‘I'm talking about—look!’

Harry grabbed Ron's arm and wheeled him about so that he was face to face with the winged horse. Ron stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Harry.

‘What am I supposed to be looking at?’

‘At the—there, between the shafts! Harnessed to the coach! It's right there in front—’

But as Ron continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to Harry.

‘Can't ... can't you see them?’

‘See what?’

‘Can't you see what's pulling the carriages?’

Ron looked seriously alarmed now.

‘Are you feeling all right, Harry?’

‘I ... yeah...’

Harry felt utterly bewildered. The horse was there in front of him, gleaming solidly in the dim light issuing from the station windows behind them, vapour rising from its nostrils in the chilly night air. Yet, unless Ron was faking—

and it was a very feeble joke if he was—Ron could not see it at all.

‘Shall we get in, then?’ said Ron uncertainly, looking at Harry as though worried about him.

‘Yeah,’ said Harry. ‘Yeah, go on...’

‘It's all right,’ said a dreamy voice from beside Harry as Ron vanished into the coach's dark interior. ‘You're not going mad or anything. I can see them, too.’

‘Can you?’ said Harry desperately, turning to Luna. He could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide silvery eyes.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Luna, ‘I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am.’

Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. Not altogether reassured, Harry followed her.
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