Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Four

The Ghost of Christmas Future

Unlike after the visit from Lily’s ghost, when Severus Snape’s ghost had departed, Petunia fell into a deep and troubled sleep. She didn’t rouse easily upon hearing the third disturbance that night. In fact, she was unaware of another presence in her bedroom until she felt a wet kiss land sloppily on her cheek. Her eyes flew open as she gasped, pulling away from the figure of her long-dead brother-in-law, who was leaning over her, grinning ridiculously.

“Good evening, Pet. Have you missed me?” he asked with a mocking bow.

Petunia squawked in outrage, causing Vernon to grumble in his sleep. He rolled over on his side, pulling most of the covers with him.

“Big bloke really has gone to pot, hasn’t he?” James asked conversationally.

“Get out of my house,” Petunia screeched, not caring if she woke Vernon. In fact, she wished he would awaken. She’d enjoy watching her husband beat this pompous cad to a pulp. She’d never liked James Potter. His hair was as tousled as ever, reminding her of her nephew. She’d adamantly fought that futile battle yet had never been able to control the boy’s unruly hair.

“Can’t do that, Pet. Certainly you know how this works by now. I’m the Ghost of Christmas Future, and I’m about to show you what’s to come. It’s going to rock your world.” James smiled widely when he said it, but his voice took on an ominously hard edge.

“Don’t call me that,” Petunia said, still infuriated by the old nickname that only he had ever dared call her. “I still don’t want you in my house, and I’m not interested in anything you have to show me.”

“You always could be rather thick about things that you didn’t want to understand. Too bad you never outgrew it,” James said cheerfully, flopping onto the settee and swinging his long legs up in the air to hang over the back. Petunia thought he looked remarkably “solid” for a ghost.

“Let’s review, shall we?” James asked, smiling that infuriating smile while he lay upside down. “Lily visited you first and took you on a little jaunt into the past. Honestly, that was the hard part for us. It gets easier from there – for Lily and me, anyway. I don’t think you’re going to enjoy what’s coming.”

He put his finger to his mouth as if he were contemplating. Petunia folded her arms and glared at him.

“Next, old Snivellus came to call. I can’t believe the old grease bag agreed to do it, actually,” James said, absently staring out the window at something only he could see.

“He did it because he fancies Lily,” Petunia said, unable to hold back. She wanted to hurt James. “He knew her before you did, you know. They were friends. I think she must have fancied him, too.”

Petunia knew she’d hit her mark when James’ handsome face pinched and the ever-present grin slipped away.

“Everyone loved Lily,” James said, his expression wistful before his eyes narrowed and he turned back to face Petunia. “Of course, that was always half your problem, wasn’t it, Pet? You could never quite manage her charm.”

Petunia wanted to slap him. It was true, and he knew it. Everyone always focused on Lily while Petunia was left in the shadows.

James smirked before continuing his speech as if he’d never been interrupted. “Snivellus showed you the present – how miserable Dudley and Deidre are by being forced apart for the holidays. He also showed you how much better Harry’s doing now that he’s with people who truly care about him.

“So I get to show you the future – what’s going to happen if everything continues on the present track. You’d best prepare yourself for what you’re about to see.”

Petunia had the impression James was enjoying this entirely too much. He swung around and pulled himself up off the settee, staring at her expectantly.

Petunia loathed him.

“Lily claimed she was here to help. She wants Dudley to have a better future. How do you know whatever I do for my son doesn’t alternately affect your son?” she asked, pleased to see his face pale.

“Harry’s own choices have affected his future. Whether or not there is any kind of relationship between him and his cousin is at stake. Harry won’t mind if there’s none – he’s got plenty of people in his life now. The issue is with Dudley,” James replied tightly.

“Perhaps,” Petunia said, shrugging.

James moved next to the bed in two long, angry strides. The air in the room nearly crackled with intensity.

“Don’t push me, woman,” he said, his voice reverberating against the walls. Gone was all trace of that arrogant, carefree youth she remembered. James Potter was angry, and for the first time, Petunia was afraid of him.

