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‘Nonsense, Petunia, I never went hungry when I was at Smeltings,’ said Uncle Vernon heartily. ‘Dudley gets enough, don’t you, son?’

Dudley, who was so large his bottom drooped over either side of the kitchen chair, grinned and turned to Harry.

‘Pass the frying pan.’

‘You’ve forgotten the magic word,’ said Harry irritably.

The effect of this simple sentence on the rest of the family was incredible: Dudley gasped and fell off his chair with a crash that shook the whole kitchen; Mrs Dursley gave a small scream and clapped her hands to her mouth; Mr Dursley jumped to his feet, veins throbbing in his temples.

‘I meant “please”!’ said Harry quickly. ‘I didn’t mean —’

‘WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU,’ thundered his uncle, spraying spit over the table, ‘ABOUT SAYING THE M WORD IN OUR HOUSE?’

‘But I —’

‘HOW DARE YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!’ roared Uncle Vernon, pounding the table with his fist.

‘I just —’

‘I WARNED YOU! I WILL NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF YOUR ABNORMALITY UNDER THIS ROOF!’

Harry stared from his purple-faced uncle to his pale aunt, who was trying to heave Dudley to his feet.