‘What happened then, Dudders?’ (Petunia asked her son.)
‘Felt… felt… felt… as if… as if…’
‘As if you’d never be happy again,’ Harry supplied tonelessly.
‘Yes,’ Dudley whispered, still trembling.
‘So!’ said Uncle Vernon, voice restored to full and considerable volume as he straightened up. ‘You put some crackpot spell on my son, so he’d hear voices and believe he was … was doomed to misery or something, did you?’
‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ said Harry, temper and voice both rising. ‘It wasn’t me! It was a couple of Dementors!’
‘A couple of … what’s this codswallop?’
‘De … men … tors,’ said Harry slowly and clearly. ‘Two of them.’
‘And what the ruddy hell are Dementors?’
‘They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban,’ said Aunt Petunia.