Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It belongs to JK Rowling and Charles Dickens. I'm just playing with the characters.

A/N: I had planned on finishing this story off last Christmas, but due to several reasons, stopped writing. Thanks to a few authors who loved the story, I'm finishing the story off. After this chapter is the final chapter, which ends, as you know, as a happily ever after

Vernon slowly opened the front door of Number Four. He was exhausted. Right from the evening, when that loser Prewett asked him for a day off on Christmas Day, things had been going downhill for him. Vernon cursed under his breath as he slowly walked into the dimly lit living room of his house. "Why am I a target?" he thought bitterly to himself, as he went to the bar and opened a large bottle of brandy. Pouring a stiff drink into his glass, he slowly sunk into his favourite leather armchair and stretched his legs onto the footstool and began pondering the events of the evening.

"It's not fair," muttered Vernon to himself. "Everybody is on that freak's side and I'm left all alone. Even Petunia – my Petunia, who hated the site of him – took his side over me. Is there any justice at all?" he yelled flinging the glass into the floor; chards flew in all directions.

"It's very unfair, isn't it, Muggle?" came a sneering voice behind Vernon.

Vernon spun around. He still wasn't used to this sudden entry by these freaks. And what's worse was that they were all, what they called, 'ghosts'. He stared at the transparent figure standing in front of him and felt revolted. The figure was tall, thin had sallow skin, greasy long hair, a hooked nose and bore a very ugly expression like there was a bad smell under his nose. Also, unlike the previous three figures, there was an element of negativity in this figure that scared Vernon some more. He began trembling and the tears in his eyes began mixing with the swat on his face, which made him resemble a bull that had been brutally assaulted.

The figure still didn't budge from his position. He just kept on staring at the beefy man with a contemptuous look on his face, which made Vernon feel very uncomfortable. He tried staring back at the figure to show that he wasn't feeling intimidated, but the figure's cold black eyes were too much for Vernon to handle. He finally looked a way and with a hint of plea in his voice said, "Who are you and why are you doing this to me?"

"Hasn't Potter mentioned me ever to you?" asked the figure surprised. "The way I treated him like everyone else and not like some celebrity? I'm glad that I did; the boy is nothing, but a disgrace to the Magical world,"

Vernon stared at the figure and the first genuine smile appeared on his face. "Finally," he said, "someone, who thinks that freak is a disgrace." He went forward to shake the figure's hand, but a second later stopped dead on his tracks when the figure said, in a deadly whisper, "Try and befriend me and you will regret it. Just because I dislike Potter doesn't mean that I like you. You're a filthy Muggle like my father and I hate the likes of them. So, if you value your life, keep your distance while I speak to you."

And once again, as if the world had slapped him on his face, Vernon Dursley turned into the sullen, sulky and bitter man that he had been all day.

"Now, you will know, Muggle, that my name is Severus Snape. I expect you not to address me at all, but just watch and you will speak only when I give you permission. Is that understood?"

Vernon mumbled something incoherently.

"What was that again, Muggle? Speak up before I turn you into something," said Snape malevolently.

"I mean y…yes," stuttered Vernon who had gone as white as a sheet.

"Good. I think both of us have understood each other. So, it is up to me to show you what your future is; mind you I wouldn't have done it unless Dumbledore insisted. Why he made me do it is beyond me," spat Snape.

Vernon just looked at the figure in front of him. He wondered why someone would be so bitter about something or someone. After all, he thought to himself, for all it's worth and regardless of how much I hate the freak, the rest of the world seems to love him except for this man.

And then, suddenly it hit Vernon. Snape was probably as bitter a human being as he was, but he could not ponder it for long because he felt himself going round and round; a familiar sinking feeling entering his stomach (which began from his neck). The next moment, he and Snape were standing in front of a tombstone.

Vernon expected to see a number of tombstones in the area, but to his surprise, there were only five others along with his. He looked behind him to see where he was and again, he was in front of that freakishly large mansion that belonged to his freak of a nephew. He shuddered, realising who two of the graves belonged to. Slowly, he walked away from the tombstone he was standing in front of, and without giving it a second look, walked to the largest gravestones. Inscribed in gold on the stone was

James and Lily Potter

Wonderful People

Great Friends

Fantastic Parents

Vernon stared at the stones. Snape, who was standing besides Vernon, had a look on his face like he was going to throw up. "Wonderful people, my arse," muttered Snape much to the surprise of Vernon.

"What do you have against them?" asked Vernon. Immediately, he wished he hadn't said that because a flash of red light came out of Snape's finger and struck the ground in front of Vernon making him jump.

"I warned you: do not speak, unless you're allowed to," said Snape in a deadly whisper.

Vernon felt like he had soiled his pants.

"Now," hissed Snape, "look at that grave."

He pointed to the grave that Vernon had landed in front of. Slowly, but surely, Vernon walked towards it. What he saw made his hair stand on one end. He felt a horrible pit down his stomach and he began vomiting on the frosty ground. For on the stone, was inscribed

Vernon Dursley

May his soul rest in peace

"W…what is this?" stuttered Vernon.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!" bellowed Snape ready to strike Vernon again, but a noise behind him made Snape turn around and the expression on his face changed and if Vernon was not mistaken, the colour just drained off Snape's face.

