THE PORTKEY “Er — splinched?” said Harry. “They left half of themselves behind,” said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. “So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn’t move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spot- ted the body parts they’d left behind. . . .” Harry had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet Drive. “Were they okay?” he asked, startled. “Oh yes,” said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. “But they got a heavy fine, and I don’t think they’ll be trying it again in a hurry. You don’t mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don’t bother with it. Prefer brooms — slower, but safer.” “But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?” “Charlie had to take the test twice,” said Fred, grinning. “He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?” “Yes, well, he passed the second time,” said Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers. “Percy only passed two weeks ago,” said George. “He’s been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can.” There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy. “Why do we have to be up so early?” Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table. “We’ve got a bit of a walk,” said Mr. Weasley. ‘67 ‘