Author's Notes: I got high and angry about the Wizard Blood Libel game. This expanded into anger at the Harry Potter series in general for all the plot holes (student tracking, unexplained magic system, paper-thin stereotypes, etcetera). So I decided to rewrite the whole series while patching up the holes on the metaphorical road, and make it a Quest so that others can participate. No dice rolls on this one, purely a narrative Quest.

---

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were proud to say that they were extremely normal, thank you very much.

Obviously, since normal people don't need to affirm how normal they are, this was a clear indicator to the observant people in their lives that they were hiding something. But that's neither here nor there.

The Dursleys were a proud, middle class British family, with good jobs and good social lives.

Petunia Dursely had a small but loyal social circle with the other women of Privet Drive with whom she had a knitting circle, a book club, and a small ring of weapons-grade gossip trafficking. While she was mostly a housewife, she wrote an anonymous advice column for the local paper which was fairly well-liked by readers, and which brought some extra spending cash into the household.

Vernon Dursley, on the other hand, had a collection of 'drinking buddies' whom he could go months without speaking to, though they would always be up for a gathering at a bar or at someone's home when the World Cup came along. He worked middle management at a construction firm called Peck & Macgill Constructions, where he had careful plans and strategies of mundane sabotage and backstabbing spread out over the next decade, all with the intention of making partner.

Among the people that knew them, the Durselys seemed like lifeforms on the same level as grass. Something that you find everywhere you don't take care to obstruct its growth, and which doesn't really draw the eye unless you go looking for it. Friends considered them dull but fairly relaxing to be around, as they held no opinions beyond whatever the person they talked to thought, and coworkers mainly thought of them as fixtures around the office.

The most exciting thing about them was that, after years of trying for a child, Petunia was finally great with child, which had lead to a solid two months of them carrying around copies of the ultrasound to show to people and babble with pride over.

They weren't bad people. They weren't really good people, either.

They were just people, and barely that if you consider a strong moral code of some sort to be a requirement for personhood.

But everyone becomes something when pressure is added.


In later years, when in the company of the few people he trusted with his intimate recollections, Vernon Dursley would claim things were weird from the moment he woke up.

He'd gone to bed early the previous night, on account of a persistent headache that just would not leave, and so he woke up a few minutes before his alarm clock started ringing. Deep warmth covered his body from the thick bedsheets and covers that came with Autumn, and Petunia's arms were wrapped around his frame from behind, making him extremely comfortable as he slowly opened his eyes.

His budding good mood was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a cat outside his window, staring at him.

Vernon blinked.

His room was on the second floor.

The cat turned around and jumped off. While he wasn't a great lover of animals, Vernon felt mildly alarmed at the thought of a dead cat outside his window, so he slowly got up, fit his feet into his slippers, and walked to the door.

There was nothing outside, except a sun just barely rising over the horizon and the first signs of life visible through his neighbors' curtain-covered windows.

"Mmrm," Petunia groaned, barely conscious. "Vern'n? Wh's wrong?"

Vernon blinked, then turned around and leaned over the bed to press a kiss onto her forehead. "Just woke up early, Pet. Go back to sleep, I'll make you breakfast."

Petunia groaned something that was probably, in her mind, an affectionate comment. Then she promptly turned as much as her swollen belly would allow her and buried her face in the pillow, wrapping the covers tighter around her to compensate for missing his warmth.

Vernon allowed himself a few moments to watch her fondly, then he took his fluffy robe (it'd cost more than he expected to have his initials monogrammed onto the breast pocket, but he liked how it looked), deactivated his alarm clock before it could bother her, then walked out of the room.

He paused outside his son's future room, eyes catching on the sky blue painted walls with fluffy white clouds on the upper part. It'd cost him quite a bit of practice to get the look quite right, as he lacked anything resembling an artistic mind, but he thought his son would like it. It's not like English weather would let him see much of clear blue skies and fluffy white clouds, after all.

He walked down the stairs and went into the kitchen. He set the electric kettle, prepared everything for tea, and turned on the radio at a low volume. Just as he turned it on, the first notes of that single by those poofs Queen and David Bowie came out.

