Ok, here's another one: Vernon Dursley dies of shock...

5. Vernon Dursley

Dear Granma & Grampa,

I got a Letter last week, it said I'm a Witch and I will go to a special school. Daddy was angry. He yelled at me, and then he told me to go to my room and yelled at somebody else on the phone. He's still acting a little weird, but I think it'll be OK.

Yesterday I met Uncle Harry, Auntie Luna and Jimmy. Jimmy is going to the magic school too. He's a Wizard. So is Uncle Harry, but he says you already know that. Auntie Luna is very nice, but a little weird. Like the whole magical world, actually…

Anyway, they are taking me to this magic street tomorrow to buy all the stuff I need. I'll get a real magic wand and everything!

It's still a little weird and scary, but I think I'll get used to it.

Love,

Daisy

Vernon had to read the letter again. And again. Until he was finally sure it was real. 'No!' he thought desperately 'My little Daisy! Please, not her!' But the leter was still as real as it had been, still telling him that his granddaughter was going to grow up to be a freak. And Dudley was going to let her go! The freaks had probably forced him to let her. His little Daisy! A witch! No, this couldn't be real! Mr. Dursley's heart started to behave very strangely. He fell to the floor.

For a moment he thought he was dying. Dying of shock. Then he stood up and looked around. There was a stranger in his house! And a very strange stranger too. He was wearing a black cloak. With a hood. Looking as if it was made of darkness itself... no, no, no! Where had that thought come from? Vernon almost managed to ignore everything else, all the bones and even the scythe, but some things are really hard to ignore.

'Go away, you freak!' he told the thing 'You do not exist!'

I AM AFRAID I DO, it said.

'You are just a figment of my imagination!'

INDEED? YOUR IMAGINATION? A FEW DAYS AGO YOU SAID YOU DID NOT HAVE ONE.

'HOW DARE YOU!' Mr. Dursley roared. (Just in case: Mr. Dursley's capslock shouting is not the same as Death's Voice. Death does not need to shout.)

CALM DOWN, MR. DURSLEY, the figment of his imagination told him.

'How do you know my name?' Mr. Dursley asked suspiciously.

I KNOW EVERYBODY'S NAMES. Vernon desperately tried not to think that the stranger looked very real. Too real. More real, in fact, than Mr. Dursley himself.

IT IS PART OF MY JOB, he continued.

'What is going on here anyway?' Mr. Dursley did not calm down 'What are you doing here? Is that part of your job too?'

IT IS, the stranger said calmly

'What? Entering people's houses without permission? Trespassing?'

YOU CAN CALL IT THAT, the scythe in the stranger's bony hand was now impossible to ignore, I HAVE TO GET EVERYWHERE.

'Who the hell are you?' Vernon asked shocked, furious and frightened.

THE ULTIMATE REALITY…

Vernon wanted to say something, but everything happened too quickly. He saw himself on the floor, a line of blue light was cut with a scythe, and then…

He began to fade. You might think that someone like Vernon Dursley would go to hell after death. He didn't. When he realised what was happening to him, he closed his eyes, because he did not want to see it. All theories about where people go after they die are in some way correct. Everyone gets what they believe in. When Mr. Dursley opened his eyes, he was nowhere.