“That was my son you mistreated all those years. My son! And if I had my way I’d be giving you much more than a fraction of the misery you gave him. But your sister asked me not to do it. Your sister – the wonderful woman I married – the one who claims she had a close relationship with you once upon a time, although I’ve never seen it. The sister whose child you spent a lifetime abusing. Remember her? She asked me to help save your miserable wretch of a son. I’d just as soon leave him to what he’s in for – but Lily wants to help,” James said, his hazel eyes flashing.

For one of the rare times in her life, Petunia was speechless.

James didn’t pause to take a breath before continuing to rage. “She wants to be the aunt you should have been. I’d do anything for Lily, so here I am. Despite all your wretched attempts to see it turn out otherwise, Harry’s going to be just fine. You’d best be thankful for that, or nothing on Heaven or Earth could stop me from going after you. Since he is all right, I can do this for Lily. I can do this for Harry and Dudley, too,” James said, swallowing heavily.

Petunia trembled, uncertain what to do. She did want to see Dudley again, but she didn’t want to stay with James.

James took a deep breath, and his demeanor was once again relaxed. “Are you coming?” he asked.

Petunia stood up with her chin in the air and tightened the belt around her dressing gown. There was nothing for it. If she wanted to see Dudley, she’d have to put up with James.

“I’m ready,” she said stiffly.

James gallantly offered her his arm. “Then let’s be off!”

Petunia scowled, forcing herself to take his arm. Yet again, her bedroom exploded into a whirlwind of color and sound. She was spinning once more, only this time, it felt as if she were falling. It went on so long that she began to fear he’d tricked her. He wasn’t taking her to see Dudley at all. Something about this didn’t feel right at all.

***

At long last, the spinning stopped, and Petunia’s vision cleared. She clutched at her head, which felt as if she were still spinning. James stood casually against a stark white wall, watching her with an amused expression.

“It takes longer to travel so far into the future,” he said, shrugging. She knew he was enjoying himself.

Petunia ignored him and her eyes began scanning the room. She didn’t recognize anything. The room was sterile and impersonal, furnished with typical institutional furnishings. Although an attempt to be more cheerful was made with several lacy coverlets, the furniture was old and worn. One lonely, straggly Christmas tree stood perched on a display table adorned with several chipped and mismatched shiny ornaments.

Petunia suspected they were in some sort of health care facility. Her opinion was confirmed as she moved toward the open doorway and stared down a long corridor lined with many open doors. A pair of nurses stood nearby speaking in hushed tones outside one of the doorways

“I tried to convince her to come down and sing some carols, but she wanted no part of it,” the younger of the two nurses said. Her dark hair was pulled back with a red ribbon.

“She never joins in on the activities,” the other nurse replied, sounding bored.

“I know, but she seems so lonely,” the younger one said sadly.

“Don’t show her that pity, Nancy. She’ll bite your head off for it. She’s got a nasty temper, that one. She shut herself off after her husband died. He was a grumpy one, too, but they apparently could stand each other.”

“And no one ever visits her?” Nurse Nancy asked.

“Not since I’ve been here, and I’ve been here too long for my own good,” the older nurse replied, taking Nancy’s arm and leading her further down the corridor.

Filled with dread, Petunia carefully crossed the corridor and stood outside the door where the two nurses had been conversing. She could hear a telly reciting the evening news. A bed was just visible from the doorway. Try as she might, Petunia couldn’t force her feet to go a step further.

“Go on then,” James said. “You know your curiosity is killing you. Just take a peek.”

Pressing her lips firmly together, Petunia held her chin high and strode into the room. James nearly skipped along behind her. Petunia stopped short when she caught a glimpse of the woman sitting in the room. James nearly ploughed into her from behind.

“Oi. Give a bloke some warning when you’re going to stop,” he said cheerfully.

Petunia ignored him, too horrorstruck by the vision before her to care about his irritating manner or the fact it shouldn’t bother a ghost to bump into something. The woman in the chair watched the telly with a deadened expression on her long face. Her white hair was pulled back tightly, and her pale blue eyes looked like chips of ice.

When the woman suddenly turned toward her, Petunia gasped, wondering if she could be seen. The woman looked right through her, however. She craned her long neck to be certain the nurses had moved away before turning back to the telly.

“You look bloody awful,” James said mildly, watching the elderly version of Petunia.

