CHAPTER FOUR
back in the Weasleys’ fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what
to do.
“Not lost are you, my dear?” said a voice in his ear, making him
jump.
An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what
looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him,
showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he said. “I’m just —”
“HARRY! What d’yeh think yer doin’ down there?”
Harry’s heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cas-
caded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of
Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, came striding toward them,
beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.
“Hagrid!” Harry croaked in relief. “I was lost — Floo pow-
der —”
Hagrid seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him
away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her
shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out
into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble
building in the distance — Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered
him right into Diagon Alley.
“Yer a mess!” said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so
forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung out-
side an apothecary. “Skulkin’ around Knockturn Alley, I dunno —
dodgy place, Harry — don’ want no one ter see yeh down there —”
“I realized that,” said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush
him off again. “I told you, I was lost — what were you doing down
there, anyway?”
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