A/N: I don't remember seeing any Dudley fics around here, and I've been toying with this idea for a while. Let's just see how it goes.
Timeline: About Harry's fifth year, methinks.
Characters: (for now) Dudley, his parents, Piers, a few other friends, and if I can wangle it, Voldemort.
Mum and Dad hate mag—that M-word. But this isn't magic, is it?
Dudley Dursley lay awake in bed, thinking. Earlier that month, he and Piers had stumbled across a very old book in the library, full of odd symbols and grisly illustrations. That had been where everything started.
"Look at this one," Piers whispered, tracing his finger over the page. Whether it was just his imagination, Dudley couldn't tell, but he could swear the image moved.
"Don't do that!" he hissed.
"What, this?" Piers taunted, doing it again. "Cool snake."
Dudley looked at it. It was just an illustration, ink on paper. But then the tongue flicked. He didn't like that at all. He'd seen enough strange occurrences around his cousin Harry, and was glad when that skinny runt went off to his fancy school. Rubbish, that's what his father called him.
Piers made a hissing sound between his teeth. Dudley froze as the snake definitely moved this time. He looked fearfully at his friend, who was staring back, wide-eyed and pale. Piers hurriedly shut the book. "Ouch!"
"What?" Dudley asked tremulously.
"Just a paper cut," Piers said, sucking on his injured finger, and putting away the book with his other hand. "Let's get out of here."
***
"They've f-found the book, M-Master," stuttered Wormtail.
"Good, good," murmured the tall, red-eyed creature. "And did they 'sign' it?"
"One of them did, Master."
"Only one?"
"Y-yes, Master. I could not—could not—"
"SILENCE!"
Wormtail whimpered, waiting for the pain that was sure to follow, a punishment for his ineptitude. But his Master was otherwise occupied.
"Yes, I think this will work. Don't you agree, Wormtail?" He laughed, knowing his servant wouldn't dare contradict him.
"Y-yes Master. A very b-brilliant plan, I m-must say."
The tall figure stood up to look out of the window at the twilight. He then turned around to face his trembling servant. "Do you even know what my plan is?" he asked.
"N-no, Sir, Good Master. But I do not question your methods, Sir."
"Do you know why I am choosing Muggles, Wormtail?"
"No, Master."
"Because they are more readily expendable. Of course, some wizards are rather expendable, too, but we won't venture into that territory, will we, Wormtail?"
"N-n-no, M-Master." Wormtail waited for his punishment. His master had a way of drawing out the process, building up to the moment, then inflicting it when his nerves had been strung their tightest.
"It was, I must say, one of my more clever ideas. Do you know, Muggles have this notion of a Devil's book?"
Wormtail thought it best to remain silent.
"I'd like to meet this Devil-person someday. To hear the Muggles put it, he is responsible for all ills. Clever bastard. They fear him. Fools."
Master seemed to want a response now. "Wh-what is a Devil's book, S-sir?"
"A contract, my stupid servant. If a person's blood is spilled on its pages, they are enslaved, bound to him."
Wormtail still didn't understand why his master wanted that one particular Muggle.
As if reading his thoughts, Voldemort said, "It's not him I want--it's his cousin. Harry Potter." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Crucio."