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C H A P T E R S I X THE PORTKEY arry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep in Ron’s room when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. H Weasley. “Time to go, Harry, dear,” she whispered, moving away to wake Ron. Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry’s mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets. “’S’ time already?” said Fred groggily. They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He ‘ 65 ‘

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