"...sorry."

"What do I need to do to go to magic school? I don't think Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia are going to help."

"Right!" He stands up. "We go ter London."

He carefully closes the box with the cake. "All right. Thank you for helping."

"Oh, I almost forgot—" From a pocket inside his overcoat he pulls an owl—a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl—a long quill, and a roll of parchment. He sits back down from a moment and, with his tongue between his teeth, scribbles a note that Victor can read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Victor his letter.
Taking him to buy his things tomorrow. Weather's horrible.
Hope you're Well.

Hagrid

He rolls up the note, gives it to the owl, which clamps it in its beak, goes to the door, and throws the owl out into the storm.

"Are yeh ready to go?"

"Yes. Is the owl going to be okay?"

"Aye, she'll be fine." He peers at the storm. "But we might not be... Might be better ter sleep here an' wait fer the storm to pass..."

"That sounds like a good idea," he agrees.

"Right, then!" He takes off his overcoat and offers it to Victor. "You can kip under that. Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

"...okay. Thank you," he says, because it seems like it wouldn't be productive to ask him why there are dormice in his pockets. And the coat looks very warm. He curls up on the floor and nests in it and it is the warmest he's been since they got in the boat.

It is in fact very warm! And Hagrid does not take long to fall asleep.

Victor sleeps kind of astonishingly well, all things considered.

He will wake up to the sounds of an owl rapping on the window.

...okay.

He goes to the window and opens it.

It's a bright and clear day out, the storm having abated completely. The giant is still asleep on a collapsed sofa, snoring.

The owl swoops in and drops a newspaper it had been holding in its beak on top of Hagrid, who doesn't wake up. It then flutters onto the floor and begins to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Um, excuse me, Mr. Hagrid," says Victor, "but there's an owl attacking your coat."

"Pay him," Hagrid grunts into the sofa.

...

Victor approaches the coat and tries to start looking through its pockets.

Hagrid's coat seems to be made of nothing but pockets—bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... there, a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," says Hagrid sleepily. 

Well - do any of these strange-looking coins have names on them?

Yes! The small bronze ones have 'Knut' written on them and the silver ones have 'Sickle' instead.

He counts out five Knuts. Now how does he go about giving them to the owl?

When it sees him counting coins it holds out its leg to show him a small leather pouch attached to it.

Well that's fairly straightforward. Okay. He pays the owl.

It bows its little owl head and takes off. Hagrid yawns loudly, sits up, and stretches. "Best be off, Victor, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."