she was beside herself. Why

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"It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], so often, wrought by our fingers." The goblin stroked the sword, and his black eyes roved from Harry to Hermione to Ron and then back again. "So young," he said finally, "to be fighting so many." "Will you help us?" said Harry. "We haven't got a hope of breaking in without a goblin's help. You're our one chance." "I shall . . . think about it," said Griphook maddeningly. "But -" Ron started angrily; Hermione nudged him in the ribs. "Thank you," said Harry. The goblin bowed his great domed head in acknowledgement, then flexed his short legs. "I think," he said, settling himself ostentatiously upon Bill and Fleur's bed, "that the Skele-Gro has finished its work. I may be able to sleep at last. Forgive me. . . ." "Yeah, of course,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," said Harry, but before leaving the room he leaned forward and took the sword of Gryffindor from beside the goblin. Griphook did not protest, but Harry thought he saw resentment in the goblin's eyes as he closed the door upon him. "Little git," whispered Ron. "He's enjoying keeping us hanging." "Harry,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," whispered Hermione, pulling them both away from the door, into the middle of the still-dark landing, "are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you saying there's a Horcrux in the Lestranges vault?" "Yes," said Harry. "Bellatrix was terrified when she thought we'd been in there, she was beside herself. Why? What did she think we'd seen, what else did she think we might have taken? Something she was petrified You-Know-Who would find out about." "But I thought we were looking for places You-Know-Who's been, p[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]s he's done something important?" said Ron, looking baffled. "Was he ever inside the Lestranges' vault?" "I don't know whether he was ever inside Gringotts," said Harry. "He never had gold there when he was younger, because nobody left him anything. He would have seen the bank from the outside, though, the first time he ever went to Diagon Alley." Harry's scar throbbed, but he ignored it; he wanted Ron and Hermione to understand about Gringotts before they spoke to Ollivander. "I think he would have envied anyone who had a key to a Gringotts vault. I think he'd have seen it as a real symbol of belonging to the Wizarding world. And don't forget, he trusted Bellatrix and her husband. They were his most devoted servants before he fell, and they went looking for him after he vanished. He said it night he came back, I heard him." Harry rubbed his scar. "I don't think he'd have told Bellatrix it was a Horcrux, though. He never told Lucius Malfoy the truth about the diary. He probably told her it was a treasured possession and asked her to place it in her vault. The safest place in the world for anything you want to hide, Hagrid told me. . . except for Hogwarts." When Harry had finished speaking, Ron shook his head. "You really understand him." "Bits of him," said Harry. "Bits . . . I just wish I'd understood Dumbledore as much. But we'll see. Come on - Ollivander now." Ron and Hermione looked bewildered but very impressed as they followed him across the little landing and knocked upon the door opposite Bill and Fleur's. A weak "Come in!" answered them. The wandmaker was lying on the twin bed farthest from the window. He had been held in the cellar for more than a year, and tortured, Harry knew, on at least one occasion. He was emaciated, the bones of his face sticking out sharply against the yellowish skin. His great silver eyes seemed vast in their sunken sockets. The hands that lay upon the blanket could have belonged to a skeleton. Harry sat down on the empty bed, beside Ron and Hermione. The rising sun was not visible here. The room faced the cliff-top garden and the freshly dug grave. "Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry to disturb you," Harry said. "My dear boy," Ollivander's voice was feeble. "You rescued us, I thought we would die in that place, I can never thank you . . . \inever\i thank you . . . enough." "We were glad to do it." Harry's scar throbbed. He knew, he was certain, that there was hardly any time left in which to beat Voldemort to his goal, or else to attempt to thwart him. He felt a flutter of panic . . . yet he had made his decision when he chose to speak to Griphook first. Feigning a calm he did not feel, he groped in the pouch around his neck and took out the two halves of his broken wand. "Mr. Ollivander, I need some help." "Anything. Anything." Said the wandmaker weakly. "Can you mend this? Is it possible?" Ollivander held out a trembling hand, and Harry placed the two barely connected halves in his palm. "Holly and phoenix feather," said Ollivander in a tremulous voice. "Eleven inches. Nice and supple." "Yes," said Harry. "Can you \a150\a150 ?" "No," whispered Ollivander. "I am sorry, very sorry, but a wand that has suffered this degree of damage cannot be repaired by any means that I know of."
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