DIAGON ALLEY
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
“Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,” said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they
were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sit-
ting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large
ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones
through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off
the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of
these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.
“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free goblin. “We’ve come ter take
some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.”
“You have his key, sir?”
“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, and he started emptying
his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog
biscuits over the goblins book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his
nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of ru-
bies as big as glowing coals.
“Got it,” said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely.
“That seems to be in order.”
“An’ I’ve also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,” said
Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. “It’s about the You-
Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.”
The goblin read the letter carefully.
“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Hagrid, “I will have
someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed
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