Personally, he didn't care for it, but he'd caught Petunia dancing to it once or twice, so he turned up the volume to just audible in their room and left it there.

He went to the front door opened it, looking for his paper.

The cat was there.

Vernon felt a little foolish for paralysing just by laying eyes on a simple grey cat. It was one of those Scottish breeds, with the folded ears and the dopey yellow eyes. A mate of his had had one when he was a teenager.

It really wasn't all that large or scary-looking.

Still, his caution was retroactively justified when the cat opened its mouth and spoke in a Scottish accent, "You don't seem like much to me."

Vernon blinked. Then he said, "No."

"Pardon?" asked the cat.

"Just... just no," Vernon repeated. He reached under it, pulling out the newspaper the cat had been sitting on, then closed the door on its face and locked the door for good measure.

He could faintly hear the cat cussing him out for his lack of manners through the door.

Vernon turned around and walked back into the kitchen. The kettle was whistling. The poofs were still singing. All of that was covered up and muffled by the intense noise coming from inside his head.

Very slowly, he turned his methodical mind to dividing the problem and dealing it part for part.

Weird things were happening. There was no reason to panic, as he and Pet had been preparing for it for years.

First things first, did he tell her?

Well, on the one hand, keeping things from his wife gave Vernon indigestion.

On the other, she was pregnant, and every book he'd read on the subject claimed that shocks were to be avoided when in that state.

(At the moment this had seemed like stupid advice to Vernon, as shocks were shocking because you didn't see them coming and thus couldn't avoid them. He now understood that the advice had been directed to him.)

So it was either a troubled stomach or his wife having a shock.

Troubled stomach it was.

So what did he do about the cat? Better asked, what could he do?

... shoo it with a broom if it approached again? It might turn him into a toad.

So... just ignore it? It worked more or less at the door.

Alright, that wasn't so hard. He'd ignore the cat, not talk about it, and just move on with his life.

As a man born in the fifties, he was well accostumbed to suppressing all distress, so he easily did so and set about making tea for his wife, which he carried upstairs for her.


The day failed to become less stressful as it went on.

People wearing strange, elaborate clothing filled the street. He saw more than a few being arrested for drinking and making a spectacle of themselves in public. At all hours of the day, as he got closer, he saw loud and colourful fireworks being shot into the sky, which were barely visible between clouds and daylight, but even then he could see that they were elaborate and more complex than any other pyrotechnics he'd seen in his life.

And he was no ornithologist, but he was pretty sure that it was a little late for migrating season, with all the hordes of birds flying overhead.

Actually, were those parrots? Were there even supposed to be parrots in England? And those looked like eagles... they couldn't have been, right?

In any case, getting to the office was a relief, even if he almost forgot a few things because he was so distracted. He almost left the car unlocked, he slammed into a few doors because he pushed or pulled when he should've pulled or pushed, and the less he thought about what happened in the bathroom the better.

It got to the point that a few of his coworkers, his drinking buddies and his boss all asked him if something was wrong, or if something had happened to Petunia.

Vernon assured them all that he was just having a bit of an off day, did his best to focus on work, and snuck out to buy himself some stomach medicine when he could.

When he got out for the day, a skinny old man with a long and grey braided beard was standing in front of his car. He was wearing a garish purple suit, complete with a cane tipped with a golden handle shaped like a lion.

The old man opened his mouth.

"No," said Vernon.

"Pardon?"

"Just... no," Vernon repeated. "Please step away from my car."

"I really must speak with you, Mr. Dursley," the old man said, eyes catching the light in odd ways. "It's about your sister-in-law."

"I know it is," Vernon muttered, trying to move his bulky frame around the thin man as he stood in front of his door. "I don't want to hear a word about it."

"It is of vital importance."

"Then you can take a turn with my secretary," Vernon gave up and just made to shove him away, reputation be damned. "Now if you could just—!"

"She's dead."

Vernon froze, hand on the old man's shoulder.

The purple-clad man watched his hand and gently brushed it off of his shoulder as he explained, "I would've approached your wife with this, as it is her sister, but I understand that she is pregnant, and so..."

Vernon glared at him, and the old man stopped talking.

