Vernon sat on his armchair, trying to drink a glass of brandy. But every time his lips would touch the transparent glass he was holding, he could see Lily's and Petunia's reflection saying "Tonight is the night. Vernon." The thought terrified him, as rivers of sweat poured down his almost red face.
"What does the world have against me?" he yelled. "What am I supposed to do? I've dealt with enough already."
"You can begin by thinking more about the future and what you can do about it, rather than dwelling on the past," came a very serene voice.
Vernon turned around and gasped. In front of him was a man, who Vernon had met once before. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice.
"You," screamed Vernon. "How did you get in?"
"I'm surprised you remember me after all these years, Vernon," said Albus Dumbledore pleasantly.
Vernon certainly did remember. A year before the freak left his house for good, this barmy old man had come inside his house, offered him some freakish drink, which began hovering around Vernon because it wasn't drunk. He glared at the old man remembering that day.
"I did ask you to drink it," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Shut up," snapped Vernon. "How did you get in?"
"Ghosts come and go as they please, Vernon. I'm sure your wife and sister-in-law made you realise that," said Dumbledore.
"Y…y…you're dead too?" asked Vernon.
"It has been a while," said Dumbledore smiling. "Your nephew unfortunately saw it happen in front of his eyes."
"He probably was responsible for your death," said Vernon rudely. "Like my wife's and his parents'."
"I think, Vernon, that you should see what Harry Potter is all about," said Dumbledore gravely. "Also, we can call on your friend Prewett, although he won't see us."
"What do you have in mind?" asked Vernon.
"Something similar to what Lily did for you. Only this time, you'll be seeing the present," replied Dumbledore gently.
"Not again…," began Vernon, but felt the familiar disappearing act as he was brought in front of, what many would call, a hovel.
"What is this thing?" demanded Vernon.
"I thought I should bring you here first," said Dumbledore. "This is the home of your Personal Assistant Mr. Robert Prewett."
"Why am I here?" snarled Vernon.
"You'll see," replied Dumbledore. "Just wait and watch."
The two of them watched through the window of the hovel. The interiors were in an abject state. Cupboards were dismantled with clothes in a ragged state neatly folded inside. There weren't any dishes in the sink, which despite its clean condition, looked very pitiful. Vernon noticed a small boy limping towards a beautiful woman, who looked to be his mother. Vernon hadn't seen anyone look so lovely. She had auburn hair flowing down to her waist. She was tall and had a very petite frame. The eyes were chocolaty-brown and full of sadness. Vernon had never seen anyone look so hopeless in his life. He felt a weird twinge in his stomach. He felt an emotion he had never experienced before – pity.
If Vernon thought the mother looked sad, the boy looked ten times worse. He was short, deathly pale and extremely thin. He was struggling to walk, but had a fierce determination about him. He moved slowly, taking support of objects around the house and sat next to the woman.
"Don't worry, mum," he said in a consoling voice, confirming Vernon's assumption of the lady being his mother, "it'll be fine."
The woman looked at her son; tears silently flowing down her face, as she pulled him into a hug. "How can you be so confident, Andrew?" she said, as tears went down his shirt.
"You'll see, mum," he said, hugging her tight, and trying to fight the tears that had formed in his eyes.
"I can only pray for a miracle," came the familiar voice of Robert Prewett. Vernon stared at his employee, who looked disheveled and tired. Vernon couldn't help, but smirk at the pity on his assistant's face.
"If only my boss gave me some more money," said Prewett sadly.
"Why don't you ask him, Robert?" asked the lady.
"I've told you time and time again, Amy that he won't give me anymore," snapped Prewett.
"Then why don't you change jobs, Robert? Andrew is dying here and you can't think of taking another job? Why do you want to stay with that Dursley monster?"
"Because, love, I believe that there is heart in that thick, nasty exterior. He has been a piece of crap to me, but I think there is hope for him. If not, he will die sad and lonely, if he doesn't feel that way about himself. I am also saving money for Andrew's operation. We'll do all we can," said Prewett, pulling his wife into an embrace.
"I hope you're right, sweetheart," said Amy.
