THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS
another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, count-
ing down to September the first.
On the last day of August he thought he’d better speak to his
aunt and uncle about getting to King’s Cross station the next day,
so he went down to the living room where they were watching a
quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he
was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.
“Er — Uncle Vernon?”
Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.
“Er — I need to be at King’s Cross tomorrow to — to go to
Hogwarts.”
Uncle Vernon grunted again.
“Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?”
Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.
“Thank you.”
He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually
spoke.
“Funny way to get to a wizards’ school, the train. Magic carpets
all got punctures, have they?”
Harry didn’t say anything.
“Where is this school, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He
pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.
“I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at
eleven o’clock,” he read.
His aunt and uncle stared.
“Platform what?”
“Nine and three-quarters.”
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