DIAGON ALLEY
He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside
a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean
against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billow-
ing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of
gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
“All yours,” smiled Hagrid.
All Harry’s — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn’t have
known about this or they’d have had it from him faster than blink-
ing. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them
to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging
to him, buried deep under London.
Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.
“The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained. “Seventeen silver
Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it’s
easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms,
we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault
seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more
slowly?”
“One speed only,” said Griphook.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air
became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They
went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over
the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Ha-
grid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
“Stand back,” said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door
gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
75