Author Foreword

As there are a great deal of fan-fiction works available with extremely abused Harry Potters, I thought I'd follow a similar theme to that of HPMOR: a well-loved Potter in an OOC Dursley household; to this end, the characters of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley are modified into far nicer, and more competent, characters. This has, of course, a profound effect on the work ethic, and behaviour of Harry Potter; although we won't be seeing anything like a hyper-analytical Harry in this work.

Certain aspects of the wizarding, and witchcrafting, world will change. I'll try to ensure that the more moronic choices by various characters will not happen; and this may result in some of the outward behaviour of characters (like Snape) changing, but we will see as the story progresses. At the very least, I'm not going to modify characters simply so I can bash their idiocy.

There will be no lordships, harems, marriage contracts, or truly extra-ordinary powers; and I will endeavour to remain true to the magic system of the HP world. Finally I'm most likely going to be aiming for a Harry/Hermione ship instead of a Ron/Hermione ship. My reasoning is because I genuinely feel that Harry/Hermione work on so many levels: intellectually, ethically, morally, and personality-wise; I also feel that JK Rowling's pairing of Ron/Hermione was just bad for intelligent, capable, women the world over.

So here goes. I hope my tribute to JK Rowling's wonderful work captivates you, and please feel free to constructively criticise.

Regards,
A Amaral-Rogers

Captain Vernon Dursley (Ret., MB ChB, MD) was having a very bad night on-duty in the Accident and Emergency ward of Saint Grunnings Hospital. What started out as a typical Halloween shift, filled with drunken louts and screeching harpies, had rapidly descended into a war-zone reminiscent of his years as a combat medic in the British Army.

It wasn't the sinister nature of the injuries that first clued Dr Dursley on to strange goings-on; but that every patient, from those missing limbs, or suffering from septic animal bites, or life-threatening epileptic fits, had absolutely no idea of what had happened to them. In fact, bar a few cases, none of the patients had evidence of alcohol, or drug abuse at all that evening, despite what all the glassy-eyed paramedics had said at hand-over.

Wierdos in fancy dress were popping in and out of the hospital wards, despite warnings from staff, with whispers of "Muggles" muttered in sneered derision, or condescending fondness. Sharp words hardly ever phased them, and the one time Dr Dursley had tried to shoo off a particularly officious businessman, with unnaturally straight grey hair and a toothbrush moustache, he'd found himself standing in the empty corridor with a blinding headache and little idea how he had gotten there.

Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through Vernon's body that made him hyper-attentive, or maybe just the extensive training of a former British military officer, but an off-hand comment about "Harry Potter" from a particularly wierd-looking chap in a purple hat had set Vernon's hackles up. Before he knew it, the same name was being sporadically repeated by the mysterious people throughout the evening in a reverent, and exuberant, manner; quite in irreverence of the patients, staff, and general hospital atmosphere of that Halloween night. In a brief calm, he dashed to the nearest ward phone, and rang his wife.

"Vernon, darling, what's wrong? You could have almost broken rule no. 1 calling at this time," Petunia said, jokingly.

"Yes, I know; he who wakes the Kraken, pacifies the Kraken. So is Dudders asleep then?" Vernon replied fondly.

"Yes, and he still is."

"Good. Look, Pet, some pretty nasty stuff is going on at work here, and it's got a creepy Twilight Zone vibe about it; I've not seen anything like this since the Troubles," Vernon said in a tired voice. "It's worse than Bloody Sunday. Some of the things I've seen today, I've no idea how they've come about. We had a family here, a whole family with two children, that all look like they'd been petrified to death."

"Oh no, that's awful darling; you had nightmares for weeks after that day. It's okay if you need to staying late?"

"I don't know, Pet. We'll have to see how the rest of the evening proceeds. But there is something else...the strangest thing is that there are a whole lot of odd-balls around; you know the ones, the type that we met at your sister's wedding. I've even heard 'muggle' being thrown around every so often."

"That sounds like something is up with my sister's lot. Do you think something serious is happening?" replied Petunia after a moment's pause.

"I don't know; but didn't you say that your sister was going into hiding because of some rebellion?" Vernon asked slowly. "I think something might have happened to them; I've heard a lot of those you-know-whats mentioning a 'Harry Potter' today; and that's our nephew's name isn't it?"

A started gasp echoed down the phone line. "Y-yes, their son is definitely called Harry. Oh Vernon, do you think something has happened to Lily, and James?"

"I don't know love, I'm probably just tired, and imagining things. There isn't much we can do to find out right now anyway. It's really serious here; I'm going to have nightmares for a long time, love," Vernon paused for a long moment. "Could you stay in Dudley's room tonight, and keep the phone with you? I can't just leave, and I'm worried. Even better, there is a cricket bat in our wardrobe, and-"

"Okay, Vernon, I've got the idea. Safe phrase is 'cucumber surprise', and I'll text you every hour," came the terse reply, "I love you."

"I love you, and Dudley very much," said Vernon before hanging up.

The rest of the shift was just as hard as before; never had peace-time Vernon experienced such a high mortality rate as today, and he hoped that he never would again. The second entire family of four that arrived dead on arrival, with terrified faces and unblemished bodies, made more than a few junior staff members distraught and physically sick; not that Vernon faired better, despite his war-record. A few times he found himself grinding his jaw, and clenching his fist in impotent fury as another teenager gave their last, rattling breath as they bled out on a gurney.

By the end of his shift, at ungodly o'clock, Vernon left St Grunnings an emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted mess. Surprisingly, the journey home was regularly punctuated by sudden, dazzling, firework displays; wondrous moments of light in the disgusting darkness that was this Halloween night. One particular display of spectacular shooting stars inspired Vernon to pull over, and watch; tears flowing down his face as the magical display temporarily washed away some of his sorrow.

An hour later, a notably calmer Vernon Dursley pulled into Privet Drive, passing a giant of a man on an antique custom motorbike; who was just pulling out onto the main road of Little Whinging, with an engine roaring like a dragon. Immediately Vernon's paranoia was in full swing: every single lamp-post was out, and the street was shrouded in an oppressive darkness; and not any of the surrounding streets were effected. An almost palpable miasma seemed to permeate the air, as though the very universe was holding its breath.

Pulling into his neat house at no. 4, his sense of worry was growing at the total silence, and as he quickly left his car, he rapidly scanned the street for whatever it was that had set him back on edge, his heart-rate climbing with every breath. The first scan revealed nothing extraordinary, but turning around again, he jumped and gasped as an elderly couple appeared as if out of nowhere; an elderly couple in extravagant robes, who both looked vaguely familiar, with the exceptionally-bearded gentleman cradling a bundle in his arms.

'Mr Vernon Dursley of no.4 Privet Drive?' the prim Scottish-sounding woman asked quietly. 'Married to Mrs Petunia Dursley, sister of Lily Potter?'

'It's Drs Dursley, but yes, you are correct,' came Vernon's terse reply. Peering at the couple, Vernon finally felt his heart begin to relax, and beat more normally. The anxious state he had found himself in was slowly receding, given the non-threatening manner of the couple, although his mind was straining to remember exactly where he had seen them from.

'May we come in Dr Dursley? I'm afraid that we are here to perform our solemn duty, and we have much to speak about with you, and your wife,' the grandfatherly-looking old man asked softly; sorrow, and something else intangible, evident behind a pair of blue eyes.