CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wiz-
ened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go
through the gate in twos and threes so they didn’t attract atten-
tion by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the
Muggles.
“You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron, “both of
you — I’ll send you an owl.”
“Thanks,” said Harry, “I’ll need something to look forward to.”
People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway
back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:
“Bye, Harry!”
“See you, Potter!”
“Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him.
“Not where I’m going, I promise you,” said Harry.
He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together.
“There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”
It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t point-
ing at Ron.
“Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mom! I can see —”
“Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.”
Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them.
“Busy year?” she said.
“Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs.
Weasley.”
“Oh, it was nothing, dear.”
“Ready, are you?”
It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still
looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in
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