THE JOURNEY FROM PLATFORM
NINE AND THREE-QUARTERS
warts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train,
it will be taken to the school separately.”
Harry’s stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked
pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last
of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed
their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform.
Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing
over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice:
“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here! All right there, Harry?”
Hagrid’s big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.
“C’mon, follow me — any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now!
Firs’ years follow me!”
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what
seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of
them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody
spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed
once or twice.
“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid called over
his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”
There was a loud “Oooooh!”
The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great
black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its
windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many
turrets and towers.
“No more’n four to a boat!” Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of
little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were
followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione.
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