“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 Weasleys 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 trunks 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 than Voldemort, can he?”
Mr. Weasley flinched at the sound of the name but overlooked it.
“Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I’m obviously pleased that you’re not scared, but —”
“Arthur!” called Mrs. Weasley, who was now shepherding the rest onto the train. “Arthur, what are you doing? It’s about to go!”
“He’s coming, Molly!” said Mr. Weasley, but he turned back to Harry and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. “Listen, I want you to give me your word —”
“— that I’ll be a good boy and stay in the castle?” said Harry gloomily.
“Not entirely,” said Mr. Weasley, who looked more serious than Harry had ever seen him. “Harry, swear to me you won’t go looking for Black.”
Harry stared. “What?”
There was a loud whistle. Guards were walking along the train, slamming all the doors shut.
“Promise me, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, talking more quickly still, “that whatever happens —”
“Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?” said Harry blankly.
“Swear to me that whatever you might hear —”
“Arthur, quickly!” cried Mrs. Weasley.
Steam was billowing from the train; it had started to move. Harry ran to the compartment door and Ron threw it open and stood back to let him on. They leaned out of the window and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley until the train turned a corner and blocked them from view.
“I need to talk to you in private,” Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione as the train picked up speed.
“Go away, Ginny,” said Ron.
“Oh, that’s nice,” said Ginny huffily, and she stalked off.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off down the corridor, looking for an empty compartment, but all were full except for the one at the very end of the train.
This had only one occupant, a man sitting fast asleep next to the window. Harry, Ron, and Hermione checked on the threshold. The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students and they had never seen an adult there before, except for the witch who pushed the food cart.
The stranger was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard’s robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray.
“Who d’you reckon he is?” Ron hissed as they sat down and slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window.
“Professor R. J. Lupin,” whispered Hermione at once.
“How d’you know that?”
“It’s on his case,” she replied, pointing at the luggage rack over the man’s head, where there was a small, battered case held together with a large quantity of neatly knotted string. The name Professor R. J. Lupin was stamped across one corner in peeling letters.
“Wonder what he teaches?” said Ron, frowning at Professor Lupin’s pallid profile.
“That’s obvious,” whispered Hermione. “There’s only one vacancy, isn’t there? Defense Against the Dark Arts.”