Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?

But...surely you know where your nephew is going?' she asked, looking bewildered.
'Certainly we know,' said Vernon Dursley. 'He's off with some of your lot, isn't he?
Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry.'
Again, Vernon Dursley marched as far as the front door, but Dudley did not follow.
'Off with some of our lot?'
Hestia looked outraged. Harry had met the attitude before: witches and wizards seemed stunned that his closest living family took so little interest in the famous Harry Potter.
'It's fine,' Harry assured her. 'It doesn't matter, honestly.'
'Doesn't matter?' repeated Hestia, her voice rising ominously.
'Don't these people realise what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?
'Er - no, they don't,' said Harry. 'They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to -'
'I don't think you're a waste of space.'
If Harry had not seen Dudley's lips move, he might not have believed it.

The fridge had been emptied of all Dudley’s favorite things — fizzy drinks and cakes, chocolate bars and burgers — and filled instead with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called “rabbit food.

They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to—"

"I don't think you're a waste of space."

If Harry had not seen Dudley's lips move, he might not have believed it. As it was, he stared at Dudley for several seconds before accepting that it must have been his cousin who had spoken; for one thing, Dudley had turned red. Harry was embarrassed and astonished himself.

He hurried to car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

You can't give a Dementor the old one-two!