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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

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