"Mum, Dad, I'm home from school!"

Dudley Dursley heard his eldest son open and close the front door, and smiled slightly. It had been Jay's last day of primary school today, and in two months, at the end of summer, he was going off to secondary school.

"Dad, Dad, guess what? Guess what?" Jay said excitedly, his mop of strawberry blonde hair falling into his eyes as he ran towards his father. Jay Dursley was a lanky 11-year-old, with wide eyes and a mixture of blonde and red hair (where the redness came from, Dudley had no idea). He had a light splattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and his eyes were a rich chestnut colour.

Dudley chuckled. "What, Jay?"

Jay pushed his hair impatiently out of his eyes and sat down in the chair opposite Dudley. "We had an award ceremony today, and I got a prize for being the most improved in academics!"

Dudley watched his son beaming and waiting for a response from his father. The sight caused his own face to split into a huge grin.

"That's awesome, Jay! I'm very proud of you," Dudley said, standing up from his chair and wrapping his arms around Jay in a hug.

"What's this about my Jay-Jay getting an award?" Dudley's wife Jemma walked into the room at that moment, a dishrag over her shoulder and her hands on her hips.

While Jay told his mum what he had gotten at school, Dudley took the chance to marvel at the scene before him. There hadn't been a day that had gone by in the past 18 years where Dudley had not been stunned at his luck. Here he was, sitting in his own house, with his beautiful wife and 3 lovely children, two of which were currently upstairs. He smirked at the thought of what his fifteen-year-old self would have said if he could see him now.

Nineteen years ago, his parents and himself had been whisked out of the house by a short and overexcited old man called Dedalus Diggle, to flee from something that most people would not believe existed. But, if he had learnt anything at all in his years of living at Number 4, Privet Drive, it was to expect the unexpected.

Finally, after nearly a year in hiding, the Dursleys had been told that they were allowed to return to their home, and that the evil wizard they were hiding from was dead. As soon as they had gotten settled again, Dudley had taken his experience with dangerous situations to heart. He had done a bit of growing up in the years since the Dementor attack, and realised that life was too unpredictable to waste, and so he had set his resolve and joined the gym.

It had taken a long, long time, but Dudley had managed to shrink back down to a healthy weight, after spending his whole life being three times the size he was supposed to be. He focused on not only making sure he could see his toes, but turning his flab into muscle. It was at the gym that he had met his wife Jemma, and they had struck up an immediate friendship, which slowly blossomed. Now, he was a fit and healthy 36 year old with a gorgeous, loving wife, and he was proud of how far he had come since those dark days of bullying and uncertainty.

Dudley was drawn suddenly back to earth when he heard his wife yelling.

"Twins! Get downstairs now, you two haven't said hello to your father yet!"

Dudley braced himself for impact as he listened to two very loud pairs of feet stomping down the stairs.

"DADDY!"

Dudley held his arms wide and lifted his two youngest kids into his arms, hoisting them off the floor. Connor and Poppy Dursley were twins, and almost identical, except for the fact that they were different genders. Both 9 years old, they had wavy blonde hair and hazel-green eyes. Like Jay, they had a patch of light-coloured freckles on their faces, but unlike their older brother, who was gangly, they both had very small frames.

"Hey, Dad, a weird thing happened today," Jay said suddenly, frowning slightly. Dudley turned to face his eldest son once again and nodded for him to continue.

"Well, we were in art class, and Mr Rosenthal was going on about how literature isn't true art, and that all those young adult novels are just trashy fiction," Jay said, his face turning slightly pink as he spoke. It was common knowledge in the Dursley household that Jay loved books. With a passion. So whenever someone like his crabby old art teacher criticised them, Jay was not usually very happy about it.

"I was trying to explain to him that people say books are art as a metaphor, because they mean the way the words paint a picture in your mind, but he just wouldn't listen," continued Jay.

"Old coot," Dudley muttered, and Jay looked extremely pleased.

"Well, anyway, he was having a go at me for not appreciating the artistic spectrum or whatever, and I was just so mad at him about the book thing, and then all of a sudden, his socks turned blue! Both of them! I think some blue dye must've leaked through the floor from the room above, or something, but I mean…" Jay trailed off as he looked at his father uncertainly.

Dudley frowned. That was very odd. Obviously it was coincidental, because Dudley had been angry at his teachers loads of times at high school, and he'd never turned their socks blue… and what Jay had said made sense… but all the same, it was strange…

"That is weird, Jay! It probably was the dye, but what a coincidence, eh?" Dudley said finally, and he watched as Jay grinned at him. Dudley smiled back. Yes, he was extremely lucky to have the life he did. It was a stark contrast to the life of unpredictability he'd had before, but he loved it.