Dursley ran a meaty hand down his face and then rested it against his forehead, considering his options.

On the one hand, neither he nor his wife cared much for that side of the family.

On the other, he still remembered those few times that, after a couple cups of wine, Petunia cried onto his chest because of the vast distance between her and her sister.

Some of those times she'd even gone so far as to blame herself for the rift.

"... her husband?"

"Deceased as well."

Vernon nodded. No one would cry that, at least.

"And... they sent us a card, last christmas. She was expecting?"

The old man nodded, running a hand down his beard, "Ah, yes. The Potter child..."

After a few moments of no talking, Vernon raised an impatient eyebrow.

Seeing that his 'mysterious wise man' schtick wasn't sticking, the old man sighed and confessed, "Well, I'm afraid that was what I wanted to talk to you and your wife about, Mr. Dursley."

No one ever accused Vernon of being an intelligent or very deductive man. But even he could add up two and two.

He stood there still for a moment, still facing his car and standing to the right of the old man, who was facing away from it.

The gears of his methodical mind turned and churned for a few moments. They spun upon axiis based around personal benefits and the happiness of his wife and unborn child, pushing ideas towards a processing plant of cost/benefit analysis.

The final conclusion was that he could not make the decision alone. And while he felt he knew all he needed to know to make the decision, Petunia would have to know more about the subject to choose a path for them to take.

Vernon sighed and gestured for the old man to move.

"Come on," he said. "I'll drive us home."

The old man blinked, and a giddy expression overtook his face, "In the automobile?!"

"... yes?"

"Oh, how exciting!" the old man cheered, clapping a little. "I've always wanted to ride one of these!"

Vernon glared at him.


The meeting between Vernon, Petunia and the old man who introduced himself as Albus ran long.

Tears were shed, promises and bribes were offered, threats were made. But eventually, Petunia dried her eyes, Albus spoke honestly and Vernon calmed down and considered the situation.

Albus promised financial compensation, so the worry about economic strain that had been pulling Vernon back was addressed and relieved before they could be laid on the table. In fact, the amount of money was enough that they would actually have an easier time raising their actual child, which Petunia suspected was a bribe until Albus clarified that he had no idea how much 'muggle' money was worth.

He then went on to say that if they wanted a bribe, he could double or triple the amount with no issue.

More concesions were made, warnings handed out, and eventually, an accord was reached.

Once the pact was sealed, thunderous knocking came upon the door.

Albus opened it — as if it were his own home, the mannerless bastard — to reveal a crying hairy man that had more in common with mountains than with anything else, who revealed a small bundle wrapped in soft blue cloth from inside his brown duster coat. He handed it to Albus, pressed his fingers against the child's forehead, then walked out, sobbing loudly.

Albus handed the child to the Dursleys, assured them that the money would be in their bank accounts within the week, and left them with a simple message.

"This child has a complicated future ahead of him," he said. "He'd do well to develop tolerance for pain."

With those words, he walked out of the door and walked into the shadows of Privet Drive, disappearing from sight.

Leaving them alone with the...

[][GENDER] Boy (cisgender) (He/Him)

[][GENDER] Girl (cisgender) (She/Her)

[][GENDER] Child (nonbinary) (They/Them)

[][GENDER] Boy (transgender) (He/Him)

[][GENDER] Girl (transgender) (She/Her)

They looked at each other for a moment, then laid the small babe on the table.

A red, barely-healed wound shaped like a cartoon of a lightningbolt decorated its forehead.

"... so?" asked Vernon, looking at his wife for guidance. "Now what?

[][UPBRINGING] Sins of the Father: Despite her best efforts, Petunia cannot ignore the anger that still bubbles inside her chest when she thinks of her sister. Vernon personally was not too fond of his siblings-in-law, and it doesn't take much to convince him that he could follow their lead, while Dudley will follow their lead. They won't do something cartoonishly abusive like locking them in a cupboard, especially when they can't know if "freaks" are spying on them, but insults and forcing them to do their chores will be routine.

