Sorry, a lot of the speech had to be copied from the book.

Disclaimer – I do not own HPatOotP

The night of the dementors

Dudley grins round at his gang. "Same time tomorrow?" he asks.

"Round at my place, my parents will be out." Says Gordon.

"See you then." Says Dudley

"Bye, Dud!"

"See ya, Big D!"

As they walk away, Dudley feels happy. He is popular, the gang leader, the big man.

"Hey, Big D!"

Dudley turns around, and is unpleasantly surprised to see Harry. His cousin has always been something irritating, something Dudley is worried the gang talk about behind his back. Not that he would let them cheek him like that of course. He doesn't mind them talking about Harry, who Dudley hates because he is annoying, and rude, and not scared of Dudley, and worst of all, can do magic, which, though Dudley will never admit it, is something that makes him very jealous.

"Oh," he grunts. "It's you."

Harry starts winding Dudley up. He always does this, laughing at him, and his friends. Now Harry is siding with little Mark Evans, who Dudley beat up the night before last. The kid deserved it, Dudley thinks, how dare he bump into him? And then walk off without saying sorry? What did he think he was playing at?

Harry takes it too far. Again. Dudley brings up his best weapon. The sleep talk thing. Actually, though it's nice to be able to get at Harry now, last night had been horrible. Dudley had been on his way downstairs to get something to eat, when he had heard Harry's voice muttering and pleading through the almost shut door. At first he had thought Harry was talking to someone. Who could it be? Some of his freak friends? Or – Dudley had shuddered at the thought – Harry's criminal godfather?

But though he had soon realised that there was no one else there, he had listened with his ear to the wall, and felt chilled by the talk of death, and killing, and the things that were on Harry's mind. He had wondered how much went on in Harry's life that he didn't know about, that he didn't want to know about. A few minutes later, food for once forgotten, Dudley had gone back to bed.

Dudley is teasing Harry. His good mood is restored by the shocked and worried face his cousin is failing to hide.

Then, suddenly, Dudley is pressed up to a wall, Harry's wand pointing at his overlarge chest.

"Don't ever talk about that again," Harry sounds really furious. Dudley sees he has made a mistake.

"Point that thing somewhere else!"

"I said, do you understand me?"

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM -"

But Dudley doesn't finish his sentence. Everything suddenly goes very cold and dark.

It feels like diving into a frozen lake, except darker. And scarier.

He can't see anything. He begs Harry to stop, but when Harry says it isn't him, something in his voice makes Dudley believe him.

"Shut up and don't move."

He doesn't listen. He pleads with him, threatens him, anything to make it stop. Even though he knows that it isn't Harry at all.

Then the cold starts to close in. Dudley tries to run, hitting into things, he thinks he hits Harry, but for the first time this doesn't give him any joy. There isn't any of that in the world anymore. It's just freezing, and depressing and terrifying and – but Dudley's train of thought is interrupted by a rush of air, a thump, and a shot of pain in his back. He's fallen.

The fear is getting closer and closer and Dudley can't see, and he can't move, and then...

He hears Piers saying "come on Big D." A chorus of voices he recognises as the gang. "Go on. Do it Dud!" And he knows what's going to happen next because it happened two months ago. He can hear the rattling breath of the little girl, the jeers from the boys, his own hand clenching and unclenching on the knife, and then a scream and a rush of scarlet, and his own feet thumping on the path as he runs...

And then it stops. Though his eyes are shut, Dudley can easily feel the light from the stars returning, and with it the warmth. He is sweating and shaking. He opens one eye and sees , the neighbour; at least he thinks it is her, the grey hair, and the tartan slippers. Then he is falling through nothingness...

He feels arms pulling him up, voices saying things that sound like a jumble of words and curses and names. He has no control, he thinks he will be sick, and he is dizzy, and soaked in sweat. He doesn't know what has just happened; only that he never wants it to happen again.