal. For a moment, she thought this was the end.

Except the gun moved away from her head.

She slowly turned.

The man was attractive enough, and would have likely been a lady killer in his prime. However there was something...familiar about him. Familiar in a way she couldn't explain.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Bond. James Bond. I'm your grandfather."

Her heart stopped for several seconds.


"That place you broke into, it's a safe house. One with a very specialized civilian should have been able to get in there without authorization."

"Then how did I get in?" she asked, in spite of herself.

"In the event of an agent needing urgent medical care but are unable to type in the passcode, then they simply need to add a blood sample to machine."

Iris blinked, then stared at her right hand. She had thought she had imagined the door cutting her, but there was a slight scar on her hand. One that would heal over quickly enough on it's own.

"You're telling me that the computer did a DNA test that quickly?" she said in disbelief.

"There was enough of a match to get the door to open, and it sent the alert to me because I was the closest agent," said James.

"Why? Why would you show up now? Where were you for all these years?" she demanded. Something told her he was telling the truth, but she had to know.

"To be honest, I knew about your mother, but I wasn't about to interfere with her life. She was perfectly fine not knowing about me, about the life I lived. Considering the number of enemies I have, she would have been safe," he replied. "My life isn't exactly...conductive...towards raising children."

"What do you plan to do with me?"

"That depends," said James.

"On what?"

"On you."

Her confusion obvious, James smirked.

"The agency I work with has made it clear that I am too old for field duty. They've suggested several people to take my place as a specialized field operative, but none of them have impressed me in the least. You have the right sort of instincts I knew your mother lacked. You possess the right sort of natural stealth in an unfamiliar environment and the sort of cautiousness needed in a good agent. That's the sort of thing that takes either extensive training, or a natural instinct honed over years from experience."

"You mean the fact I was obviously abused over years and forced to develop survival instincts most people don't have," she said bluntly.

"The resolve in your eyes is something you can only acquire through suffering and perseverance. The sort of will that takes what the world throws at you and throws it back while telling it to piss off," said James. "I'd rather train a half grown girl into my successor over half the idiots they've tried to saddle me with."

"That sounds very well and good, but I fail to see why I should agree to this. Even if you are potentially my grandfather, I know nothing about you or this 'agency' you speak of. For all I know you could be a particularly good con artist with a rather elaborate scheme," Iris replied. "That or you've read far too many of Ian Fleming's books."

It was at that point Iris' traitorous stomach made itself known. The rumbling it made was particularly loud, though she made no sign of embarrassment. It wasn't like this was the first time it had made a protest.

"Perhaps some breakfast would be in order. I know that gas tends to hasten the metabolism as a side effect."

Though he made no sign of it, it bothered him that his granddaughter was so paranoid she waited for him to eat first before eating anything. While it was a good instinct to have for an agent, the way she behaved made it clear she believed she was being hunted by something or someone. That or there was a potentially active threat involved that was after her personally.

Considering what he knew of his illegitimate daughter Lily, it was possible it had something to do with the world he had been essentially banned from because he lacked the gift. While he was aware of that side, he had never really bothered with it because the normal world was headache inducing enough as it was.

Just to be on the safe side, he would wait for the tests to come back to prove he wasn't lying about being her grandfather. Besides, he still had a few photos of Lily hidden in the house.

Two days later...

There was a rather large white owl on the veranda, and he very nearly shot it until he saw Iris' reaction to it.


The owl, which was large enough to cause considerable damage if not permanent maiming, allowed Iris to manhandle it with what could only be practiced patience. It was far too comfortable in the presence of humans to be normal, and was clearly a beloved companion of Iris' reaction was any indication.

The intelligence in it's gaze was unnerving enough without adding the particularly sharp talons and beak. It was clearly assessing him for a threat level as it matched his gaze easily.

For several tense moments, nothing happened. Then it let out a hoot and ignored him for the most part...though there was still a sense of wariness from it. Iris relaxed slightly, which really made James question what she had gone through that she would trust the character assessment of a bird. A particularly intelligent one, but still a bird.

James watched as Iris used...a parchment and quill?... to write a letter.

It was rather odd to see her easily tie the letter to the owl which then took off.

"I was unaware postal birds were still in fashion."

"In the normal world, they aren't, but the community I was introduced to at eleven still uses them for some inane reason," she admitted.

"Who did you write to?"

"I asked the goblins to send a potion they use to determine bloodlines. While it can't tell you which line it originates from, it can at least determine beyond a shadow of a doubt whether someone is related to you," she replied.

He would need to work around her paranoia, it seemed. Not that he disapproved of it, but it still bothered him that she had such a deep well of it in the first place.

A few hours later, the owl returned with a vial that smelled rather foul, and a letter.

James had no issue bleeding just to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt he was her grandfather. Seeing the contents of the vial turn another color, he watched Iris' reaction carefully. Pure shock and disbelief was clear on her features.

"I take it this proves my story?"

"According to this, you really are my grandfather. Or at least related enough to be family."

Seeing the letters from the same agency he had verify Lily's bloodline only confirmed it further. Not that it was needed, but it still helped his case.

"Now, maybe you would care to explain why it is you seem to think someone is hunting you to the point your paranoia is on overdrive," said James firmly.

Iris winced slightly.

"Do you believe in magic?"

"The Bonds were a family that had a habit of producing people who obtained specialized Mastery in one field or another, at least until my parent's generation. When I was deemed a squib, it was deemed the bloodline was lost. I never put much thought into it until I found out about your mother and realized that it simply needed a fresh influx of blood to reawaken the gift," said James. "Likely why I became such a good agent...once we find our knack we have a habit of becoming very specialized indeed."

"People always told me Mum could have been a charms mistress," said Iris thoughtfully. If her grandfather was a Squib, that made this a lot easier to explain. "It all started shortly before Halloween a bit before I was born..."