 96. Socks "It's a wonderful life"
Hagrid ruffled around his little hut in search of his other sock. One hung loosely on his left foot, looking saggy, slightly pained with all Hagrid's jumping. "'onna be late, Fang." He mumbled. Then he stopped and felt in his pocket. A huge smile came across his face. "Of course!" He shouted. His boom of a laugh filed away into a quieter one, as he put his other dark and old sock on. Now he had two socks on, the wrong colours, granted, but Hagrid couldn't have looked more pleased with himself than if he'd just hatched a dragon egg.
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