The Portkey

           HarryfeltasthoughhehadbarelylaindowntosteepinRon’sroomwhenhewasbeingshakenawakebyMrs.Weasley.

           "Timetogo,Harry,dear,"shewhispered,movingawaytowakeRon.

           Harryfeltaroundforhisglasses,putthemon,andsatup.Itwasstilldarkoutside.Ronmutteredindistinctlyashismotherrousedhim.AtthefootofHarry’smattresshesawtwolarge,disheveledshapesemergingfromtanglesofblankets.

           "’Stimealready?"saidFredgroggily.

           Theydressedinsilence,toosleepytotalk,then,yawningandstretching,thefourofthemheadeddownstairsintothekitchen.

           Mrs.Weasleywasstirringthecontentsofalargepotonthestove,whileMr.Weasleywassittingatthetable,checkingasheafoflargeparchmenttickets.Helookedupastheboysenteredandspreadhisarmssothattheycouldseehisclothesmoreclearly.Hewaswearingwhatappearedtobeagolfingsweaterandaveryoldpairofjeans,slightlytoobigforhimandheldupwithathickleatherbelt.

           "Whatd’youthink?"heaskedanxiously."We’resupposedtogoincognito-doIlooklikeaMuggle,Harry?"

           "Yeah,"saidHarry,smiling,"verygood."

           "Where’reBillandCharlieandPer-Per-Percy?"saidGeorge,failingtostifleahugeyawn.

           "Well,they’reApparating,aren’tthey?"saidMrs.Weasley,heavingthelargepotovertothetableandstartingtoladleporridgeintobowls."Sotheycanhaveabitofalie-in."

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