HELL-LOHH Citizens! This is your HOLLYWOOD-VOICE NARATE-O-TRON 7000 speaking. The story you are about to hear is a story of SCIENCE! Well, SCIENCE! and magic. Yes, there will be plenty of "magic" as we follow the lives of our friendly neighborhood BOY-WHO-LIVED, but this is ultimately a story about SCIENCE!



...and magic.

But now faithful citizens, Listen closely to the thrilling tale of adventure and suspense, and SCIENCE! as I, your HOLLYWOOD-VOICE NARATE-O-TRON 7000, recount the story of the legendary VAULT UK-13! Listen as our dashing heroes and stunning heroines survive the fallout from the cowardly attack by those pinko commies. Keep your ear close to the speakers as I relate the adventures and troubles of SCIENCE! I mean, VAULT UK-13! in their battles against hunger, Ghouls, dark wizards and giant gangster-hunting hedgehogs! (Giant gangster-hunting hedgehogs that were created by science.)


Wait, who's been adjusting my volume dial when I wasn't looking? Let me just turn this, adjust that. Science? No, not quite. Flip this switch and... SCIENCE! Perfect!

Yes, created by SCIENCE!

Ah, much better.

And listen as they venture forth from the vault only to find a world transformed from what they used to know. Some enemies wear the same old faces, while some old friends don't wear faces at all!



13 August, 2076

"So why are we going to the clinic again?" Harry asked.

"Boy! If you weren't so freakish you'd realize the Americans are at war and it's only a matter of time before we get pulled in," Vernon growled back like a wounded bear. The clinic was the local medical center, not a full hospital, but capable of taking care of the usual suburban cuts and bruises. It served as the local blood bank and held a number of other services. The Dursley's had taken him there for an eye examination, for his broken arm that one time he "fell out of a tree" and for a few bumps here and there. They had not, however, ever taken him so that all four of them could get blood tests. "And then those godless commies are just waiting to drop nukes on us all!"

"I did know that, I'm just not clear on why I'm here," Harry said sullenly. He had thought this summer would be different, him having a new escaped prisoner godfather to threaten them with.

"Because all families need to be tested," Petunia snapped back as if she were talking to an idiot. "It's the law. And otherwise, they wouldn't be able to sort us for our Vault."

"I haven't exactly been keeping up with the BBC these past few months," Harry replied dryly.

"Watch your tone, Boy!" Petunia snapped. "You might think you can threaten us, but your godfather isn't here right now!"

"Why should I even get tested?" Harry asked.

"Because if any member of a household refuses, the entire household loses their ticket," Petunia replied. "And if you think you're going to back out just to let us die when the commies bomb us, you've got another thing coming and none of your freakishness could help you."

"You'd be surprised what I could pull off," Harry replied under his breath, a low mutter that not even Dudley, who had been stuffing his face with Dandy Boy Apples in the seat next to him, could hear.

They arrived as the clinic a little after one. The entire place was filled with cars and people. The Dursley's parked their BMW Hovercar 5 and stepped out. Harry absently noted how much the car lifted up once Vernon and Dudley had stepped out. Dudley, at 14, was almost as large as his father and that wasn't a matter of muscle either. The doors opened with a whoosh, a wheel spinning and the steel frame collapsing into the floor, only to close quickly behind them.

It had always amused Harry to watch his short tempered uncle wait in a cue. The shoe started tapping first. Then, like clockwork, the obese man's meaty paws would start to clench and unclench. Not long after the fist clenching was the grinding of teeth, the mumbling and the grumbling. Vernon had just reached the head of the cue when he finally reached the growling stage. Harry waited diligently for his relatives to finish first.

"Name?" a pretty young nurse asked. She sounded tired as she held out a clipboard in front of her.

"Harry Potter," he replied.




"James Potter and Lily Evans," he answered. "They're dead."

She flashed him a brief sympathetic look, but quickly flicked her eyes back down to the clipboard. "Household then?"

"Dursley's," he replied, nodding to the gigantic men and the spindly woman. "I'm their nephew."

"You poor boy," she said. She nodded to where a number of other children and younger teens were cuing up. "Line number two. Perhaps a 20 minute wait."

"Thank you," Harry said as he moved over to the line. Harry didn't chat with the others in line. He barely said anything. He waited patiently until his turn was up, hearing his uncle waiting most impatiently in another line. Dudley was whining about having to stand around and Petunia was promising him gifts and treats like she always did. Eventually, as the Dursley's line vanished into another room, Harry made it to the head of his cue.

"Papers?" the white clothed individual asked, barely looking up at him. Harry thrust the papers into his face. The man glanced barely at the papers and nodded. "Right, lift up your sleeve."

Harry did so and a moment later the man jabbed an excessively large needle into his arm. The plunger was pulled out, and the syringe filled with red blood. A sticker with Harry's name, birth-date and place of residence was slapped on the side before it was stored away in a cooler. The gave him a tiny bit of spray-on stimpak and sent him back to the clinic lobby.

"Bloody waste of time and money, National Health is," Vernon grumbled as they slowly made it back to the car. Harry quite diligently slowed his pace to allow the Dursley's to reach the hovercar first. "Taking blood when they should be preparing for war. We should march the fools right out of Parliament!"

They drove back to 4 Privet Drive to their normal house in their normal neighborhood and Harry was, as usual, assigned the abnormal task of weeding the garden. Normally this wouldn't be so abnormal, but the Dursley's were the only family in the neighborhood who didn't use a Mr. Handy. The Dursleys were anything but normal.

The next day was much the same but with less excitement. The day after that blended into the next until Harry had all but forgotten all about the clinic. He returned to school at the end of the summer to his education in magic, putting the communists, politics, whispers of war, and the rest of the muggle world behind him until he was forced to return in the spring.

The blood rolled down the automatic processor, with a small sample removed for testing. The sample was split into three smaller portions by a Mr. Handy, who then entered one into the DNA Analysis Machine, another into a recorder, and a third into cold storage. The rest of Harry Potter's blood rolled down to be stored away for later use and retesting.

When the DAM was finished, a dot matrix printer creaked, sputtered, whined and grinned as it spit out a result. A Vault-Technician ripped the paper off the reel and glanced it over.

Pulling out a red marker, he wrote "UK-13" in big letters across the report before passing it to an assistant for filing.





AUTHOR'S NOTE: First of all, I don't own Harry Potter and I don't own Fallout and I don't own anything else you might recognize in this story.

I wrote this as my NaNoWriMo attempt. While I wrote enough, I did not finish the story. So I'll update regularly for a while before slacking off for a while.

For those who are going to ask, yes, this takes place in the Fallout Universe. No, I will not be following the games. This is Fallout in the UK with Wizards. It will not be the Wasteland you are familiar with. Things will be different, but similar enough so that they fit. And yes, this does start at the end of the Great War.

Because War... War never changes.