And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.
“I'll call about the World Cup! ” Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion.
The New Yorker: The Writer's Voice - New Fiction from The New Yorker
Just past the entrance, next to the luggage carts, I was greeted by a young woman standing behind a registration table with a sign that read, congratulations graduates.