The Hogwarts Express started to leave platform 9 ¾ at eleven. Harry was seated in one of the many compartments alone and waiting for his best friends, Ron and Hermione, to find him and join him. This minute of lonely silence left Harry to worry about his glamour. When he managed to get a look at himself through Dursley’s car window, he could find no trace of injuries or scars—just plain old Harry. But worry started to creep up on him. The last thing he wanted was pity, and he wanted his friends to see him as an equal. Nobody could know. The boy who lived could not be so easily exploited by muggles. He was going to prove his Gryffindor bravery; after all, there were only a few years left of his life at the Dursleys. They weren’t that cruel; he was just weak. He kept repeating that in his head.