Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling does. If you've read all of the books, seen all of the movies, etc. then anything that you recognize belongs to her, while I own the stuff that you haven't seen before. If you haven't read all of the books etc. then the above rule applies except that J. K. R. owns stuff from the books etc. you haven't studied, read, seen, whatever.

"Unless you're really thick, you should be able to figure out that nobody on a fanfiction website would own the book that (s)he is writing fanfics for. If (s)he wanted it to be in the series so much, (s)he would have just put it in. Think about it, peeps."

- A Disclaimer by Dumbledoresgirl1, a great author and disclaimer writer. I loved this one so much, I just HAD to borrow it! Anything in parenthesis (did I spell that right?) I added, because I am feminist or something. Yay!

Author's Note: I really like this, it's pretty dark, and I felt like crying while writing parts of it. I don't remember which parts, but I remember why: it's because I would feel the same way our surprise character does if my little brooder (I think that that is German for brother. I hope so, anyway:D) got a Hogwarts letter and I didn't. The ending to this story gave my mom chills, that's why I picked it over basically the same story with a made-up character. I didn't put a character one or two, because that would spoil the surprise. You'll figure out who I could have put as characters one and two at the end!

I hate my sister. We used to be best friends, except when we ticked each other off and attempted to murder each other, as every pair of sisters do. But then… August came. With August came a certain parchment envelope, addressed to a certain little sister of mine. Inside said envelope was a certain Hogwarts acceptance letter, and said little sis was allowed to go to said school.

I never got that letter. I was the one who could say most of Samantha's lines along with most of the shows. I was the one who watched every episode at least five times each. I was the one whose dearest wish was to be able to wriggle my nose and change the world. She never really cared. She was one of those girls who would rather go shopping for a couple of hours over imagine what one would do if one were Samantha. I was the one who knew that eventually the spell would work, I knew that my mum was wrong when she told me that it was all fictional, she wasn't in the know, after all. My sister just accepted all of that, and believed everyone when they told her that Bewitched was not real. I never did. I kept all of that belief. I should have been the one. But I was not. I never was.

Now I'm seventeen, and in a muggle high school, and I'm the weird one. I am quiet, and I don't have any friends, and I've never had a boyfriend. I'm depressed all of the time and people don't like to hang out with me, because my dejected mood affects them. I'll never have a boyfriend; I'll never get married, because I have started looking upon muggles as… stupid animal-like people, or something, even though I am one of them. Perhaps it is even because I am one of them. I will never marry a wizard, either, because I'll never be able to not begrudge them their letter. I'll always be jealous of their magic, magic that my children, and my husband, will have, and I never will.

I've started calling my sister and the rest of the people who got their letters freaks. I act like I wouldn't want what they have for the world. I do, though; I really want it more than anything. I stay in my room when she comes home, because I can't face her. I can't deal with the fact that she got what I wanted most. My parents tried to think of a way to get me to a counselor, but I can't talk to a muggle, because of the statute of secrecy. I can't talk to a wizarding counselor, because the person would also be one of the freaks that got the letter. So now I'm trapped, trapped in this outlook at life, suspended between naïve muggle-land and the magical wizarding world. I can't ever truly become a member of either world. I'll never be satisfied with being a muggle, not with my knowing what else there is. I can't ever become a part of the magical world, because I'm not a part of it. I'm stuck in the grey area, where I've built up jealousy and pretend contempt for the witches and wizards, and the same feelings towards muggles. They are lucky, with different reasons to hate their siblings, reasons that my sister and I would never have faced. They are also unlucky, thinking that there is no magic in the world… but what I wouldn't give to be under that impression along with my li'l sis for the rest of our lives.

I miss her. I miss being able to have fun with her, without thinking of what she had received that I hadn't. I miss being able to talk about Bewitched and its magical world as though it didn't exist, for it never did for her until she got her letter. I miss being able to help her with her homework, giving her tips on how to think about an aspect of math. I miss being able to look at her, without seeing the telltale lump at the hem of her shirt that is her wand sticking out of her skirt (I overheard her telling my parents that the Daily Prophet recommends that everyone carry a wand at all times, because of the rise of You-Know-Who), that makes me so jealous I want to run away. I miss being able to love my sister.

I'm sure she misses me too. But I can't bring myself to forgive her for being one of them, those freaks that can do magic. I can't bring myself to forget that she got what I most wanted, while she would have been delighted with a trip to the mall.

My mom and dad are sooo bloody proud to have a witch in the family. They aren't proud of me anymore. They think that my achievement of getting top marks on both my A and O levels in isn't as important as her "outstanding" OWLs. They are ashamed that I am not proud of my sister, and that I 'insist' that she and the rest of her kind are freaks. They remind me that I wanted to become part of a magical world when I was younger, as though that helps any cause at all. What would they think, I wonder, if they realized that I only call the witches and wizards freaks out of jealousy? What would they tell me then? Would they reassure me that I'm perfect the way that I am, the way they did when the letter first arrived? Would they then turn around and forget all about my invitation to be in the state orchestra, in order to lavish praise on the freak's accomplishments? Would they be even more ashamed of me, that I am even susceptible to the green monster when they are not?

I am ashamed of me, that I am susceptible to the evilness. Before the arrival of the little parchment envelope, I thought that the people in books and movies that hated their siblings because of jealousy were detestable in themselves. I thought that people didn't really act like that, that siblings automatically loved each other, even if they fought sometimes. Now, I've become one of them, those movie characters that hate their sister.

I wish that the letter had never existed, or that it had been lost en route. I wish even more that there had been two letters, one for each of us. I even wish that the only letter had been sent a year earlier, to me. I would have preferred any alternative to the reality.

Why was I not the one?

-Petunia Evans

I'd like some reviews, please. I'd like to know how well I write this style. I know that people like No Longer Weak, so I'd like to have the same knowledge for this one. It's a one-shot, I hope that the conclusion was obvious enough. I'm not very cold, so any flames will not be appreciated. Thanks anyway, though!