The next few days were quiet ones for Vernon. He attended classes with the sixth year Slytherins, though most of his classroom time was spent staring at the ceiling and plotting his first move against Harry. Mind you, his ponderings didn't detract from his "studies." Far from it. Vernon's encyclopaedia-like knowledge of all things magical allowed him to achieve test scores that were nothing less than miraculous- much to Hermione's horror.
"137%!?," she gasped when she caught a glimpse of his newly-corrected Transfiguration test. "Mine was only 108%! How did you…?"
"Hours of study and dedication, that's how," he lied nonchalantly. It was pretty much impossible for Vernon not to put the other students to shame when he had centuries worth of knowledge stored in the vast hyper efficient regions of his razor-sharp mind.
"But I already do that!" Hermione whined when she heard his answer.
"Well, I guess some people are just natural scholars," he said with a shrug and a smile before walking towards the library.
%%%%%
In search of a beginning to his campaign to drive Harry to suicide, Vernon decided to consult Sun-Zoo's classic book of strategy, War Art. He checked it from the library's Muggle Literature section and sat down to flip through its pages. None of the book's strategies seemed particularly useful. He would turn a page, dismiss the book's suggestions as too simple, too obvious, not devastating enough, and so. Vernon was about to give up and return it when he saw a strategy he had overlooked. It was titled "Announcing Your Presence Across the Green Valleys of Your Foe."
When beginning a campaign against your enemy, the first blow must be struck under the guise of peace. By besting him at a friendly competition, his balance is robbed and thus leaving him susceptible to your first true strike. Thus it is said and thus it is true.
Leaving the library, Vernon felt a new respect for Muggle writings within him. Pushing open the door, he noticed a familiar blonde first year boy standing there, apparently waiting for a friend. He looked up and caught sight of Vernon standing before him. His eyes opened wide in recognition. He squeaked in surprise and fled down the hall in a desperate attempt to escape Vernon. Back by the library door, an amused Vernon decided to have some fun. He would give the boy a five-second head start.
"One…" The boy kept running, the paintings along the hall turning their heads to watch him dash.
"Two…" A crowd of second years parted just in the nick of time to let him pass through without being knocked over like bowling pins.
"Three…" A corridor door opened, and out stepped Draco and Professor Snape, deep in conversation. Neither noticed the boy who'd just ran past them.
"Four…" Vernon shifted into his running stance and-"Five!"- dashed after the boy with cheetah-like speed. With his magically-enhanced muscles pumping and straining, the lad had no chance of escape. Draco and Snape looked up, too late, to see a blur approaching them with alarming velocity. Pow! Harry's two least favourite people at Hogwart's were smashed like a neoconservative at a Michael Moore rally. Vernon, not slowed in the slightest, sped on. Closer and closer the little boy became as he caught up. Finally, Vernon pounced and tackled him to the floor. Instantly he stood to his feet and yanked the boy up.
"Let me go! Let me go!" he protested while struggling vainly against Vernon's steel grip on his arm.
"Nothing like a good jog to get the blood flowing!," Vernon declared before addressing his captive. "Well, if it isn't my seatmate from the train," Vernon said with a chuckle. "Stop struggling. If anything, you should be happy to see me. After all, if it weren't for me, you and I wouldn't be talking right now." This seemed to have an effect on the boy. He paused to consider his words, then seemed to decide Vernon wasn't out to get him. "Good," continued Vernon, when the boy stopped trying to break away. "Now that we're on more civil terms, what's your name?"
"T-Tommy Perkins," he stammered, apparently still a little nervous.
"Dernon Versley," Vernon returned. "Tommy, how would you like to do your new friend a favour?"
"I-I don't know…" An evil glint shone in Vernon's cold blue eyes.
"You won't go unrewarded." Tommy looked more co-operative. Vernon continued. "I need to find out some things about Harry Potter. You've heard of him? Good, good…"
%%%%%
The late summer breeze ruffled Vernon's uniform (made from a now-extinct species of silkworm) magnificently as he stood atop the tower housing the divination classroom and Professor Trelawny's quarters. From here, one could survey the entirety of Hogwart's environs- the Whomping Willow, Hagrid' Hut, the Lake, and the Quidditch Pitch, which Vernon was paying great attention to through omniocular lenses. Tommy's information had led him here, watching Harry zoom about on his Firebolt during team practise.
