THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS
There was nothing else for it.
“Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman.
“Hello, dear,” she said. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”
She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall,
thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long
nose.
“Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is — the thing is, I don’t know
how to —”
“How to get onto the platform?” she said kindly, and Harry
nodded.
“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at
the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be
scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit
of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”
“Er — okay,” said Harry.
He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked
very solid.
He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to
platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going
to smash right into that barrier and then he’d be in trouble — lean-
ing forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier
was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn’t be able to stop —
the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his
eyes ready for the crash —
It didn’t come . . . he kept on running . . . he opened his eyes.
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed
with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven
o’clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway
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