Author's note: I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to it. That belongs to J.K. Rowling. I do own (digs in pocket) two bobby pins, a gum wrapper, two euros, and hmm....hmm...what is this? oh, some pocket lint, woo-hoo!!!!!!!!!!!!

Harry Potter was tired, tired of his stinking, rotten life. Well, at least his stinking, rotten life for the summer. He was sick of it all. Why did he have to live with the Dursleys??? He was a wizard now, and he had just completed one year of school at Hogwarts, a true wizards school. So why did he still have to live with the Dursleys? He was sick of them. He knew that he could do magic, but he couldn't use it. He would get in big trouble with the Ministry of Magic if he did....

"Darn it." Harry mumbled.

He wished that he could get back at Dudley somehow. Dudley who got all the presents, ate all of the good food, and took everything for granted. Dudley always got everything that he ever wanted in his life. Harry sighed. Then an idea came to his head. Well, there was one thing that Dudley Dursley had never had. And that was: a girlfriend. Harry had never had one either, but he was only eleven going on twelve this summer. Harry mused on the idea and a delicious, sort of evil plan came to his mind.....

Dudley Dursley was having a bad day. He couldn't fit into his new swimming trunks for the swim party. His mother, Petunia, had found him straining and straining to fit them on. He had even lain on the bed flat trying to fit them on. His arms shook and his face turned beet red while he was trying to fit them on. He face looked like a great red balloon about to burst.

"Friggin- Sassafras..." Dudley mumbled as his mother found him.

"Oh, pooty-kins, what are you doing? You are going to make yourself sick!" She exclaimed as she ran over to him screeching in a sickly, babying sort of voice.

Dudley looked at her and started to whine immediately. If there were a whining contest, Dudley would win it hands down. Dudley prided himself on being able to get just about anything that he wanted: whining, begging, complaining, simpering, just about anything that involved these four things, Dudley could do.

"Moth-er, you got the wrong size of pants. These would only fit skinny, sickly boys like rotten Harry." Dudley whined.

"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry....I will give them to Harry..the store must have mixed up the pants. I knew there was something wrong with a store that didn't have Ruella Redgewort's ruby red fingernail polish. I can't believe a store would even think about not carrying this.." Dudley tuned out his mother's complaints as he realized her focus was not on him anymore. This would not do.

"Moth-er. Don't give them to Harry, they are new. He doesn't need any new clothes. You gave them my old ones for last summer. Why should he have new stuff and not me? You love your orphan nephew more than your own son?!! Oh, nobobdy loves me!!" Dudley tried hard to screw his face into a shape that looked sad and he forced two great, rolling tears to come down his face...once again, his face resumed that vivid color of red.

"Oh, darling...I'm so sorry. I love you more than anything. How could you even say I love that horrid Harry more than you? He is a scab...he just won't go away. We have to put up with him while he is here, but you are my treasure, my pet, my darling. We will give these shorts to the dogs next door and then we will go get you some ice cream and some new swim trucks." Petunia Dursley wailed, putting her skinny, bony arms around her rotund son.

Dudley immediately quit crying. "Mummy, can we also get some Turkish Delight? Oh, and Boris Letzer said that his pool was better than ours. Can we get a bigger pool?"

"Of course, pudding cake, we can't have Boris having a bigger pool than ours. Now let's go get some ice cream." Petunia lead her dry-eyed son down the stairs.

Harry watched silently from the bathroom door. How despicable...Dudley turned around at the last moment before descending the stairs. He grinned evilly, triumphantly at Harry. Harry's heart hardened and his mind worked rapidly, his plan evolving better and better to his taste.