Author's Note: I do not, and never will, own Harry Potter.

Written for the "Return of the Daily Weird Prompt Thing [Speed-Writing Competition]" on HPFC.

She wasn't jealous.

How could she be? She had magic, a beautiful family, a tidy home. The neighbours didn't know that she was a witch, but that was to be expected. Vernon knew and he approved. He'd been skeptical at first, but Petunia had shown him how beautiful magic could be. They were happy. They had one child, and they named him Dudley. He was a bit of a roly-poly baby, but he was happy, and so she was happy.

And then her sister went and got herself murdered, and her nephew landed (quite literally) on her doorstep.

Not that she treated him badly. He got the second bedroom and a second-hand crib. He got a plush wolf he affectionately nicknamed Moony, and he and Dudley got along well enough.

But when she walked in to see a floating cavalcade of toys, it was Harry giggling with delight and pointing at the brightly coloured blocks, it was Harry who spotted her, whose eyes rounded and mouth dropped open when she pulled out her wand and made the toys fall back to earth.

She wasn't jealous.

But she couldn't help the ache when she realised her sister was the one who had spawned a magical child.

And she hadn't.