Griphook unlocked the door

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.




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