THIS FIC IS NOT MINE. It was written by a deranged friend of mine, who generally is the reason my fics start out sensible then make a 180 degree turn for... Oblivion or Madness, depending. Usually they end up nowhere near the two answers to the "Why is a raven like a writing desk" question, rather opting to gravitate near the secret third non-answer. Anyways, it's not mine.

As a personal opinion, I think you shouldn't read this unless you can stomach it. It made me feel disgusted. And it's seriously deranged. I said that already? Oh well. At least he writes well, even if he's mad.

Here be the fic.


A harry potter fanfic, in the spirit of non commutative free association deluge.

Harry woke up and rubbed at his crummy eyes. He fumbled for his glasses on the second hand side table and swept his greasy hair out of his eyes. He sat for a moment, feeling dazed and confused. He'd just woken from a dream and was having trouble working out whether he was awake, and why it was dark outside.

Rain was hammering hard on the window, and as the real world slid into perspective, Harry glanced around, presumably looking for what woke him. While the rain was loud, this was Surrey, and heavy rain was no rare occasion.

He slid his pale skinny legs out from under the bedcovers, and tugged the cord on his bedside lamp.

"Blast.", he muttered, having forgotten Uncle Vernon had taken his bulb to 'help him get to sleep without reading'.

He pulled his wand from under his pillow, and uttered a spell that would light the room perfectly from all directions, what he liked to call ambient lighting. The room's ambient light level rose from 0.23 to 0.60000001 – Harry never bothered to use the double precision version for such simple spells – and as his eyes adjusted, he walked over to the window.

The rain was blowing straight into his window, and the willow in the garden was dancing in the wind. Not a pleasant night to be out. He was momentarily glad of the house, before he remembered who he had to share it with.

Harry span round to a sharp tapping knock from the direction of the cupboard. Harry sprung for his wand drew a sharp breath of air and yelled as quietly as he could "!()". The door sprang open, Harry's jaw dropped in disbelief, and Dudley fell out of the cupboard.

"What are you doing in my cupboard!", Harry yelled.

"What are you doing in my house!", Dudley yelled back.

Harry stared back in dumbfounded silence, unsure how to answer such a bizarre answer to his question. When he finally spoke, about 4500 milliseconds later, he found his voice was slightly creakier. He had no idea why, but he assumed that a lack of knowledge of his character was causing disturbances in his written appearance.

"It's rude to answer a question with a question!" – which is it.

"I can be rude in my own house.", Dudley smuffled from behind a big slice of chocolate cake.

Harry's eyes grew even further, at this rate his eyebrows would merge with his hair, "Where the hell did you get that...?", staring around the room in search of a chocolate cake.

In the few seconds he spent scanning the room, Dudley had swapped his cake for fruit punch and prawn cocktail. Harry pinched himself. He felt the pain. He pinched himself again, this time until a droplet of blood formed under his nail. Yes he was awake, and it hurt.

What was really scaring harry was that the way Dudley's fat, rippling lips toree the succulent prawns open. It was beautiful to watch. "Dudley..", Harry muttered. As Harry called him, he peeled. The outer Dudley fell away, leaving a slightly thinner, slightly shorter Dudley.

This was getting a bit much – Harry didn't know any magic that could do this to a person.

"Want some prawns?", Dudley said through a mouth of lettuce. The lettuce was dripping down Dudley's fat chin, and Harry felt his chest stir. What was happening to him?

"Uhh, ok. Say, Dudley, did you... notice, that you just... lost your skin?"

"No, I don't think I did.", Dudley replied, calmly munching another prawn as another layer of skin fell away. Harry stared in disbelief. It seemed that every time he called Dudley, he got a slightly smaller Dudley. Casting his mind back to higher mathematics, he pulled a textbook from his pillow.

Page 678... Recursive techniques... Harry skimmed the chapter. He muttered Dudley's name a few times, and by the time he finished reading and looked up, Dudley was about the same width as him, and a few inches shorter. "Dudders!", Harry tried an alternative approach on the name, but it seemed that it was a well architected person – another layer peeled off, "we need to find your base case!"

Dudley stared back, now eating a slice of the greasiest looking pizza Harry had ever seen. "I know how.", he said, as he tore through the cheese.

"Well! Tell us before you shrink out of sight!" – Harry couldn't bear the thought of losing Dudley after seeing this new, more attractive side of him.

"Mpreg.", Dudley said.

"Mpeg..?", Harry retorted, wondering if Dudley was interested in developing a recursive compression codec.