“Why am I here?” she asked, looking around the sterile room. Not a single personal item was in sight. The nightstand was void of any Christmas cards, but merely held a clock, a brush, and a lamp.

James sighed dramatically. “We’ve been through this already. Lily visited first and showed you the past-”

“Not me,” Petunia snapped, glaring, “her.”

“But that is you, Petunia. Certainly you can work this out,” James replied, speaking to her as if she were a very slow-witted child.

Petunia’s lip trembled. She wanted to shake her head in denial, but her eyes refused to look away. “This is the future? This is my future? Vernon’s gone – but where’s Dudley? Why isn’t he with me at Christmas?” she wailed.

James’ eyes narrowed. “Vernon finally succumbed to the wretched diet he’d consumed for years while it clogged his arteries.”

Petunia shut her eyes tightly. “And Dudley?”

“We’ve seen your future, Petunia. Now let’s take a look at Dudley’s,” James replied. The fact he didn’t laugh or joke concerned her more than anything.

The scene around them dissolved and within a moment, they were standing in a rundown building. The floor was dirty and the walls were chipped and stained. It smelled of stale liquor, and Petunia wanted to hold her nose. She cringed, pulling her head back.

“What are you on about, bringing me here?” she snapped.

“You said you wanted to see Dudley,” James replied, stepping on a crushed beer can as he led Petunia toward one of the flats. A number four hung on the door, tilted because one of the supporting screws was missing.

“Your Dudders is nothing if not consistent,” James said, twirling the number around on its remaining screw. The tinny sound of cheap metal echoed down the hallway.

“Why is Dudley here?” Petunia asked, dreading the answer.

“He lives here,” James replied with a bright smile.

Petunia glanced around at the filth and disrepair. “Why?”

“Dudley doesn’t really like to work much, and the money he does make usually goes toward more tobacco and alcohol. Dudley doesn’t care about much else these days,” James replied, shrugging.

Petunia stared at him in horror. Surely he was having her on.

As if knowing she doubted his word, James swung open the flat’s door. “See for yourself,” he said.

Petunia strode forward, certain this was some sort of sick joke. It was certainly the kind of stunt the James Potter she knew would pull. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her son, horrified, all thoughts of James forgotten.

Dudley lay face down on the couch wearing nothing but a pair of dull grey pants and a sleeveless T-shirt. All the muscle he’d spent years developing had turned to fat, and the couch sagged beneath his weight. His head was twisted to the side and covered with several days’ growth of beard. Empty bottles littered the floor around him, one still dangling in his loose fingers.

Several dirty dishes had been discarded on the floor along with crumpled, empty bags of crisps and sweet wrappers. The messy flat was as barren as Petunia’s room in the nursing home had been. Not a single photograph or personal trinket was in sight.

Petunia was unable to squelch a cry of despair.

“Hurts, doesn’t it? There is nothing – NOTHING – more painful than watching your child suffer when you can’t do a damn thing about it,” James whispered fiercely in her ear, his eyes blazing.

“Why is he doing this?” she wailed. “What happened to him?”

James turned to stare at her incredulously. “You happened, Petunia. Every time he met someone, they were never quite good enough for you, and you sabotaged relationship after relationship. He eventually got tired of trying. He had a real chance with that first girl – Deidre. She could have straightened him out, given him a chance at a real future.”

Petunia clasped her hands over her heart. “I never meant-”

“Things don’t always turn out the way you planned, Pet,” James said, cutting across her.

“I always did what was best for him!” Petunia cried, a familiar outrage rising within her like an old friend.

“You gave him everything and never made him work for anything on his own. Once he was a man, he didn’t know how. You ruined all his healthy friendships, and this is what he was left with,” James said, waving his arms expansively.

“No,” Petunia said, shaking her head.

“Come on, there’s one more thing I want to show you.”

Petunia’s stomach was so twisted in knots she barely registered the spinning as the image of Dudley’s horrid flat faded only to be replaced by the sitting room of a handsome home.

Petunia glanced around dully, feeling drained and empty inside. The room was painted in a soft yellow hue with two reddish leather couches on either side of an enormous Christmas tree. The lights sparkled, illuminating several ornaments obviously made by children.

A woman with long red hair sat in a rocking chair by the fire, nursing a small infant wrapped in an abundance of hand-knitted pink blankets.