[][UPBRINGING] Raising for "Redemption": Children are innocent, and Petunia is an optimist at heart. She can't ignore the wounds left behind, but it's possible that if she does a good job, he might be spared the freakishness that afflicted her sister. Vernon personally was not too fond of his siblings-in-law, but it doesn't take much to convince him that he could be steered away from their path, while Dudley will follow their lead. It won't be a very affectionate household for him, but they'll certainly be a part of the family.

---

Author's Note: So yeah, HP Rewrite.

I'll pick a name for Young Potter later, but I do take suggestions. There will be almost no stations of canon, though some things will be similar and I will install a couple red herrings here and there.

NINE YEARS LATER:

The alarm clock wasn't enough to wake him up, but Dudley quickly compensated by throwing the door open and yelling out, "Harry! Get up!"

Harry emited some sort of grumbling, hissing sound and buried his face under a pillow.

Undeterred, Dudley ran over and started shaking his cousin, calling out, "Come on, it's my birthday! You said you got me something!"

Still grumbling but slightly more awake, Harry smacked him in the face with a pillow as he threw off the covers, struggling to roll out of bed.

Dudley, in his infinite mercy, only smacked him back twice as hard with the pillow once, before handing over Harry's glasses, which he took with a thankful nod.

Once the world was back to higher definition, Harry got on all fours and crawled under the bed, removing a loose floorboard before pulling out a small grey plastic cartridge with a little image pasted on the front. With it in hand, he crawled out from under his bed and handed it to his cousin, smiling as much as he could with his brain fogged over by sleep.

"Lemme see!" Dudley cried, barely restraining himself in his excitement, before his eyes flew wide when he saw the image at the front. "Castlevania 3?!"

Harry quickly shushed him, looking towards the door. When footsteps and parental dissappointment failed to appear, he turned back to Dudley, who was looking at him like he was a god on Earth.

"How did you get this?" asked Dudley, smiling widely with disbelief. "It's not supposed to come out for another year!"

"I got lucky," Harry smiled back, pride filling his chest. "You know Walter Green, from number twelve? Remember how his dad works at the States?"

"His dad got him an early copy?"

"Yeah. But Walt said said he didn't want a stupid girl game, 'cause of his hair?" Harry grinned, gesturing at the picture. "Had to mow a lot of lawns for this, though."

Dudley wrapped his arms around Harry in a crushing hug, then ran off to hide it, leaving Harry a little winded.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia didn't much care for games with storylines more complicated or fantastical than basic stuff like "army guy goes to place, shoots people", so Harry and Dudley had developed a habit of pooling their money together, buying games their guardians didn't like, and playing them after everyone went to sleep.

Among other adventures 8-bit adventures, it had taken them almost a month of trial and error to discover the secret of what happened when you beat Metroid in under three hours, but it had been worth it to receive their mutual first crush.

(Naturally, this lead to a lot of fights about who would get to marry Samus Aran when they grew up. Hopefully Castlevania 3 wouldn't bring more of the same.)

A bit tired, Harry got dressed and walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was working over the stove, readying breakfast, while Uncle Vernon sat at the head of the table, tea and toast prepared in front of him and slowly cooling while he read his newspaper.

"Good morning," said Harry, sitting down on the opposite end from Vernon.

"Hands," Vernon and Petunia replied at the same time.

Harry huffed a little and went to the sink to wash his hands with soap. Once they were done, he showed them off for both of them, but they ignored him.

Sitting down at the end, he took the teapot to pour himself a cup — red tea, Dudley and his favourite — and started shovelling sugars into his cup.

After the third, Vernon grumbled, "You'll rot your teeth off."

"Yeah, but I'll be happy."

Vernon grumbled again.

Harry grumbled back, but he stopped putting sugar in his tea and stirred it before taking a big gulp.

Dudley entered the room and was immediately greeted warmly by his parents, who wished him a happy birthday. Aunt Petunia placed a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him before laying a noisy kiss on his cheek, to Dudley's displeasure.

Vernon limited himself to ruffling his blonde hair then continuing to read his newspaper.

Harry felt a pull at the mouth of his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth...

[][ACCIDENTAL] Heat: When he went to take another drink of his tea, Harry found it to be surprisingly hot. [Harry becomes more attuned with ¿¿¿???]

