THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS
“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks,” he
said coolly.
Draco Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale
cheeks.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” he said slowly. “Unless
you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They
didn’t know what was good for them, either. You hang around with
riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it’ll rub off on you.”
Both Harry and Ron stood up.
“Say that again,” Ron said, his face as red as his hair.
“Oh, you’re going to fight us, are you?” Malfoy sneered.
“Unless you get out now,” said Harry, more bravely than he felt,
because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.
“But we don’t feel like leaving, do we, boys? We’ve eaten all our
food and you still seem to have some.”
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron
l eapt forward, but before he’d so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let
out a horrible yell.
Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk
deep into Goyle’s knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as
Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scab-
bers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disap-
peared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking
among the sweets, or perhaps they’d heard footsteps, because a sec-
ond later, Hermione Granger had come in.
“What has been going on?” she said, looking at the sweets all
over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.
“I think he’s been knocked out,” Ron said to Harry. He looked
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