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69 Harry kept to his room, with his new owl for company. He had decided to call her Hedwig, a name he had found in A History of Magic. His school books were very interesting. He lay on his bed reading late into the night, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before he went to sleep, Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall, counting down to September the first.
On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.
"Er -- Uncle Vernon." Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.
"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts." Uncle Vernon grunted again.
"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift." Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.
"Thank you." He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.
"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they." Harry didn't say anything.
"Where is this school, anyway." "I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.
"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.
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