"No silly, mpreg. You know, you have to have my baby."

Harry fainted.

Beep beep. Beep beep. Harry woke up and rubbed at his crummy eyes. He fumbled for his glasses on the second hand side table and swept his greasy hair out of his eyes. He sat for a moment, feeling dazed and confused. He rubbed his aching neck, mumbling "must've slept funny".

As he walked over to the window, he stubbed his toe o his higher math book.

"Woah... I must be sleep walking again...", he said to himself. He stepped over the pile of clothes under his cupboard, and grabbed some shorts and a shirt. He pulled them on and headed downstairs to make breakfast.

Every part of his body was aching, and he rubbed his shoulders while thinking about the homework assignment he needed to do later that day.

As he walked past the hall mirror, his reflection looked odd. He must be putting on weight. He had no idea how, given the amount of food the Dursleys gave him. Oh well, he thought, and went about his work in the kitchen.

An hour later, he heard movement upstairs, and ten minutes later, the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Vernon's head stuck round the corner – no doubt checking he was hard at work – then disappeared again.

Harry put the breakfast on a tray and carried it through. There was no one at the table yet, but the sound of the TV was leaking through from the living room. Harry went back to the kitchen to eat his own breakfast – the Dursley's considered breakfast a time for family.

The family filtered through about 5 minutes later, and the sound of china clinking and food being scoffed was clear.

Petunia was berating Dudley to eat up, "...you've been getting thinner – the neighbours will start to think we're not feeding you... appearances! ...", when Vernon's voice slammed through the wall and straight into Harry.

"Where's my coffee boy!"

Harry leapt to his feet somewhat more clumsily than useful, and grabbed the coffee pot, knocking everything on the desk over in the same gesture. What was wrong with him this morning...

He walked through to the dining room, carefully balancing the coffee.

Petunia dropped her spoon.

Vernon dropped his glass of orange juice.

Dudley smiled a charming, smile, from his unusually thin, small body. Harry turned pale. Harry looked down at himself. Harry fainted. Again.

Harry woke up in his own bed again, and after clearing his eyes, saw Dudley sat next to him. Harry groaned. He felt like the world had fallen on him. Dudley patted him with a fat hand.

"I'm gaining my fat back Harry."

"Uhhhh"

"And i've got you to thank."

"Ughhhhhh"

"It'll be here soon"

"What?"

"The baby"

Harry groaned again.

"This can't be happening", Harry breathed. Then Harry breathed again. A shorter, sharper breath. Ouch. That hurt. "Why is this happening... and why so fast..."

"Well", Dudley said, "Do you expect people to sit around through 9 months of tedious heightened emotion and senseless abandon?"

"Don't they... normally?" Harry squeaked, mid contraction.

"Well, in a finely balanced caring world, maybe. But this is a cheap shot of a world, and we're focusing on the relationship between your state and video compression."

Harry stared at Dudley with a blank expression.

"What I mean to say", Dudley went on, "is that it's all ok. Let someone else worry about the details."

Harry squealed. Dudley sprang to his side and squeezed his hand.

"Dudley. I feel light"

"That's ok, don't worry, it's just the amphetamines"

Harry knew that was a bizarre statement, but assumed that he was just a bit delirious. He could be a bit delirious; he was giving birth, after all.

Pop.

Harry nearly fainted, but at the last minute realised this was the most important bit. He could see the baby floating over his stomach, attached only by the intestine now. He knew it shouldn't be the intestine, but all he could think of was jokes headlines would make about a baby connected by the intestine.

"Why is it floating...", Harry said, looking paler than a tomato.

"Meh.", dismissed Dudley reaching forward with scissors.

As the scissors sliced the intestine, the baby began to drift upwards. Dudley realised suddenly the problem with floating babies, and grabbed at it. His hands went straight through it. Floating babies that have superhuman powers. Even worse.

Harry and Dudley watched in horror as the baby hit the roof, and passed straight through it. Harry actually fainted.

Dudley ran outside just in time to see the floating baby emerging through Privet Drive's slate roof. It was moving faster now. Dudley stared after the baby as it accelerated upwards, before falling to his knees and submitting to the universe, recursively shedding skins until totally lost to sight.


Epilogue.

The baby floated up till it was at a level of air with roughly the same density as itself. There, it would have slowly suffocated and died, if it hadn't already been killed by a helicopter. Unfortunately it wasn't killed by a helicopter, and its short experience consisted only of floating and suffocating. Thankfully it was a tofu baby, so vegetarians need not be worried.