Through My Eyes – A Dudley Dursley Story
PG
Did you ever wonder how exactly Dudley became so fat? It's not just because he's spoiled.

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I'm just a spoiled child. One of those amazingly selfish children who get every whimsical wish and desire they could think. One of those who make sure they get plenty of presents for every holiday made possible while they hoard it in front of other people.

That is the only reason that I hear. That is why I am so fat; I am just a spoiled child. A child who is fed until they cannot eat anymore and is fed the fattiest, and most sugary sweets at the same time. It's merely because my parents give me whatever I wish to eat.

It's not just because I am a spoiled child, of which I know, and quite proud of, it is of something more, something that no one has ever guessed of. I am the only one who knows, and the only one who will ever know. This secret I will take to my grave.

It is because of Him. He is the reason of why I look like I do. If He had never come I would have lived a normal life where I didn't crave food every time I looked at Him.

Although I am not much older than Him, I remember watching my parents put him into the smallest place possible that they could find. I remember hearing him cry every night, as he was only fed once a day.

"Stupid Freak, shut up and go back to sleep!"

He was told that more than anything, and when they we're really fed up I would hear the sound of my father slapping him. As I grew older I began to grow used to the screaming and the sounds of my father hitting him. And as I grew older I hoped to never be like Him, to never be a freak so I would never have to listen to that, and so I wouldn't be hit.

I had always loved sweets, and I began to love them even more, desperately clinging on to them, they made me forget. The longer I sat and ate the less time I had to think about keeping myself from a freak. I could not figure the difference between Him and I. I finally figured that if I joined in with my parents, they would have no reason to believe that I would be like Him.

By the time I learned the art of beating people up, especially Him, I had no more reason to eat, and yet, it was as if I was addicted to some sort of drug. In a way it was my drug. The only thing that kept me going, but it was too late. It had taken over me.

It didn't help when He turned twelve. He went to some magic school, or some freak school as it was most normally called around here. During the summer there was no one like Him to pick on or beat up. To not look like a freak would be hard. Food, it called out to me, it would make me whole. Normal people eat, He rarely eats. That was the difference. I was normal.

I hated Him.

"Stupid Freak, shut up and go back to sleep!"

He got more attention in his freak status, than I did in being normal. Even when my parents ignored him, it was as if he was on their mind, clamoring to be heard. They had colorful names for him. Most of them were alike.

"Filthy Freak, no better than your lousy no-good parents!"

It was so much different than the names I get that I think are awful.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy wont let him spoil your precious day!"

Even then, on his birthday, the attention was once again on Him.

"Probably nothing a good beating wouldn't cure…"

I need to eat. He's coming in the door right now. He looks like he has some more meat on his bones. I cannot be like Him. My hand heads towards my pocket full of sweets.

It's all HIS fault.

Hey Daddy cant you see
This person I've turned out to be
I swear I wont let you down
But you don't know what its like when your around

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A/N: A bit on the short side, but in HBP the paragraph where Dumbledore says:

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

It gave me this idea. And there you go.