It was a hot August day, the sky was clear and Petunia Evans was stretched out by the town pool as her fiancée Vernon hovered in the water nearby. 1979 was her year. She had gotten engaged to her devoted boyfriend, her freakish sister had left to live in her own equally freakish world, and she had found a prim division of townhomes she had her eye on on Privet Drive. For after the wedding, of course. All of this led her to contentedly stretch her long arms toward the sky and sit forward. Petunia was a tall, lanky woman —with thin arms Vernon often joked he could break with a sneeze and long legs he liked to… well. It was 1979 and Petunia was quite the modern woman. Even today she was wearing a perfectly fitted bathing suit that showed off the paleness of her body. Vernon had bought her the latest style: a checkered one piece with flares at the thigh and little bows on the shoulder. She had swooned.

Petunia, with her long neck that she paired with a white ribbon necklace and blonde hair past her shoulders, stood to join Vernon when a rather unfortunate series of events occurred. A boy across the way was crying for his mother, who in turn was rushing back to him from the sweets shop set up to the side. The woman was so intensely focused on where she was going she failed to stop herself from knocking into a table. Said table had an umbrella that was easily jostled out of its hole in the center and sent twirling about straight into the temple of one Petunia Evans —knocking her quite unconscious.

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Vernon rushed out of the water with a roar of worry for his betrothed. It was a flurry of movement as someone brought an ice pack, another phoned the emergency line, and a third simply gawked at the unconscious twenty year old. 

That was the most chaotic hour of Vernon’s life so far. Watching his lovely, ordinary Petunia have something so unfortunate occur was devastating as he sat in the hospital waiting room.

He was further devastated when the Doctor called Vernon back to see Petunia, and she simply stared blankly at his face before uttering a single word, laced with disgust.

“Dursley.”