Vernon looked at the family and looked back at Dumbledore.
"What was that for?" he demanded.
"That was to show you that you still have hope in you," said Dumbledore.
"Who on earth do you think you are to tell me to sort my life out," bellowed Vernon. "I will not have one of your types telling me what to do."
"It's very unfortunate that a grudge over something so petty could make you like this, Vernon," said Dumbledore gravely.
"What grudge? That f…f…fuc…freak of a nephew was responsible for my wife dying. You expect me to be nice to your kind after that?"
"Why hold the grudge against him?" asked Dumbledore gesturing at the Prewett family.
"Because he has nowhere to go, and we both know that," spat Vernon.
"So you take advantage of that; he has a child suffering from cancer and you treat him like dirt?"
"Let the kid die," yelled Vernon. "You think I care?"
"You do care, Vernon," said Dumbledore gently. "You cannot lie to me. It usually doesn't work."
"There are always exceptions," said Vernon stubbornly.
"Suit yourself," said Dumbledore, shrugging.
"I want to leave," said Vernon.
"Alright, I'll take you to the other place you need to visit," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling as he snapped his fingers.
Vernon swore so loudly, but to no avail. His body was transported in front of an enormous mansion. There was a pitch outside the place, which had three tall hoops on either side. Vernon stood agape at the size of the mansion. It was probably bigger than Buckingham Palace. He turned at Dumbledore and said, "Where the hell have you brought me?"
"This," said Dumbledore, with a smile on his face, "is the home of Harry Potter."
Vernon looked at the older man with absolute shock. "He stole it, didn't he?"
"Inherited it is the right term, Vernon," said Dumbledore, chuckling.
"It's not funny, you crackpot old fool," bellowed Vernon. "He has more money than I do."
"He'd give it all to you if you asked, you know," said Dumbledore.
"Rubbish," snapped Vernon. "After what I did to him, he puts on this façade and tries to be nice."
"He genuinely cares, Vernon," said Dumbledore. "Why don't you see for yourself?"
"See what?" asked Vernon, as Dumbledore beckoned him to a window.
Inside, seated at the kitchen was Harry. A woman was sitting besides him and they were holding hands, like they were very much in love. She had vivid, flaming red, worn as a long mane, with brown eyes staring into Harry's eyes. She was freckled and had a short, stocky build – there was almost an unconventional attractiveness about her.
"His wife, Ginny Weasley Potter," said Dumbledore.
"Someone actually married him?" asked Vernon incredulously.
"Indeed, Vernon. And they're expecting their first child soon."
"So, come to the point old man, why am I here?"
"Hear them out," said Dumbledore.
The two of them looked through the window, as Ginny asked Harry, "Sweetie, you need to stop going to your uncle's office."
"How can I do that, Gin?" asked Harry. "I promised Aunt Petunia and I don't plan on going back on my word."
"But he insults you every time, love," said Ginny. "You come home dejected always. It's been going like this for five years."
"I know there is some good in him, babe," said Harry. "I'm not an accomplished leglimens for anything."
"You finally got to learn that," said Ginny snickering. "Remember how terrible you were at it?"
"Oh, shut up, Ginerva," said Harry sticking his tongue out, as his wife smacked his arm. "Call me that again and you'll be on the receiving end of a bat-bogey hex," she said laughing.
"Come here, you," said Harry pulling Ginny onto his lap and the lights suddenly went off the kitchen.
"I think that I'll throw up," said Vernon.
"Well, despite the physical affection shown between Mr. and Mrs. Potter, he too thinks you have a chance to change, Vernon," said Dumbledore.
"It's not going to happen soon," snapped the other man.
"We'll see," said Dumbledore, smiling at him. "I'll take you home now."
As Vernon reached Number 4, Dumbledore said, "Goodbye, Vernon. I think I should warn you to be nice to the next ghost who visits you."
"There is one more?" spat Vernon.
"Yes, your future and he's the man who killed me, so be nice." And with that, Albus Dumbledore disappeared, leaving Vernon looking absolutely mortified.
A/N: The Prewett is the second cousin of Molly Weasley