[ WP ] Harry Potter told from the Dursley 's point of view .

As a child, Dudley Dursley had a good life. He had two bedrooms, filled with the newest toys and gadgets, a living room plastered with photos of himself at various stages of growing up, a sign of his mother's love and devotion. On birthdays and holidays, he could get any present he asked for, and more. He had friends, a gang that followed him around school. You could even say he was popular, at least feared if not well-liked. He was the pride of his family, about to be sent to an excellent boarding school. In the eyes of his parents, he could do no wrong. So why was he unhappy? 
 
 Because of him. 
 
 Dudley could not remember a time when that boy had not lived with them, although he supposes there must have been something quantifiably different about that time, some extra happiness he had then, but was unaware of. His cousin just appeared on the doorstep one day, the reasons never spoken of, his father made sure of that. He heard stories about an accident, about a shiftless, ne'er do well aunt and uncle whom he would never meet. 
 
 His cousin was scrawny, underfed. He slept in a cupboard under the stairs, wore Dudley's old, outgrown, too-large clothes. For birthdays he received old socks. He did not intrude on Dudley's space in any way -- his parents made sure of that -- but Dudley hated him all the same. 
 
 He could n't remember when he started hating him. He could n't even remember when he first recognized hate as something he could do. It happened sometime in his childhood though, perhaps learned from his parents, and their seemingly blind hatred towards Harry and his parents. 
 
 Or perhaps it began with the `` incidents.'' The strange occurrences that changed the atmosphere of the usually ordered household. There was his cousin's lightning bolt scar, for starters. Why should a scar be shaped that way? And then there were the other things -- the times Harry would ask questions about his parents' accident that did n't add up, the times he would talk about his strange dreams, or make his hair grow back, or a teacher's hair change color. The time he, almost as if by magic, ended up on the school roof. These incidents would bring Dudley's father into a blind rage, and Dudley would smirk, happy to see Harry brought down a notch. 
 
 The years passed, and Dudley and Harry turned eleven. And that was when things changed. Harry was n't just his scrawny, weird, punching-bag of a cousin anymore. He was a wizard, something that before had only existed in books and movies. And even though his parents insisted that it was nothing to be proud of, Dudley was envious. To control others, Dudley had to rely on insults or physical force. But now Harry had magic, and that changed things. 
 
 He felt fear also, the night when that horrible giant gave him a pig's tail, and later when he ate the candy from those awful, red-haired twins. And even later, when he encountered those... things in the park. From the moment that he learned Harry had magic, nothing was the same. For eleven years, he had power over everyone in his life, but suddenly, everything shifted. His cousin, whom he had bullied for so long, was powerful beyond belief, and Dudley was afraid, in the way that only someone who has wielded power, and used it against everyone in their path can be. 
 
 You see, growing up, Dudley Dursley had everything. There was a plethora of gifts on holidays and birthdays, two bedrooms for all of this things, multiple gaming systems, a TV, and a VCR. There were outings, and friends, and he never had to wear hand-me-down clothes. He had parents, unlike Harry, and he had their love. 
 
 But from the moment that Harry received that letter, none of these things mattered anymore. Because Harry Potter had magic, and Dudley Dursley did not.
