I had a dream about a motorcycle, said Harry, remembering suddenly. It was flying. Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY! Dudley and Piers sniggered. I know they don't, said Harry. It was only a
J. K. Rowling