DIAGON ALLEY
“Um — Hagrid?”
“Mm?” said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.
“I haven’t got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last
night . . . he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Hagrid, standing up and scratch-
ing his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”
“But if their house was destroyed —”
“They didn’ keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer
us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad
cold — an’ I wouldn’ say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”
“Wizards have banks?”
“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”
Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.
“Goblins?”
“Yeah — so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that.
Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the
world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — ’cept maybe Hog-
warts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway Fer Dum-
bledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly.
“He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you —
gettin’ things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see.
“Got everythin’? Come on, then.”
Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite
clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Ver-
non had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom af-
ter the storm.
“How did you get here?” Harry asked, looking around for an-
other boat.
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