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Uncle Vernon looked from Aunt Petunia to Dudley to Harry as if hoping somebody was going to shout 'April Fool!' When nobody did, he opened his mouth yet again, but was spared the struggle to find more words by the arrival of the third owl of the evening. It zoomed through the still-open window like a feathery cannon-ball and landed with a clatter on the kitchen table, causing all three of the Dursleys to jump with fright. Harry tore a second official-looking envelope from the owl's beak and ripped it open as the owl swooped back out into the night.

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'Right.'

'Because I did magic.'

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'I heard - that awful boy - telling her about them - years ago,' she said jerkily.

They won't,' said Harry.

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But at Uncle Vernon's words, Harry's exhausted brain had ground back into action. Why had the Dementors come to Little Whinging? How could it be coincidence that they had arrived in the alleyway where Harry was? Had they been sent? Had the Ministry of Magic lost control of the Dementors? Had they deserted Azkaban and joined Voldemort, as Dumbledore had predicted they would?

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'Go on, son,' said Uncle Vernon, 'what did he do?'

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'All went dark,' Dudley said hoarsely, shuddering 'Everything dark. And then I h-heard . . . things. Inside m-my head.'

Harry touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square Tonks was already unbuckling Harry's trunk. Shivering, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

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'Except the eyes,' said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. 'Lily's eyes.'

'They guard the wizard prison, Azkaban,' said Aunt Petunia.