DIAGON ALLEY
“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping
his great hand on Harry’s shoulder and making Harry’s knees
buckle.
“Good Lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harry, “is this —
can this be — ?”
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and
silent.
“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . .
what an honor.”
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and
seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back.”
Harry didn’t know what to say. Everyone was looking at him.
The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it
had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment,
Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky
Cauldron.
“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at
last.”
“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”
“Always wanted to shake your hand — I’m all of a flutter.”
“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name,
Dedalus Diggle.”
“I’ve seen you before!” said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle’s top hat
fell off in his excitement. “You bowed to me once in a shop.”
“He remembers!” cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at
everyone. “Did you hear that? He remembers me!”
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