Mr. Weasley kept close to Harry’s elbow all the way into the station.
“Right then,” he said, glancing around them. “Let’s do this in pairs, as there are so many of us. I’ll go through first with Harry.”
Mr. Weasley strolled toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, pushing Harry’s trolley and apparently very interested in the InterCity 125 that had just arrived at platform nine. With a meaningful look at Harry, he leaned casually against the barrier. Harry imitated him.
In a moment, they had fallen sideways through the solid metal onto platform nine and three-quarters and looked up to see the Hogwarts Express, a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over a platform packed with witches and wizards seeing their children onto the train.
Percy and Ginny suddenly appeared behind Harry. They were panting and had apparently taken the barrier at a run.
“Ah, there’s Penelope!” said Percy, smoothing his hair and going pink again. Ginny caught Harry’s eye, and they both turned away to hide their laughter as Percy strode over to a girl with long, curly hair, walking with his chest thrown out so that she couldn’t miss his shiny badge.
Once the remaining Weasley and Hermione had joined them, Harry and Ron led the way to the end of the train, past packed compartments, to a carriage that looked quite empty. They loaded the trucks onto it, stowed Hedwig and Crookshanks in the luggage rack, then went back outside to say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
Mrs. Weasley kissed all her children, then Hermione, and finally, Harry. He was embarrassed, but really quite pleased, when she gave him an extra hug.
“Do take care, won’t you Harry?” she said as she straightened up, her eyes oddly bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and said, “I’ve made you all sandwiches… Here you are, Ron… no, they’re not corned beef… Fred? Where’s Fred? Here you are, dear…”
“Harry,” said Mr. Weasley quietly, “come over here a moment.”
He jerked his head toward a pillar, and Harry followed him behind it, leaving the others crowded around Mrs. Weasley.
“There’s something I’ve got to tell you before you leave—” said Mr. Weasley, in a tense voice.
“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” said Harry. “I already know.”
“You know? How could you know?”
“I—er—I heard you and Mrs. Weasley talking last night. I couldn’t help hearing,” Harry added quickly. “Sorry—”
“That’s not the way I’d have chosen for you to find out,” said Mr. Weasley, looking anxious.
“No—honestly, it’s okay. This way, you haven’t broken your word to Fudge and I know what’s going on.”
“Harry, you must be very scared—”
“I’m not,” said Harry sincerely. “Really,” he added, because Mr. Weasley was looking disbelieving. “I’m not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can’t be worse the Voldemort, can he?”