After his fifth slice of bacon, Dudley went upstairs to put on his Smeltings uniform. He felt so proud as he pulled the freshly pressed black and red uniform out of the dry-cleaning bag. He put on his white button-down shirt with a wonderful sense of satisfaction. But he had trouble buttoning the buttons over his hefty stomach. He tried covering it up with his jacket, but he was just too big. He couldn't even fit his XXXL pants that his father had to order specially for him over his rather large thighs and arse. How could he possibly go on the train?

Dudley sat at the train station, waiting for the 10:15 train to Smeltings in his seat pants and T-shirt. Why did he have to feel this way? Why did the waste bands on all his pairs of sweat pants have to break? His skinny cousin Harry must've used magic to make himself so thin.

As Dudley sat at the station pondering life, the radio station he was listening to started playing "Proud" by Heather Small. As he heard her sing, "What have you done today to make you feel proud?" he thought to himself, "What have I done today to make myself feel proud?

When Dudley arrived at Smeltings, everyone else was already in their uniform. He felt completely out of place. Looking at the chiseled bodies of the rugby and cricket teams that walked by made him want to cry his fat away.

"Hey, fatty! Want a doughnut, fatty?" yelled Blake, the captain of the cricket team.

"Why can't you just leave me alone? I've never done anything to you!" Dudley hollered back with tears streaming down his plump cheeks as he waddled as fast as he could to the safety of his dormitory.

All that Dudley could do when he was alone was eat his feelings away. Each piece of candy he ate was like a small piece of comfort, yet once he stopped eating, that comfort disappeared. At his old school, being big was a kind of status symbol. He was the one who picked on people, not the other way around. But at Smeltings, everyone was so fit, if anyone made a comment about his weight, he couldn't hit them because they would hit him back. But he could never leave Smeltings because his father would be too disappointed. And his father was the only one who seemed to love him nowadays.

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After squeezing into his uniform before his first class, Dudley decided to make a quick stop at the doughnut store. As he walked, he thought, "Maybe no one else really notices how big I really am. Maybe it's only the kids at school who see me as fat because they only see the worst in people and enjoy bringing other people down."

"Hey, kid. You look like you could lose some weight," said the man behind the counter.

"What?" replied Dudley, bewildered and offended.

"Well there's this show that they do in America called, 'The Biggest Loser,' and I think you would be a perfect candidate for it."

"Great. I'm glad you think I'm a big loser."

"No, no, no. The show is about losing weight. The person who loses the most weight by the end of the show wins the title of 'The Biggest Loser' and the million dollar prize money. This season the show is taking one person from each participating country, and each person has the chance to become the next 'Biggest Loser.' What do you say? I'll give you the card, and you can go to the agency if you want to."

I don't think so. I couldn't possibly leave Smeltings. My father would be outraged."

"Well, if you ever change your mind, here's the card."

Reluctantly, Dudley accepted the card. But only because the man refused to sell the three, much-desired chocolate-frosted cake donuts to Dudley until he took the card. Dudley was really just trying to humor the man. He didn't really need it, right? One hundred sixty kilograms wasn't bad for his age. It was merely baby fat.

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"Anything over one hundred fifteen kilograms is simply too much for anyone your age to weigh," said Professor Durkin, Dudley's health professor. "And that's only if that person is very tall, and has a high muscle mass."

Dudley's five-foot-eight, pudgy self could not bear to listen any longer. He put his head down for the rest of the lesson, and pretended to be asleep as he cried.

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During his free period, Dudley decided to make the journey to 167 Maltin St., the address on the card that the doughnut man had given him. Hesitantly, he walked into the building, not knowing what he would do or say when he stepped into the tall, skinny building.

"Can I help you?" asked the pretty, blue-eyed receptionist at the front desk.

"Well…er…I….er…don't know…er…I was given this card earlier this morning…er…is this where I'm supposed to be if I would like to apply to 'The Biggest Loser?' Er…I mean…I'm not interested in doing it…I just have this friend…and he might want to…"

"Alright," replied the receptionist as if she knew who Dudley really meant his "friend" was. "I can make an appointment for your friend to have an interview with the manager of the show. What time do you think he would like to make the appointment? We have openings Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday at 2:30 and 5:00, and Wednesday and Thursday at 4:15."

"I think that he could make it Thursday at 4:15."

"Excellent. And what name should I put this appointment under?"

"Er…well…his name is…er…Dudley Dursley."

"Thank you. I'll be looking forward to meeting him."

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Dudley arrived at the manager's office for 'The Biggest Loser' at 4:25 on Thursday afternoon. He tried to be punctual, but he didn't realize that stairs would be involved.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late. You should really get that elevator fixed. I had a bit of trouble climbing that flight of stairs."

"That's quite alright. We actually did that on purpose. We need some one that's out of shape for the show, and so far you've taken the longest time climbing the stairs. Good job! But on to other matters. My name is John Marcus. I have a few questions to ask you to see if you're the best candidate from England to be on the show. How old are you, Dudley?"

"I turned eighteen this summer."

"Good. That makes you just old enough to be on the show. Would you mind stepping on that scale over there?"

"Er…I guess…but I don't really like to weigh myself."

"Well, that's something you would have to get used to if you were to go on the show."

"Alright…I'll get on the scale."

"Woo! One hundred sixty-five kilograms! That's roughly three hundred sixty-three pounds! I think we have a winner! How would you like to go to America next Friday to represent England on the hit TV show, The Biggest Loser?

"I would be honored…but I don't know how my parents would feel about me leaving Smeltings."

"Well how about you take your gap year now instead of after you finish your seventh form. You can finish your schooling after you get back from the show."

"Hmmm…I guess I'll do it."