Author's Note: And so this story ends. I may start the sequel for NaNo, but I might also take a different story, possibly Take no Umbridge III. It is also possible that there are a few incomplete one shots that might appear. The muse is fickle.
Now that the work is done, I will be expanding a few of the points of view as separate stories. In particular, Lavender, Parvati, and Seamus are likely, with a chance of Dean. Feel free to lobby for your particular favorite to be expanded.
Vernon Dursley had a smile on his face as he stepped off the 10:26 from York into King's Cross. He hadn't expected to be going on his vacation with his wife today, departing from York. No, he'd expected to put his son on the train to Smeltings from Paddington on the Thirtieth, spend a nice night together with his wife at home without any children in the house, before heading to Heathrow to take the long awaited trip to Majorca to sign the contract on their new holiday property. The bonus for signing that contract with Mr. Mason was more than enough for a good size house, a bit inland but with a fine view.
It had also delayed his trip by a couple days as well, as he'd been invited to the corporate end of quarter meeting. It was all expense paid, and they'd even paid for the journey from York to King's Cross in first class with the buffet. The meeting hadn't been that bad either, as he thought he might have gotten an in on a possible promotion when the old man retired. It didn't look like that would be long, given the way his hand had been trembling. Still, there was only so much corporate schmoozing one could do, and it was good to take the long vacation that he'd never been able to do while the freak lived with them.
He'd come in on Platform Nine, which reminded him of that ridiculous platform that he'd dropped the freak off to go to his freakish school. Nine and three quarters ... what a freakish name. He'd heard that there were a few platform zeroes out there, and a few lettered ones, but fractional, no good British rail fan, of which Vernon was one, would continence such a platform.
Petunia was supposed to meet him at bench not to far from the entrance to the tube ticket hall, so they could go together on the Underground's Piccadilly line to Heathrow. He'd probably end up waiting for her, as he knew that Petunia was planning on shopping for some additional attire before coming to meet him.
As he turned towards the front of the station, he noticed a pair of bobbies approaching, "Vernon Dursley?" one of the officers said. Briefly Vernon wondered how they knew his name before he looked down at his suit's breast pocket and realized that he'd failed to take off his name badge. He nodded. "I am Inspector Hastings of the Surrey Police, and this is my colleague, Sergeant Friday of the Met. We have here a warrant for your arrest for battery of a minor child, child neglect, embezzlement from a minor's trust, and tax evasion. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be given in evidence."
"The freak lies," Vernon spat out before doing what he knew was a the wrong thing, but he couldn't help it. He turned and tried to run, bouncing off a rotund red-headed woman who had seemed to just appear in his path. It caused him to stumble a few steps. He was sure he was going to recover and break into a run when his foot slipped on a wet spot on the platform.
The next thing Vernon knew, he was flat on his chest, with his arms being pulled back into cuffs. "It seems we can add attempting to flee police custody to your charges," Inspector Hastings said.
Vernon looked to his side, as he was pushed down on to the platform, the cuffs locking his hands behind his back. Sergeant Friday was helping the red-headed woman to up. "Ma'am sorry about that. We should have been more prepared for Mister Dursley's reaction."
"Mister Vernon Dursley?" the woman said. Vernon could hear the scorn from the woman's voice. "I'm well aware of that man's actions towards his nephew. My son is a dorm mate to Harry and I saw the scars when he came to visit our home this summer."
"I see Mrs?"
"I'd like to take down your contact information in case we need your testimony about today or what you witnessed with his nephew," Sergeant Friday said.
Vernon looked at the woman, spotting her push a wand up her sleeve. "Certainly Sergeant Friday, my husband has often stressed the often thankless good job the Police do. I can be reached in Ottery Saint Catchpool, Devon. We just got a phone in this past summer, and now that my children are back at boarding school you might have a chance to actually get through..."
Vernon began to squirm against Detective Hastings, as it dawned on him. He cracked. "She's a freak too! They're everywhere! Witches, Wizards, they control everything! We're all ruined! Freaks!"