"Quidditch, eh?", he muttered. "I think I can accommodate you there." He lowered the omnioculars he'd been using and looked into the clear blue sky. "GRENDEL I SUMMON YOU!" Across the skies came the answering bird call of doom. Streaking towards him out of the horizon was Vernon's owl. Named for the undead serial killer who preyed on amorous teenagers in Anglosaxon England, Grendel was truly a magnificent creature. A purebred vulture owl [AN: think Draco's eagle owl but bigger and cooler] raised by the famed owl breeders of Westingmessexfordchestershire, Grendel gracefully descended from the skies to land on Vernon's shoulder.
"Ah Grendel, how long it's been," Vernon said affectionately, petting her soft head feathers. "Now listen, I need you to bring unto me the finest broom in all the land. There's a nice treat in it for you." Hearing this, the vulture owl took off and began speeding towards the southwest. Vernon looked back towards the Quidditch pitch, where practise was continuing Harry and the Gryffindor team. If all went according to plan, Harry was going to have a Quidditch game unlike any he'd played before.
%%%%%
Feiner Besen Arbiter Companee, factory floor, City of KarlLutherMarxheimfeldstadt, Bayernischereich State, Germany.
At long last it was finished. FBAC engineer Peter Ackermann put down his tools and stepped back to admire his work. The Sky Streaker mk 1 000 000 prototype he'd just completed was the broom that was going to render the competition's Firebolt obsolete. Superior in every way, the Firebolt was good for little else other than kindling compared to the Sky Streaker.
"Hey, Peter," a voice spoke from behind him. It was the factory foreman, Schmidt. "It's time for der break," he informed before going over to another part of the floor.
"Ah, danke," Peter replied. Crafting the Sky Streaker had been draining of both creative and physical talents and he was glad to stop. He walked over to a chair by the factory entrance. He reached into his pocket and produced a silver case which he opened and took a single paper cylinder twisted tightly at one end. He put it in his mouth, struck a match and lit it. "ja…das ist ja toll," Peter sighed as he took a hit. His fingers no longer ached from the arthritis. This particular batch was from the Rü hr valley, home to the finest and strongest herb in all the country. It was the loss of this plant that reason many Germans were pissed off when the region was occupied following World War One.
Peter's memory at this point became hazy, to the great frustration of the management when he later attempted to explain what had happened. There was the sound of breaking glass, an owl hoot, and when Peter looked up to see what was happening, The Sky Streaker had vanished. Through his inebriation, realized what had happened.
"Oh scheiß."
High above the factory, Grendel flew back towards Hogwart's with the Sky Streaker gripped in her talons. Over mountain and valley she flew until at last she reached the castle grounds. Vernon was waiting for her near the lake. He reached up and clasped the mighty broom as she landed on his should.
"Excellent. Everything's falling into place," Vernon said to himself. At that moment a familiar ginger-coloured cat with a brush-bottle tail wandered past. Grendel took off to chase after it, leaving Vernon alone to ponder his next move. "I'll have to see about the car rental…and then there's the uniform…"
%%%%%
The following day, as the Slytherins and Gryffindors were filing out of a particularly trying potions class in which Neville had added too much ground-up skrewt stinger to his cauldron, resulting in a gelatinous brew whose growth even Snape had a difficult time stopping. Neville had to stay after class, and the two were alone in there doing God knew what. Vernon walked over to match Harry's pace, unaccompanied by Ron or Hermione for once.
"Oi, Harry! Remember me?," asked Vernon in a tone that was pure friendship and innocence. "Dernon Versley. We met on the Hogwart's Express?"
"Right," said Harry acknowledging. An awkward pause. "Er, what can I do for you?"
"Well, seeing as how the Quidditch season is gonna start soon," began Vernon, "I was wondering whether you'd be willing to play a friendly game of Quidditch with us? Thursday afternoon after classes?" Harry paused, seemingly thinking the offer over.
"Thursday? Well, I'll have to make clear it with the rest of the team and book the Pitch with Madam Hooch, but I think we can do." Vernon smiled. Perfect.
"Great. Looking forward to it. See you there, Harry." The other boy nodded and continued onwards. Vernon then caught sight of Draco Malfoy. Vernon snuck up behind him and tapped the pale boy on the shoulder. Draco turned around to see who it was…and tried to run as fast as his legs could carry him when he did. Vernon's hand shot out and snagged his arm before he could get far.