[][ACCIDENTAL] Dye: The edges of the tablecloth, outside of anyone's line of sight, become the same shade of green as Harry's eyes. [Harry becomes more attuned with ¿¿¿???]

[][ACCIDENTAL] Shrink: Though no one notices in the moment, the table becomes two millimeters shorter on every side, pulling everyone closer together. [Harry becomes more attuned with ¿¿¿???]

[][ACCIDENTAL] Offering: When nobody — not even Harry — is looking, the sausages disappear from Vernon's plate. Everyone assumes he just ate them without thinking while reading, but a more attentive ear would have heard the sound of chewing and satisfied chop-licking. [Harry becomes more attuned with ¿¿¿???]

In any case, Harry ignored his longing and continued with his breakfast once Petunia gave him his share.

Once she sat down, Vernon poured his wife a generous cup of tea with just as much sugar as she liked, earning himself a loving smile from her, which he returned. The family ate in relative silence, making small talk, which was mostly because everyone except the birthday boy himself was amused by how he vibrated in place more and more.

Once all bevrages were drunk and foodstuffs were put away, Dudley could not take it anymore and slammed his hands on the table, crying out, "Alright! Can I get my presents already?!"

Harry's aunt and uncle chuckled, and Vernon left to pick up their presents for him while Petunia chided their son for his behaviour. Not that Dudley seemed bothered by this, as he excitedly craned his neck to try to follow Vernon's path.

"What are we doing to celebrate?" Harry asked, drawing Petunia's attention.

"We were thinking a trip to the zoo," she said. "Since we couldn't manage it last year."

Harry smiled, he'd been just as sad as Dudley when the zoo had to close at the last minute because of some sort of "freak tiger incident", as the news described it.[1]

"I hope we see an elephant," Harry said.

"I'm gonna look at the spiders!" said Dudley. "Maybe if one gets out, I can grab it and take it to school!"

"You could just grab one of the spiders from the cupboard," Harry pointed out.

"Those are tiny, I want a big poisonous one."

"How would you pick up a poisonous one?"

"I'll wear gloves," said Dudley, rolling his eyes like Harry was an idiot.

Harry, not finding a flaw in his cousin's logic, nodded.

Uncle Vernon re-entered the kitchen, holding two large boxes wrapped in colourful paper. Dudley's eyes got big and he rushed out of his seat to help his father, while Petunia and Harry moved plates and cups around to make space for the boxes.

The bitter feeling returned as Dudley pulled out a pair of boxing gloves and an action figure showing some generic army man with muscles bigger than his head. Then Petunia rested her cool hand against the back of Harry's neck when he helped her clean up, giving him a thankful smile, and he felt a bit better.


The car ride to the zoo took a while, with traffic being somewhat crowded. Vernon saw three different men in bikes with mullets, so there was a lot of grumbling about the youth of today that the rest of the family cheerily ignored.

Harry and Dudley especially, since the subject of what animal could beat what animal had come up.

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh times a million!" cried Dudley. "A bear can't beat a silverback gorilla!"

"Yes it could!" said Harry, throwing his hands up into the air at Dudley's failure to comprehend the sweet science of epic fights between animals. "Bears have big claws, big muscles and they're super strong! Remember that documentary we saw on the telly? You can't even kill them with bullets because their skin is so thick!"

"Hide," corrected Aunt Petunia.

"Because their skin is so hide!"

Petunia sighed.

"Whatever, bears are dumb!" Dudley said, "A gorilla could just use tools to win."

"Like what? Is a gorilla make a bazooka out of coconuts?"

"No, but it could use a really big rock and crack the bear's skull open."

"This is getting a bit graphic," said Petunia. "Vernon, could you weigh in on this?"

"Mm?" Vernon looked up from where he was glaring at someone. "Oh, sure. The boy's right, Dudders, bears are killing machines."

"Aw, what?" Dudley whined, while Harry did a shimmy of victory on his seat.

"That's not really what I meant," Petunia deadpanned.

"What? The argument's over."

"Well, for one, you're wrong. Bears are dumb as bricks."

