The Burrow

 “That’s the main road,” said George, peering down through the windshield. “We’ll be there in 

ten minutes… Just as well, it’s getting light…” 

 A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east. 

 Fred brought the car lower, and Harry saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees. 

 “We’re a little way outside the village,” said George. “Ottery St. Catchpole.” 

 Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through 

the trees. 

 “Touchdown!” said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a 

tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time at Ron’s house. 

 It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here 

and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by 

magic (which Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on 

top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. 

Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown 

chickens were pecking their way around the yard. 

 “It’s not much,” said Ron. 

 “It’s wonderful,” said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive. 

 They got out of the car. 

 “Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, “and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast 

Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and 

 “That’s the main road,” said George, peering down through the windshield. “We’ll be there in 

ten minutes… Just as well, it’s getting light…” 

 A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon to the east. 

 Fred brought the car lower, and Harry saw a dark patchwork of fields and clumps of trees. 

 “We’re a little way outside the village,” said George. “Ottery St. Catchpole.” 

 Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through 

the trees. 

 “Touchdown!” said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a 

tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry looked out for the first time at Ron’s house. 

 It looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here 

and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by 

magic (which Harry reminded himself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on 

top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. 

Around the front door lay a jumble of rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown 

chickens were pecking their way around the yard. 

 “It’s not much,” said Ron. 

 “It’s wonderful,” said Harry happily, thinking of Privet Drive. 

 They got out of the car. 

 “Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, “and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast 

Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and ...