Harry Potter had come out with his wife and son and walked towards Vernon's grave. Stunned by this, Vernon stared at his nephew and his family, while they went towards the tombstone. And Vernon saw it.

Harry Potter: the very Harry Potter, who had been tortured by him for all those years, knelt down and put two roses in front of the tomb.

"Uncle Vernon," said Harry, as he placed the roses in front of the tomb, "I know you and I never looked eye to eye, but at the end of the day, you did provide me with a roof and I never thanked you for that. Unfortunately, you always hated me for reasons you and I both know of. I hope that wherever you are, you forgive me, just as I have done the same with you."

As Harry slowly walked back into the house, Snape sneered and turned around at Vernon. "How very touching, isn't it, Vernon?

Vernon was at a loss for words. He was dead and he had been buried at the freak's house. How disgusting was that. He felt sick to his stomach.

"It's poetic justice, isn't it, Muggle. You, who hated anything remotely abnormal, are buried in a wizard's house. And not just any wizard; it's the house of your nephew; someone you love to hate," said Snape with amusement.

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Vernon.

Snape's expression changed to a very ugly scowl. "What did you say to me, you filthy Muggle?"

"I said, shut up, you freak," snapped Vernon suddenly feeling brave. "Have you finished with me as yet?"

"Have I finished," said Snape with an odd laugh. "I haven't even started with you, Muggle."

Immediately, Vernon felt that familiar sweep and fell in front of a nice house. Vernon, however, realised that unlike other houses in the neighbourhood, this house was not lit up on Christmas Eve. The front path was very slippery and Vernon had to grip on the railings of the house in case he fell down. He finally reached out to the frame of the nearest windowpane and held onto it tightly and looked inside. He did not like what he saw.

Robert Prewett was sitting on a very comfortable armchair looking very disturbed. Besides him, sat his wife; both had a deadpan expression on their face as if someone had died in that house.

"Damn you, Vernon Dursley," yelled the lady. Her eyes had turned red because of the tears and she looked murderous.

"Dear, it's no point cursing him," said Robert; his voice shaking a bit. "He died this morning of a massive heart attack."

"Well, I hope he rots in hell then," snapped his wife. "I blame him solely for the death of our child, Robert. And I know you do, too."

"Amy, sweetheart, Andrew died last year. I do blame Dursley for it, yes, but now we need to move on, honey. Andrew would not want us to be like this."

"I know, Robert, but he did not even begin to live his life," sobbed Amy hysterically into Robert's arms.

"I know, love," said Robert, as tears silently flowed down his cheeks, as he held his wife, "but you must be brave. We've got each other and we will meet Andrew soon in another world. You and I both know that."

"I'll never forgive that former employer of yours, Robert. You left him at the right time to make a name for yourself," said Amy.

"Honey, Vernon was alone. He will always be alone and unfortunately for him, nobody will have anything nice to say about him. If only he had a heart," said Robert heavily.

"Anyway, good riddance to bad rubbish," said Amy coldly. "The world is better off without him."

OOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Vernon had heard enough. He turned around to look at Snape who was smirking. He was making Vernon sick.

"Thought that you were Mr Popular, huh?" said Snape chuckling evilly. "You're so wrong, Dursley."

"What about the friends I had? What about my son?" asked Vernon shakily.

"Oh you actually want to see what they're doing and how they actually feel about you?" smirked Snape. "Very well, this is the last vision you'll see and then I'll dump you home,"

There was a flash and Vernon found himself sitting in what looked like a court. A tall man, who looked like he had lost a lot of muscle, was standing in front of the jury. His blonde hair was disheveled and long. He had loads of stubble and was in a need for a shave. There was a tattoo on his right forearm that looked as if it had been inscribed by a dagger. Yet, there was no mistaking those piggy blue eyes. Dudley had always had that look about him. The judge, who was seated at the top of the court, was old and looked extremely strict

"Dudley Dursley, you have been brought to court for armed robbery and possession of heroin. Is that correct?" asked a lawyer.

"Dudley? Possessing drugs? Armed robbery?" stuttered Vernon. "There has to be a mistake. My son's innocent," he bellowed.

"Nobody can hear you, fool," snapped Snape. "This is the future as you see it. Because of you and your stupidity, this is your future. You and only you can change it; hasn't anything you saw tonight made you understand that?"

"Yes, but…" said Vernon weakly.

"You're a bigger fool than I thought," spat Snape. "Typically Muggle, aren't you? Just think that you know everything and nobody else is right."

"Take me home," howled Vernon. "I have failed as a human being. I cannot bear to see anymore. Just end it all. Please!"

Something in that plead made Snape look at Vernon in a particular way. "Am I feeling sorry for him?" thought Snape. "Well, I had better not show it."

"Very well! I was getting tired of you anyway," he said and snapped his fingers and Vernon was in front of his armchair at Number Four.

"Remember, Muggle, you have nobody else, but yourself to blame for what you saw tonight. If you change it, I'll be astounded because I feel you're not capable of changing at all," said Snape. And in a flash, he had vanished.