Disclaimer: Dudley Dursley, Harry Potter, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, and Aunt Marge all belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is based upon the Harry Potter series. No money is being made from this story, and no infringement is intended. This story was intended for fanfiction.net only.

Harry's parents died in a car crash when he was just a baby. He was going to be sent to an orphanage, but my parents didn't want that to happen. They spent thousands of pounds fighting the English legal system to adopt Harry.

I think he ought to be grateful Mother and Father adopted him. He could, at least, be polite to me if not to my parents. But, no, Harry can't stand me.

Mother says he's jealous. I can see why. After all, I cut a fine figure and am popular with my peers. Harry's skinny, bitter, and friendless. Not to mention weird.

That's one of our differences. He's the strangest kid I know. He has a weird scar on his forehead and weird hair that looks like it's never been combed. And he does weird things.

I remember one time Mother took him to the barber to get his hair cut properly. The barber gave him a nice buzz cut. But did Harry like it? No, he didn't even thank Mother for the haircut. He moped in the backseat of the car the whole way home. (Now, I am always thankful for anything I get. Every time my aunt Marge gives me money, I tell her thank you.)

Anyway, the next day, all of Harry's hair had grown back! Mother reckoned he had somehow tricked us at the barber's, and he was punished. There's another difference between Harry and me. I am always good and never get punished at home.

Which goes to show that he'll never come to any good, and I will. That is our biggest difference.