first couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal – and now Ron and Hermione had forgotten his birthday.

What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his arch-enemy, Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream ...

Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of last term, Harry had come face to face with none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but he was still terrifying, still cunning, still deter- mined to regain power. Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept waking in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort was now, remember- ing his livid face, his wide, mad eyes ...

Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent-mindedly into the hedge – and the hedge was staring back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.

'I know what day it is,' sang Dudley, waddling towards him.
The huge eyes blinked and vanished.
'What?' said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.

'I know what day it is,' Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.

'Well done,' said Harry. 'So you've finally learned the days of the week.'

'Today's your birthday,' sneered Dudley. 'How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?' 'Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school,' said Harry coolly.

Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat bottom.

'Why're you staring at the hedge?' he said suspiciously.