Marge Dursley didn't know why she had taken the other boy that day. Back then, she had believed the boy to be the lying, sniveling, thieving, retarded and abnormal brat her brother had claimed him to be. Two months with the boy, while she waited for her brother and his wife to recover had opened her eyes and changed her mind about the child. Two months with the boy had also taught her that Petunia was a lying weasel who wouldn't know the truth if it bit her in the ass.

It had all started when...

Marge had been taking her afternoon tea at the time the officer came to the door. Her brother and his wife had gotten into a serious accident and were badly injured. The children, through some miracle, had come out with minor injuries and needed a place to stay. She had been listed as the next of kin, and guardian if something happened to her brother.

The next morning, she drove to the hospital to retrieve her precious nephew. The boy was bawling his eyes out, completely inconsolable no matter what the nurses tried to do. The other one, the one she had no blood ties to, was sitting in a corner silently staring off into space.

She probably would have left the runt behind for Child's Services to deal with if the nurse hadn't run after her with the boy in tow. It wouldn't be proper to make a scene in a hospital though, and leaving the runt behind would do just that.

On the ride home, her precious Dudley loudly demanded food and continuously inquired as to whether they had reached their destination as a child his age should. The runt remained quiet and put up with Dudley's constant poking and hitting without trying to defend himself.

At dinner she gave the runt a larger serving of food in order to fatten him up a bit, though it would most likely be wasted on him since he'd never reach a healthy weight because he suffered from some genetic disorder whose name she had forgotten. The boy looked up at her like a dog who had been kicked too many times and knew better than to expect kindness. She had to order the runt to eat, unlike her precious nephew who didn't need to be told.

When it came time to go to bed, her precious nephew threw a temper tantrum at not being allowed to stay up late. The runt however, didn't complain at all even when he was given the lumpy couch in the storage room to sleep on.

Without her brother or his wife to intercede, her precious nephew's "boisterous" behavior soon began to grate on her nerves. The final straw came a week after she brought the boys home when Dudley knocked over the urn containing her mother's ashes while she was in the next room over and had the gall to blame the runt who she knew for a fact was in the kennel feeding the dogs as he had been ordered.

This, unbeknownst to her, marked a turning point in her views about "the runt" who for the past week she had been watching like a hawk, waiting for him to set one toe out of line.