“She’s finally gone to sleep,” the woman said looking up, her deep brown eyes sparkling.

“Won’t last long. I think I hear the boys coming,” a rich, deep male voice answered.

Petunia turned to the source, and her eyes widened. Her nephew stood in the open foyer, glancing up the stairs. He appeared older and not as sickly-thin as he’d been as a youth. He’d filled out nicely. Petunia could see the definition in his arms beneath the loose shirt he wore. His eyes were still covered by a pair of glasses, although the green showed through as bright as ever.

Petunia’s eyes wandered around the warm room, filled with Christmas poinsettias, the walls covered with pictures of children and many red-haired people. Petunia turned back toward the woman in the rocking chair and realized it was the same girl she’d seen on her previous visit.

“He’s done well for himself, my boy,” James said gleefully. “He works as an Auror for our Ministry, and Ginny writes a sports column for our paper.”

“Are you showing me this to rub it in?” Petunia asked, fuming. How could things have turned out so well for this boy and so horrible for her own Dudley? What had gone wrong?

“I won’t deny that I’m thrilled he came through it all – with no help from you. You made your own choices, Petunia. Don’t expect pity from me now,” James said coldly. “Remember, after you and Vernon are gone, Harry is the only living relative Dudley will have left. Their roles have gone complete circle, haven’t they? If you don’t encourage a relationship between them now, it’s Dudley who will be left alone.”

“Daddy! Daddy!” a small voice yelled, thundering down the stairs and bursting into the room. “Alby broke my new Christmas train.”

A small boy with dark red hair ran into the room carrying a toy train with the wheels hanging off the track. Petunia estimated he was around three or four, with wide brown eyes brimming with tears that he was trying to fight.

“Didn’t,” another voice said from the doorway. A smaller boy, perhaps two, with tousled hair and bright green eyes cautiously peered into the room, his little arms defiantly crossed around his chest although his lower lip trembled.

“What happened, Albus?” Harry asked gently.

“He broke it!” the older boy repeated.

“I’m talking to your brother right now, James,” Harry said firmly.

“He named his firstborn after me,” James the ghost said, preening.

Petunia swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Stepped on twain. Hurt my foot,” Albus said, sticking his fingers in his mouth.

“Did you mean to step on the train, Albus?” Harry asked, bending down and examining the boy’s small foot.

Albus shook his head emphatically.

Harry turned back to James. “I don’t think your brother meant to break it, James. Sometimes when things get left on the floor, they get stepped on by accident.”

“But it’s new, and I wanted this one,” James said, staring at his broken toy.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that then, won’t we?” Harry asked, removing his wand from his back pocket.

“Mad-Eye Moody still grumbles that he keeps it there,” James mumbled, but Petunia didn’t know what he was talking about. She couldn’t draw her eyes away, fascinated by the scene in front of her.

Harry waved his wand, and the train’s wheels realigned good as new.

“Thanks, Daddy!” James shouted, grabbing the train and flinging his arms around his father.

“What do you say, Albus?” Harry asked the small boy gently, opening his other arm so the boy could snuggle in.

“Sawwy, James,” Albus answered, wiping his nose on Harry’s shirt.

“S’alright,” James said, mesmerized by his repaired toy. “Want to play?”

“O-tay,” Albus said happily, following his brother back up the stairs.

Harry turned back to his wife who gently smiled at him.

“Another catastrophe averted,” he said wryly, cocking one eyebrow.

“Good job, Daddy,” she said, pulling herself out of the chair. “You take Lily for a bit. I’m going to check on dinner. Our guests should be arriving soon.”

“Lily,” Petunia whispered, her eyes drawn to the tiny baby in Ginny’s arms. Little wisps of red curls peeked out from the bonnet upon her head.

Standing next to her, James nodded. “Your sister preened for days over that.”

The lump in Petunia’s throat was strangling her, and she bit her lip to control her emotions.

Harry picked up the tiny bundle and cradled her in his arms, gently rocking the sleeping child. He lightly kissed her forehead and whispered, “Happy Christmas, little one.”

Petunia turned away, sniffling.

“I think you’ve finally seen enough,” James said, grasping Petunia’s arm. The quiet room faded from sight, hiding the happy family from her view.