CHAPTER FIVE
landed smoothly and spectacularly on the sweeping lawn in front
of Hogwarts castle.
They made regular checks on the train as they flew farther and
farther north, each dip beneath the clouds showing them a dif-
ferent view. London was soon far behind them, replaced by neat
green fields that gave way in turn to wide, purplish moors, a great
city alive with cars like multicolored ants, villages with tiny toy
churches.
Several uneventful hours later, however, Harry had to admit that
some of the fun was wearing off. The toffees had made them ex-
tremely thirsty and they had nothing to drink. He and Ron had
pulled off their sweaters, but Harry’s T-shirt was sticking to the
back of his seat and his glasses kept sliding down to the end of his
sweaty nose. He had stopped noticing the fantastic cloud shapes
now and was thinking longingly of the train miles below, where
you could buy ice-cold pumpkin juice from a trolley pushed by a
plump witch. Why hadn’t they been able to get onto platform nine
and three-quarters?
“Can’t be much further, can it?” croaked Ron, hours later still, as
the sun started to sink into their floor of cloud, staining it a deep
pink. “Ready for another check on the train?”
It was still right below them, winding its way past a snowcapped
mountain. It was much darker beneath the canopy of clouds.
Ron put his foot on the accelerator and drove them upward
again, but as he did so, the engine began to whine.
Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances.
“It’s probably just tired,” said Ron. “It’s never been this far be-
fore. . . .”
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