"Sorry, but I've already had my morning jog and I don't care for another. Come now Draco, is that how you treat your friends? By running from them?," scolded Vernon."
"W-What do you want from me?," Draco whimpered as he shook with fright in Vernon's indefatigable grip.
"W-what do I want?" Vernon mocked. "Draco, really! This is a good, trust me! Think of it as an opportunity to add a very useful skill to your resume. Now, you know how Muggles get around using these things called cars, right? Good, good…"
As Vernon was persuading Draco, Hermione jogged up to where Harry was and asked: "Harry, have you seen Crookshanks anywhere? I can't seem to find him…"
%%%%%
Thursday afternoon after classes found the Gryffindor Quidditch team wondering if they'd been stood up. Classes had ended five minutes ago yet there was no sign of Vernon's team anywhere.
"What a waste of an evening," Ron complained said sadly. "I still haven't started Snape's love potion essay, you know, and it's due tomorrow!"
"I'm sure they're just late, Ron," Harry reassured.
"Hey, what's that?" team captain Angelina said as she pointed to the sky. At first, the object was no more than a dot. But as it approached the Quidditch pitch, it gradually took on the form of a pearl white limousine- a flying limousine, rather like the Mitsubishi Anglia Harry and Ron had stolen to get to Hogwart's for the second year after they'd missed the train. The limo began its descent, the Gryffindor watching it amazement as it landed on the opposite end where they were standing. The car turned to face them. Behind the tinted windows, the driver flicked off the ignition, cutting the roar of the engine. There was a click as the door opened and out stepped- Draco Malfoy in a chauffeur's uniform. Looking very uncomfortable, he walked without a word to the back and opened the door to let his passenger out. As he did, the team heard the booming beat of George Michael's 'Amazing' playing from the deluxe sound system just as the song reached the best part. [AN: It's near the of the end where's he's singing the chorus with the full accompaniment. Damn I love that song.]
At long last the limo passenger finally stepped out onto the Pitch. Vernon Dursley, holding a bat in one hand and the Sky Streaker in the other, approached the Gryffindor team standing on the other side. Behind him, Draco drove the car off and away into the afternoon sky. The team couldn't help themselves from staring at him. Vernon was dressed in a white-and-yellow Quidditch uniform interwoven with golden threads that actually glittered in the sunlight. In the chest were beautiful emeralds and sapphires arranged to spell out a single sparkling 'D'. So luxurious was Vernon's attire that the sight of it caused Ron 'Salvation Army' Weasley to vomit.
"Heil, heil, the gang's all here," Vernon said, breaking the silence that had fallen on the Gryffindor team. "Ready to start?"
"What are you getting at, 'start'? Where's the rest of your team?," questioned Angelina.
"I am the team," Vernon returned nonchalantly. There was a pause as the Gryffindors took in this information.
"You must be joking," Ron cut in. "One against seven? You're mad."
"Then it should be a quick and easy game, eh? A good bit of practise for the season," Vernon said with a grin. You blokes have no reason to refuse. Unless the famed Gryffindor team is…chicken?" That did it. Angelina stood up straight and turned to face the rest of the Gryffindors, her expression rigid with anger. "Come on team. Nobody calls us chickens."
A passing Argus Filch was happy to start the game by releasing the Bludger and Snitch and throwing up the Quaffle. Ordinarily, it would have amounted to suicide for a single player to take on an entire Quidditch team while simultaneously playing beater, seeker, chaser and seeker. But ordinarily, students weren't riding the Sky Streaker MK 1 000 000 broom. Ordinarily, students weren't Vernon Dursley. He few lazily around his end of the goal hoops, waiting for one of the other players to try to make a play with the Quaffle. Every so often he saw Harry speeding about, searching for the Snitch around the edges of the stadium. As he waited for the Gryffindors to make their move, he took out his anti-anti Muggle technology-jinxed CD player & headphones and began listening to Dio.
