"Dementors caused a person to relive the worst moments of their life. What would spoiled, pampered, bullying Dudley have been forced to hear?"

Dudley Dursley woke with a start.

He rolled over, grunted, and set about identifying what had roused him from a really excellent dream about the new girl working at the corner store, Eloise Midgeon if he remembered correctly, and they were rolling in the-

There it was. The sound that had woken him up.

Screaming.

Dudley swore and pulled the covers back up over his head. His bloody cousin, again. Shouting in his sleep like the weirdo he was. This was six nights in a row now, for Pete's sake! Couldn't the idiot just get a grip?

That was just it, though. Potter didn't seem to have a grip. Not since he'd come home, anyway. Usually his cousin came home with all this attitude, standing up to Dudley like he was actually worth something. Laughing in his face instead of cowering, like he had when they were kids. But not this time. Potter had been subdued, withdrawn. None of the cockiness he usually had. He'd got off the train, fresh from his fourth year at that freak school of his and he wasn't… right. Just three days ago Dudley had punched him in the stomach and Potter had barely reacted. It was frustrating.

Dudley's thought process was suddenly interrupted by more screaming. Bloody hell, Potter had done this every night since he'd got home and Dudley was not having it anymore. That was it. He was going in there to give the freak a piece of his mind, and probably his fist too.

With much huffing and groaning, Dudley hauled himself out of his bed. He struggled into a shirt, grunting. It was too tight. He was going to have to make his mother buy him more clothes tomorrow. She wasn't buying them fast enough, the stupid woman. Couldn't she see he was growing?

Dudley stomped down the hall. The closer he got to his cousin's bedroom, the louder the yelling got. It was different tonight, Dudley dimly registered. Up until now, it had been like sobbing, all sadness and pain. Tonight the screams sounded angry. This gave Dudley a moment's pause, before he shook his head and continued down the hall. Potter was asleep. Surely he couldn't do anything dangerous while he was asleep!

When Dudley reached his cousin's door, he found it locked as usual – from the outside. Dudley popped the catch out and threw open the door, marched across the room and –

Stopped dead.

Backed away.

Kept going until he bumped into a wall.

Opened his mouth to let out his own scream, but no sound came out. Just a strangled gulping sound. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't take his eyes off his cousin.

Potter was sitting bolt upright in the bed, the sheets thrown on the floor. His face was bone white and his scar stood in sharp relief on his forehead. Hair was plastered to the side of his face with sweat and his teeth were bared as he screamed. But that wasn't what had Dudley backing away.

It was his eyes.

They were open, staring right at him. Cold anger radiated from them, pinning Dudley in place with fear like nothing ever had before. And they weren't Potter's usual green. They were a burning red, a frightening fiery colour like nothing Dudley had ever seen before. They weren't the eyes of his freak cousin, that was for sure. Without really knowing how, Dudley immediately recognised these eyes as dangerous.

All of a sudden, Dudley found his legs. Before he knew it he was running from the room. He barreled down the hall, crashing into a small hall table on his way. Potter's screams of rage followed him as he pelted into his own room and threw himself under the covers of his bed, trembling and panting.

His cousin continued to shout for another ten minutes, until Dudley felt the floor shake and his father stormed down the hall. There was the bang of a fist against wood and Potter suddenly stopped. His father stomped back to his room, swearing under his breath. The door to his parent's room slammed shut and the house was silent.

Dudley remained huddled in a ball for the rest of the night. He did not sleep. He couldn't. Instead he stared at the door in fear and cowered under his blankets, shaking.

The next night, and for many nights after, the red eyes followed him into his nightmares.

Another missing piece from the Potter books. Thank you for reading.