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Just then, the doorbell rang – ‘Oh, Good Lord, they’re here!’ said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn’t believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. His aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside.

‘I’m warning you,’ he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry’s, ‘I’m warning you now, boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.’

‘I’m not going to do anything,’ said Harry, ‘honestly …’

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and it was just no good telling the Dursleys he didn’t make them happen.