Dudley the Dark Lord

Disclaimer: You really think I want to own Voldemort or Dudley???

A/N: I noticed that there aren't many Dudley fics around here, so I've decided to give him full justice. And considering he's so fat, that might take some time. Bear with me……

Chapter 1: Voldemort's Pickle

Voldemort was very frustrated! Harry Potter had escaped his clutches for the seventh frickin' time! How embarrassing and utterly degrading. So Voldemort was moping in his armchair before the fire, sulkily splurging out of a carton of Cool-Whip, bald head glistening in the flickery light. Yep. He was feeling pretty sorry for himself.

Harry got the Sorcerer's Stone! HARRY got the prophecy! HARRY got Sirius Black!!! HARRY got a full head of hair!!!!!!!!!!!!

"And I got nothing! It's not fair!" Voldemort licked his spoon sadly. Well, actually, at least he had a body back so he could eat whipped cream, but that's beside the point.

So what were Harry's weaknesses? Dumbledore was dead. Big whoop! One less crazy cracker in the world. But Harry was the one he wanted! And he was out breathing free, searching and destroying his horcruxes. Hehe….Harry thought that one of them was Nagini when in fact, it was Voldemort's favourite toupee. Voldemort giggled, slightly cheered by the thought. What a pinch in the nose for the little toad!

……..Back upon the subject of murder, Voldemort needed a good plan this time. Not a joke like the last one had been. All the Death Eaters had laughed when he'd suggested just walking up to Harry in disguise and shooting him with one of those gun things. Voldemort hated being laughed at and scratched that plan immediately.

What now? How could he get close to Harry? What made that shrimp tick? Voldemort dolloped whipped cream onto his head. He always thought well when he sensed something relatively close to hair up there.

WHAT? WHAAAT??

"Aha!!"

The evil wizard had it! What he needed was a person who knew Harry Potter. Spent time with him, lived with him; someone who could tell him everything about the boy! But still, they had to have an equal hatred for his guts, so that they wouldn't mind when he ended up dying. That was the difficult part. Who? WHO???

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ding dong!!!!

Aunt Petunia peaked around the doorway to see a handsome man standing on the front stoop, smiling sweetly. Yeah sure, he was lacking a bit of cartilage in the nose region and his eyes were, yes, a deep shade of red, but my, what a pleasantly shiny head he had!!

"What do you want?" Petunia said regally, appearing not to take interest in his fine, if not skeletal features.

"Why hello there," Voldemort mumbled, striving hard to appear charming. "May I speak to your son please?"

"What do you want with my Diddly Doodly Dingle Poo?"

"Erm…." stuttered Voldemort, taken aback by the atrocious nickname. He shuffled some note cards in his hands and read Dudley's (or was it Dingle Poo's?) carefully recorded background information.

"I'm a representative for UK's….er….Food Committee! Yes……and I'm here to deliver your son a special prize for…..errrr….eating more than anyone else. That's right…"

Petunia refrained from saying many things, such as, "There is no such thing as UK's Food Committee" or "You don't get prizes for being fat, ya schlub!" or even "Dudley's on a diet." She refrained from saying these things because her ears had only perceived one word.

"What kind of prize?"

"Oh um….a good prize, a very good prize, madam. But I can only legally present it to the winner, you see. So I can't let you know yet. But it's a very good prize, Mrs.—"

"It's Petunia," Petunia said with a prim smile. Handsome and he'd brought free money, or so she hoped. "Why don't you come in Mr.—"

"Call me Voldemort,"

Voldemort! What a fine strong name!

"Yes, well why don't you come on in, Mr. Volamort!" She twittered her eyelashes.

"I'd be glad to, Mrs. Petunia." Voldemort swept back his extremely long black cloak and entered Number 4, silently screaming in agony due to the pain of smiling for so long.

As they entered the living room, Petunia said, "Mr. Dursley isn't home right now."

"Ah…" Voldemort wondered at this odd bit of info he had just received.

"You can take his seat by the electric fireplace," she beamed. "And I'll make you a cup of tea."

"Th—thank you ki….ki—kindly," Voldemort gritted and Petunia disappeared into the kitchen, occasionally glancing slyly over her shoulder back at him.

Twiddling his fingers, Voldemort looked curiously about the living room, from the gilded light above to the furry blue carpeting below. It felt so nice on his bare toes! However, he scooted nervously away from a silver box sitting on a shelf above his head. It was singing at him!

I wanna kiss you every minute, every hour, every day

You got me in a spin but everything is "A" O.K!

"Gah!" Voldemort shuddered and blew it up with his wand.

Aunt Petunia's cell phone was sitting on the chair arm and he prodded it nervously. The little screen lit up!

"GAH!!" Voldemort blew that up too, jumping nervously.

He accidentally sat on the remote and the enormous black box on the wall turned on, revealing Dudley's favourite cartoon channel.

"Teletubbies! Teletubbies! Eh oh!!" said a hideous purple monster through the window in the wall.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Voldemort screamed. "Avada Kedavra!!"

Dinky Winky or whatever he was called promptly blew up!

Voldemort decided not to touch anything. He sat stiffly, red buggy eyes roving about the room. Many pictures lined the mantle above the electorake fireplace, he noted, each sporting the doughy pink face of Dudley in some form. Harry Potter was not seen in any of them (except for the results of a swirly incident). Voldemort couldn't help but sniff. Didn't his aunt and uncle love him? Didn't they want to cherish his every moment forever and ever? Imagine living in a house with these people. Poor Harry Po—

"Bad Voldemort! Bad bad Voldemort!!!" Voldemort poked himself in the eye with his wand for sympathizing with his sworn enemy. The very idea!

"Here's your tea Mr. Violawort," Petunia trilled, entering the parlor with a steaming mug. Her eyes were fixed upon him alone, so she didn't notice the carnage of her living room. "I hope you like peppermint."

Voldemort pretended to sip, when really he was chewing into the plaster of the mug. Peppermint indeed!

"It's delicious…."

Petunia smiled a sickening smile and sat down, gazing at him. "Now about that prize Mr. Moldewort, couldn't you tell me just a teensy bit about it? I'm sure it won't ruin the surprise."

"Out of the question."

Petunia looked hurt and stuck out her lip, giving herself the appearance of a horse with a bee sting. "Not even a teeny tiny bitsy witsy clue?" She was getting closer and closer……

"I said no, woman," Voldemort stopped smiling.

….and closer and closer…..

"Are you sure, Mr. Sexymort?" So close, he could count the whiskers on her upper lip.

"Mummy, what are you doing??" said Dudley from the hallway.

"GAHDudders!" Petunia shrank back from the dark wizard and unpuckered her lips.

"Who the hell are you?" Dudley eyed Voldemort with disgust. "Where's your nose?"

Before Voldemort could blow up this walrus as well, Petunia butted in. "This man has something special for you, Dingle Poo. A prize for eating so well and…erm...healthily. Isn't that right, Voldemort?"

Voldemort was sizing Dudley up (which took quite the work). He certainly did look like a Harry-hater. He also looked like many other things, but they were too numerous to bring to mind.

"What are you looking at, ugly?" Dudley said haughtily. How ironic.

"You're perfect!" Voldemort proclaimed.

Stay tuned for the next chapter my friends. Or don't, it's certainly your choice. Or is it??? Muahahahahaha!!