Every time Petunia Dursley looked at Harry she saw her sister. It was the eyes; they were perfect replicas of Lily's. And he had her smile. Not that she saw Harry's smile that often, but it was always that cheeky grin she used to see across her sister's face. That grin would make her parents smile fondly down at her, their eyes filled with pride while she, Petunia, stood in Lily's shadow. Just because she couldn't turn teacups into gerbils or conjure books out of thin air she was always overlooked, always ignored, never praised. She hated her sister, the little freak that she was. It was Lily that always got lavished with attention while she stood jealously to one side. Those days were over, it was now her time for revenge. Now it was Harry who was the one being ignored; now it was him who was forgotten. Dudley, her perfect little angel, couldn't be treated like she once was. He had to be showered with gifts and praise and allowed to outshine Harry. He could bully Harry to his heart's content as it was always something she had wanted to do to her sister; ridicule her, call her names, make her life a misery like Lily had done with hers. She wanted to but she never could. Despite her desperate attempts not to feel that way, Petunia loved her. She loved her sister; she loved her flaming red hair, witty remarks and her kindness. Deep down, Petunia knew that Lily never asked for attention, never searched for it and never wanted it. Deep down she knew her sister was kind and thoughtful and brave and she loved her for it. But she was also jealous, and therefore despised her for it also. And now, here was Lily's son, Harry. As kind and thoughtful and brave as Lily had been, with her laugh and her smile. And her eyes. And she knew that she would despise him as much as she had despised her sister; but he was still her nephew, still her flesh and blood. But she buried her guilty feelings and instead went for revenge. It felt good, like she was getting her own back on her freak of a sister by making Harry's life a misery. But there was always that guilty feeling every time she saw him in that tiny cupboard, every time she let Dudley shove him and punch him, every time she neglected and abandoned him. He was her sister's son. Lily's son. Harry had been given to her so she could protect him and love him. But my parents never did that to me. She'd reassure herself. They favoured Lily and ignored me. Now it's a fair game. Except she knew what it felt like to be in Harry's position, and she hated herself for it.