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Barty had never thought he was good enough. He also never thought he was anything like his father, he could never live up to his name. He was never smart or strong enough, never good enough at magic, never enough at anything.
Barty had thought that for a long time, and by the time he was thirteen, he knew it.
He was wrapping a holiday present that would not turn out right. The paper was crumpled and ripped. It wasn't wrapped the right way. The ribbons were tied too lose, knotted too tight. The bows were coming apart. Even so, it did not look that bad. But it wasn't good enough for Barty.
"Barty, it is so messy," said his father. "Try to clean it up a little, or try again," he says like Barty is a small child.
Barty looked at how clean and neat his father has wrapped presents.
"Maybe I can't, father. Maybe I'm just not like you enough." And he walked out of the room, and he knows who he is. He isn't his father. He's just Barty, and that's enough for him.
AN: my attempt at drabble. I wrote this in like 5 minutes. It was inspired by how I can't wrap for my life.