There was a moment of silence that lasted exactly 3.5 seconds, then everyone started arguing at the same time against everyone else.

The argument lasted the rest of the drive.

[][VICTOR] Team Bear: As was to be expected, Harry and Vernon wound up winning the argument, which makes sense because Bears are, in fact, Bad News. [Sets up ¿¿¿???]

[][VICTOR] Team Gorilla: Unfortunately, Petunia and Dudley wound up wearing down Harry and his uncle, until finally they cried uncle and admitted defeat. [Sets up ¿¿¿???]


The zoo wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

At the end of the day, a zoo is just a place where you go look at animals, and it wasn't bringing up any more emotion in Harry than seeing a fox eating out of the garbage did.

Still, Dudley seemed entertained, and it was his birthday, so Harry tried to look happy as they wandered around aimlessly, throwing food sold by the zoo wherever they were allowed. So far, Dudley had managed to nail every single animal he threw food at in the head, but thankfully none of them had taken it personally and Dudley had apologized profusely every time.

They stopped at a little food stand to get something to eat, and Harry got a lemon ice popsicle that he'd never tried before.

All together, this was proving to be a nice, calm day for the Dursley-Potters.

And then they got to the Snake House.

"Child of Ancient Magickssss," the brazilian snake hissed through the glass, eyes stuck on Harry's. "I sssensse your power... pleasssse, I bessseach you... usssse your might to free me, and I shall reward you handssssomely."

Harry looked at the snake.

The snaked looked at Harry.

Harry said, "No" and turned around to walk away.

"WAIT! Pleasssssse! I'm dessssperate!"

Harry would have walked away. He really would have. He really wanted to.

But the snake was desperate...

Groaning, Harry turned back around and approached.

"Alright, what do you want?"

"Wait, you truly are a Ssssspeaker? Oh, thank the Father! I've jussst been talking to every magical bipedal that'ssss shown up in thisss sssstupid place!" the snake looked very excited now. "Okay, can you sssssspeak my language sssso that I may undersssstand you?"

"Um..." Harry blinked, wondering how he was supposed to speak snake when he didn't even understand how he was hearing snake. "Sssss?"

"... if that was a joke, I want you to undersssstand that it wasss a very offenssssive one," the snake deadpanned.

Harry flushed, "Excussse me, but I've never ssspoken to a sssnake before!"

"You just did."

Harry blinked, then grinned, "I did! I am! Thisss iss amazzing!"

"Yeah, yeah, very happy for you. Lissssten, can you break me out of here or not?"

"Why do you want me to break you out?"

The snake blinked with its clear eyelids-like thingies, then looked around pointedly.

When Harry's expression remained clueless and gormless, the snake angrily pointed out, "I live in a freaking cage, kid!"

"Oh, yeah," Harry nodded. "That ssssseemsss bad."

"It issss."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" asked Harry. "It's not like I can just break the window."

"You're a m— a Child of Ancient Magicksss. You have powers that let you alter the world."

"... I think I would have noticed that," Harry deadpanned.

"Like you noticed that you can talk to ssssnakes?"

"... alright, you got me there," Harry nodded. "Sssso how do I usssse thessse 'Ancient Magicksssss'?"

"... um..."

"You don't even know?!"

"Hey, I'm not a Child of Ancient Magickssss! Just... snap your grosssss appendagessssss or ssssomething."

"You mean my fingerssss?"

"Isss that what thossse hideouss thingsss are called?"

Harry huffed, "I'm not sssseeing much of a reasson to help you out, mate."

The snake took a panicked expression — as much as snakes could, anyhow — and quickly said, "I can help you! I might not undersssstand the magicksss of man, but I can teach you the ssssecretssss of my kin!"

Harry blinked, then frowned.

He looked down at his hand, set to snap.

[][SNAKE] Freedom: I mean... it would be the right thing to do. And maybe it understands why Harry's suddenly speaking Snake, which he's going to start freaking out about as soon as he can process that he's suddenly speaking Snake, holy crap. [Snakey Leaves the Cage, things develop accordingly.]

[][SNAKE] Stay in the Cage: Yeah, no. This guy is a dick. [Snakey Stays in the Cage, things develop accordingly]