THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS
“Yer great puddin’ of a son don’ need fattenin’ anymore, Durs-
ley, don’ worry.”
He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had
never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn’t take his
eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain any-
thing, he said, “I’m sorry, but I still don’t really know who you are.”
The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back
of his hand.
“Call me Hagrid,” he said, “everyone does. An’ like I told yeh,
I’m Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts — yeh’ll know all about Hog-
warts, o’ course.”
“Er — no,” said Harry.
Hagrid looked shocked.
“Sorry,” Harry said quickly.
“Sorry?” barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who
shrank back into the shadows. “It’s them as should be sorry! I knew
yeh weren’t gettin’ yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn’t even
know abou’ Hogwarts, fer cryin’ out loud! Did yeh never wonder
where yer parents learned it all?”
“All what?” asked Harry.
“ALL WHAT?” Hagrid thundered. “Now wait jus’ one second!”
He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole
hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.
“Do you mean ter tell me,” he growled at the Dursleys, “that this
boy — this boy! — knows nothin’ abou’ — about ANYTHING?”
Harry thought this was going a bit far. He had been to school,
after all, and his marks weren’t bad.
“I know some things,” he said. “I can, you know, do math and
stuff.”
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