Chapitre 27: Chapter - 27 : Crossing the Threshold
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"I figured it would be something good to know," I said with a shrug. I grinned, nudging him in the ribs. "After all, you tend to get yourself hurt."
"I'm not the only one."
"Touché, brother dear."
The day before we had to be at King's Cross, Harry and I ventured into the living room to talk to the Dursleys about getting to the station. Harry cleared his throat to get their attention, making Dudley scream and run from the room. I smothered my smile as I watched him waddle towards the door.
"Er, Uncle Vernon?" He grunted in response, not looking away from the quiz show on the television. "Er, we need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to… to go to Hogwarts." Uncle Vernon grunted again.
I rolled my eyes and nudged Harry. "We need a lift," I said bluntly.
Uncle Vernon grunted again, which we supposed counted as a yes.
"Thank you," Harry said hastily. We headed towards the stairs, pausing when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.
"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"
I smirked. "Because flying carpets are banned in Britain."
Uncle Vernon looked like he would have dearly loved to throttle me, but instead he said, "Where is this school, anyway?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, and pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket. "We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.
Our aunt and uncle stared.
"Platform what?"
"Nine and three-quarters," I repeated firmly, crossing my arms. I knew it didn't make any sense, but after seeing Hagrid pull a whole alley out of a wall by tapping some bricks, I was willing to have a little faith.
"Don't talk rubbish," snapped Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."
"It's on my ticket," Harry said, holding the ticket up.
"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."
"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked.
"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."
Harry decided that was our cue to make our escape. He tugged me towards the stairs, but I paused at the base, calling out, "Oh and by the way, just because Platform nine and three-quarters isn't real for Muggles, doesn't mean it's the same for us."
Harry and I were up at the crack of dawn the next day, packing all of the things we'd bought into our heavy trunks. We had to coax Artemisia into her cage with owl treats. We dressed in normal Muggle clothes, robes on top of our trunks so that we could easily change on the train.
Dudley had to be coaxed into sitting with us in the backseat. Thankfully, it didn't last long. By half-past ten we were at King's Cross. Aunt Petunia waited in the car with Dudley while Uncle Vernon dumped our trunks onto a cart and wheeled them into the station.
"Well, there you are," Uncle Vernon said smugly, pointing at the large plastic signs for platforms nine and ten. "Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?" He gave a nasty grin, dumped our trunks, and said, "Have a good term."
Harry and I found ourselves abandoned, lost, and attracting attention. Our owls kept drawing people's eyes as passers-by gave the two skinny kids toting wildlife aside looks.
"What do we do?" Harry asked faintly.
"We've only got ten minutes," I said, giving a clock overhead a very stressed look.
"-packed with Muggles, same every year-"
We both whipped around. If someone was talking about Muggles, then they had to be magical. They would at least have some idea of how to get onto the platform, right?
The speaker was a plump red-haired woman. With her were four boys with the same flaming red hair. They all had trunks with them, and one had an owl in a cage balanced on top. A red-haired girl was holding her mother's hand, whining, "Can't I go?"
"You're not old enough Ginny, hush," he mother scolded. "Now, Percy, you first."
The boy who seemed to be the oldest took his cart and lined up with the divider between the two platforms. We exchanged expectant looks, watching the boy as he pushed his cart forwards briskly. At the exact wrong moment, a group of tourists walked in front of him. By the time they were gone, the boy had vanished.
"Come on!" I grumbled, "Seriously?"
"Fred, you next," the woman said, addressing one of a pair of twins. The boy scowled.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George! Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother!"
The woman looked flustered. "Sorry George." She waved him forwards.
The boy grinned. "Only joking, I am Fred."
His mother scowled, aiming a swat at his shoulder when he passed. His twin yelled at him to hurry up, and the next moment, George was gone.
"What are they doing?" Harry said incredulously.
"Let's find out," I said, taking a breath to steady myself and pushing our cart towards the woman. "Excuse me?" I called over the noise of the trains. The woman turned to face me, surprised. Her face immediately softened.
"First time at Hogwarts?" she guessed. "Ron's new too." She gestured to her youngest son. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.
"Thing is, we don't know how to get to the train," I explained, gesturing between myself and Harry. "Could you please tell us?" I asked politely.
"Of course," the woman nodded. She took my shoulders in her hands and pointed me towards the divider, explaining kindly, "Walk straight at the wall between the platforms. Don't stop, and don't be nervous, or you'll crash, that's key. Best do it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous. Go on, before Ron." She ushered us forwards.
We looked from the brick wall to each other edgily. I gave a little shrug.
"Hey, magic?"
Harry nodded, and we turned back to the wall. Taking a deep breath together, we hustled at the wall. My feet slid and I was pretty sure I accidentally elbowed a passing businessman in the ribs. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Harry close his and wince, ready for the hit.
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