Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Becoming Big D
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

Piers Polkiss was an annoying little rat. Dudley knew very well that he couldn't tell the other boy this; Piers was, after all, the closest thing to a friend that Dudley had at Smeltings, but that didn't stop him from thinking that he was going to smash Piers' face in if he didn't stop complaining about how he couldn't get that girl (Angie? Angela? Angelica? Dudley couldn't remember her name) from St. Belvina's to notice him.

"She's so beautiful," Piers was gushing, soundly horribly like a girl himself. Dudley wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I mean our schools are practically right next to each other and I see her every day but she doesn't even seem to realise I exist."

"I'm not surprised about that. No one in their right mind would look twice at a ratty little prat like you, Ratface." Piers' face went ashen and Dudley felt his blood run cold as they spotted none other than Gideon Charles, the captain of Smeltings' boxing club. Dudley was vast, but Charles was even bigger – he was a good three inches taller and was a wall of solid muscle rather than a bag of blubber like Dudley.

"Sod off now, Ratface," Charles hissed at Piers. "I need to have a word with Dursley here."

Dudley was beginning to feel sick. He did not want to be anywhere near Gideon Charles, let alone speak to him. After all, everyone knew that 'having a word' with Charles resulted in limping into class the next day with a black eye and a missing tooth at best.

Needless to say Dudley was more than a little surprised when instead of punching him, Charles grabbed him by the arm and started to drag him in the direction of the sports hall. Dudley wanted to ask what was going on but even he had enough sense to keep his mouth shut. No one spoke to Gideon Charles unless he spoke to you first.

They finally stopped in front of a trophy case and Dudley felt even more confused than ever, not that he'd thought that possible. What on earth was Charles doing, going out of his way to drag Dudley halfway across the school to look at trophies?

"See that?" Charles said, jabbing a finger in the direction of a particularly shiny old trophy. Dudley nodded; of course he knew. Everyone knew how 'Big V' had won the regional championships for Smeltings four years in a row, but that had happened decades ago. What on earth did it have to do with him? "I've just figured out something that everyone seems to have missed so far, Dursley. They all think you're just some snooty little prick, but I know better. You're Vernon Dursley's son!"

He said the last part as though it were the greatest, most shocking discovery in history.

"Yeah, I am" Dudley replied.

"And do you know what your dad's nickname was when he was at school here?" Charles said gleefully.

Dudley shook his head; surprisingly enough his father didn't really speak much about his time at Smeltings, only saying that his schooldays were the best time of his life.

"I can't believe no one's figured this out," Charles said again. "Not even you know. But your dad was Big V, the best boxer Smeltings has ever seen."

Dudley almost couldn't believe that he was hearing. Big V was something of a legend at Smeltings – how could he have not known that the famous Big V was his dad? Anyway, anyone who saw his dad now would never in their lives have pegged him as a boxer.

"So I'm making you an offer, Dudders," Charles said, smirking. "You can hit well anyway (I saw the way you smashed Johnny Lambert's teeth in last week; don't worry, I'm not going to tell a teacher or anything), and I'm pretty sure you'll make a good boxer if only you can be bothered to put in a bit of effort and lose some of that fat. And besides, it'd look good for us if we had Big V's son on board. So what do you say?"

Dudley frowned. He had never put effort into anything in his life – except for maybe the games of Harry Hunting he, Piers and the others had played in primary school. Effort was something completely foreign to him, and exercise even more so, but he wanted to make his father proud of him for once, really proud, not just the fake attitude the put on around Harry in order to make his cousin feel even more freakish than he already was.

"Alright," Dudley said at last. "I'll join up."

"Excellent. I'll see you at training in the gym at half-five tomorrow morning. See you later, Big D." Charles' face broke into an even wider, more sadistic grin than usual and Dudley felt his stomach drop. Exercising before breakfast? What on earth had he gotten himself into?