Ah, here were his first customers- Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell were speeding up to him, rapidly passing the Quaffle back and forth between them while flying about twelve feet apart. By watching it, Vernon's hyper efficient mind predicted the angle and speed at which the Quaffle was going to thrown at by Katie. Alicia passed it to her fellow chaser, who then threw it- only to be intercepted by Vernon. With the initiative his, Vernon sped off to the opposite end of the pitch, passing Angelina while doing so. Up ahead was Beater Andrew Kirke- and the Bludger. Kirke smacked it with his bat to send it hurtling towards Vernon. It would have collided with Vernon's head had he not executed a Sloth Grip Roll , leaving him riding upside-down. Vernon could feel the wind from the passing iron ball as it zipped past him. Faster and faster he flew. Ron and the Gryffindor goal hoops were ahead. As he flew, righted himself then pushed down on the Sky Streaker to begin a dive. Once Vernon was low enough he pulled back on it to begin climbing. The move was a success- he was now behind Ron who was turning around just now. Too late. Vernon threw the Quaffle through the middle goal hoop and scored the first goal of the game. It was Vernon 10, Gryffindor 0.
The spectators in the stands greeted this development with stunned silence. No one had expected Vernon to last but a few minutes, never mind score. The Gryffindors stopped where they where in mid-flight, staring at what had happened.
The game continued. The Gryffindors shook themselves out of their stupor and redoubled their efforts. The Quaffle came back into play and was quickly snatched up by Angelina herself, followed closely by Katie. Jack Slope shot the Bludger at Vernon from behind. Closer and closer the ball flew towards Vernon- until he turned deflected the ball, having been warned by the blessed amulet he wore that gave a 20 bonus to his awareness stat. With the Bludger at his and seeing the two chasers heading towards his goal, an idea struck him. Waiting for the exact moment, Vernon swung and hit the Bludger with his bat, aiming it just ahead of where Katie was flying towards. Onward the iron ball sped, heading just slightly ahead of where she was now. Vernon's calculations were correct- The Bludger and Katie Bell met at the same place at the same time. Pow! Katie was pitched forward off her broom- and onto the nearby Angelina. Both girls and the Quaffle landed in a heap on the ground. Fortunatly, the two girls were only a few meters off the ground when Vernon's shot had made them the unwitting participants of air dominoes.
Retaking the Quaffle, Vernon decide to put the Sky Streaker's to the test. Tucking the Quaffle under his left arm, his free hand gripped the handle as he prepared to fly to the opposite end. If his broom had an engine, it would have roared. Lowering his body close to the length of the broomstick, Vernon finally let it go. Alicia Spinnet would later recall Vernon's speeding for leaving afterimages as it screamed across the pitch. Ron saw his speeding form bearing down on him and screamed, barely moving out of the way in time. Vernon 20, Gryffindor 0.
After fifteen more minutes the gap between the two teams had widened to 40-0 (Vernon's favour) and he was getting bored. Vernon decided it was time to bring things to a close. Having caught the Quaffle from a misaimed throw by, he brought back his muscular arm and whipped it to the opposite end. Having temporarily gotten the Quaffle away from his goals, Vernon soared above the other players and scanned the pitch. It took him a few seconds to locate the Snitch- it was fluttering almost at ground level by the Hufflepuff stands. Vernon flew back down and saw that Harry was moving in on it as well. Vernon adjusted his height to the Snitch's level and positioned himself directly across from Harry, who was flying as fast as his inferior Firebolt could fly him, his hand outstretched, desperately try to get to it before Vernon. Vernon grinned and drew back his bat as Harry came closer and closer. Vernon reached it first-
Crack! Vernon swung and hit a home run. Harry seemed to have seen what had happened and tried to reverse- too late. The Snitch struck Harry in the chest, its force knocking him clean off his broom. Vernon quickly moved and closed his fist around the golden ball before it could escape. It was over.
Down and down tumbled the Boy Who Lived, his descent met by the green soil of the Pitch.
Vernon was the first at his side.
"Harry! Harry! I'm so sorry!," he wailed. "I thought it was the Bludger I was hitting! And I shouldn't have it so hard…" The Gryffindor team gathered around Harry's fallen form. Andrew Kirke had heard his fevered apologies and placed his arm on his shoulder consolingly.
"Cheer up, Dernon. We all make mistakes." Vernon knelt by Harry.
"Someone help me carry him to Madame Pompfrey's." Angelina grabbed Harry's legs while Vernon grabbed his arms. As he opened his hands to take them, the Snitch flew out and fluttered about Harry. "Which reminds me," Vernon reminded with a malicious smile. "That's 190-0, my favour."
